Chapter 61 (Tigris)

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Having Sir Harold back was a huge relief. The head knight of the Faultless army was influential and had many responsibilities that Tigris had taken up in his absence. It had been exhausting to manage her duties as princess and lead the knights, all while mourning her best fighters.

Tigris felt a stab of grief again. She was glad Sir Harold was back. Still, she mourned the knights she'd lost. She'd personally visited their families to ensure they were well compensated, even after all these months. She'd helped train many of them, turning them from gangly young boys into fierce warriors. Losing one of them was like losing a brother.

Sir Harold was one of the few knights that was older than her. Unlike the other older knights, however, he was far more respectful to her. Tigris repressed a sigh. Even after proving her prowess as a fighter, some of her father's employ would never see her as anything more than a spoiled princess.

Tigris gripped the hilt of her sword, swinging it experimentally. She'd prove them wrong. As she always has.

There was a loud crash behind her. Tigris whirled to find Roche groaning on the ground, covered by a pile of maces. Tigris rolled her eyes as the knights turned to stare.

"Really, Roche?" she sighed in exasperation, "Can't you do one thing right?"

Roche scowled at her, about as fierce as a kitten. She crawled out from under the pile of weapons. "The wagon broke."

"You're supposed to check the wagon for any damages before rolling it, you clumsy oaf." Tigris groaned. Roche rubbed her bruised skin.

"Yeah, well, maces are primitive anyway. They're glorified clubs." she grumbled. "Did you know that when they were invented-"

Tigris felt a headache forming behind her eyes. "That's enough prattle from you! Who here wants to train with Roche and show her just how primitive maces are?" she called out to the knights, ignoring Roche's offended squawk. There were a few of her newer knights who winced sympathetically at Roche and didn't offer. Some of the older knights always enjoyed a good match, and they were buzzing with energy as they waved their hands to offer. Among those men were Sir Harold.

Tigris couldn't help but be surprised. The knight rarely ever liked it when Tigris had used servants to practise on. But perhaps the still healing knight needed a gentler match to reintegrate. Tigris nodded to him, beckoning him forward.

Roche went silent and Tigris almost felt bad for her. But the maid had it coming after trying to regale Tigris with a fifth history lesson of the day.

"I hate you." Roche grumbled, grabbing a shield.

Sir Harold grabbed a large mace, swinging it easily. Tigris nodded for him to begin and backed off.

Roche held up surprisingly well, cowering behind her shield. Sir Harold's first blow rocked her back on her feet.

The knight whirled the mace easily, bringing it down harder. That knocked Roche back onto her ass. Tigris snickered with the other knights. Roche's face was tight with concentration. She yelped, holding up her shield, barely blocking another blow aimed at her face.

Sir Harold didn't relent. His eyes narrowed with a battle's worth of focus. He brought the mace down again.

And again.

Tigris' amusement began to give away to concern. Some of the knights were beginning to murmur as well.

"Harold?" she called, but the knight was engrossed in his work.

The sound of the mace clanging against the shield echoed loudly across the training grounds. Roche openly grunted, flat on her back. Tigris could see the shield beginning to slip from her fingers, her eyes rounding with panic.

Tigris reached forward before Harold could bring the weapon down again, grabbing his bicep. He strained against her for a moment before turning, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"I think she's learned her lesson." Tigris said casually, pointing at Roche. The maid was flat on her back, her face peppered with bits of mud and grass. The shield had fallen flat on her chest as she panted, sweat lining her rich brown skin.

Sir Harold's eyes flickered for a moment, like he was coming back to himself, and Tigris couldn't help but feel uneasy. She motioned for him to wait as she turned to the other knights.

"Pair up!" she ordered, waiting for the men to hurry towards the rack of shields and maces before turning back to the head knight. His face was unreadable. She grabbed his shoulder, trying to convey her understanding.

"It's alright if you aren't ready to be back yet," Tigris murmured gently, "No one here will fault you for it."

Harold's eyes seemed to flare with relief, and Tigris' chest unclenched.

"Forgive me, my lady. I wanted to keep moving. I must have gotten carried away. I'll be more careful from now on." he apologised, looking away. Tigris clapped his shoulder.

"No harm done, my friend. I'm here if you need anything at all. And Roche is here if you ever need someone to vent your frustrations." she replied, garnering a small smile from the head knight. Roche breathlessly hacked out something that sounded like a curse. Tigris bid the knight to return to training before turning back to her fallen maid.

"How are you doing, Roche?" she teased.

From the ground, Roche flipped her the bird and groaned. Tigris stepped over her to survey the knights. She watched as Harold moved almost robotically, swinging his mace at his partner who dodged with some difficulty.

The head knight's face was set with concentration and a blankness that had Tigris' stomach clenching again.

She needed to watch her friend. There was no telling how his experience with the inkblood had affected him. She could hardly imagine what it was like to be trapped in such a manner, watching his brothers in arms be slaughtered as their hope for freedom marched free above them.

Tigris shivered, pulling her gaze away. When Harold was ready to divulge his experiences, Tigris would be there to support him.

She wouldn't fail him a second time.

A/N: Ehehe, I am unoriginal and meshed a bunch of scenes from the show because I am not creative at all. How'd you like the chapter? As always, happy reading!

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