Even though Derith and Derrian had been nothing but nice to her, Iris still felt awfully uncomfortable acting the role of Ingred. She'd been lucky --after their initial conversation, there was nothing left to be said. She'd told them that she'd needed to visit the armory, of course, and asked them where she might find a measuring string... but that was all she could think of to even bring up. They'd been so kind to leave her with theirs for the time being and let her do whatever she'd need done.
Not wasting any time, Iris went to the washroom and began taking her measurements with the borrowed measuring string. She took the numbers quickly and concisely, clucking her tongue at her findings. How disgraceful it was to be this small of a man. Inwardly, she hoped that her armor would be done by nightfall... but yet already knew that that was only a dream. She'd have to sleep in her father's chainmail tonight. Gods, she'd be uncomfortable.
Despite the size of her body, she truly couldn't wait to have lighter armor. What she wore now was old and less than picturesque, especially with the dented in kneecap.
She put her writing charcoal down, now looking back over the numbers with another shake of her head. "Oh well," she muttered and began for the door.
Upon stepping outside, Iris noticed that most men here seemed to have already really settled in. Groups sat around warm campfires, making meals for themselves and rubbing their hands together for warmth. Iris almost wished she could be sitting close to the embers, as she certainly felt the wind's cool fingers caressing her from underneath her father's armor. She made no move to join in, though. The warmth wasn't worth another conversation.
It took her a while to reach the armory... much longer than she'd wanted it to. She'd misread the map the first time around, and when she'd read it right, it had led her to a longer line than she was comfortable with. Still, she took her place, entertaining herself by quietly studying the men around her. Each one, she tried to place their combat style by looking at them.
The first man she'd picked out was medium height and broad all around. His muscles were quite large -bigger than any she'd ever seen or wished to see for that matter. She imagined he was a warrior -a specialist in two weapon fighting. As far as his weapon went, though, she had not a clue. He wasn't carrying one. In fact, Iris looked around to find that hardly anyone had theirs with them.
She wondered if they would strike her as odd by bringing hers. Gods, she hoped not.
The second man she looked at was taller than the big-muscled man, though he seemed far less threatening in stature. He was toned in musculature, sure, but it was lankier than the former soldier's. This man had shoulder length black hair, much like hers, and dark skin. And then she caught his eyes. They almost startled her. They were sharp and intelligent like a hawk's, zipping in every direction -observing. And they were golden. They weren't the common dark brown that was prominent in Eldia.
For a moment, Iris swore he caught her staring. She turned her eyes immediately, her mind whirling in thought. He had to be a bowman... an archer.
Iris found someone else... and then someone else. And so it went until it was her turn to turn in her measurements. She handed them in quickly to the armorer, who glanced at them quickly before he began writing something down. If he judged the numbers at all, he didn't show it. He didn't laugh or raise his brows. Nothing. Just his job.
"What is your name, sir?" he asked, not even looking up at her,
"Ingred Gwenneth," she told him. The armorer wrote that down as well.
"What type of soldier are you? What type of armor do you need crafted?" The two questions came as if he'd asked them routinely. Iris assumed that he had. Now, he met her eyes, waiting for her answer.
"Rogue. Light armor." Her reply was short.
He wrote that down on her measurements. "Come back in two days. We'll have it ready." And then? A gesture from the armorer had the moving forward again. No one looked as she walked by. Iris heaved a great breath. So far, so good, as far as she was concerned. No one had questioned her because no one cared about her. That was quite fine too.
She dared not think of anything but the current success. Getting nervous about the trials ahead of her would only endanger her life more -getting nervous about her training might end up in a hanging. Iris reeled for a moment before taking another breath. Baby steps. Iris had to remind herself that she'd have a chance to practice some more before real training began.
"Better me than my father." She believed it too.
No one heard her speak the words. Only Iris, who was so caught up in her new thoughts that she actually ran right into a man that walked towards her. This soldier had been holding some soup... which poured all over the mud now in a steaming mess. Now, Iris panicked. Oh, he was big.
He slowly looked down at the ground and then back up at her. His eyes were angry, and she couldn't help but shrink three times.
"Fucking hell," he snapped, slicking some soup off the front of his armor. "Watch where you're fucking going, yeah?" His voice was loud and booming, drawing many gazes around. Iris suddenly wanted to vomit.
He said nothing more, just shoved past her and walked away, losing any interest in her. The weight of his shoulder sent her backwards to the ground. Try as she might, she couldn't stop her hands from shaking wildly and her cheeks from reddening. There was the luck she'd been counting on.
Iris stood quickly, dusting herself and erecting her shoulders again. With her last semblance of pride, she walked away without looking anyone in the eyes. She'd pretend it never happened and things would fix themselves.
Iris headed for the barracks again, taking a bit of an indirect path. That was just about the only place she knew to go. And so far, it was the place that she felt the most comfortable. It was evening-time by now, anyways -the sun casting a pink glow on the horizon. In just a while, every man here would be heading for their cot.
Upon entering her new home, as it were, she noticed that there were more men settling in now. None of them were the twins she had met earlier --at least, not within eyeshot anyways. Iris did notice, however, that there were two in the middle of the room that had their daggers drawn. She was intrigued nearly immediately as they circled each other.
That was all that they did for a long moment.
One of them bounded forward quicker than Iris had ever seen anyone move, and even swifter than that, let off a round of attacks. Iris would've never dodged the assault, but the other soldier did. Somehow. His lunge backwards was precise, his footwork impeccable. Iris, for a long moment, gaped at the grace.
She watched as the duel pressed on. Both of the men were so agile, and Iris watched in unfading amazement as they avoided each other's attacks completely. Until the end, of course. A feint won the spar, and one of the rogues was finally caught on his left side.
Iris wanted to clap, but suppressed the urge when no one else did. In fact, hardly anyone else had been watching. She could hardly believe it -these men were fearful! How could someone not watch? She'd seen her father swing a sword once or twice when she was young and she'd seen Kayde in their basic training... and neither of them had put on such a flawless show such as this one.
"Gods' damn it, Hergon," said the winner's opponent. "You got me with my own damn move. Next time, I'll know better."
"And so the student becomes the master. Serves you right, you old bastard." The words were harsh, but his tone was light of heart and playful. "Ah, thanks Kelgar. You're one hell of a teacher."
"Don't you forget it, either." The conversation between the two ceased when Hergon noticed Iris watching the both of them.
Hergon gestured her direction. "Think we have a new recruit," he said to Kelgar before beckoning to Iris. "Come here, lad."
Iris nodded, a bit startled. She timidly walked over to the rogues, who took a couple seats on the floor. She followed suit. For a moment, the both of them studied Iris. It took a long minute for either of them to actually speak to her.
"You seem impressed, lad," Hergon said. "Never seen a spar?"
Iris cursed inwardly. She hadn't been aware that her emotions had been so profound on her face. With a big sigh, she shook her head no. Hergon let out a chuckle and clapped her on the back. She tried to hide the fact that the contact just about knocked her teeth together and rattled her brain about in her skull. Hergon didn't seem to notice.
"Have you ever used your daggers before?" he asked.
"Only a little," she admitted, finally letting them hear Ingred's voice. "I've only had them since I got here. The general trained me a little when he took my draft note, but that's the extent of my expertise." Maybe it was unwise to admit that... but anyone with a good set of eyes would notice her lack of ability the minute she started fighting.
"Ah, that figures," Hergon said. "Everyone else in this cabin's been a soldier for years. Believe it or not, the rogues don't see as many recruits as we'd all like." The soldier paused, seeming displeased with that fact. "True weapon finesse takes the bottom of the cake these days. Why swing daggers when you can swing a big fucking axe or whatever." Hergon grumbled, "All compensating for their small peckers, I bet."
Iris almost gawked at the indecency of the words. Now, Kelgar coughed a laugh and spoke. "That any way to leave a first impression?" The interruption was much welcome. "Forgive him, lad. He doesn't right now how to make friends."
Hergon snorted. "That may be," he said, now studying Iris. "Seems like you could use some help, being new."
Both of the men exchanged a look. In Kelgar's eyes, Iris immediately saw suspicion --almost as if he knew already exactly what Hergon wanted. The suspicion only seemed to increase when he put a hand on Iris's shoulder and kind of shook her a little bit.
"He needs training before Zayn's trials. Don't wanna send him out with nothing. Especially if he hasn't really even picked up a dagger until he registered here." Hergon gave a devilish grin. "You are the best in the barracks here; you should give him a lesson or two. After all, we don't get that many new recruits."
"So another one of you can beat my ass with my own technique?" Kelgar raised a brow. But then. "Ah, sure. If he wants to." Now he looked over at Iris. "See me when you're suitably armored -can't have all the new bloods dying off."
Then, both of the rogues walked off together, leaving Iris sitting there, almost stunned. She'd had no idea that she'd be so lucky to find someone to train her --two people, if she counted Kayde. She only hoped that these weapons were easier to grasp than her father's sword, else she would look very ignorant. She grabbed them in her hand and swung them a few times, already feeling more comfortable with them than she had with the sword. Something quietened in her chest at the motions, putting her more at peace than before.
Iris went to bed, trying to sort through the rest of her thoughts.
I just have to take it day by day, she reassured herself, just got to make it through tomorrow.
Then, without further ado, she went to sleep.