Rules of Engagement (Celvi)

[Grand Duke Alexander Redwood]

A morning spent training with his troops had done little to take the restless edge off for the grand duke. Their morale was high. The replacements were beginning to finally cohere with the veteran units in the regiment, the result of long hours on the practice range and in the saddle. A good amount of hazing, too, but a good officer turned a blind eye to all but the worst forms of such initiation. Civilians wouldn’t understand, but such ritual bullying built solidarity in a regiment, made each man trust the men serving alongside him. A bath refreshed him. Clad in fresh clothing Alex wandered the halls of the palace.

Eventually he found himself in the library, as he sometimes did when the rigors of the field had failed to occupy him fully. It was quiet and usually empty. Most of the Lamoran court preferred card games and gossip to silent contemplation with a good book. Not that Alex had read most of the books he passed just now, except at the behest of annoying tutors throughout the years. Here were plays and poetry, overwrought ramblings about romance and war that bore little resemblance to the reality of life as he knew it. Not that he knew much about romance, for all his dalliances with the ladies of the court. That was more physical than anything else, not the stuff to forge lovers’ suicide pacts or whatever else silly people did in novels and plays. As for war… the grand duke knew enough of war to dismiss any romantic notions out of hand.

No, the sections he frequented were far more pragmatic. He passed through a doorway into the maps room, a chamber with slots of rolled up maps along the walls instead of books. No one was in there, but someone had left behind a map, unfurled and pinned down with the heavy gold weights embossed with the royal crest. He walked around, idly curious. It was a map of Zallia, oddly enough. He traced the coast with a finger. Unlike Mar’vol, whose geography he had studied until he knew it by heart, the third kingdom still held a tinge of the foreign for Alex, never having to learn much about a pacifist state. The vast majority of his education had centered around warfare, the proper course of studies for a grand duke.

His thoughts led him out of the map chamber and through a corridor lined with royal portraits to the room he thought of as a second home during his youth: the war chamber, crammed from floor to ceiling with the writings of every great tactician and strategist of the ages. He’d read at least parts of everything in this room at one time or another, and some he could quote by heart. His great-grandfather’s sword hung over the door, a relic from another time. Alex twisted the signet ring on his finger absently, unsure where to start now that he’d gotten here.

A flutter of fabric at the door opposite caught his eye. “Who's there?”

[Tag: Celvi]

[Celvi Gray]

A sly smile crept over Celvi's face as she entered through the large wooden double wing portal into the place she almost loved the most in the whole Palace: The Old Library. Whenever her countless duties of a lady-in-waiting – mostly consisting in sitting there looking handsome and vaguely busy – allowed it, she sneaked off to grab a book or two and let her mind wander to far off places in time and space. The library compiled a whole nation's history and knowledge since roughly its founding, and sometimes the young woman could just stand in awe and let her eyes wander over the countless volumes on thousands of shelves, housing wisdom beyond compare. It would take more than two lifetimes to read them all!

The fabric of her expensive garment, one of her best in red and blue satin and not in the least fit for a dusty library, swished and rustled silently as she made her way through section after section, leaving History and Literature behind, her hands gripping a small but thick volume called "Rules of Engagement – A compendium of warfare".
Celvi had 'abstracted' it from the War Chamber just yesterday, and devoured it in one long night with little sleep, oddly enthralled by the complexity and double-edged entity of a man's perception of right and wrong in warfare.
Now she was returning it, so far undetected and that was more than just a little triumph.

Not only was purloining books from any part of the library strongly prohibited, but she could also imagine the looks on several ladies' faces if they caught her reading such a book. Her aunt would probably faint, then dispossess her and then faint again.
Her father was the one setting her on this track though. Gordon Gray often simply overlooked the fact that his only child was not a son but a daughter and therefore not fit to be taught in the art of war. His last letter had mentioned a number of volumes she might find interesting and this was only the first of many she intended to read.

Deep in thoughts about the content of the book and the fact what might just happen if she ran into her aunt again, like she had done before, Celvi did not pay due attention to her surroundings as she entered through the door of the war chamber, and so the voice calling out to her made her leap with sudden alarm.
The book evaded her grasp and tumbled to the ground, hitting it with a thud, sending little clouds of dust into the air. Wide eyed Celvi looked frantically around for the source of the sudden calling – and found herself facing the Grand Duke Redwood.

"Mylord!"
She paled the tiniest bit and sank into a deep graceful reverence, secretly trying to reach the book at her feet during this motion. Not that she cared what he would think of her, but Runnori prevent he ever got the chance to tell her off to Dagmara!

[Grand Duke Alexander Redwood]

Alex bit back a laugh as the intruder jumped. It was a lady, oddly enough. She looked familiar – probably one of my cousin’s ladies – but not someone he recalled ever speaking to before. Not, in other words, a conquest of his, although he had to admit she was easily beautiful enough to be permitted a spot. He toyed with the idea briefly, but dismissed it. He was far more interested in the usual contents of this room than the woman who had just walked in. He decided she was probably lost, easy enough to do in these labyrinthine corridors. Probably returning a book of poetry or something.

She curtsied; he stifled an annoyed sigh and inclined his head in dutiful acknowledgement. “Milady.” His tone betrayed something of his irritation at being interrupted from his reverie, even by someone as lovely as she. His mind was eager to revisit tactics manuals and accounts of old battles, the purpose of this room. Not that this lady could possibly understand that. No, the war room was the one place that ladies didn’t venture, there being nothing of interest for them here. The accounts of battles past were dry and factual, concerned with accuracy not romance.

Still, she knew who he was, and he had an obligation to at least appear polite. No sense in stirring the whirlpool of gossip more than he did already. He stepped forward and retrieved her book in a neat gesture. He glanced at the title idly as he straightened, preparing a light remark on its no doubt frivolous contents. His brows drew together as recognized the volume, momentarily perplexed.

He knew this book well – in fact, the crude drawing of a mounted archer inside the back cover was one of his own juvenile scribblings, dating back before his father’s famous lecture over the proper way to treat valuable books and manuscripts. “These,” the grand duke had seethed, “are the same books your ancestors have studied since time immemorial! How dare you treat them with such carelessness! You’re training to be a warrior, not an artist.” Alex had never mentioned it, but he took refuge in the fact that years later he discovered a drawing in another book with his father’s initials beside it.

The memory that made him triumphant then only made him thoughtful now, but he pushed the thought away, remembering where he was. “It’s not a manual on how to snare a man,” Alex said at last with a grin. She was probably returning it for a brother or something, he knew, but there was no harm in a little teasing.

[Celvi Gray]

Through lowered eyelashes Celvi watched the Grand Duke take in her features. Men probably never knew how much a woman could actually witnesse when her eyes seemed to be lowered to the ground. It was only one of the many lessons taught by her aunt, and one of the few Celvi actually found useful. 'Don't stare openly, lest someone notices yout interest and takes it for impudence. Flash only quick glances from under lowered eyelids, that way you see without being seen!'
She knew enough of Alexander Redwoods reputation to vaguely guess the direction his thoughts were taking, and one half of her expected herself to blush and react in any way to this kind of look, but oddly enough nothing happened.

The other maids were actually very talkative about their physical reactions towards the handsome male member of the Royal Family. Celvi could almost hear their babbling in her mind: 'And everytime he looks at me, it's like a hot sting inside my stomach – Like blazing fire through and through – It feels like I'm standing there bare to the soul – that's because he imagines you bare – '
With her it was different though. She didn't feel anything but a sting of pure fear, cursing the fate that had brought him here at this of all hours. Of course, he was handsome, but so was Chase, and she didn't feel like she might lose her voice any second, like it was always around the Queen's messenger.

Before she could be all too smug about her supposed immunity, Grand Duke Redwood swiftly picked up the book and glanced at it as if out of habit. As soon as his brows knit together in recognition, she knew the game was lost. What now? Should she fabricate some lies, pretend she had just found the book outside or did put it back for someone else? That way she would be excused and no word would ever reach Dagmara's over-attentive ears.
His cheeky comment though disabused her. Though it was witty for sure, it also betrayed a certain male arrogance Celvi always had found unnerving, and especially with this man.
How dare he assume she was only able to understand fighting with womanly wiles?! As if she was too dumb to think about battle tactics!

But how to respond to that without sounding too insubordinate? The Grand Duke was a man with power and influence, someone you better didn't alienate. One word to the Queen and Celvi could be sent away from court with name and shame, a horrible thought. Still, this challenge couldn't be left unanswered!
Swiftly raising to her feet, she nodded, a smile lurking in the corners of her mouth.
"Unfortunately the chapter about ambuscade doesn't mention any similar tactic, though usually such traps are quite effective. Perhaps Sir Fennan should have taken lessons with his wife before writing this little compendium."

[Grand Duke Alexander Redwood]

Alex was grateful she didn’t giggle, as many ladies were prone to do around him, although on the other hand he found her calm demeanor almost as unnerving. She reminded him of someone, although he couldn’t quite place a finger on whom. Perhaps he’d met her mother or cousin. It rarely paid for him to keep track of such things, particularly when most courtiers were eager to remind him of who they were anyway, so he chalked it up to happenstance. She kept her eyes lowered, demure… boring. The shows of deference common at court irritated him for all that he had the advantage. He often preferred the rough and tumble company of his regiment. There he knew where he stood, without any simpering machinations for his favor.

His eyebrows rose at her swift, sudden movement and sharper retort. Had she actually read the book? The notion was nearly too strange to contemplate. He’d never seen a lady in the war room before, only a maid in to dust the books every once in a while. Still, she was literate. He supposed it was possible, particularly from her not unknowledgable words. Clearly she’d read at least some of the book, or had someone explain it to her. But why? Ladies had no need of military knowledge, just as he had no need to know embroidery and whatever else it was that womenfolk did with their time.

Still, Alex found it amusing that she thought she had gotten the better of him. So she’d read the book. He’d spent most of his life studying the contents of this room to the exclusion of much else. He’d play her game, as long as it amused him. There was something about her eyes that fascinated him and challenged him treat her with greater intelligence than he usually found necessary. “As it happens, Sir Fennan took a vow of celibacy and never married, depriving himself of such valuable insights. He believed women distracted warriors from attaining their full potential.” He smiled at her with a wink in his eye. “I happen not to agree with him on that particular point.”

He tapped the book with a finger. “You wouldn’t find more than a few tactics in here anyway. It’s a codex on the rules of engagement: when and where you may attack, rules for ransoming enemy nobles, and so forth. Intriguing, and an excellent introduction, but hardly a tactics manual. For that you would want…” He paused, realizing he was beginning to take this passing fancy of hers for warfare seriously, then smiled, a bit superiorly. “I’m sure you don’t really want any recommendations of tactics manuals. I’ve heard Kettlestone’s poems are wonderfully romantic retellings of wars gone by.” His voice held an edge of contempt, directed toward Kettlestone’s writings and by extension anyone who would want to read them.

[Celvi Gray]

His raising of an eyebrow did clearly show she had taken him off guard with her comment, but also that he didn't take her in the least seriously. His slightly equivocal talk just added to it, and it was all Celvi could do to not roll her eyes at him.
Just who did this man think he was? Runnori's consort come down to earth again? As myths wanted it the most skilled warrior ever to walk the earth and so handsome the Goddess herself fell for him and made him a demigod named Therandor? Surely not!
A little snort did escape her lips nevertheless as she replied with a meaningfully raised eyebrow: "So I have heard…!"

And now he was still implying she hadn't read the book at all, maybe even just looked at the scrawny illustrations! Such prejudices had always gnawed at Celvi, though she had to admit, they were true for many of her ladies-in-waiting. They would surely rather die than pick up a book about warfare and read more than the first two sentences.
But she wasn't like those girls and never had been, never wanted to be! If that did make her less amiable or desirable, then so be it, at least when no one else was around. In a huge crowd of people it was better to blend in and appear at one's best, but it was not like she wanted to marry this peacock - even if Aunt Dagmara had mentioned his name. She would show him she hadn't just flipped through the pages!

"In my humble opinion Sir Fennan's almost puristic moral standards are a bit far fetched from reality. History proves that many times over in this war ransoming noble enemies was circumvented and even after them being arrested under the rules of knighthood they were being killed. Fennan never cites the famous Lord Beringar and his statement 'Only a dead enemy is a good enemy', which is closer to the truth than anything else."

She raised an eyebrow and snorted again at his next remark. "Go on, tell me. I'm sure you were referring to "On Tactics" by your great-grandfather, which I was planning to borrow just as you caught me. And as for Kettlestone", this time she did roll her eyes. "there may be people who prefer florid fiction to truth, but I'm not one of those. You can compare bloody gashes to red roses as long as you like – it won't change the fact that people die from them."

Celvi wondered if she had gone too far already. Her annoyance had gotten the better of her, sweeping her away to ground that was no longer safe. No man liked to be challenged, and least of all this man who was known as an exceptionally skilled general despite his age. If he only wasn't so full of himself. The usually reticent girl couldn't stand people who talked big and looked down on others who weren't as gifted – in their eyes!

[Grand Duke Alexander Redwood]

Alex shouldn’t have been taken aback by her vociferous reply, given what had come prior, and yet he was. No one except the queen or Bell talked to him that way, not since his father had died. Sure, his men might speak more openly, but that was on the field and quite a different thing altogether. He was used to the ladies of the court simpering, blushing, flirting, and even giving him the cold shoulder in hopes of him chasing after the allure of the unattainable, but questioning his expertise in matters of war? There was no precedent. He blamed it on her strange fairy eyes, as bewitching as her words were off-putting.

Perhaps off-putting was too harsh a term, for he found himself rising up to her challenge with a certain eagerness, probably due to the novelty of the whole situation. “Sir Fennan was a starry-eyed idealist, I’ll grant you, but the whole point of ideals to provide a certain guidance for what occurs in reality on the battlefield. My regiment, at least, has never circumvented the rules of engagement when it comes to noble enemy combatants, not while under my command." The pride he had in his regiment showed in his voice, more serious than anything he'd said prior.

“And as for Lord Beringar, maxims are all very well and good for discourse, but essentially useless in daily life. Naturally I would wish all my enemies dead, but by capturing some and extracting information, exchanging information for mercy, we can seize the advantage in the next battle. If there was no code of conduct, you would completely remove the incentive for any prisoner to talk, since he would expect us to kill him anyway.” He paused to take a breath. “Chivalry, while it may seem trivial to you, has purpose indeed, if only to give warriors a common ethos.”

He ran a hand through his still damp hair as she continued speaking, smirking as she mentioned his great-grandfather’s work. She had done her homework after all! He was obscurely pleased. It seemed she had some purpose in being in the war room after all, although what application she hoped to derive from this unorthodox (for a woman) course of study he was at a loss to explain. Alex didn’t know how he felt about it. On one hand, he found a woman who wanted to learn more about his life’s work intriguing, if only for the singularity of it. On the other hand, wouldn’t her time be better occupied with embroidery and such?

“You’re right there,” he agreed more soberly, still thinking about the wretched Kettlestone. “As for tactics, there really is no better introduction than Auric’s, and that’s not just family pride speaking. But, I can’t help but wonder, milady, why you wish to study such things? It is not as if you’ll ever need the knowledge, Runnori forbid.” He kissed his knuckles to ward off evil, a superstitious gesture common among archers. “Unless it’s to impress a suitor?” he mused aloud, giving her a knowing smirk. “But, speaking of wonderings: what is your name, milady? I fear you have the advantage of me.”

[Celvi Gray]

Of course she had now stirred a certain vein with the Grand Duke. He would not lightly be challenged, let alone by a mere woman. On the long run she couldn't hold down the fort anyway, her knowledge about warfare was still far and few between, even if she intended to change that.
It was also no surprised he started to brag about his own regiment and rulership, making it appear the crown of knighthood. She mentally rolled her eyes, but remembered even her father had found words of praise for this young man. That didn't change her opinion of him, though, she still thought he was a cocky prat someone should tell one day the world was not only made to please him – especially not the female part.

What thoughts! For once in her life Celvi was happy to not be one of the talkative sort, or else the words that had until now only formed in her mind would have long since left her mouth!
"I understand that there have to be some kind of rules", she agreed, weighing her words carefully. "But chivalry often enough loses more lives than it saves. I have heard stories from the battlefields that tell of such things, like when our own troops are at loss whenever the enemy forwents the rules of engagement."

Celvi cocked her head in interest as she listened to his lecture. She didn't like the tone of his voice, like he was talking to a small child that had to be humoured, but couldn't really understand a thing of anything mentioned.
There it was, the paradox she had pondered on nearly all night. How could anyone with at least a bit of self-assessment speak about chivalry and torture in the same breath? How could anyone in his own mind watch a man being tortured or even doing it himself, and call himself a knight? And here stood Grand Duke Redwood, a living example of this contradiction.

"So, as I have read, the code of conduct allows torture of the worst kind but also speaks about preserving lives and being merciful. How do you bring those two things together, Mylord? Or do you rather choose not to think about it? Ethos and torture – how can they ever live side by side?"
The young woman was eager to hear some explanation, and hoped he would not evade her questions. Since she had grown from a sheltered child to a woman with her own mind, her father had never been there to satisfy her curiosity or exemplify a style of chivalry she could be content with. It maybe was unfair, but in this very moment she had chosen the Grand Duke for some sort of substitute for her absent father, whom she couldn't challenge.

Celvi couldn't help a little mirthless laugh escaping her lips. The obvious question! To be honest, she was surprised how long the man in front of her had put up with her cheek without voicing it. "Is it so hard to admit a woman can have a mind of her own, I may ask you, Mylord? Not everything we do we do for a man's sake. With the war raging, separating families and all, it's hard for some to close their eyes and remain ignorant – even a woman!"
She didn't say it with spite, just with a hint of mild resignation. He was so obvious in his thoughts and actions, and some part of her was disappointed there was not more to him – as far as she could tell.

As he asked her her name, she knew she had to tell him the truth. He was still her superior after all, and it would be highly disrespectful to not tell him her name.
Implying a small curtsy and lowering her eyes again – she could switch to well-bred court lady in mere seconds thanks to Dagmara's school of hard knocks – she said:
"Celvi Gray, Mylord Redwood. Though I'm sure this name means nothing to you."

[Grand Duke Alexander Redwood]

The grand duke listened to her words with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. He’d never heard a woman opine about war (with the exception of her majesty, naturally), at least not with any degree of intelligence. He was familiar enough with the other side of the coin. Too many ladies had ventured inane opinions based on the works of Kettlestone and his ilk, earning his disdain. Lamora thought of him as a war hero, he knew, but sometimes he didn’t feel like he was. Not compared to his father, anyway, and not in the midst of the gruesome reality of battle. Not that Alex would ever admit this to anyone. He had a reputation to uphold, after all, and he hated to think the new gossip that would arise if he dared admit some doubt or weakness. His father never had.

Her words, so arrogant in their reliance on hearsay – “I have heard” indeed! – vexed him. “You’ve heard,” he repeated flatly. “Let me assure you that the reality of war is far different from anything you read in books, even the ones in this room. But the enemy’s bad behavior is no reason to abandon our own ideals.” He rubbed the binding of the book with his thumb. “What is the saying? ‘Just as the strength of steel is revealed in the forge, so a man’s character is revealed on the field of battle.’ Which is to say, without honor, without chivalry, a man is nothing.” For all his education, Alex still found it hard to articulate just what it was that made him have such tenacious faith in the ideals of chivalry. Either one understood it, or one didn’t, and he had little use for those who fell into the latter camp.

She wasn’t finished contending with his answers, however. He listened with the hint of a smile on his lips. He hadn’t heard such sentiments since his own days in the schoolroom. Conversation amongst the military, when it veered toward the philosophical, usually centered around the more pressing questions of the afterlife and the mercy of the gods. “Any man who ventures into battle must accept the risks as well as the rewards. Victory, defeat… injury, capture, torture… death.” He looked away. Her strange eyes seemed to see too much of the truth underlying his words, for all that they were delivered in a callous enough tone. “Besides, no one tortures those who surrender information willingly. No one of honor, anyway.”

He frowned a little at her laugh. Here he was, doing more than most men would to take her inquiries at least somewhat seriously, and she was accusing him of calling her an idiot! He hadn’t impugned her intelligence, only her knowledge. She was quite the prickly one! He wondered why she didn’t seem to treat him like other ladies did; perhaps it was another aspect of her oddity, like her interest in tactics and strategy. “You seem to forget that our beloved sovereign is a woman, and I would hardly say she does anything for a man’s sake. You seem to think I disrespect women, although I can’t imagine why.” He wasn’t hurt, only annoyed. The real problem of being such a visible figure at court was that everyone seemed to think they knew you when nothing could be farther from the truth.

“I can’t say that I know it,” he admitted when she told him her name. “But be assured I will remember it now. I’ve never had a woman ask me about Auric’s Tactics before!”

“Still, I don’t know what good studying warfare will do you. Surely you don’t expect to ever need the knowledge. That’s what men like me are around for, to protect you. Wouldn’t your time be better spent studying embroidery or…” He wracked his brain for other things that ladies did and came up empty handed. “…something?” he finished.

[Celvi Gray]

The depreciatory words of the Grand Duke triggered a feeling in Celvi she did not happen to experience often: anger, boiling hot anger. She felt it spreading from some tight knot in her stomach into her every sinew, like a fiery liquid inside her veins. Her outside remained completely composed though as she tried to fight it down, only an increased blinking might have betrayed her inner struggle.
How dare he claim her notions were nothing better than far fetched hearsay?! He didn't know it, but he labelled her father nothing short of a liar himself, and that was what made her so angry.
"Let me assure you, Mylord", she stated with a voice as controlled and at the same time as cold and cutting as a blade, "that I have my own trustful sources of knowing things. My father has fought in this war for years, with honor and with prudence, and what he tells me I trust more than any lines in all these books, written by men long since feeding the maggots!"

His explanation didn't satisfy her in the slightest, they were all just petty excuses! Futhermore, he couldn't even meet her gaze as he recited his pretty little tale, so Celvi was sure she had found a weak spot of the almightly Grand Duke. Allowing herself only an inward smile of triumph, she put it away for future reference.
The afterthought of his statement showed the double standards of warfare once again, and Celvi could only shake her head. Didn't he realise he was constantly contradicting himself?
"And what man of honor would surrender information willingly?" She asked quietly. "It's a vicious circle."

For the blinking of an eye, Celvi admitted to herself this ignorant prat had at least a little point there. She was not the only woman around here who claimed to have a mind of her own, but at least she was the only one not of royal blood!
She had a right mind of dismissing his comment with a scornful snort and a waving of the hand, but sanity took hold over her once again and cooled down the anger at least a bit. She could not treat Royalty that way and expect to get away with it! Therfore all she replied was: "Believe me, Mylord, not by a long shot would I be so bold as to compare myself to our glorious souvereign, and you are wrong to prejudge me like that. What I think of you is of no consequence!" There, let him detect the double meaning if he wanted to, the actual words were nothing but proper!

Celvi could only just surpress a sigh of annoyance. He would remember her name? Oh Runnori, please not! She didn't want to be in anyone's memory except Chase's, because anything else would surely mean trouble. A hint here, a false word there – and desaster was afoot!
"I trust you will not make it the subject of your next battle speech, Mylord, right?" she commented with a little wink. She would not beg for his secrecy, for she was fairly sure the whole encounter was far too embarrassing for himself.

A low hiss escaped her mouth at his next words. However he had meant them, for Celvi they were some kind of red rag. Embroidery!! She should have known!
Her eyes filled with sizzling lightning bolts as she thought of something to repay him with. "Yes, Mylord, embroidery is such a good measure of a woman's value, is it not", she finally said with fake softness. "Tapestries and women, both stay at home whilst the men go out to war. And when the war is lost both burn beside each other in the house, cause both are needed no more."
Jerking her body around she prepared to leave, before matters could get even more out of hand.

[Grand Duke Alexander Redwood]

Alex bit the inside of his cheek to keep from cursing. Very well, she had a father in the war. That was hardly like being there and fighting at all. The sheer arrogance of her retort! Didn’t she know he dedicated his life to waging a war he had had no hand in starting? His hand trembled with suppressed rage and he set the book down flatly on the table with a sharp thud. How had she gotten under his skin so easily? He had years of practice deflecting and laughing off the prying questions of an ignorant court. How could this girl make his blood boil so?

He let out a deep breath before speaking, his voice clipped but calm. “As you have said, milady, one cannot know the realities of battle through words, but through experience alone.” His dark blue eyes met hers, trusting himself more now that he had begun to talk. “I am sure your father is as honorable and prudent as you say, but I hardly think such a loving father would recount the horrors of war to his daughter. It is not something one wishes to…” he searched for the right word, “inflict upon others. In this, I speak from experience.” He opened his mouth to say more, then decided the better of it, and shook his head slightly, breaking eye contact.

She seemed to have a response for everything he said. The consummate pupil, he thought dryly. For all her vigor and conceited assumption that she could possibly know more than he about warfare, she did seem genuinely interested. No longer did he think she did this for the sake of impressing some young swain. She seemed interested in knowledge’s for its own sake, though he found such a notion puzzling, being rather more of a pragmatist himself. He studied warfare because that was his life’s work. He supposed if he had been born a woman he would have applied himself equally to embroidery and other womanly arts, but Runnori had seen fit to make him a man born into the Redwood name and thus a warrior.

“No man of honor would,” the grand duke conceded. He made a gesture like that of a duelist acknowledging a hit, his rage receding. “But not all men on the battlefield are men of honor.” The imperfections of reality meeting with the lofty clouds of ideals, he thought, but didn’t say it; it sounded far too like what one of his tutors would say. He sighed. He’d come to the war room expecting peace and quiet and here he was, getting into questions of morality with a lady! He did wonder, a bit, what she thought of him for her to react so vehemently. Didn’t she realize he was doing her the courtesy of taking her seriously in talking chivalry and strategy instead of laughing her off? He had rarely felt so unappreciated outside of the royal presence.

The venom in her words laced her soft tone with barbs. Alex gritted his teeth. He didn’t know why he felt he had to prove himself to her – she was just some nobody lady-in-waiting, after all – but he couldn’t bear the judging look in her eyes as she taunted him. His hand shot out to grab her arm, but his fingers only touched the silk of her trailing sleeve. “Wait. I didn’t mean it that way at all. Why are you so determined to misinterpret my words?” It was a matter of curiousity as much as pride; he couldn’t let her get the last word.

[Celvi Gray]

Slowly counting to ten in her head Celvi tried to control her still omni-present anger. Reciting Runnori's praise helped a lot, too. "Ethereal goddess, whose face brightly guards our nights, praised be thy name afore all others…" and ultimately – however much it surprised the lady – the Grand Duke's words had their share in the process of cooling her down, too. She might have lost the momentary control over her feelings, but she was still susceptive to reason.

With a sigh, she confessed, "I'm sorry Mylord if my words caused you discomfort. Of course I am aware that personal experience can never be bested by mere reports, and also that my father will not tell me everything. But I consider myself knowledegable enough to not be treated as a nescient child – by anyone!" That apodosis might have come out a bit too spiteful, for a woman in her position who talked to a man in his position, but she merely didn't care. She could tell though that he was talking from personal experience, and for a moment she wondered what dark secrets lied behind those blue eyes of his and his arrogant demeanor. What had he seen that he would never tell anyone else?

Celvi knew she was being judged and even if she didn't care about his man's opinion in any possible way, she still wanted to know how he saw her. Was he already fed up with her non-womanly behaviour and sought to end this encounter as soon as possible – maybe even planning to tell her off to Bell? What the princess would do with her she couldn't measure, and for some reason that scared her more than Dagmara's obvious reaction. Underneath all her intolerance to manner-trespasses, her aunt was predictable, whilst the Princess of Lamora was not. Who knew if she didn't suddenly develop the 'idée fixe' of suggesting marriage for her insubordinate lady-in-waiting. Nothing was better to cure that kind of illness, than to be actually subordinate to a firm husband after all… Runnori prevent!

Nodding, she acknowledged his point just as he had hers. "Unfortunately there are, yes. But", she winked, mocking him and herself at the same time, "what would a woman know of honor? Funny how such an invisible thing can be of so much consequence for menfolk, isn't it? But some only confuse their own pride with what they call 'honor' – no offense intended, of course!"
The sharp tone of both their voices had subsided a little bit, to what one could still call competitive and challenging, but not bitter anymore. It was almost as if they both were on the same level – which was ridiculous of course. Funny how I always converse with men who are either high above or below me, she mused with an inward grin.

Celvi had to admit, she hadn't expected the Grand Duke to hold her back, or if so, not in such a gentle manner. For a confused and scared moment she thought he would hit her, as she caught his movement from the corner of her eye, and all her muscles tensed. But what was she thinking, really! Alexander Redwood might be an insufferable prat, but at least he was an honourable one…
Still, his almost offended question needed an answer, and a good one at that. Slowly she turned around, searching his gaze and locking it. Not anymore was she afraid of his status and what it might do to her if she offended him. In that moment it was just him and her.
"Be honest Mylord, am I misinterpreting? You were showing me my limits, now I will show you thine. You know nothing about a woman's place in neither court nor world. Only the image pressed upon you by anything but your own experience."

[Grand Duke Alexander Redwood]

Alex let out a hiss of laughter between his teeth at her reply. She thought he was treating her like a child? That explained her anger, at least; she was all but stamping her foot in indignation. Sweet Runnori! he thought, raking a hand through his hair in wry amusement. She’s quite the spitfire! He found it almost attractive, despite his exasperation, though whether it was from novelty or on its own merits he wasn’t sure. He found those same qualities to be irritating in the extreme in his cousin, but then he expected more from the crown princess and heir to the throne. After all, he would have to swear allegiance to Bell one (hopefully distant) day, whereas Celvi would probably never affect his life past this one conversation. He let her words go. She didn’t seem likely to believe his explanation even if he offered it. She was far too caught up in her own self-righteousness to listen to reason.

He cocked his head at her words, his expression a quizzical smile. “No offense taken, milady,” the grand duke said. “There are of course men who take their pride for honor and commit great acts of folly, but that doesn’t mean honor is pointless. The bravest and most noble acts of men – and women – are rooted in a deep sense of honor.”

He twisted the heavy signet ring on his finger, looking down for a moment with a frown. He didn’t understand anyone who questioned honor and its importance. It dug at the very underpinnings of his psyche and brought up thoughts he was able to avoid in all but his darkest hours. Such thoughts made him avoid any company except his regiment – especially the airheaded ladies of the court, who could never hope to understand – and pray far more than he cared to admit. As commander, he could hardly admit these gnawing doubts to his subordinates who looked to him for guidance, and as for his royal relatives, the queen was his sovereign and wouldn’t care to hear such things and Bell was far too young and irresponsible to understand. Sometimes he wondered what life would be like if his mother were still alive – someone who understood the burdens of royal duty without the stiff-lipped attitude his father had held to. It was all idle dreaming anyway.

And it wasn’t like this Celvi, intriguing as she was, could ever be a confidant! She was far too judgemental and infuriating, and for all her interest in strategy and tactics still a lady of the court and not to be trusted. He told him himself he didn’t care what she thought and yet winced a little when she winced as his near touch. Surely she didn’t think he was the sort of man who had no control over his actions, who would dare strike a woman? Sweet Runnori, what did they say about him at court?

Still she was bold enough to look him in the eye and give him a measured reply. He had to admire that, at least. “I know little else but the martial life, it’s true,” he said, doling his words out carefully. “I was raised to it, as you were raised to the life of a court lady. If you would accuse me of ignorance, surely you could do more than insult me and run away.” He hesitated, considering his next words. They could so easily be turned against him, into court gossip, and yet, deep down the grand duke had a desire to be well-liked, and it hurt his pride that Celvi seemed to hold him in such disdain. Into battle, then. “I have told you something of what it is to be a warrior. Perhaps you would return the courtesy and tell me something about a woman’s place in the world?” He hooked his thumbs into his belt, awaiting her reply with the glint of challenge in his blue eyes.

[Celvi Gray]

As Celvi heard him laugh, she gritted her teeth the tiniest bit to not blurt out something that she would one: regret (if not for his sake, though) and two: would make her look quite the child she avoided to appear at all costs.
Instead she forced a thin smile on her face, not unlike that of her aunt when she found something displeasing, yet was too polite to comment on it. Some habits were handed down through the Gray family after all, as it seemed…
She didn't need a petty explanation that was most likely not even honest. He was an arrogant prat and that was the end of it, and he probably knew that too, deep down inside him!

Mimicking his quizzical smile Celvi stayed silent for a little while. No offense taken – nooo, of course not, she thought and had to bite back a cheeky and very unladylike grin.
Sweet Goddess, there was probably no man in the world who was as easily offended as the Grand Duke – and that made taunting him such fun.
Wait, fun?! The young woman started but had to admit, she actually was enjoying herself at least a little bit. So far her behaviour had triggered no serious consequences and she intended to keep it that way… if possible. His arrogance was quite too good a target to miss for the archer woman inside her.
"Thank you for adding women to your statement, Mylord", she said with a little mock curtsy. "You're showing great talent in the art of negotiation, as Sir Fennan would surely agree with me."

Inside she mused, if somehow someday she would be able to prove honorable too. Would there be a chance to do such a noble deed? And what would be considered as honorable for a woman anyway? Surely not picking up a sword to fight for Queen and Country – not that she ever wanted to.
Suddenly she became aware of the silence that had evoked in the war chamber. Celvi Gray wasn't the only one letting her thoughts wander in here. It was not a thick silence, though, even oddly comforting in a way, and somehow that gnawed at the lady. What would anyone think if he or she happened across the two of them just now? Better not think to much about that…
Cocking her head, she gave a light chuckle. "A penny for your thoughts right now, Mylord. Are you in for the bet?"

The challenge was so unexpected, Celvi had a hard time not to stare at him. Mustering an instant reply was out of question, too. By the silver moonlight, what had she gotten herself into?! Did Grand Duke Redwood know that he had all but trapped her at this very moment. What was her life about after all?
To buy time she walked around him slowly, reaching the shelves and traced her lobg and frail forefinger across the spines.
"You know, Mylord, there's a reason that men are usually not allowed in the bower", she began with a wink. "There are secrets I could never tell anyone outside, let alone a man as powerful as you are. I would lose my honour, and for what? Accepting a challenge out of base motives."

She turned to him with a little laugh, the fabric of her gown making little swooshing noises. "But on this special day in this special circumstance I will make and exception just for you, Mylord. Beware!" she taunted him.
"Basically we learn how to manage estates without the help of men, for in times of war it is very likely the landlods cannot be at home. We learn to read and write, so no steward can get the better of us. The Queen sees to it that were are fairly educated in anything concerning life and history, and of course some of us practise the art of archery and riding, to be able to keep pace with our mistress, the princess." She gave another laugh. "You see, very little room for embroidery."

Maybe Celvi was still too unexperienced in court life to realise how flirty she actually sounded right now.

[Grand Duke Alexander Redwood]

The thin smile that appeared on her face jolted something in his memory. He’d seen it somewhere before, hadn’t he? He dismissed it almost as soon as it came to mind, though. Alex had never been good at remembering the names of the various courtiers and he had probably just run into a relative of hers at some point or another. Not anybody relevant, anyway.

Her anger had softened to amusement, something for which he was both grateful and mildly irritated. Her words, uttered in combination with an unnecessary curtsy, gave him the notion that she was trying to mock him and his talk of honor. She wasn’t as easy to read as the other ladies of the court, and so he wasn’t certain. Deciding to treat her comment with appropriate seriousness in lieu of definitive evidence, he said, “I don’t know that I would call it negotiation, Lady Celvi, so much as the truth. All people can have honor, even women and commoners, and it needn’t be earned on the battlefield.” He thought of recommending a book or two on the topic to her, but thought the better of it: she would probably think he was treating her like a child again!

She surprised him again as she broke in on his reverie. She was more perceptive than he’d thought! Still, he was used to deflecting prying comments. Sometimes it seemed he did little else at court! He smiled in turn, his courtly smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I don’t know that they’re worth that much, milady. I was only distracted by how beautiful your dress is.” If she noticed the slight hesitation in his confident voice, she would have to be bold indeed to mention it. One of the perks of being the grand duke was the ability to get away with more transparent explanations due to his high status and the according reluctance of others to question him further. Did he sometimes abuse this priveledge? Yes, but he considered it only fair, given how many people wanted to pry into his private life for their own advantage.

His challenge seemed to catch her off guard, as was his intention – tactics weren’t only for use on the battlefield, after all! – and for a moment he thought he had won, rendering her speechless. His blue eyes followed her as she proved him wrong, beginning to speak. A sly smile made its way across his face as he realized the previously recalcitrant lady had changed her attitude toward him completely. He told himself that he knew she had always liked him underneath her prickly demeanor; for all her talk of war she really was just like every other lady at court, jockeying for his approval. Wasn’t she the clever minx, drawing him in with talk of strategy and tactics and showing her true colors only now that she’d gotten his full attention. Though he knew it a ploy – and he mentally tipped his hat to her, cunning stragetist that she was – he still found it intriguing.

“So it seems,” he said, chuckling himself. His feet back on terra firma, he walked over to where she was making eyes at him. “You’ve given me quite an education, Lady Celvi. Let me return the favor.” He reached a hand up as if to grab a book from the shelf, but instead planted his palm there, leaning over her with a smug smile on his face. “You almost had me fooled with all your talk of strategy and tactics, you know. I don’t doubt that you even read Sir Fennan’s book. But… we both know why you’re really here.”