"I swear, if you even look my way again Trainee, then I will gladly take you, dump you into a river, let you drown, save you at the last possible minute, give you mouth to mouth which in itself should be scary enough, then after you're feeling better, cut open your stomach and tie you behind the very horse you keep whipping, and tell her to start running so that you're entrails become you ex-trails, your insides are out, your outsides are in, and you rue the day your poor mother whelped such a sad excuse of a man. Am I understood."
Wide brown eyes met the speaker's, shell shocked. Thin lips opened and closed several times, and with a click of a tongue, the speaker added,
"I haven't all day, Trainee. Are We Understood?"
A salmon tongue flickered out to wet his lips and try again, stammering.
'Y-y-yes.'
"Yes what, Trainee? Stand straight whelp, what soldier cowers?"
Immediately the young man stood up straight before the woman before him, his thin chest out, all blood drained from his face in terror and looking straight ahead.
'Y-y-es mam'mam, L-l-lady C-c-cooper mam'mam!'
A snort, and she waved a callused hand.
"Good. Trainee's, Report!"
Running a hand through her hair, the woman barked out her order, voice a growl as the footsteps around her pounded on the packed earth. It had taken several weeks, but the new recruits had been slowly and painfully shown the ropes of the stables as they settled in. It was a sad fact, she thought, that by the time they started actual training, at least a sixth of them would wash out, and by the end of their first year half of them would leave or be killed. But, it weeded out the fakers, and she had been working so long that the feelings, the pity, was buried deep underneath a hardened exterior.
Step by step she went over the horse's that they had picked for themselves, berating them for not brushing hard enough, for dirt on their equipment, for discomfort that came from the horse and she happened to pick up. The group was oddly quiet, still sensing her anger from the young man who had been beating the horse, although Senior Knight Cooper had told them time and time again, yelling at them, that the horse would not stand for being whipped. It marveled her, that in all her time as a Knight dealing with Trainee's, she had never hit one of them and yet, they feared her for her tongue and her prowess.
"Alright Trainee's, I've heard the new Training Master has finally arrived... Because I am a kind woman," one of the bolder Trainee's that she couldn't see snickered, "you are dismissed to spend the rest of our time together away from me. Dismissed!"
As they flocked away, Senior Knight Jennifer Cooper sighed.
"They never change, do they Death?"
A roan charger, big and mean and scarred snuffled at her, huge muzzle looking for the apple she had tucked in her pocket. As she held it out to him, one large brown eye stayed on her face, ear's thrust forward to listen as her melodious voice flowed from plum lips.
"But, they are getting better, slowly. I mean, when we first started, the whole bunch looked as though they might've failed out. Now, I have at least five of them that I think I can stand."
Not known for being kind, with a temper and wisdom that matched her almost 40 years, the woman sighed and dusted an empty hand.
"Alright boy, I'm off to go enjoy my hour and a half before I have to deal with those that aren't as afraid of me as they should be."
Her tone was not one of anger, but a rough fondness, and she exited the stables with her hands jammed in her slacks, whistling idly. Jennifer Cooper, Senior Knight and Commander of Cavalry. Her name struck fear into the hearts of the trainee's, and some of the older soldiers and knights. Not one to be crossed, she was a tough salt, and yet... She never struck a person, used only words to beat people down. Her threats and mastery over languages was legend, and she took pride in that. Beneath a weathered and crusty skin was humor and a kind person, one who cared for people and tried to make lives better. Woe to the person who saw it though.
Black hair that was streaked with silver, worn long as her one vanity, fell into her eyes and a tiny delicate looking hand thrust it back, tying it up. A scowl creased her face as the woman went over the details of the fight earlier. The young man would never make it as a soldier, and the sooner he dropped out, the better. That was really why she acted like she did, to deter those who would fumble in the field and kill the people who didn't deserve to die that day. She had seen her fair share of that, and their was no point to it.
As boots crushed the delicate petals into the cobblestones, she walked no where in particular, just relaxing and letting the sun warm her face as the smell of spring filled the air. It would be foaling time soon, and she never grew tired of watching the spindle legged creatures take first steps. The magic that she had, born from the very earth, connected her to the equines, and she was happiest with them... Lost in thought, Jennifer ran into the broad back of a person.
"What the bloody hell?"
She swore as she stumbled backwards, and pushed off balance from that, tripped on an uneven cobblestone, landing on her ass. Oh no. That didn't happen to Jennifer Cooper. There was to be death to pay. Scrambling up, she dusted off her offended bottom and glowered up at the man that she had run into. Wait a minute, she knew this person...
"Michkel Lyone, you bastard, why the hell would you stop in the middle of the path?"
Arms crossed over a black tunic, she scowled at the three inch taller male. She had met him several times before, and knew of his race, and frankly, she couldn't care less what he was, as long as he was a good soldier. However, falling on her ass in front of him wasn't something she had wanted to do, and as humiliation flamed in dark smoky gray eyes, she masked it with anger, which wasn't hard to do, so famed as the woman who wielded two blades; her tongue and sword.
