The Way We Fall

Chapter 78 (Tigris)

Roche placed Tigris' newly polished armour on with practised ease that morning, its surface gleaming. Tigris looked down appreciatively at the handiwork.

"Huh. Did you use a new polishing oil?" she asked.

Roche flashed a smug smirk. "Nope. I'm just that good." The reply was surprisingly short, not accompanied by a small lecture about the history of polishing techniques. Tigris blinked.

"You're quiet today," she noted, lifting her arms so that Roche could easily fasten the leather straps of her chest armour.

"I'm worried about you," Roche muttered plainly. The words took Tigris aback. It had been a long time since anyone had said those words to her face.

"Me?" Tigris spluttered.

Roche shot her an amused look as if to say yeah, who else?

Tigris chuckled, warmth filling her chest. "I'm touched." she teased, "I didn't know you were such a softie."

Roche rolled her eyes, brushing away the taunt. "Aren't you nervous at all?"

"Of course not." Tigris scoffed, ignoring the way her heart rate picked up.

"Not even a little bit?" Roche pressed.

"Nope." Tigris shifted.

Roche's brows furrowed as she tied on a piece of armour at Tigris' thigh. "Really?"

"Yep." Tigris was feeling the buzz of anxiety press against her more and more with each moment of conversation.

"Because it's totally normal to be scared. You know, sometimes it even helps. Adrenaline is a hell of a hormone. Did you know that the synthetic version of it was used to restart the heart nearly three hundred years before the first great fall of civilisation that predated the rise of the Faultless kingdom? That reminds of this really cool procedure-"

Roche continued to ramble as she strapped on Tigris' armour, and Tigris let the endless prattle fade into background noise. She regretted even talking to Roche.

"Alright, alright, I've heard enough." Tigris sighed after fifteen minutes of Roche's lecture, which had somehow drifted to a conversation on the feeding habits of robins. Roche pouted, but obediently handed over Tigris' sword. Tigris spun it experimentally, relishing in the easy motion of switching between stances.

A bell tolled loudly on the training grounds, signalling the first match. Tigris watched with detached interest, categorizing the weaknesses and strengths of the battling knights. Today's matches were much more entertaining, as the weaker knights had been weeded out the day before. Now more experienced knights went head to head in a tango of glistening hilts and crashing metal. Matches ended with knockouts and stabs rather than disarmings. Leinos was frequently called to the tournament grounds to haul away unconscious knights.

Roche squeaked at a few of the closer matches. Tigris chuckled at her. "Come on, Roche. Don't be a baby."

"How does anyone enjoy this?" Roche muttered sourly, wincing sympathetically as another knight crashed into the ground and rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding getting pinned. Clouds of dirt flew into the air as he popped to his feet.

"It's a show of strength and art." Tigris explained, watching the knight who had gotten back up press forward, managing an artful stab that forced his opponent's blade upwards. That was when he shoved himself forward, his dagger pressing towards his foe's chest. His opponent danced back, using his free arm to catch the hand with the dagger, twisting it to a painful angle. The dagger fell to the ground with a deafening thud.

"It's a bunch of men whacking each other with pointy sticks." Roche scoffed. Tigris kept her eyes glued to the match. All hope looked lost for the man who'd held the dagger, but his eyes were surprisingly hopeful.