Silme’s house had been a nightmare. Rowan was never going back as long as he could help it. Sure, the apartment she lived in was nice enough (actually, it was kind of a crappy place frankly and the cats didn't help) and he had barely gone in past the doorway. It was a little two bedroom, one bathroom place. It was a little small in comparison to the other agents he knew.
But she had like twenty cats! Sure, she’d said there were only nine of them but Rowan was pretty sure she’d miscounted because they were everywhere. He’d seen at least a dozen of the things. Or at least he was pretty sure he’d seen the demonic things. He’d gotten out of there as fast as his legs could possibly carry him.
He reported in to Sir Wymore later that evening, knocking on the open door as the man poured over some books and typed something into the computer. Rowan didn’t know the half of what he did, really. He just knew the pair of them didn’t tend to see eye to eye sometimes. Not that it made Wymore a bad leader or anything. It was more frustrating than anything, but nine times out of ten, Sir Wymore was right and he was wrong.
Not that he’d ever admit that out loud.
“Ah, Rowan. Please, come in,” Sir Wymore greeted him. “How is our Mr. Duval?”
“Well he wasn’t in nearly as much danger as we thought, for starters.” Rowan huffed, arms crossed across his chest. “In fact, he wasn’t in any danger. At all. A little worse for the wear and injured as the message indicated, but incredibly comfortable. She made us dinner. A not-poisoned, very tasty dinner.” Rowan stared down at Alexander. “If I hadn’t had personal encounters with her over the years, I would never have believed she’s a master thief and black market dealer.”
From there, Rowan went into detail about what had happened to Hutch and how he and Silme had burst into Carmen Calailles’ house. That got a raised eyebrow. He explained about dinner and about Hutch staying behind. The other eyebrow lifted at that.
“So you took a disabled secretary in as back up to a black market figurehead’s apartment?” Wymore scoffed. “You’re remarkably lucky she wasn’t interested in harming any of you.”
“There was no one else here to call in for back up,” Rowan boomed, scowling slightly. Alexander fixed him with a look. Rowan shrugged, annoyed. “She’s trained in combat.”
“Yes,” his boss confirmed. “But Silme also had the capabilities of being completely non-functional in combat should an emotional response be triggered. I question your wisdom but, since nothing unfortunate resulted from it, I’ll let you off with this warning: she is not to be used as back-up. She can be used as a quartermaster but Silme is not to go out on the front lines. Is that understood?” Rowan nodded but he wasn’t happy about being scolded about his professionalism.
“As for Hutch, I assume he stayed behind because he’s inside her home. He might be able to find invaluable information,” Sir Wymore pointed out.
“Or he’s trying to get laid. I would. Have you seen her?” Rowan let out a low wolf whistle. His boss just gave him another look.
“Thank you for reporting in, Mr. D’Barbarac. You may take your leave.” It was more an order than an offer. Rowan dropped his arms and stalked out, mildly unpleased with the older man.
Rowan was on the detail the next morning – he made sure of it – to accompany Wymore and one of their medical professionals to Carmen’s home to look over Hutch. When they arrived, Carmen’s door was fully repaired. Looking at it, you would never have known it had been completely cracked the day before. Silme was not in attendance either so Rowan had begun bragging until Sir Wymore made a comment about how it would be a “well-matched duel” in the car on the way over. Whatever that meant. Rowan was going to kick her ass. Obviously.
When they knocked and were let in, the last thing he expected to see was Hutch laughing and smiling while balancing on his good leg, completely shirtless. Wymore was similarly surprised and looked between them.
“Have I come at a bad time?” Sir Wymore asked. Carmen laughed and showed them in. Hutch got along with Sir Wymore a lot better than Rowan seemed to. Personally,
“No, Sir Wymore. Hutch was in need of new clothes after all the excitement. Blood aside, there were some maddening holes in them. Please, sit.” She directed them to the couch. Sir Wymore sat down with Rowan beside him. “Fortunately, he decided to rescue a fashion designer.” Alexander looked between the two of them in interest. “I was just taking measurements for new clothes.”
“I see,” Sir Wymore said.
“Carmen, you look beautiful today,” Rowan complimented, turning his attention to her immediately. He missed seeing Hutch’s frown as he did so.
“Thank you, Rowan. You’re very kind,” Carmen replied, smiling.
“It’s nice to see you again, Silme. I hope you’re doing well,” Alexander stated.
Rowan’s head jerked to the side where Silme was sitting, fabric in her lap. Clearly, she’d beaten them there. What was more alarming was that he hadn’t seen her at all.
“Yes sir. Keeping track of myself. Had a couple of episodes but nothing too bad.”
“Good,” Sir Wymore said gently, watching her for a moment. Then he turned back to Hutch. “You, I hear, have not been so fortunate.” He sighed. “I’ve brought a medic of our own to examine you, if that’s alright. I’ve also brought you this.” Sir Wymore held out an intricately carved wooden cane to Rowan’s closest friend. “It may be a little bit tall for you, or perhaps a bit ornate. It was my father’s and he was a very large man. Oh no, don’t protest. It’s not an heirloom. In fact, he hated the thing. I thought it would be better in your hands instead of collecting dust in a corner in my home.” Sir Wymore stood up then and looked over Hutch’s arm curiously as Hutch examined the cane, seemingly a little nervous about the idea of taking the belonging of a superior - even as a gift. Rowan could tell from the look on his friend’s face that the cane was appreciated but that it also bothered him on another level - as a symbol of a crippled man. Rowan didn’t miss the sigh either.
“Muggers dinging up my agents… what next…” Sir Wymore sighed. “I hear we have you to thank, Ms. Calailles. The medical report indicated you prevented him from bleeding out.”
“Well, I did my best. He still lost a fair bit of blood on his own, sadly,” Carmen said, taking a seat on the coffee table.
“You know, you’re quite lucky you saved Ms. Calailles. This cut here…” Sir Wymore looked up at Hutch and pointed to his arm. “If this goes as deep as I’m guessing it did, you might very well have bled to death from this alone.” The medic nodded, having already looked over the hospital file. Carmen seemed pleased by the comment and walked away, grabbing the green fabric to get started. She tapped Silme on the shoulder and motioned for her to follow. Silme did. Rowan was still confused about why she was there. Hutch watched Carmen as she left the room, his face unreadable but Rowan didn’t detect anything malicious in it.
“I remember how much blood there was,” Hutch admitted. “I do not doubt I would not have made it on my own.” Rowan looked after her then, admiring her rather shapely figure absently. She was a stunning creature. It was only an added bonus that she had saved his best friend. He wondered if she remembered Rowan from that mission a few years ago.
“Would you prefer to have your leg looked at here or elsewhere?” Alexander asked Hutch, not giving him the option of not looking at it. It was his job as Advisor to make sure all the agents they had were in good shape.
“If Carmen allows, I would prefer down here. The stairs are not too fond of me at the moment.” Hutch said, sounding exasperated.
“It’s fine! Go ahead!” Carmen shouted from the other room, where she and Silme had disappeared to. The quiet clicking sound of a sewing machine could be heard. With that the medic began to unwind Hutch’s wrappings. Rowan stood, watching as the wound was made visible.
“Ha, that is going to leave a scar, brother. You’ll finally look like a real agent.” Rowan laughed, patting Hutch on the shoulder.
“Rowan,” Hutch said a bit sternly, pointing to Sir Wymore. Sir Wymore had wandered for a moment, looking closely at a painting on the wall. Rowan looked back to Hutch and shrugged. “What are you doing here anyways?”
“I missed you too,” Rowan said sarcastically. “I came along for protection. Signed up for it and everything. Besides, the sooner you’re looked at, the sooner you can get back to work. It wasn’t the same without beating you in our sparring match today.”
“Your triumph would have been meaningless in my current condition,” Hutch pointed out, gesturing to his wounds.
“Well, you won’t need that cane for long,” Rowan commented matter-of-factly. He borrowed the cane, swinging it like a sword, jabbing it at unseen enemies. He jabbed once and noticed Silme had appeared in front of him. Again, Rowan hadn’t even noticed her. He nodded to her in greeting. She picked up a spool of thread from the coffee table and then retreated into the side room. As he paused in surprise, Hutch attempted to take the cane back but Rowan wasn’t finished with it yet. “A valiant effort, my friend,” Rowan boomed. “Once you’re done here, you can join me for my evening patrol. It should do you well to get on that leg as soon as possible.”
“Uh, no.” The medic said, looking over Hutch’s leg. “He needs to stay off his leg for at least the rest of the week, if not longer. Pushing him at this stage could irreparably damage his muscles. He’d hobble the rest of his life. Past that, the healing process may take up to three months, longer if he gets an infection.” The medic looked up at Hutch. “The stitches will be a moot point after about a week but just to be on the safe side, I’m going to recommend leaving them in for two, just for added support.” The medic began to rewrap Hutch’s leg with fresh bandages. When he was done, he spoke again.
“I’m going to need to test the extent of your current muscle range. When it gets to a range where the pain is more intense, tell me to stop. And for God’s sake, don’t endure pain for no reason. I need to know where the range is most comfortable for you currently. If you aren’t honest with me, you’ll only hurt yourself.” After Hutch had agreed to it, the man began to gradually bend and tilt Hutch’s leg, halting and moving in a different direction when Hutch indicated for him to stop. The mugger had missed Hutch’s inner leg muscles but he had done a number on the muscles at the front and back of the leg where he had stabbed it. Even Rowan, untrained as anything medical, could tell that. Hutch did as he was told, issuing a low stop when the movement got to be painful. Rowan watched in concern, cane still in hand. After several minutes, the medic excused himself to discuss with Sir Wymore.
After a few minutes of discussion, Sir Wymore walked closer to Hutch, a somber look on his face.
“I’m sure this is the last thing that you want to hear, but a full recovery will take between two and three months.” Alexander said, pausing.
Rowan was immediately shocked and upset by the news. Two to three months? He had been expecting maybe a week, maybe two. What was he supposed to do for two to three months? He was so used to Hutch having his back. Rowan was more than a little unhappy about the ruling Alexander Wymore had made.
“However, the good news is that because Carmen bound your wounds so nicely, you saved yourself roughly two months of recovering.” Alexander nodded to Carmen, who was watching Hutch’s face from the doorway. She smiled a little but it was still hard news. “You will, however, be able to walk on it within the week with the aid of the cane. Sunday, at the earliest. I’ll tend to you myself so I’ll know when to put you back on the duty roster. And starting Monday, I’ll need you to start therapy with a professional to train your muscles back into working properly as they heal, as well as meeting with me afterward.” Alexander said. From the way he spoke, it wasn’t optional. “Don’t worry. Your arm will be fine in comparison – though don’t press your luck. And again, arm stitches can come out at the end of the week, leg stitches should stay in for two.”
Alexander turned to him, every inch of him calm and steeled. Alexander, while quiet and reserved, was not a small man and could more than demand respect with his posture alone. Rowan, of course, knew to behave.
“Is there something you would like to say, Rowan?” Alexander asked, sounding somewhat authoritative.
“No, Sir. I have nothing to say.” Rowan spoke evenly. He shifted his stance so that he stood up straight, although Alexander’s very presence made him feel much smaller. “Except, perhaps, we should get back to headquarters.”
Rowan hated being put in his place. He respected authority and he had no problem with Alexander – not really. It just always rubbed him the wrong way when someone did that. If he had felt it was a personal slight against him, he would have responded in a much less friendly way. Not dwelling on it too much and trying to hide his anger at it, he handed Hutch back the cane.
“I hope you are well enough to walk on Sunday to see the duel, Hutch – Sir Wymore willing, of course.” Rowan said, to which Hutch nodded. Rowan just wanted Hutch to be there on the basis they were friends. Hutch was his brother, his best friend, and his back up. Even if it was a trivial thing, he wanted to show off and he wanted Hutch to be there.
“Can I come too?” All three boys looked up to see Carmen. “I know I’m not exactly on your list of favorite people, but I would enjoy it.” Sir Wymore regarded her curiously and then nodded.
“Provided you agreed to stay under guard and within the common areas at all times, yes, you may come,” Alexander stated. Carmen grinned.
“Agreed! I promise, I’ll behave myself.” Carmen swore. “And I think if it’s convenient, I can leave Mr. Duval in your very capable hands on Sunday. I think he’d very much enjoy getting back to work, if you can find something for him to do.” Hutch nodded in agreement with the statement.
“I know it will be some time before I can return to my physical duties,” Hutch said, ”…but, if I may ask, how soon can I return to my other work?” Alexander hadn’t considered that. “It has been a while since I have instructed the recruits. I will have time on my hands, after all.”
Wymore chuckled and patted a hand down on Hutch’s shoulder. “As soon as you’re feeling up to it.” He reassured him. “As for the new recruits… Well, we’ll have to see. Mostly, I think they’ve been assigned to other agents already. We get fewer and fewer young men every year. But I’ll see what can be arranged. If nothing else, I can instruct you personally in tactics, should my schedule be sufficiently empty, though I can think of no reason why it should be particularly busy any time soon. I’m sure we could arrange something.” Alexander smiled pleasantly, the smile reaching his eyes.
“Unfortunately, today is proving… surprisingly busy. And I, um, have an engagement I can’t seem to get out of. A… a dinner event I’ve been invited to.” He didn’t seem pleased about it. He recovered quickly. “However, I expect to see you Monday, if not on Sunday for Silme and Rowan’s duel. I’ll have someone bring by some tactical books for you.” Rowan grinned a little bit. If he could help it, that would definitely be him.
Alexander turned then, moving toward the door. Rowan patted Hutch on the arm in farewell. Then he turned to Carmen and took her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She grinned and Rowan smirked, moving past her to the door.
The trip back to headquarters was uneventful and when he ran into a mugger… well, maybe he didn’t pull his punches as much as he could have.
Sunday came around slowly but surely. Rowan had spent the days bragging, telling all the agents he could about the match. Quite a few claimed they’d be there. Naturally, expecting his victory, he had been all grins that morning. And he’d been bragging shamelessly. After all, how could a girl her size beat a man his size? Obviously, that was not going to happen.
Quite a few agents had shown up – mostly those invited by Rowan and their friends. Most of the agency had shown up for the match. They gathered in pockets of five or six people mostly, making the training area filled with a dull roar. No one, not even the staff, were training.
“I think I shall go easy on her at first. What fun would it be if I disarmed her right away?” Rowan boasted to a group of friends, about a dozen of them. All of them spoke over each other, reacting to his suggestion. Some wanted a quick ending, others agreed that he should draw it out. One suggested she might not even know how to handle a weapon. Rowan just chuckled.
“To be fair, she is the woman who attempted to join as an agent a few years back, so I assume she can pick up a sword easily enough.” Rowan said. As much as he enjoyed building himself up to the men around him (as if he needed to be built up), he had to give credit where credit was due. “Although, besides that, I don’t know what else she can do. I guess we’ll all have to see soon enough.” Some nodded, while others began to make small bets with one another on precisely how long the woman would last before she either quit or dropped her sword from exhaustion. If Rowan was not the better man that he was, he would have gotten in on those bets himself.
Suddenly, one voice broke through the crowd. “Do you think it possible she might beat you?” the voice asked. Everyone feel silent, looking to Rowan for the answer. He looked at the man, his face impassive. Silence fell through the group.
And then they all let out a boisterous laugh.
The group of men laughed for a good while, obviously having found that notion amusing. Just as the laugher began to die down, Hutch and Carmen entered the room.
When Hutch hobbled through the door on the cane, everyone turned to look. Honestly, it was quite a sight, and certainly not something Rowan had been anticipating. Hutch was done up like a male model! He had on fitted tan suit pants with brown leather (expensive looking) shoes Rowan had never seen before and a matching leather, plus a vibrant green blazer with a light cream colored button-down shirt under it and a green bow-tie with vertical tan stripes matching the pants. The look he gave Hutch was clearly one of confusion but Rowan’s eyes were quickly drawn away. It was hardly unanticipated, given the woman on his best friend’s arm.
Carmen was being escorted by no less than six visible guards, plus his opponent, and yet she looked as calm as could be. She was smiling, even. Not to mention, she looked absolutely stunning.
She was wearing what looked to Rowan to be basically a prom dress. It had a high waistline and was cornflower blue, except for the sequins that started from the waistline and covered the bust, straps, and back of the dress with white crystals. Below the crystal encrusted top half of the dress was nothing but layers of blue, flowing chiffon until her toes. If it weren’t for the sound of her heels clicking proudly on the floor, Rowan would never have known she was wearing heels. (But then again, it was hard to look at anything that wasn’t her expertly displayed chest.) And if the dress alone wouldn’t probably pay for his house for the next year, he was pretty sure the jewelry she was wearing would. The sapphires and diamonds in the necklace alone could have gotten him a new car if he were to take it. To say she looked like a million bucks was probably a massive understatement.
Rowan didn’t know whether to be concerned she was up to something or to try his luck with her and to ask her out somewhere. Or both, really. He should definitely ask for her number before today was over.
It took Rowan a moment to register before he pointed Silme out to the group.
“She’s… smaller than I expected,” one man commented.
“Are you sure that’s her?” Another asked, “She looks like a boy.”
“Don’t judge a book by it’s cover, boys. She has a mean right hook. When you’re not expecting it.” Rowan warned, a sour expression falling over his face. He really hadn’t meant to belittle her role in the agency, it had just sort of… slipped out. Not that she was terribly relevant. In fact, with her narcolepsy, she was a bit of a liability. Alexander insisted though, and none of the other upper ups cared to challenge him on it.
Rowan split off from the group then to go see how Hutch was doing. Of course, the gaggle of men decided to follow him. By the time he reached them, a group of other agents had gotten between him and his injured buddy, blocking his view. Some stepped out of the way but he still had to do some maneuvering to get to them.
“—not for three months, unfortunately.” Hutch finished telling someone. Rowan assumed someone had asked how long he’d be out for. Just as his fight with Silme had been big news, Hutch’s injury was just as largely spread. Rowan had had to correct a few rumors. Apparently someone had thought he’d somehow tangled with a bear and that had been going around HQ. Hutch. Fighting a bear in the middle of a large city? It made no sense - although Rowan had puffed up the story just a little to make his friend look more heroic. Everyone, regardless of what story they’d heard, from the bear thing to the actual story, had been concerned for him. Rowan was just happy to see him standing upright, even though he was using a cane to stay that way. That would be out of the way soon enough.
“I have no doubt we will see him fighting long before that,” Rowan proclaimed, summoning all the attention to himself.
“Don’t tell me you already miss me,” quipped Hutch, lifting an eyebrow.
Rowan just grinned. He wouldn’t admit it to the groups of agents standing around them, but, yes, he did miss him. A great deal. And he’d been missing their early morning sparring sessions sorely. He needed a new morning sparring partner to keep him in shape but he’d figure that one out later. Maybe he could drag young Oliver out to fight him.
With sparring on the mind, he turned to the smallest woman in the group. He sized her up for a moment, attempting to glean as much information as possible, even though he knew he wouldn’t need it. The match would be over in sixty seconds, tops.
“Because I’m a fair man, I’ll give you one last chance to change your mind. No one will think less of you.” It was a kind offer, he thought. But Silme just glared at him.
“It doesn’t matter if no one else would think less of me – I would think less of myself,” Silme said. Her words were like ice but her eyes were filled with fire. Meanwhile her face itself betrayed no emotion at all. Rowan found it really hard to understand her.
“If that’s what you want, fine,” Rowan said rather arrogantly, tuning out what she said next.
As he’d commented to Silme, Carmen had asked for some chairs for herself, claiming she needed to sit down. He missed Hutch’s grateful look at her not making it about his injury, even if most could likely have guessed it. Several men that were equally as interested in the gorgeous woman as he was scampered off to find some for her. Rowan, however, did not miss someone taking Carmen’s hand – a smooth agent by the name of Riley – and walking her to the side to “pick out a spot.” He even kissed her hand. Rowan had to admit, it wasn’t a bad move. Hutch was watching and Rowan was fairly certain he saw a twinge of jealousy in the man’s features, although he did stoic and impassive so well. The men around began to grin as soon as soon as she was out of earshot.
“Is that what you’ve been up to?” One man boldly asked. The other agents snickered.
Hutch’s attention was immediately drawn away from Carmen, snapping to the agent who had spoken. He stared the man down with his impassive face, and everyone immediately stopped laughing.
“Carmen has been kind enough to go out of her way to tend to my injuries this past week. It would be wise for you all to show nothing shy of the utmost respect to her.” Rowan knew not to tempt that tone. That was not a joking tone. They all paused, automatically coming to attention in reaction to the authoritative tone in Hutch’s voice. They lowered their heads in understanding, showing Hutch their respect even though his current state warranted him the weakest one there. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, a different agent spoke.
“Well… what did you do while you were there?” he inquired.
Hutch thought for a moment.
“I learned to sew,” he said. And no one quite knew what to make of that.
Before anyone could ask, Carmen returned, slipping her hand back around his arm and standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. She left behind a bright red lip print. Someone made a teasing oohing sound but both Carmen and Hutch ignored it because Carmen was too busy whispering something to him, making him smile. A spark of anger ignited within Rowan at the sight of them standing so close, so comfortable with each other. He did not pull his gaze away from the two until his mind registered that a smaller woman was talking to him.
“—bodied. Sound good to you?” Rowan had no idea what she’d said.
“Yeah, sure, fine,” he said, playing it off like he’d heard every word. She seemed not to notice and walked off with Carmen and Hutch, who were chatting away like old friends, and began to stretch near them. With that settled (whatever it was he agreed to), Rowan turned on his heel and marched in the opposite direction. Knights stumbled out of his way as he stormed off, noticing the sudden change in mood from their great swordsman. Rowan was not happy.
What Hutch had been doing at Carmen’s shop for the past few days, Rowan didn’t know. But whatever it was, he did not like it. He really didn’t like it.
But he’d deal with that later. He couldn’t let Hutch’s relationship with a criminal distract him during the fight, even if it was against a girl. He needed focus. Rowan too began to warm up, even toying a little with the weapon he’d chosen to use. He was sure it would throw her off. What woman knew how to wield a sword, especially in this day and age?
Eventually, the time came to start the fight. He straightened up just in time to see Silme approaching. She walked with someone who had great confidence in themselves. Rowan knew it wouldn’t last long.
She asked if he was ready, and he only answered with a nod. The onlookers fanned out, their audience forming a large circle around the two, ultimately defining the outer bounds of their arena. Some men shifted from a particular spot, revealing Carmen and Hutch in the chairs. Rowan looked in that direction and saw Hutch seated very close to Carmen. He was saying something, of what Rowan could not decipher, but as he spoke he seemed to lean closer to her, as if each and every word he spoke was meant for her and for her only. The one thing that really caught Rowan’s eye was Hutch’s hand resting in Carmen’s lap, clutching on to her soft fingers.
When Hutch finished speaking to Carmen, he sat back in his upright position and turned his attention towards the arena. Immediately, his eyes met Rowan’s. From where he stood, Rowan could see Hutch’s change in demeanor. His face visibly fell, and Rowan would not have been surprised if he loosened his hold on Carmen’s hand ever so slightly. Hutch knew how Rowan felt about Carmen. Gorgeous and deadly was exactly his type. Hutch knew, therefore he very well understood the thoughts rolling through Rowan’s head at that moment.
Inhaling a deep breath, Rowan shoved those thoughts away and returned his focus on Silme.
“The weapons will be swords,” he announced. He walked to the wall with the weapons and pulled one out for each of them. Both of them were roughly the same in terms of size and usability. Carmen and Hutch now forgotten, his mind only focused on his opponent.
He began to read all that he could of Silme. Her height, her stature, the way she held her sword once she took it from him, where her focus went, and several other aspects he zeroed in on. It would take him a few moves to figure out precisely how she fought, but he took in everything he could in those first few moments in hopes of gaining an advantage (more than the one he, clearly, already had). Yet, unlike his real battles, he did not take up a hard and fast stance. Why would he need to? This was a woman he was dealing with. She would be lucky if he even let her touch his sword. She probably didn’t even know how to handle the thing. Clearly, by the stance she took, she posed no threat. Rowan didn’t have anything to—
It happened in a flash. One moment he was grinning at the mild laughter around him, and the next, he was flinching, throwing his sword up to block an incoming attack. Rowan attempted to adopt a defensive strategy, but with the quick nature of the blows hitting him, he could not get his footing quick enough. Before he could re-evaluate his plan, their blades had stuck together and she twisted. He felt the unusual sensation of the sword slipping from his grasp, and a moment later he felt absolutely no weight in his hand. The sword fell into the floor with a deft clink. The entire room went silent. Everyone looked to the sword on the ground, not uttering a sound. The only person who broke the silence was Silme.
“Sorry. I thought you were ready. Again?” she jabbed at him. Rowan’s eyes snapped from his sword to the woman, eyebrows slowly furrowing together. If she thought that would make him angry, then she was most certainly right.
A long, angry stream of air escaped through his nose as he retrieved his sword. Once in his possession again, he swung it in front of him a few times. Eyes trained on Silme, he swung his sword a few times before he made his move. Now he knew she was quick, so he changed his tactics accordingly. Rowan lunged forward and sent a few strikes, knowing full well she would be able to block them. But with each swing he put all his strength in it, smashing his sword against hers with a great deal of force. He struck again and again, not letting up on his hard-hitting blows. Anyone who blocked that many forceful blows would be sure to have a sore arm the next day, no matter how experienced they were. At any rate, he was attempting to tire her out before she could try to use her speed against him.
After landing her with many repeated blows, Rowan switched tactics. He stepped back for a moment, taking the momentary pause to grab the sword with both hands. He was going to be sacrificing speed for power, but if he planned right, it would pay off. Still playing on the offense, Rowan swung his sword in large, powerful arcs, forcing her to have to dodge rather than block. He continued to come at her until he found an opening, taking it the moment he saw it. Just as she did to him, Rowan latched his blade onto hers in a way he could easily twist the hilt out of her hand and send it flying. He stepped back and grinned, swinging his sword back and forth in a lazy manner.
And so they went. She had speed, but he had power and fifteen years of tactics on his side. There were a few moments he thought she might get in, but he quickly recovered with either a side-step or a fake out. Rowan fought hard against her, doing his absolute best to prove who the better swordsman was. And yet, curiously, as they fought, she seemed to be enjoying herself. At one point they separated for a brief moment, which was long enough for Rowan to give her a raised eyebrow. She seemed to be truly enjoying their sparring match, while he on the other hand was more than furious that she was proving to be a far better swordsman than he thought. In fact, it looked like she was… laughing?
“Are you laughing at me?” Rowan questioned, rightly confused. She was laughing. Why was she –
Suddenly, Silme moved. Rowan’s muscles tensed and he readied himself for an attack, yet one never came. Silme pitched backwards, heading towards the ground. Without even registering what was happening, Rowan lunged forward and shot his hand out, just barely grabbing Silme’s wrist. The woman became limp in his hand and he tried his best to pull her forward in an attempt to keep her head from hitting the ground. He wound up on his knees, one arm snaking around her torso while his other hand found the back of her head. Gently, he lowered her all the way to the ground, laying her out on her back.
The crowd around them began to murmur. Bodies moved, shifted, and some even began to step forward, closer, to get a better view of what happened.
“Stay back!” Hutch’s voice resonated through the clearing. The knights stopped in their tracks as Hutch jogged onto the scene, waving a hand at them. He limped heavily as he rushed forward. “Don't crowd them! Go on, back away.” Hutch commanded with an authoritative voice. The men must have known this voice well, for they obeyed immediately, the entire circle of people taking a step back. With that taken care of, Hutch moved to kneel by Rowan’s side. There was a lack of a cane in Hutch’s hand, yet that was the farthest thing from either of their minds at the moment. “What happened?”
“I don’t know – I didn’t… I didn’t touch her, I promise.” Rowan immediately defended himself. As he held her, he looked at her with a brief moment of fear; afraid it was his actions that had caused this. Hutch glanced at Rowan. He placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I believe you.” he assured him. Rowan looked at Hutch and nodded, and with that, they returned their attention to the fallen Silme.
And then, as if one cue, Sir Wymore appeared from amongst the crowd.
“No, no, boys, she’s fine. Hutch, get off your leg before you send Carmen into a nervous fit. If you injure yourself further, I promise you will regret it.” Alexander warned, putting a pair of fingers to Silme’s neck to check her pulse as Hutch looked back at a very concerned looking Carmen. Alexander sighed in relief and pulled his hands back away from Silme.
“Poor girl. No anger, no laughter, no sadness - else this.” He gestured to her. “None could hate it more than she does.”
Despite the beating Silme had done to his pride, Rowan felt a small wave of relief when Sir Wymore assured them she would be all right. Silme may have infuriated him to a point, but Rowan did not wish harm on anyone he sparred – at least, not any real harm. Bruises and sore muscles were a given in any sparring session. But fainting to the ground? That was certainly not a regular occurrence around the barracks. Neither was a woman sparring their best fighter a regular occurrence, either. Apparently today was a day for irregular occurrences at headquarters.
Gently, Alexander slipped an arm under Silme’s knees and her neck to lift her. He stood, careful not to drop her, and adjusted her in his arms. Then, he turned to Carmen, who was standing nearby seeming very concerned both for Silme and for Hutch. She had his cane in her hands.
“Miss Calailles, may I set Miss Silme in your chair?” Alexander requested.
“Absolutely. Please, by all means.” Carmen replied quickly, waving a hand in the chair's direction.
Once Wymore had taken hold of Silme, and he aided Hutch with standing up again, Rowan followed Wymore to the chairs. He took Silme and set her down gently in the chair. Since he had little else to offer now, he stood back a few feet, arms folded across his chest. Then he looked back to Rowan and put on a light smile.
“You did her no harm, Rowan,” Wymore assured him, “Thank you for catching her before she hit the ground. I’ve had to have her treated a number of times in the past for concussions. The falling is the most dangerous part.”
“I was merely acting on instinct.” Rowan said, a hint of boastfulness undertone in his voice. Good thing he had such quick reflexes, else she would have surely hit the ground.
“She’ll come around in a few minutes, most likely.” Wymore informed them, explaining how she has never been out for too long. Rowan nodded in understanding. He unfurled one of his hands from across his chest, slapping it onto the back of Wymore’s shoulder.
“It is a good thing you were here today, Sir Wymore. Even though I know how to deal with my fair share of injuries, I wouldn't have known what else to do with Silme after I caught her.” Rowan stated, before retrieving his hand and slipping it back across his chest. By now, Carmen and Hutch had rejoined the group. Hutch stood beside Rowan, his weight pressed into his good leg, while Carmen settled herself down with Silme. Curiously enough, they seemed to have bonded quite a bit, despite having known so little of each other.
Carmen spoke to Rowan, saying something about how he won, yet he missed her words due to the distraction that presented itself in front of him. As she played with Silme’s hair slightly, Carmen had given the men a rather clear view down the front of her dress. Rowan succumbed to the internal male urge and let his eyesight lower for a few brief moments. Blinking, he finally tore his eyes away long enough to glance at Hutch. Hutch was very intensely keeping his eyes on Carmen’s face, and Carmen’s face alone – although Rowan could only guess what was running through his head at that moment.
“Silme seemed to be enjoying herself, though, Rowan. Thank you, on her behalf.” Hearing his name snapped him back to attention. He gave her a deep humph in return, shifting in his stance. She may have fainted, yet Rowan’s pride was still sore. How she managed to find enjoyment out of their sparring was beyond him – he certainly was not in a laughing mood. She had seriously wounded his pride in front of many people; most of whom respected him as a great swordsman. Rowan did not appreciate being humiliated in such a way by anyone.
Yet Carmen knew exactly how to handle him. “Was she a decent fighter? I’m no judge of sparring, I’m afraid. But she seemed like she did well enough against such an esteemed agent.” Carmen questioned humbly, offering him a compliment at the same time. Rowan could not help softening slightly at her words, as completely true as they were.
“She was decent.” Rowan shrugged, glancing down to the unconscious Silme. “Fine enough for a guard, at least. Not agent standard, but she could hold her own for a little while.”
“I thought her form was impeccable.” Hutch offered. Rowan looked sideways to Hutch, his eyebrows knitting together ever so slightly. “From what I saw, she did more than decent – she could probably beat half the agents here with little effort. She certainly wasted no time in disarming you.” Unlike Carmen, Hutch did not feel the need to gently stroke Rowan’s ego until he became complacent. As his best friend, he was quite entitled to his honest opinions – even if they meant injuring his pride even further.
“That's because I allowed her to disarm me. I wanted to see how she fought.” Rowan countered, speaking all but through his teeth. Hutch immediately picked up on the tone of Rowan’s voice and raised his hand, requesting peace. He took his cane back from Carmen with a smile and a thank you.
“All right, that’s enough. Let’s give Silme some space – she doesn’t need half of HQ staring at her when she wakes up.” Patting his hand on Rowan’s shoulder, Hutch pulled him along. The blond reluctantly obeyed, his arms dropping to his side as a low grumble emanated from his throat. Hutch dragged Rowan a short distance across the room until he found a stack of crates by one of the training areas. A wince crossed his features as he lowered himself onto one of the crates, but he let out a sigh of relief as the pressure from his leg was removed. Wymore was dead on in saying Hutch was going to regret standing on that leg. As stubborn as he was, he couldn't deny the piercing pain throbbing in his leg at that moment. Perhaps running onto the field had not been the smartest choice, after all.
Hutch stretched his leg out in front of him, bending down to gently rub his calf with his fingers. He did not want to ruin his stitches or anything – he just hoped by applying light pressure it would massage away the pain. It wasn’t helping. As his fingers worked his leg, his eyes watched as Rowan stood beside him, a scowl plastered across his face. The knight was staring across the field back at the pavilion, where Carmen sat with Silme. Hutch let out a sigh.
“All right, Rowan. Go ahead. Speak your piece,” Hutch prompted.
Rowan scowled for another good moment, as if he was finding the right words. Finally, he broke his gaze and fixated it on Hutch.
“Are you interested in her?”
Hutch stared up at Rowan, his face pinching slightly.
“Don’t be an idiot, Rowan.” he said, his voice the verbal embodiment of an eye roll. He abandoned his futile attempt at reducing the pain in his leg and sat up straight. “Of course I am.”
“Carmen? You like Carmen?”
“That is who I assumed when you said ‘her,’ yes. Unless you meant Silme – as talented she is, she’s not really my type.”
Rowan’s scowl intensified. “I’m not in the mood for joking around, Hutch.”
“Pardon me, I thought you were joking with how ridiculous you’re being.”
“You knew I was into her too, didn’t you?”
“I assumed from the way you look at her. But then you're into any woman that so much as looks in your direction.” It didn’t seem possible, but somehow Rowan’s eyebrows burrowed together even farther.
To this, Hutch leaned forward, giving Rowan an incredulous look.
“You understand she is not a piece of meat, correct? You can't claim ownership over her just because you knew her first, if meeting her on assignments even counts – she is a person, Rowan. She can make her own decisions, and we both have to respect whatever those decisions are. Do you understand?” he questioned in a serious tone, staring Rowan down. Rowan met his glare and stared back at him for several moments. Eventually he caved with a sigh. Hutch nodded, and that was the end of that conversation. With that, he planted his cane on the floor, leaning forward and placing his free hand on his good knee for support.
“What are you doing?” Rowan questioned.
“I want to go see if Silme has woken up yet.” Hutch plainly responded.
“Ah, no.” Rowan stopped Hutch before he could rise off the crate. “You'll stay here. I'll go back - I'm not the one with the limp.”
“Rowan, I'm all right.” Hutch assured him. Which roughly translated to “my leg hurts like hell.” Rowan gave him a look that said he knew he was lying. Hutch sighed, throwing a hand up in defeat. He could stay there for a few minutes, at least. With a nod, Rowan turned and marched back to his opponent.
Just because Rowan walked away didn’t mean that was the end of his conversation with Hutch. This was not something they could resolve in such a short time. Obviously, both men held a liking towards the seductive criminal. This was going to pose a bit of a problem, seeing as they were both competitive men – especially when it came to each other. Although once upon a time they both agreed that they would not let any affections for a woman endanger their bond, Rowan felt a twinge of frustration at Hutch. Carmen had clearly liked Rowan in their past interactions during missions but now she was showing more attention towards Hutch. It rustled Rowan’s feathers, that was for sure. At the same time, however, Rowan could understand why Hutch would be so interested in Carmen after such a short time. She had easily caught Rowan’s attention. He would just have to try to visit her more often, now. He was sure she would love that.
The stern expression Rowan had had with Hutch slowly diminished as he traveled back to the small group. By the time he reached Sir Wymore, offering him a bow as they passed – Wymore headed for Hutch – his face had developed in to a softer expression. Not quite pleasant considering he was still sore over Silme besting him, but softer nonetheless. He stood by as Carmen helped Silme to a stand, ready just in case he needed to catch her again. Even though she humiliated him out there, he wasn’t as petty as to purposefully let someone fall. When she was upright and stable, the attention was turned to Rowan.
“I woke up and they said you'd won. Congratulations are in order I suppose.” she said, extending a hand. Rowan let out a small huff through his nose in response. Yeah, he only won because she fell over while laughing for God knows what reason. He looked from her faint smile to her extended hand for a moment, arms crossed, before caving and grabbing her hand, applying pressure for only a second before he released. “It was honestly a pleasure dueling you. Thank you. It’s been... well, a long time since I’ve been involved in a fair fight.” Her words were completely respectful to Rowan. “Sorry about catching you off guard there in the beginning. I knew it was probably the only way to get you to take me seriously. And um… thanks for catching me. Sir Wymore told me.” She shrugged. This was the second time he hadn’t left her lying in the dust. “Usually I wake up in a puddle of blood because I’ve hit a table or something.”
Of the things Rowan expected Silme to say when he returned, her genuinely thanking him for their duel ranked very low on the list. Her words almost confused him – he could detect no sarcasm, no distain, no tenseness in her voice, only respectfulness. That was a first. She seemed to truly be thankful for the fight he had given her, as well as having kept her head from making impact with the ground. The whole thing was almost… uncomfortable, to say the least. Rowan was not expecting such genuine thanks.
“So again, thank you. For a good fight and for catching me.”
Rowan shifted slightly, returning his arms to their previous crossed position. He almost huffed again, but a fixed look from Carmen quickly changed his mind on that matter.
“You’re welcome.” Rowan finally said, sounding almost reluctant. “As a servant of the government of the Queen, I would never purposefully let harm come to someone innocent, dueling or not.” That was going to be the last time, however. At least for them dueling. Rowan had no desires to fight her again – even though she would lose, now that he knew what to expect from her.
“Rowan was just telling us how well you fought, actually.”
“What? Really? How long was I out?” Silme seemed as if she didn’t believe it. Rowan didn’t believe it either.
“Oh, only for a little while. But when he remembered the gash on your ankle and the broken rib you recently suffered, in addition to your condition… well.” Carmen said, practically directing her words to Rowan rather than Silme. He opened his mouth to respond, but after looking at Carmen, he shut it again. He had only had vague notions of her injuries, she hadn't actually told him. But all right, he could take a hint. “He said you would have made a fine guard,” she continued. Actually, he’d said she would’ve been fine enough for a guard, but he refrained from correcting her. “Hutch also spoke very highly of you and said that you could beat half the knights if you wanted to. Any knight would be lucky to have such skill.”
There were plenty of things Rowan would have liked to say at that moment, but considering the last time he said something like that he got a punch to the face, he decided it would be best for his nose if he kept his thoughts to himself. Rowan wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he just cleared his throat and shifted his massive arms.
“Thank you Rowan. That was… it was a lot of fun dueling you. You’re an excellent fighter.” Silme bowed - actually bowed - which threw him a little. Rowan slightly furrowed his eyebrows to this unconventional gesture. If he had come to know anything about Silme in the past few days, it was that she was not a normal woman. At all.
“I am the best fighter.” He couldn’t help correcting her. “For the past fifteen years I have been undefeated, and it shall remain as such.” Rowan’s chest puffed out slightly, his arrogance seeping from every pour in his body. One glance at Carmen, however, and he decided he should probably tone it down a bit. “Still, it was… refreshing to fight someone new. After having defeated the same people over and over again one yearns for a new opponent.” He was not in a place to compliment her skill outright, so that was as good as she was going to get. It would be a while before he forgot that she’d punched him in the nose.
“Well, technically, you didn’t defeat me.” She pointed out, stubborn and irritated with the knight. “Rather my body defeated itself. But I’m glad. It was… a refreshing change for both of us.” She knew the battle might be an embarrassment to him, so that was a small form of revenge in and of itself. But she had truly enjoyed the fight. Still, she couldn't help riling him a little. As much as Rowan wanted to dismiss the snarky comment, he knew there was some truth to it. He had still won though, even if it was on a technicality.
Then, Rowan changed his attention to Carmen. His face visibly grew softer and more pleasant when looking to the seamstress. Gently grabbing her hand, he began flattering her.
“I wanted to thank you for coming to watch today. While I know you were here to support Silme, I still greatly appreciate it.” Bowing slightly, he brought her hand up to meet his lips, placing a kiss on her soft knuckles.
“Oh, it’s no trouble! I was happy to come. It’s always nice to have something to do on one’s days off and this was so much fun.” She commented, withdrawing her hand gently as Rowan returned to his full height. He smiled to Carmen for a moment, before the pleasant expression died off, his mind visibly changing thoughts. A question formed on his face before he even turned to Silme.
“I meant to ask, why were you laughing?” He questioned, still rightly confused over the whole thing. “I've never won a duel because someone fainted from laughing.”
“She was laughing at how easily it had been for her to puncture a hole in your massive ego,” Hutch said as he appeared next to Rowan. Sir Wymore, if Rowan had looked, was retreating from the room at that moment.
“Because you’re injured, I will let you get away with that.” Rowan shot Hutch an unamused look.
“Remind me to thank the mugger later,” Hutch responded, raising a challenging eyebrow to Rowan. They stared at each other for a good moment. “Unfortunately, I think we should return to our duties soon.” He looked over to Carmen for a moment, finding her gaze. It was going to be difficult to part from her after spending the past weekend in her company. He then turned his attention toward Silme. “I wanted to tell you in person that your fight was phenomenal. It was truly wonderful to see such unique skill grace our barracks,” he told Silme, giving her a low, respectful nod.
“Oh. Thank you!” Silme said, keeping her emotions in check. However, she was obviously flustered. “It was fun to fight someone on even terms. It really was. When you’re better, perhaps you and I could get some practice in together. Lord knows I need it. Not to challenge you. Just… as an open invitation. If you’re ever interested.” Silme looked down sheepishly. Clearly Hutch’s praise had caught her off guard.
“Well, gentlemen, take care. I think my time here is up and these men watching me would surely like to be doing something else.” Oh right, those. Rowan had forgotten. “I don’t want to keep you from your duties. We’ll see you soon, I hope.” Silme nodded and went to putting the chairs away. The crowd at the barracks had been dispersing ever since Sir Wymore had shown his face. Probably spooking those meant to be out on duty. Carmen looked to Hutch. “Please… take care of yourself. If you need anything, you know where to find me. Right?” She smiled sweetly. Then she looked to Rowan. “You will make sure he takes care of himself between shifts, won’t you? Don’t let him push himself too hard. And try to keep your chin up, both of you. I know how boring your duties might be without each other, but it’s only temporary.” She smiled then leaned in and kissed both boys on the cheek, standing on her toes.
“I’ll see you again soon, hopefully. Goodbye, boys.” She walked between them, glancing over her shoulder at Hutch after she’d passed them. And with that, Carmen was escorted out the door and out of headquarters.
