"But the her strongest weapon is definately the
glaive," Raoul insisted, sipping his juice.

"How is she with the sword?" Alanna asked with
interest.

Wyldon's lips curled into a smirk. "Worried about
competition, milady?"

The Lioness treated the other knight to a cold stare,
ignoring Raoul's ill concealed grin. "Not at all. I
was simply thinking about fencing against her."

Her friend abandoned all hope of hiding his smile.
That, he thought, would truly be the match of a
century.

The conversation paused as drinks were served. Alanna
sipped her wine. "Well, enough about her as a warrior.
What about her as a woman?"

Her two companions handed her blank stares. Alanna
realized that this might not be the choice company to
discuss such a question with, but forged on
nonetheless. "Who is she with?" she asked, words
blunter than an unsharpened knife.

Wyldon threw her an annoyed look."That's just like a
woman," the training master snapped. "Wanting to know
about relationships instead of training."

The angry retort was stopped by Raoul's hand on hers.
"I have asked about her training, Wyldon," the lady
knight pointed out, forcing herself to speak calmly.

"Actually, it's a valid question," Raoul observed
thoughtfully, cutting off Wyldon's reply, for his own
sake. "Seeing as there seem to be so many different
possibilities."

"So, who?" Alanna repeated, impatiently. Wyldon cocked
an eyebrow, interested in spite of himself.

The Knight Commander leaned back comfortably in his
chair. "Well, while she was my squire, she was seeing
that fellow . . . What's his name? Kennan?"

Surprise broke through Wyldon composed facade. "Cleon
of Kennan?"

"Yes, that's right," Raoul replied, clearly enjoying
the former training master's surprise.

"Great Mithros," Wyldon murmured. "And all this time,
I thought she'd end up with Queenscove."

"Queenscove?" It was Alanna's turn to be surprised.

Wyldon rolled his eyes. "Yes, Queencove. I believe he
was your squire?"

"I know who Queenscove is, Wyldon," Alanna replied,
the words sounding like Scanran because they emerged
through her gritted teeth. "I was merely expressing
surprise."

"But why?" Raoul asked. "He was her page-sponsor and
her best friend, after all."

"Yes, but he's become infatuated with that Yamani
lady, Yukimi," the lady knight explained.

"So it is Kennan after all," Wyldon observed. "I
certainly did not forsee that."

"Excuse me, my lord, but you're wrong," a new voice
interrupted.

Wyldon blinked down at his squire. "You said
something, Jesslaw?" he inquired, his voice colder
than the Copper Isles in January.

The squire's normally ruddy cheeks were pale, but he
bravely held his ground. "Yes, sir."

"I don't recall asking for your opinion, squire,"
Wyldon snapped.

"Let the boy speak, Wyldon," Raoul protested,
curiousity filling his dark eyes.

"Yes, Wyldon, simply because you're embarrassed to be
caught gossipping . . ." the Lioness added.

Wyldon glared at both of them impartially. "Very well,
then. If you will encourage my squire in bad habits,
Goldenlake, I can do nothing."

Alanna rolled her eyes, while Raoul leaned towards
Owen in a conspiratorial whisper. "He just won't admit
that he wants to know as well."

Owen nodded, unsuccessfully trying to hide his own
grin. "Yes, sir, I know," he replied.

"Excuse me, Goldenlake, but I am not interested!"
Wyldon sounded outraged.

Lady Alanna stood up, mischief dancing in her amythest
eyes. "Very well, then. Raoul, Owen, follow me."

Wyldon frowned. "Where exactly are you going?"

"Well, as you claim no interest, we wouldn't want to
bore you to death," the lady knight said sweetly.

"We'll just go outside then."

"That's quite all right, Lady Alanna," Wyldon informed
her. "Anything my squire has to say can be said in
front of me."

The lady knight stared at him for a moment, then
grinned. "Goddess, Wyldon, you're impossible."

Wyldon's lips twitched. "I try. Jesslaw?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Well?"

Owen was completely straight faced. "Well what, sir?"

The squire and knight master engaged in a staring
contest. After several minutes, Alanna grew tired of
waiting. "Wyldon, you blinked!" she called out.

The Lord of Cavall turned indignantly to her. "I did
not-" he began, before he realized that Alanna had
tricked him. Abandoning his stone facade, he swore
softly.

The three adults waited impatiently as Owen conducted
a victory dance. "Jesslaw . . ." his knight-master
warned.

"Dom," Owen replied cheerfully.

Wyldon blinked. "I beg your pardon?" he asked,
wondering if the word was a new type of slang.

"Dom," Owen repeated, looking annoyed.

Raoul leaned forward, in some confusion. "Excuse me,
Squire Owen, but I could have sworn you said 'Dom'."

"That would be because I did, milord," Owen drawled.

"Jesslaw!" Wyldon snapped. "You will give a proper
amount of respect to my guests, please."

"Oh, are we your guests, Wyldon?" Alanna asked in
interest. "Does that mean you're paying for this
meal?"

Raoul paid no attention as his two companions began to
bicker over the bill. "Owen, do you mean Domitan of
Masbolle?"

"Yes, a sergeant in the Third Company of the King's
Own," the squire recited. When Raoul raised his
eyebrows, Owen explained, "Kel talks about him a lot."

Raoul leant back, satisfied. "I see. But what makes
you think she . . ." he trailed off, unsure how to
phrase his question.

Owen answered it for him. "Whenever anyone says his
name, she acts like one of my sisters." His childish
disgust of the last word was evident in his voice.

"I see," Raoul grinned.

"What's all this, Raoul?" Wyldon interrupted, ignoring
Alanna. "Who is this 'Dom'?"

The Lioness' interest was captured. "Raoul, do you
mean Domitan of Masbolle?"

"Yes. How do you know of him?"

"He was the cousin of my squire," Alanna pointed out.
"I met him a few times. Rather good looking, isn't
he?"

Raoul coughed. "You'd be a better judge of that than
me, Lioness," he demurred. The lady knight grinned.

Annoyance overflowed from Lord Wyldon's bearing.
"Would someone please inform me who in Mithros' name
this Dom is?" he demanded, clearly enough to be heard
in Scanra.

Alanna smiled sweetly. "But I thought you weren't
interested, Cavall."

As Wyldon seemed likely to explode, Owen took pity on
his knight master, more to save his squiredom than
anything else. But the normally talkative Owen failed
at attempting to describe someone whom he barely knew.
"Um, he's . . . he's . . . he's right there!"

"Well, speak of the devil," Raoul murmured. They
stared in surprise at a tall, dark haired- and
extremely handsome- man approaching them.

He quirked an eyebrow at the stares he was receiving.
"Is anything wrong with them, milord?" He asked Lord
Raoul. "Or are they merely struck dumb by my good
looks and obvious wit and charm?"

"I'd say the latter, Dom," the Knight Commander
smiled.

Dom grinned. "I came to tell you that you've been
summoned by Commander Buriram. I don't think you want
to keep her waiting."

"Mithros, no!" Raoul sighed. "Well, thank you for
dinner, Cavall. It's been an unexpected pleasure."
Wyldon looked unsure whether to be pleased or
insulted.

Alanna rose with him, still studying Dom critically,
as if trying to determine whether he was good enough
for her successor. Apparently satisfied, she nodded.
"I'd better go as well. George will be waiting."

Owen stared after the two knights, wondering at their
hurry to leave. He understood, however, after his
knight master swore deeply.

"What is it, milord?" he asked.

His normally calm knight master was furious. "They
left me the bill!"

~*~