The Chain of Command, atn MoA

[Visar Falmaien]

(ooc: this takes place after Aekold's intro thread)

 

Having acquainted Aekold with the yards and scheduling some regular lessons for him with a Tower Guardswoman, Visar returned to the Master of Arms office the next day, her office door key in his hands, and not a little anxiety in his heart.  She said they would need to talk, and he had waited a night to do so.  She would not like that, but he did not only owe allegiance to her.

 

Did he owe allegiance to her?  She wasn't his Aes Sedai, and he barely knew Master Kilrin anyway.  He didn't trust her, and he doubted she trusted him after their first impression of each other.  That cocked eyebrow, that laughing amused smile, made Visar irritated just looking at.  And her voice...he didn't like it, but couldn't explain why.

 

Why was he doing this again?  Oh yes, because there were more important things than letting the beginnings of a grudge take hold, and it was not good to have rivalries among Warder leadership; that is, if he could be considered such.  He had never held an official position, but he was one of the better swordsmen in the yards, and he had taught many trainees and Tower Guardsmen skills they needed to know.  He knew he couldn't do it alone, and he certainly couldn't keep track of it all, anyway.

 

He reached the office.  Took a deep breath.  Knocked.  He felt almost as nervous as a new trainee.  This was ridiculous.  But he had to get it over with.  After being bidden to enter, Visar came in, and shut the door quietly behind him.  

 

He glanced quickly around.  The new Master of Arms did not waste time.  The room was still sparsely decorated, but a new set of armor set on a stand by the door, and he could see that all dust and cobwebs had been cleaned up.  He saw that her desk was immaculately organized.  She was prepared for him, it seemed.  

 

She stood by the window, her back turned to him.  She turned around, making her own appraisal.  Visar did not meet her directly in the eyes.  He did not want her judgement.  Instead, he walked slowly up to the desk, and placed the key on it.

 

"This is yours, Master Kilrin." he started.  They both looked at the key, then she looked at him and he met her eyes.  "Was there something you wanted to talk about, Master Kilrin?" Visar asked as bravely as he could, though he was afraid his posture and innards would betray his nervousness at any moment, and the stutter, that horrible stutter when he was nervous, would come back.

 

Bloody Light, I've been less afraid facing down five trained assassins than just talking to this flaming woman!  What is wrong with me?

 

-Visar Falmaien

[seiakera]

Kilrin stared out of her window, her hands clasped behind her back. Her new office was starting to feel more like her own office but she had found a few items from her predecessor that she placed on a shelf to honor him and what he had done in this office. Reports and paperwork had been completed late in the evening but now her mind dwelled on a singular report from the White Tower. She had to compile a list of Tower Guards to form an escort company and it needed to be done yesterday.

 

She let out a long sigh as she contemplated names. The mission was not so severe so she could risk throwing in a few younglings but these were dangerous times. A knock on the door brought her attentions to the forefront as she granted entry. She decided at that moment to go out in the Yards after this visitor and get that list done.

 

Kilrin turned, making eye contact with Visar Falmaien. Last night, she made a brief query and learned that he was the Warder of Rasheta Sedai of the Green Ajah and recently returned. The Tower Guards spoke highly of Visar, pointing out how well he taught a multitude of subjects which diminished Kilrin's suspicions of the man.

 

"This is yours, Master Kilrin." She glanced at the key and smirked at the memory of what happened yesterday, the surprise of seeing a newly-enlisted warrior and a seasoned Gaidin on her very first day. Kilrin made eye contact with the man before her. "Was there something you wanted to talk about, Master Kilrin?" He seemed a bit uncomfortable and Kilrin nearly frowned at that until she remembered why.

 

"Peace be, Visar Gaidin. While your unauthorized access to this office was both unexpected and unorthodox, you are mentioned as one of the finest teachers in the Yards." She gestured towards the large arm chair in the corner of the room for him to sit while she sat in the other. "While I could rip you a new hole and make an example out of you to show everyone that not even Warders are below the chain of command," she smirked once again, "right now the morale of the Yards is nowhere near where it should be." She studied his posture and expressions. "Punishing a man who is the role model for so many others would hurt us too severely. So I had another idea. I'm going to allow you to prove your worth to me," she paused for effect, "in the sparring ring."

[Visar Falmaien]

Visar Falmaien relaxed visibly when it was apparent that he was not in dire trouble. Or so he thought. This new Master at Arms seemed perfectly able to draw out his uncomfortableness till the last moment.

 

He then listend to her talk about the Yard's morale. She was right, since he had come back the place had not seen as much activity. Most of the guardsmen and women were on active duty, either abroad on missions for the Tower or enrolled in the never ending task of keeping the peace in the city. Compared to most other places, Tar Valon was relatively free of civil strife, but what the peaceful merchant did not know was how back-breakingly hard it was to make that happen. These days everything was strained. The Guard had many new recruits but most of them lacked sufficient training, costing the Tower more than they made up for in manpower.

 

Now with a reduced staff, and in the middle of reorganizing, the ttaining grounds were as disorganized as Visar felt his brain was on a bad day. Morale did need a boost.

 

He raised an eyebrow at her proposal for a public match. He suspected this was a trap somehow, but there was no way to back down from such a worthy request, and that from a superior. She spoke wisdom; it wasn't as if he had been publically insubordinate to her woth the key issue. It would make more sense to try to bind the yards closer with any gesture that they could. He swallowed hs sense of unease as best he could and put on a brave smile.

 

"I would be glad to face you in the ring, Master Kilrin. What time would you want to do this? And on what conditions? A public event for the whole Yard to watch? Till first hit, or a number of exchanges?"

 

She would undoubtedly fill him in on what she intended. Why could he not relax around this woman? He wondered of he ever would. He had not see her fight but knew her to be a blademaster of considerable skill, probably better than he was, though they would see soon enough. He was not going to try to lose for the fact of her being his superior, that was for certain.

[seiakera]

Kilrin smiled and rose from her chair. Visar moved to do the same but she motioned for him to remain seated. "I always favored discussing the terms of a spar over a glass of oosquai." The look on Visar's face was priceless and she chuckled. She poured a healthy dosage in two glasses and returned to the chair, offering him a glass. "Let's do this tomorrow when the sun is at its highest, for all to see. I'll let you choose the conditions, whatever you think would give you the greater advantage." She chuckled again as she took a sip of the potent liquor.

[Visar Falmaien]

Visar frowned as she offered him a very strong smelling drink. What a strange name; it was surely foreign, but was it from Shara or the Waste? He looked atthe glass with a mix of curiosity and anxiety. He hazarded a sip, and shuddered as it burned down his throat. Yet though it tasted horribly like dry wood and campfire smoke, it warmed his insides in a strangely comforting way. He looked at the new Master at Arma with newfound respect, to be able to handle such a potent drink with such calm.

 

He thought more to the matter at hand, their spar. It should require a display of skill, and be a fair fight, regardless of her advice to name something to his advantage. What would be the fun in that?

 

"Best seven of thirteen exchanges," Visar suggested, giving them plenty of time to gauge their skills and remove chance a little from the equation. It would also require considerable endurance. "Each exchange ends only with a clear hit to the victor, without a double kill or afterblow. Othereise we reset without a 'dirty' exchange counting." That would require both fighters to fight properly; Visar remembered his spar for his heron-mark sword went quite differently, turning into a brawl with plenty of cheap shots and double hits. "Blunt steel, weapon of choice," he added, having no desire for the contest to end accidentally in a death or maiming injury; the Yards needed them both intact at the end. "Penalty of one hundred silver marks for injuring the opponent so that they cannot continue," that would provide him incentive to control his hits, if indeed any of his connected. They would continue shortnof a serious injury though, mainly out of pride.

 

All in all, he felt as he sipped the "ooskway", he was probably dooming himself to be humiliated in public. But a clean, technical fight was just what he needed for the challenge, for that was where skill and mastery could be determined. And it took courage to fight a master on terms that were more favorable for a veteran. And with two blademasters, it would look incredible to those watching, which would hopefully accomplish Kilrin's desire for providing a good example.

 

"Are these terms acceptable to you?" He asked after a sip, trying to remain calm. Light, what was he thinking?

[seiakera]

Kilrin let out a laugh. "That's all? You don't want to bind one arm behind my back or anything like that?" It's been too long since she'd had such a clean and technical spar, these days she fought dirty just like any other warrior especially with her hip the way it was. Trollocs and Fades care nothing for a beautiful dance of steel done perfectly the way it should be done.

 

"Terms accepted." She finished off her drink and rose from her chair. "I'll be seeing you tomorrow at high noon then."