as written by Ronin and Ottoman
Maria would not have to wait much longer. A small commotion went up from the milling crowds - a shout of laughter, a chorus of cheers. The mobs parted and watched as a small band of Vendragan marines cut through the center, surrounding two young men squaring off, rapiers drawn. They laughed as they traded blows, sparring in the midst of the spaceport.
"Still don't have your guard up, Marco," the taller of the two smiled - a handsome, bright-faced gentleman with long auburn locks, "I'll enjoy teaching you how to fight one last time before our next voyage." A parry. A seamless counter to his rival's shoulder. "Hit."
Marco fumed through his grin. "My dear captain, I've been wanting to do this for a long-" His lunge was quickly cut to the side by his adversary's blade, his head smacking against the guard of his rival's sword.
"Ooh. That's going to leave a mark," the other laughed. His comrades cheered.
The surrounding crowds watched with curious expression, both fascinated and uncomfortable. While it was clear the young men were only having fun, they were still sparring in the middle of a spaceport. The marines, on the other hand, seemed oblivious - clapping their hands to the spectacle, rooting them on. It was the merry, tasteless fun of sailors who had been at-voyage for the last four years and were not yet entirely aware that they were back in civilized space. To them, this was normal.
Maria and Rodrigo would instantly recognize the sparring youth as Lord Javier Benavente.
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Though it was hard enough to miss, Rodrigo's trained ear was the first of the two to catch wind of the scuffle, eyes scanning the crowds relentlessly until he caught sight of the duelists. It was not an odd thing to see in the Hegemony, the occasional duel between disagreeing parties, and though the weapons varied with the realm and the culture the basic concepts all stayed the same, regulated nationally by the Imperial Concordat. The broad-shouldered man's training took over for a moment, his form placed between Maria and the encounter as his spare hand moved to his pistol, ready to defend the Countess even if this was some personal matter between the combatants. At this distance it was hard to see the details of the two men, Maria overcoming her initial start at seeing Allende's defensive posture come into play to bother to look, though she only had to watch for a moment, leaning around Rodrigo to see, to know just who it was that was fighting. Allende could easily tell from the posture, the footwork that he had drilled into most of the Benavente line, and both he and the Countess knew that laugh all too well - even if it had been absent for some four years.
A mutual sigh came of the noble and her ward, Rodrigo's tense shoulders falling as Mariana rounded his form and started towards these sparring swordsmen.
The small contingent Allende headed followed her, the captain included, though her footfalls were rather muted in comparison to the boots they wore, the formation of blue-clad guards coming to a halt just shy of the circle of marines that surrounded the two dueling youths. Maria, preceded only by Rodrigo, moved to place herself in the circle of observers, figuring that she was just as safe among her house marines as with the house guard, and crossed her arms over her breast as she watched her nephew's work with some small curiosity. He had already been a man when he left home, in the days of her father the Count, but now he'd had time to truly mature - or, at least, she assumed he had. Judging by what she saw right now he might not have had enough, and the Countess did her best to put on a stern visage. Meanwhile Rodrigo couldn't help the smirk that came to his own, eyes darting between Javier's feet and his core, occasionally paying heed to the man's hands and his blade, as he moved through the fight in his own mind, knowing what he would do, how he would move, and comparing it to the choices the young master Benavente made. A light hand pushed his tricorne back that it didn't rest so low on his brow, the plumed cover marking him as someone to steer clear of in this crowded place.
The captain's concentration on the fight was only broken by a light nudge in his flank, his eyes drawn immediately to the woman beside him, and though she had made no move to look to him it was all too clear what it was she asked of Allende. The smirk faded from his face as he joined Maria in doing his best to look disappointed, awaiting the young Lord's attention, though in truth he was far from it. Indeed, not only was Javier's swordwork still magnificent but a member of the house was back where he belonged, and though Javier's return could hardly replace the passing of the Count it would, no doubt, warm the hearts of all involved.
____
The gathering crowd seemed only to invigorate the sparring youths, who were now trading strikes to the light smattering of applause and laughter of the surrounding commoners.
"Come now Marco, what have I taught you?" Javier danced around his opponent with effortless grace, his blade like blurring starlight, "pirouette, cross-guard, circle down and..." The flat of his steel tapped his helmsman's hamstring. "...hit!"
The crowd breathed their laughter, the marines hooting wildly ... before one of them finally noticed the approaching vanguard of house troops and the stern-faced woman at their head. His face paled. He quickly warned his companions with hurried whispers. They tried to signal their captain with elaborate hand-gestures, but Javier was having far too much fun to notice their panic.
"Now, here's the finale," he grinned mischievously. He brought up his blade for a swift parry and ran the steel down the edge of Marco's sword. "Step in, round-about..." With dexterous footwork, he stepped inside Marco's guard. "...blade down, hit to the wrist..." He forced both their swords down, striking out with the guard of his rapier at Marco's wrist. The helmsman yelped, his grip loosened. Javier caught his opponent's sword as it fell to the ground. "...and now, to finish..." Twirling a blade in each hand, the Lord brandished the steel against Marco's neck, simulating a decapitation. Javier smiled. "You, my dear friend, have once again been-"
He stopped in mid-speech, suddenly recognizing the shades of blue blurring in his peripherals. He turned, mouth slightly agape, to the sight of his aunt and her ward, surrounding by a squad of troops. No one looked amused.
It took Javier a moment to find his tongue. "...Countess..." he brought one of his hands up to his head and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. He looked almost flabbergasted at the rapier that was, for some reason, still being brandished.
Sheathing his sword swiftly, he tossed the other blade back to Marco, who did the same. Signaling his men, they all bowed to Maria. Javier bowed last of all, a hand on center-chest. He cleared his throat. "Countess Benavente. I am honored that you..." He winced. What the hell was he honored about? "I. Apologize for my..." For what? What did he say to explain that? After four years in space with only the company of his crew, Javier was thoroughly unfamiliar with the manners and customs of nobles.
His look flashed to Rodrigo, a pleading look in his eyes.
____
It was certainly something that he was out of practice with, and that was something that both Mariana and Rodrigo took into consideration - it was to be expected that a nobleborn man or woman in the armed services would grow a bit rough around the edges after they spent time deployed, it was simply the way things were. But to see a Benavente dueling here, in the starport? It was nearly unheard of, and the Countess would at least have some fun with this, in recompense for having to wait as she had. Maria kept her arms crossed, though one of her hands reached up to the necklace she wore, running a finger down the length of its chain as she looked over the small crowd gathered. Marines though they were, rough sorts no doubt, they did have a sense of propriety in her presence. "Lord Benavente," She began, lingering on the name as she flexed her charismatic muscle, "It's good that Allende taught you, if you had kept me waiting only to lose..." A slight shake of her head came of such a suggestion, there was no doubt that she would never let the man live it down.
Her face split in a reserved smile, though she couldn't help the hint of a grin that shone through. "Bienvenido al hogar, Javier." The Countess offered her hands to her nephew, looking to press a brief kiss to his cheeks in greeting. To have another of the house back on Tarazon was a welcome change, even if she figured he longed to be back out amongst the stars.
The captain allowed the look he had worn at the Countess' insistence fade, smiling warmly at his former pupil, glad himself that another of Vendraga's finest was back. "Welcome home, lord Benavente." He offered, standing back still, his hand still perched on his own rapier's hilt should it be needed in the defense of Maria or the young master. "You've been away far too long for our liking." A bolt statement to make, speaking for the countess, but if anyone was to speak in such a manner it was Allende - the guardian of three generations of the house's line thus far, and perhaps another should he prove fit enough when the time came that Maria took a husband. "Your work is impressive, as always."
"Captain Allende simply likes to see his own lessons in action. The epitome of vanity, if I do say so myself." The Countess glanced back to her friend, wearing a teasing smile - the farthest thing from the truth, in all honesty, but Rodrigo was a good sport. "How was the fron-ah. I get ahead of myself, like you can summarize your trip here. There will be time aplenty for us to be wooed with word of your exploits at home..."
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At the sight of Maria's grin, everyone relaxed. A wide, grateful smile spread across Javier's face and he swiftly crossed to kiss his aunt.
"Me siento honrada, tia," he took her hand and gave her his cheek. "I am so happy to be back." He bowed as they mentioned his skill. "All thanks to the good captain, of course." He gave a nod to his former teacher - sometimes, the closest thing he had to a father. His face brightened, but he fought to keep his emotions in check for propriety's sake. There would time enough to talk with his former mentor.
"There will be time aplenty for us to be wooed with word of your exploits at home..."
"Of course, countess," Javier nodded. He turned to his his men and whistled, one of the marines throwing a leather pack. He gave his troops a salute, the men signalling him in turn, before he fell into pace alongside Maria, Rodrigo and the house troops.
"I must congratulate you, countess," he adjusted the pack along his shoulder, "I heard that you'd been made head of House not long after my Drachmata expedition. I am pleased to be in your service." He looked to his right, grinning at Rodrigo. "Which reminds me, captain! I've learned a thing or two about gunplay since I've be gone. I'd love to see how our marksmanship skills match up after four years." He grinned. "After, of course, I best you in fencing."
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The nod was repayed by Allende, though Maria couldn't help but interject. "Oh don't indulge him, he'll start thinking he's young enough for another stint in the marines." Such a reference didn't phase the captain, who took the teasing in stride - despite his age he was still fit for combat, at least in his own eyes. With well over seventy years and four children under his belt, Rodrigo felt that he was in excellent shape considering the circumstances. Already the small formation closed about the two born of Benavente blood, escorting them back to the motorcade that the Countess had taken here. "I wouldn't want to think the ruin that would befall the house without him keeping us in check."
"You might finally have to learn your way around a saber." Rodrigo offered, smirking, knowing how both Benavente and their house forces preferred the traditional arm of the Vendragan folk. Such warranted an amused look from the Countess, who turned to the matter of her ascension to the throne. She spoke earnestly, her words plain though holding emotion in check. She still missed her father, and indeed didn't enjoy all of the privileges and responsibilities that came with her new station.
"Such things come at a cost, though it is all according to God's plan."
The mention of firearms and fencing did lighten her mood, able to see Rodrigo's smile without looking as he gave a polite chuckle. Javier was still the daring youth he had been when he left, if only a bit more tan and worn about the edges now. "All I ask is you keep our arrangement in mind, lord Benavente." Were it that the young man could best him at the range, Javier owed him a bottle of Salian Cognac, though he would be hard pressed to find anything within the borders of the Hegemony. Already he'd made well on besting Allende in fencing, though the tallied score of such matters was already heavily in Rodrigo's favor. "I will be happy to entertain such notions."
Quickly enough they arrived at the vehicle, the thing possessing ample room for the noble family and Allende, the other troops taking up escorting positions in their own alongside the aircar.
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"You might finally have to learn your way around a saber."
"Bah," Javier rolled his eyes, "the Austrans still think they have the better blades, don't they?" He smiled at the mention of their 'arrangement'. He'd consciously looked for the liquor during his expedition to no success. If he hadn't read about Salian in an old liquor encyclopedia in the house library, Javier would have bet his life that Rodrigo invented the brandy.
They entered the vehicle, Javier turning his sheathed rapier around his hip and laying it neatly across his lap. The adrenaline from the fight was rapidly rushing out of his system, and the initial high of seeing his old friends and family was beginning to dull. Questions surged to the forefront of his minds - questions he'd asked himself over and over again over the long course of his expedition. Now, it seemed, he would get some answers.
"There are many people I must see now that I've returned," he began, the car beginning its departure from the spaceport into the city of Costora. "I've tried to keep in touch with everyone through my letters, but it seems they didn't reach everyone." His smile faltered for a moment. "My ah. My father." His eyes flitted between Rodrigo and Maria, unsure which would respond. "Lord Raul Benavente..." His hand went up to his hair and he twirled a lock between his fingers. "How is he?"
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"Tch, Javier. Mother was a Dollmann, they're our cousins." Maria's political position made her a bit insensitive to friendly competition and inter-house rivalries.
Rodrigo smiled at that, sitting opposite and away from the noble-born members of the house, his own blade resting much as Javier's. The boy - or rather the young man - was one of his finest pupils, his birth and bloodline aside. Javier held a natural affinity for the blade and its application, a raw talent that some simply didn't possess, and it was something that was only honed by his character and work ethic. "If you have time before your next expedition," Were it that Javier did have another, "Perhaps you should enter into the Imperial Tourney. Lord Alfonso has become so immersed in his command that he doesn't have the time for it this year." Maria's brother had only recently assumed supreme command of the County's armies with the passing of their father, and it was something that the man had greatly underestimated.
At the mention of the young lord Benavente's father, Rodrigo's smile waned somewhat, eyes looking to the countess instead, leaving it to her to speak of her brother. Maria folded her hands in her lap, fingers playing across the signet ring that denoted her as the head of House Benavente, glancing out the tinted windows to look over the city that was their capital. "Raul is... well." An image of perfect health perhaps not but alive nonetheless, which was more than could be said for all of their kin. "He checks in, from time to time, especially when father passed. I believe he is on the capital now," She ventured, glancing back to Javier. "I do my best to forward your messages to the place he last contacts us from. Forgive me, Javier, I know not if he reads them."
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"Ah," Javier nodded, "I am pleased to hear it." He kept his face composed, his emotions in check. "He is a busy man. I did not expect replies." He smiled at his aunt. "But thank you, countess, for sending out my letters nonetheless."
His face brightened at the mention of a tourney. "The Imperial Tourney! Rodrigo, did you think I would miss it?" he smiled. "I've been wanting to compete since I was a boy. Now that I'm of age..." He tapped his rapier. "...I look forward to representing the County of Vendraga." He reclined in his seat, his spirits lifted with the prospect of competing against the other noble houses of the Hegemony.
"I'm not sure what the competition looks like this year," he mused, "I've been away for so long that I haven't kept up on court politics and names." He chuckled. "Any promising swordsmen among the crust of house nobles?"
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Busy was one word for it, a more polite one than Maria would have chosen, but Javier was Raul's son. It was only natural for him to show respect, and Javier was the better man for it. She could pull her strings, her contacts both due to her position as countess and also as kin to several key members of the Reichsversammlung, but that would only worsen the problem, she suspected. The issue had its origins, its roots, in Raul, and it wouldn't get any better unless Raul wanted them to. Maria returned his smile, glad that she could help things even as slightly as she did.
But naturally the talk of swordplay would lift his spirits, and Maria gladly let Rodrigo take her spot in the conversation. She was trained in the arts of war, as all children of the Hegemony were, but she had found her aptitude lay in the civil sector and not in the martial one, though she had nothing but respect for those whose calling was. "Of course not, Javier, I was simply hoping your time abroad hadn't made you rusty." Allende teased, a playful curl to the edge of his mouth. He wasn't, as he and the countess had been witness to just minutes before, though the man couldn't resist the jab. "I imagine your name will put you at the forefront of our ticket, though I am excited to see how the common circuit plays out as well." Each house, whether large or small, had a ticket comprised of a noble and common fencer, who competed in separate circuits before competing for the grand title. "I would say that your cousins, the Dollmanns, are putting forward quite a push in the tourney. The lady Uesegi Masako is quite keen on pinning the championship as another feather in her hat as well."
The elder swordsman ran his thumb across the pommel of his own rapier in anticipation of the tourney, mind dashing across the various pairings that might arise. The Dollmanns were good yes, but in the traditional manner - they fought according to doctrine and tradition - the Uesegi were different, and Masako was a black sheep even amongst her own kind. She was deadly, and for lack of any better reason Allende would simply chalk it up to her heritage.
"God willing, we won't be the ones against her."
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"Part of me wishes I will," Javier grinned, "I've heard much of House Uesegi's discipline and focus. I want to test my mettle against the best." He nodded, tucking a strand of loose hair behind his ear.
"Truthfully, I'm more frightened of the banquets and balls that accompany the tourney than I am of the fighting itself," he chuckled, looking back to his aunt. "My swordsmanship has not dulled in the years I've been away, but my knowledge of courtly manners and customs..." He shook his head. "The last thing I want to do is embarrass House Vendraga by folding my napkin the wrong way. I'm sure I will need a few refresher courses on etiquette." A sour expression took him at the thought of sitting at a dinner table, rehearsing the thousand different ways to sit and posture. Though he knew it was an important part of his duty as a lord, Javier was far from thrilled at the prospect of re-learning court manners. The young Benevante was most at home on the bow of a ship, living ferociously with his crew at the fringes of known space. It was what he'd been doing for the last seven years.
Much would change for the young lord in the coming days, that much was certain.
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Allende simply nodded at the young man's eagerness, not wanting to give the rumors he had heard any weight by repeating them. It was best that Javier not hear them, best that the young man go into his matches without the sordid whispers of spies and agents. But if there was one point he would not contest it was that she was skilled, truly so - but he wasn't the one to say whether or not she was the best. That was for the tourney itself to decide, the finest of both the commons and the nobility for the cycle. Maria looked back to her nephew after lingering in her own thoughts on the note of court manners and the implied subject of politics, her mind moving from her brother back to the immediate future. The countess shook her head, dismissing his concerns with such and expression. "Rest assured that you won't embarrass House Benavente with a napkin, Javier."
Nor would he embarrass them in the tourney itself, she knew - he had the skill to stand toe to toe with the best, and even if he were defeated, it would be an honorable thing. Table manners and politics, so long as Javier minded his wit and his tongue, would be no challenge. After all, she doubted anything could hurt Benavente's reputation half as much as his father's actions, and whatever minuscule damage that an ill-folded napkin was negligible in comparison. A practiced posture kept the countess mostly unperturbed by the bumps that the motorcade passed over as it rolled past the outer sentries of the family's estate, fairly used to passing over them by now. The jewel-bedecked woman glanced to her flank, out the window, to the manor and its surrounding buildings.
Only as one of the house staff moved to open the door for those gathered did she speak again, a brief glance to Javier as she did. "You're home."
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Javier nodded at his aunt, a bit relieved at her assurances. While he didn't really think he would dishonor his family over something so trivial as table etiquette, the young lord also didn't want to appear ignorant of courtly manners. He was, for all purposes, a representation of his lineage. He needed to be a lord now - a graceful noble, not some swarthy spacefaring explorer.
He glanced out the window, watching the sun-dappled buildings of Costora blur past in flurries of red and yellow. Between the dashing colors he caught glimpses of humanity - families walking the cobblestone streets, vendors in the marketplace - men, women and children, the people of Vendraga. His people. He almost laughed. All lingering apprehension vanished instantly. He was home.
His aunt echoed his thoughts a moment later as they stopped in front of the manor. The young Benavente exited the car and offered his hand to his aunt. He looked up with a smile at the gorgeous estate, his home for many summers, the playground of his childhood. He drew a long breath, taking in the salted sea-born wind, the mingled aroma of stone and sand, of chimney smoke and baked goods and bright, warm sunlight.
"It's good to be home," he affirmed, before entering the manor with his family.
