A Little Spar to Get the Blood Flowing (M'ta)

[Aftershock]

M'gnum checked his blade carefully for any nicks or dull spots... more as a tradition than in any expectation to find something. He cared for his sword, a final memento to remind him of his origins as the nephew of the Lord Holder of Telgar, extremely well, always keeping the blade sharpened and oiled, watching for cracks in the crossguard or the unwrapping of the wherhide hilt. Nodding in approval of the blade's condition, he set his feet in the proper stance, pointing the blade at an angle across at his opponent, his unclad chest expanding and retracting with controlled breaths as he prepared himself for combat.

Across from him, his opponent did his own pre-spar preparations. He and M'ta had been sparring with each other for over six turns now, each testing the other, showing advantages in their own style and weaknesses in their opponent's style. While M'gnum fought with a basis of his controlled, form-centric training as a Lord Holder's relative, M'ta's training was based on his early life surviving in the streets. Each was close enough in skill to challenge the other, but each came away from every sparring match with a slightly different perspective on combat due to the opposition of their styles.

Nearby, in the warm Weyrbowl "lake", Higginth lounged, watching His and M'ta with barely-feigned boredom, nearly falling asleep as he lazed away as he often did. M'gnum nodded to M'ta, getting a nod in return to signify M'ta was ready, and he moved in on his sparring partner, giving a few controlled warm-up slashes and jabs to test M'ta's defenses and get the blood pumping.

[Requiem]

M'ta glanced over at Behruth for a moment to see that his brown was settled with Dhavalth - no doubt sharing gossip with Jazheera about her brother, because the brown did so love to share things that made his rider twitch - before he rechecked his small arsenal. Naturally the throwing knives had been removed (though not set too far away, just in case) and he didn't expect to use any of his hidden blades, but a paranoid M'ta didn't leave home without his full cache. There were only two he'd use in sparring with M'gnum, both of which were drawn and cursorily checked. He looked after his blades each night and wasn't ritualistic about it like his partner was. They were tools, tools that he already knew were properly cared for, and the glance was just to verify that on the off-chance that something had changed between then and now.

There were very many differences between him and the older ex-Fort bronzerider. But that was rather the point. They complimented each other very well. Whereas M'ta was instinctive, aggressive and prone to taking risks, M'gnum was well-trained, methodical and cool-headed. It was the very things that made the bronzerider such a formidable opponent which the brownrider needed to learn and adapt to his own fighting style, and vice-versa, things that couldn't be learned unless their skill level was nearly equal. And yes, M'gnum was the only one M'ta had found who challenged him to the point of forgetting to be overly concerned about hurting the man. Sure, they'd suffered cuts, bruises, falls, all the normal range of minor injury, but they were equally matched enough that there was little danger of worse. It was liberating. And very helpful, too.

His dirk - long enough to nearly be a short sword in the smaller man's hands - and the curved blade of Telgar origin were spun neatly forward, the nod given with a small smile. It wasn't precisely mirthless - M'ta did enjoy this exercise in the sense that anyone who had a fair amount of skill at something enjoyed their craft - but it was a more serious sort of smile. As the first few warm-up slashes were evaded or turned aside, M'ta moving in closer to exchange a few probing slashes or stabs of his own, he couldn't quite help himself.

"Trust you to go around shirtless even in the dead of winter. That anxious to show everyone how pretty you are, bronzer?" There was an underlying (though elusive) fondness behind the words. Seven turns was a long time for any association, and it wasn't like they only fought and never spoke to one another. M'ta wasn't sure if he'd call M'gnum a friend, precisely, but the loyalty was there, and so was the respect. Another man that M'ta would protect if need be, not out of duty's sake but because he liked him, and as M'ta so loved to tell himself he was a selfish creature and didn't want to give up the people he liked to death.

Baring his teeth, M'ta suddenly took it up a notch, closing to try to get inside M'gnum's reach and lashing out at his core. His two-handed style made it easier to press the attack, leaving one hand free to deal with parries or feint or take advantage of a feint.

[Aftershock]

M'gnum easily parried and dodged the attacks just as M'ta had his, smiling as he got his blood up. Quickly stepping aside from an aggressive stab from the dirk while parrying a slash from the curved blade, M'gnum replied with a playful smirk in his words, "At least I have something to show off, unlike certain tiny brownriders."

Stepping to the left, M'gnum got into the flow of the sparring, weaving in conversation as he moved back to take advantage of the longer reach of his blade, knocking away the longer dirk with a quick parry and being completely out of reach of the shorter curved blade as he made a form-perfect lunge at M'ta's midsection while asking, "So, how is the current weyrling class coming along? Any particular slackers or especially talented youngsters of note?"

[Requiem]

It was a familiar dance. A deceptively familiar one, in truth. Too easy to be lulled into the routine, and too dangerous to allow that. They fought at a level of ferocity (at least on M'ta's part, as M'gnum tended to be more calculating) to allow for stupid mistakes or distractions. Nevertheless it couldn't help but become familiar, M'gnum vying for space to bring his longer reach to bear, M'ta pressing the attack and trying to get in close where that sword became more of a liability than an asset. The response was just as habitual as the dance they danced: "Not my fault the world is populated by giants."

The lunge was greeted by an almost annoyed counter of the shorter, curved blade, which was now being utilized almost exclusively on the defensive as M'gnum continued to maintain that pesky distance. Extending in a lunge, though, required time to retract, and though M'ta had partially twisted away from it as well he counted on that time now as he leapt forward on instinct with a slash at the bronzer's currently unprotected side. The intensity of their spar made the casual conversation between the two seem even more surreal.

"They're coming along, but the only one showing real promise has an ego that far exceeds it and isn't very willing to be taught. We'll see. And your wing? Still drilling them nearly to the point of collapse?" he teased lightly, knowing full well that if anyone could be accused of being a heartless taskmaster, it was him. Perhaps it was their shared Telgar roots (though M'ta had been far less privileged) but despite M'gnum's being a bronzer, he'd noticed a sense of kinship with the older man almost immediately upon his first association with him.

[Aftershock]

M'gnum grunted a bit as the slash came in at his side, twisting to the side and spinning his sword blade-down to parry the blade away. He then was put on the defensive from the strike, his sword not nearly as effective in closer-quarters bladework as M'ta's dual shortblades, dodging and parrying desperately as M'ta took full advantage of the situation with rapid stabs and slices.

M'gnum finally escaped the situation by using a move learned from M'ta himself... a move that would have gotten him a swat on the back of the head with a wooden practice blade during his training as a youngster in Telgar. Using his free hand, he grabbed M'ta's wrist on the arm holding the longer blade, using his superior strength to hold his arm still long enough for him to make a heavy parry with his sword... a parry that normally would have left him wide open for a strike with M'ta's other blade, were the blade not pinned by M'gnum's grab. The parry knocked the other blade aside enough to leave an opening for M'gnum to release M'ta's hand and roll out of the way, receiving only a small cut on the back from M'ta's now-freed blade before breaking free and coming back to his feet with the distance between himself and M'ta that he preferred.

Panting a bit from the exertion and using a hand to check his back, noting the blood with a glance and wiping it on his pants, M'gnum said, "Excellent maneuvers, my friend. As for the headstrong weyrling... I trust in your ability to set him on the correct path. The bluerider Lilu performs very well, and I heard she gave you quite the run when she was a weyrling." Settling himself quickly back into a proper ready stance, he continued, "As for my own wing... I seem to spend more of my time dealing with their grumbling than drilling them for Threadfall. Almost three full turns after the Summit, and still some riders complain about what 'the damn Holders did to us'!"

His expression turning grim, M'gnum parried a shot from M'ta and danced away as the smaller man attempted to close the gap once more, then continued, "To be honest, I worry about the impending Weyrleader Trials... if the winner, or worse, winners bend their ear to such rumblings... or worse, is one of the rumblers themselves... might we end up in foolish war against other dragonriders again, ignoring the people who depend on us to satisfy petty slights against one another?"

[Requiem]

He pressed the attack. Even after all these turns, though, when he saw M'gnum beginning to struggle he had to force himself to continue with the same fire. It was a little easier now than it used to be, as they'd done this enough now for M'ta to be certain the bronzerider would recover...and likely make M'ta regret it if he slacked. But he still kept a close eye on the man just in case he suddenly had to pull a stab or something. Just in case. Naturally he didn't. He rarely had to. The older man surprised him with the grab to the wrist, and he could feel the force of the parry shuddering down his arm, even as he stepped in even closer and started to break the grip (a simple enough thing even with a man as much stronger than him as M'gnum was, as long as you got the angle right) his off-hand coming back from the arm-numbing parry in a wide, almost wild slash. He knew better than to give any ground when M'gnum clearly had the upper hand...and the bronzerider apparently knew enough to clear the space rather than assume that he'd keep the advantage. The slash drew blood, flicking a couple droplets in an arc. Light cut.

The bout, though, he gave to M'gnum. A small scratch and a little blood was a small price to pay to reestablish a safe distance, and that was reflected in the brownrider's wry smile. A small lift of the smaller, curved dagger in what faintly looked like a salute. "I know you, old man." He was lathered from the furious exchange, his heartrate up but his breathing not quite as effected as M'gnum's. No doubt just because he was the younger of the pair. "Now I'll be lucky to close again inside the quarter candlemark." The words proved prophetic. M'ta's footwork and speed did him little good with the length of blade and arm between them, and M'gnum warded off his attacks pretty easily at this range. There was little the smaller man could do but keep it up and look for an opening, constantly testing for a weakness that would let him slip past the older man's guard and back into the close-range zone that gave M'ta the distinct advantage. M'gnum didn't have to risk much to attack him, either, as long as he was smart about it...and he was. Too long at this and M'ta would grow tired. He was expending more energy than M'gnum. That, and the strength of the man magnified by the length of his blade would wear down the brownrider's strength as well.

Despite those concerns, the conversation continued companionably. "Don't tell her that," M'ta commented with a quirky grin. "I doubt she'll like anyone thinking she might have benefitted from the weyrling training she wanted to skip." The humor faded. "She really did come to me well-trained, though." He didn't really think it was fair for him to take much credit for her. If anything, the best thing he'd done for her was treat her like any other weyrling and force her to go through the process. She taught herself how to work with the other weyrlings really. Even if close friendships didn't really seem to form as M'ta would have hoped. Twisting aside from a quick jab that came awfully close to his ribcage - and opened a small cut along his side even with the evasion - he smiled appreciatively when his counter was headed off. Skilled bastard. The smile faded at M'gnum's expressed concerns."You really think we're in danger of another war between the weyrs?" On the surface, such a question might have seemed strange from the weyrlingmaster who practiced so diligently with the wingleader in front of him and continued to teach basic combat skills to his weyrlings despite the war's end, but it wasn't as strange a question as it seemed.

M'ta was cynical and paranoid, not fully trusting the peace. He could easily see a band of fort riders reemerging who had not been caught in that turn after the Weyr's fall, or fighting breaking out between factions within one or both of the weyrs itself when emotions ran high. Perhaps even an armed response (outside the sanction of the Weyrleaders) against the Holders' restrictions that so many of the dragonriders found distasteful. He didn't want the weyrlings he'd trained to be helpless if they ever found themselves on the opposite side of such aggression, though he hoped none of them would ever be the cause of such trouble. Still, it hadn't occurred to him that a fullscale war between the two Weyrs might still be a danger. The question was anything but derisive when he added, "Isn't that why they mixed all the dragonriders together? To prevent another Dragon War?" M'ta could only wonder if he was missing something that M'gnum saw. Despite the serious turn their conversation had taken, he continued pressing for an opening, but he also used a trick he'd learned from M'gnum. He left an opening - just a small one, nothing remotely obvious - to see if M'gnum would try to exploit it. The benefit was if he did...M'ta knew exactly how he'd move and could duck back inside his reach and bring the fight to him again.

[Aftershock]

M'gnum kept M'ta at an appropriate distance, the longer reach of his blade kept balanced by the double-pronged attack allowed by M'ta's dual blades. It seemed as if the smaller, but younger brownrider and the larger, but older bronzerider would be eternally equal to each other, each fighter's advantages complemented and countered by the advantages of the other to make each sparring match a wonderful challenge... M'gnum never had to worry about having to hold back, or completely dominate the competition.

Extracting his sword quickly from a downward slash that M'ta countered by crossing his blades, attempting to entangle M'gnum's weapon, M'gnum replied to M'ta's questions with, "Perhaps not a war rivaling the ferocity or length of the Dragon Wars, but the danger seems there all the same. Too many dragonriders see their bond as making them superior to those who were never to be chosen by dragons, rather than a calling to take on a great and noble responsibility, and see the Summit as them being 'bossed around' by their 'lessers'. Pride can cause intelligent men to make foolish decisions."

Leaping over M'ta as the man dove forward in a rush of blades, attempting to throw M'gnum's ordered mind off with the wild maneuver and find himself in close quarters once more, M'gnum landed and quickly backpedaled to re-establish distance as he continued, "Mixing the Weyrs was performed to prevent such a problem... but the fact that the grumbling comes from both former Fort and Benden riders as well as former Selenitas riders makes me even more worried than I would otherwise. Many of the most outspoken of the naysayers seem to be attempting to use their shared background as dragonriders to recruit those who would otherwise be in opposition of them under their banner against the 'common enemy' of the Holders. The fact that it's shown even a small measure of success does not bode well" Suddenly, M'gnum noticed the hint of an opening in M'ta's defenses, and quickly twisted his blade to slip inside the brownrider's guard.

[Requiem]

M'ta couldn't help the small smile that was equal parts amusement and fondness. The topic was serious enough - and M'gnum definitely wasn't wrong about how a good number of dragonriders seemed to regard holders as lesser beings - but it smacked of an old disagreement between them. Though the brownrider would readily admit if pressed that part of the reason he was so uncomfortable with this concept of nobility and a higher purpose was he regarded Behruth as something of a second chance, and his morals...well, they were crap. He agreed with most of the principles M'gnum held dear, just not the overlying premise. You couldn't make people be noble, or embrace a 'higher calling'. People didn't care. Most everyone was just in things for themselves. This was true of M'ta, too. He did things because his conscience wouldn't leave him the fuck alone if he didn't, or because the thought of losing the people he cared about was just too painful, or because Behruth's approval was something that was almost like a drug to him and the brown was far sweeter than M'ta would ever be. He didn't do it because it was 'right'. And he didn't believe most people would.

The fact that M'gnum had so few people willing to ascribe to his belief system seemed to be further proof of that. Still, he didn't often counter M'gnum when the topic came up again, not unless his friend was trying to convince him to become a 'knight' or some such like he did at times. He admired a man with such convictions, even if he personally saw them as unfeasible. Not to mention dangerous. If you followed some sort of code and everyone knew about it, then it was a hell of a lot easier for people to manipulate and hurt you. M'ta was far too paranoid to expose himself to that, even if he had been some sort of paragon of virtue. (Which of course he was not. Thieving, murdering whores - nevermind that he usually had good reasons for what he did, at least by his own reckoning - weren't exactly creatures people usually looked up to for their morality.)

"If dragonriders actually start attacking the Holds, the rift will never be repaired...and the only ones who will be able to stop them are other dragonriders." Because of the dragons, naturally. Great. One more thing for M'ta to worry about. As if he wasn't paranoid enough already. The opening was taken. The brownrider avoided it all too easily, knocking the blade aside with a forearm harmlessly as he stepped inside M'gnum's reach. His blades were quick to seek the bronzerider's torso, though the one to the chest was pulled in anticipation of a kill point.

Why? Because M'ta normally wouldn't be able to get past M'gnum's guard or avoid that thrust so easily, except when it was planned, and he was banking on the move surprising the bronzer enough to win the match. Or, perhaps more accurately, he thought it likely enough that he took pains not to thrust a blade through the man's chest and cause M'gnum a good deal of discomfort as a result.

[Aftershock]

M'gnum frowned a bit farther as he responded, "We can hope that never happens in either of our lifetimes, or ever again... it's just that signs of unrest this soon after we just concluded such a massive, Turns-long conflict worry me. I am glad that you are one of the ones training the next generation of dragonriders, that is certain." Then, suddenly, the time for talking was over as M'gnum found the hard way that M'ta's opening was merely a feint. Reeling from the sudden presence of the brownrider inside his defenses, M'gnum suddenly twisted away from the strike to his chest, showing surprising flexibility for a man his size and age as he bent backwards at the waist as he bent his knees, the tip of M'ta's straight blade skidding along his chest and opening a shallow cut along M'gnum's pectoral up to his shoulderblade... had the man not retarded his strike in preparation for a match-ending stroke, the blade would probably have ended up piercing M'gnum's shoulder muscle. As he twisted and dipped, M'gnum desperately brought his parried blade back up, sliding it in alongside M'ta's curved blade to deflect it away from his vulnerable ribs.

Straightening back up, M'gnum was in a desperate battle once again with M'ta taking advantage of the bronzer's penetrated defenses. The clatter of steel on steel filled the weyrbowl as the two men fought hard and viciously, both knowing the other would give no quarter to their opponent. Finally, and suddenly, it was over... M'gnum stood holding M'ta's straight blade still with an armlock, with a trickle of blood down his stomach showing the curtailed disemboweling blow from M'ta's curved blade's point jabbing his stomach. M'ta, meanwhile, felt the warm wetness of his blood staining his shirt as M'gnum's sharpened blade point poked into his armpit, the bronzer's control keeping a strike that would have penetrated up past the brownrider's ribs into his lungs and heart in check. Smiling down at the shorter man, his breath short from the frenzied exchange of blades he had just participated in, M'gnum said, "A draw, again, it seems. You nearly had me there, though, my friend... a clever feint, indeed. Your quality as a sparring partner has not diminished in the slightest."

[Requiem]

In truth, he wasn't actually surprised that M'gnum had managed to evade the thrust to the chest, seeing as how the older bronzerider had surprisingly swift reflexes. Of course, that simply incited M'ta into a more furious attack, certain that if he let up for an instant - if he let M'gnum put distance between them again - that would be the spar. The brownrider was already lathered and didn't have the luxury of expending comparable energy to find another opening...not with an opponent of M'gnum's caliber.

Shaking his head slightly, a wry smile on his face, the weyrlingmaster eased away from their draw carefully. "The trick I learned from you, but not perfectly it seems. With the number of times you've 'killed' me , it's lucky we're friends. Though maybe I should stop wearing shirts, after all," he added, as he stripped the blooded garment off himself one-handed, weapons clutched in the other.

A couple moments later, the shirt having been soaked in a cool pool not far from the warm one Higginth lounged in, M'ta returned and offered M'gnum a water flask. He'd also inspected the nature of his cut to be sure it hadn't nicked the artery and, satisfied, wriggled into a spare shirt he'd gotten into the habit of bringing. Clambering up on a rock, he set to cleaning his two blades. "I don't know if it's really as worrying as all that," he finally offered thoughtfully. "It takes time to adjust to a different mentality. Some of these dragonriders have never known anything other than the war and don't know what to do with themselves. Most will settle. Eventually." M'ta had. Paranoid still, maybe, but quite happy with his family and mindmates without having to go looking for conflict or trouble.

[Aftershock]

M'gnum released M'ta's hand to allow the brownrider to extract himself, nodding and smiling at the man's words. "Mastered or not, you have always impressed me with your ability to adapt and learn... I believe that at your current level, even my stuffy old weapons master from my boyhood would be forced to admit your skill, my friend." Moving to the warm pool Higginth lounged in, M'gnum took a cloth he always brought with him and wet it in the water, cleaning his wounds carefully before taking the small jar of redwort he had been able to acquire from the Healers and carefully applying it to his wounds after checking to determine they were too shallow to require stitching in the Infirmary. After treating his own wounds, he offered the redwort to M'ta if he wanted it.

Following M'ta to where he sat, M'gnum grabbed his whetstone and blade oil and began checking his own sword, carefully smoothing out any nicks and treating the blade with oil as he spoke to M'ta. "You could be right... I suppose I'm just especially sensitive to the possibilities of going back to the way we were before. It took so long to finally get this war resolved, and concentrate on protecting the people as we were meant to... I do not wish us to lose our way once again."

Cleaning and maintaining his blade in silence for a moment, M'gnum then cleared his throat and said, "The Weyrleader Trials are coming up soon... I've been preparing for them since they were announced at the Summit. Tell me the truth, my friend... do you think me capable of leading an entire Weyr? Do you believe the dissenters will obey my decrees, even if they do not agree with my methods?"

[Requiem]

The redwort was accepted gratefully but not applied right away. M'ta wasn't worried about infections from something like that, though he would use the disinfectant anyway just to be safe. He'd battled a couple of infections and seen what could happen to wounds left untreated too long - to include amputations - to not be too reckless about it, though it was certainly true that wounds this insignificant were ones he wouldn't worry about if he had no access to redwort or the supply was low and it could be used for more important things.

As the younger man continued to clean his weapons, he didn't reiterate his belief that he didn't find the possibility of another war like the last very likely. A war against factions of dissenters, possibly, which frankly didn't make him much happier than a full-scale war between Weyrs, but there was hardly much sense in inviting trouble before there was any. Right? He paused at M'gnum's question, however, then returned his attention to the blade he was busy oiling after having cleaned it thoroughly.

"It isn't a question of capability. You've got the skills." M'ta suffered from a certain problem that some people liked to call bluntness. He could be tactful if he tried very hard, but most of the time if he didn't want to offend the best option was not to say anything at all. Unfortunately, the closer he was to someone, the less inclined he was to keep things to himself. Especially when asked directly. "I think whether or not people follow you will depend more on how you lead than anything."

His eyes didn't leave his work, but he was very aware of the bronzerider, guaging M'gnum's reaction as the brownrider continued. "I think proclaiming your ideals and all of that would probably put people off. Not everyone agrees with you and even those who do probably would never word it quite like you do and might not recognize that they do agree." Of course, M'ta was a much more private person than M'gnum was, and it was no secret to the bronzerider that the weyrlingmaster went out of his way to keep his motivations under wraps and show no signs of weakness or predictability that could be exploited. "If you just make orders in line with what you believe, though, I don't think you'll have anything much in the way of trouble. You're not reckless and you won't have to explain most of your orders for them to make sense to people. Enough sense for them to be followed without too many questions, anyway."

[Aftershock]

M'gnum nodded slowly as M'ta spoke, the whetstone still travelling carefully down his blade as the brownrider said his part. Smiling as the man finished his piece, M'gnum replied, "Thank you, friend. I can always depend on you to tell me what I need to hear. Hearing you say it, I even feel quite silly not realizing that obvious truth myself."

Finishing with his whetstone, sighting down his sword to make sure he had caught every nick and imperfection, M'gnum nodded in satisfaction and began lightly oiling the blade with a soft cloth as he turned to regard M'ta with a discerning eye for a moment before saying, "It's true that many men do not wish to follow the path of the knight, even when they effectively nearly do so unofficially." Sighing a bit, he continued, "I still say you would make a fine knight, M'ta... you have the heart and the spirit of a true follower of chivalry, and my order is made lesser without you in it's ranks. However, as you well know, a knight must choose to follow the Code... it cannot be forced upon him. Perhaps some day you will awaken to realize what the Code could bring to your life, as well as what you could bring to the order."

Shrugging his shoulders concedingly, M'gnum changed the subject, asking, "So, how is Lady Ruliana doing? Is the weyrmated life agreeing with you both?"

[Requiem]

M'ta merely nodded at the thanks. The lack of graciousness had less to do with any actual rudeness on his part as opposed to a very real embarrassment. Not many people knew it of the brownrider, but he didn't tend to think very highly of himself, such that most compliments (at least the subjective ones) had the potential to make him feel quite uncomfortable. It wasn't even that he thought he was being lied to. As often as not...he just felt certain that he was being misread, and even if what others believed of him was a lie, a small part of himself liked to be appreciated and he found himself wishing they'd never learn the truth. Which in turn also embarrassed him because he wasn't a deceitful sort.

Of course he'd been accused of low self-esteem by many friends in the past so he had a pretty good idea that his view of himself might be wrong but he didn't know how to change that so what good did it do?

Nevertheless, it was a testament of his esteem for the bronzerider that he didn't let the comment lie. "It's only obvious to people who make a habit of hiding their thoughts. You're not like that." Which, believe it or not, was actually a compliment from M'ta, though it might be hard to believe. He found it naïve and worthy of respect by turns, depending on whether or not people knew how dangerous it was to be an open book to people. It wasn't that he didn't think M'gnum was naïve. He did. Just not in that way.

"A knight like me would be the complete opposite of advertising," M'ta muttered. It wasn't often that he stated this part of his reasoning for constantly turning M'gnum down. He didn't like anything that would make him a softer target, it was true, and he didn't feel the bronzerider's movement had a chance in hell of succeeding either (something he never said in quite so harsh words), but...he also didn't feel he could really represent something like that well. The wingleader didn't really know M'ta that well, did he? Didn't know him as a thief...or a whore...or a murderer. Didn't know any of the myriad demons the weyrlingmaster wrestled with, including the most disturbing one in himself. That dark, cold, ever practical voice of the creature from the streets when they were hunted.

What sort of knight would that be?

Lady Ruliana. M'ta smiled wryly. That title fit her much better than most of the women M'gnum used it on. Daughter to a lordholder indeed. Sometimes he had to wonder how he could have ever been the one to actually catch her eye. "We've been together ever since the split. She's so...peaceful. Calm. It's nice to always come home to that." A pause. "We're trying to have a child." There was a wistful note behind the words. It was something he wanted pretty badly. M'ta loved children, very much. He also loved the idea of something that was part him and part Ruli. Ever since R'wign had Riaren a small part of him had always wanted that...had been a little jealous even. Especially since he was excluded often in that, probably unintentionally. Which in some ways made it harder to bear. Like it was a part of R'wign's life he couldn't touch.

[Aftershock]

M'gnum shook his head slightly and smiled ruefully at the brownrider's response, stating simply, "As always, my friend, you underestimate yourself. However, I will drop the idea for the moment... but do not think I've given up on you."

Listening to M'ta describe his relationship with Rulianna, M'gnum smiled wide, his own eyes distant as he imagined having such a life himself. He was getting older, and though he saw potential in his relationship with Roselle, it was still new, and he didn't know what the future would hold for the two... not to mention the stresses his bid for Weyrleader would put on him even if his relationship with Roselle developed far enough to consider the possibility of children.

Sighing lightly to himself, the bronzerider replied, "That is most exciting, my friend. A child... I wish you luck in your attempts. I believe you would be a wonderful father to such a child, considering how good of one you are to those you already have. Perhaps one day I will find the Lady and the time to have a child, myself, and our children can become friends as we are." Seemingly satisfied with the condition of his sword, he sheathed it carefully and leaned it against a stone at the edge of the pool, seating himself beside M'ta and beginning a light stretching routine to prevent cramps after the hard-fought spar.