Clashers

Chapter 5: Clashers

Shaela

Our go-to spot was a decent walk from the academy, meant for conversations we would prefer our superiors not to hear. Most of the time, it was complaining about our families or the other noble families we had to interact with. The MacDoves got on pretty well with me and my folks, like Ace had joked, the relationship gave them some legitimacy, but also Ace and I were close in age, and our estates were not so far apart that we ended up spending a lot of our childhood together. We had entered military service for different reasons, I wanted some freedom from my parents. Ace, in spite of appearances, did care about his family legacy, and joined to follow in his father’s footsteps.

We finally made it to Clashers, a pub tucked away in an industrial district that mainly served masons and carpenters. We had found it after a pub crawl that took us further and further away from the academy, whose surrounding bars and pubs favored our senior officers, especially those who had served in the war. Most of us had fair allowances, between our families and the academy, but a war hero gets a lot of drinks on the tabs of others. Some enlisted or guardsmen would pop in to Clashers now and then, but they weren’t there to be fawned over by their juniors. The big draw of the spot was its namesake: the “Clash” tables. The game consisted of a lipped, felt-lined, rectangular table and two sets of 9 colored ceramic balls--blue and red--representing two squads of soldiers. Instead of rules and strategy determining whose side would win, like the strategic war games we played at the academy, Clash was all about technical finesse. The table had two slots on either of the short ends, and the goal was to get all of your opponents' balls off the table into them. To do so, you took a plotter rod and, instead of gently pushing the tiny representations of troops around a war room table, you gave a ball a quick tap to launch it into your opponents. Those clash tables were what made it so appealing to us, not just because we liked to play (and some of us gamble on the matches), but also because the clacking of ceramic balls against each other, coupled with idle chatter, made conversations that much more private.

Ace and I entered and headed for the back corner table with a round booth we always picked. To my surprise, a few of our officers’ class were already seated there. We were waved over to join them. Ace turned to me while we were still out of earshot, “Sorry, should have warned you they’d probably be here.”

I shrugged, it wasn’t a huge deal, and I’d rather they hear about what's going on from me instead of my parents’ network of rumor mongers. Clashers was an open secret among our cohort of twenty-six, and we normally would spill out from the large booth across multiple tables, dragged, with the owner's permission for our roundtable evenings. Recently, it became the number one spot for me and my closest comrades: Connor, Morgan, Jane, and Hank. The four of them were spread out in the booth, enjoying a little day drinking with their lunch. I took a seat, Ace across from me at either end of the booth, flagging a server down for a couple of beers before we began.

“Oh-ho! I didn’t realize you were allowed out of your cage!” Not even a moment seated, and Morgan was already diving in. Leaning back, they had one hand caressing the handle of a flagon of something, and their other arm outstretched behind Jane’s back. Removing their hand from Jane’s shoulder and placing it alongside their other on the flagon, Morgan leaned forward, “Ace fill you in already?”

I nodded and quickly thanked the server who dropped off a round for Ace and me. Morgan was usually the most buttoned up out of all of us, but it was clear the impromptu leave of absence had enabled a long day at Clashers, as her green army jacket had been half unbuttoned, revealing showing off more and more of the tank top with every stretch or shift in position. “More or less. But I’m more curious what rumors my parents are letting fester.”

Morgan leaned back again, this time bumping shoulders with Jane for a moment to think, but before she could respond, Hank cut in, “So what’s all this shit about a ball?” Hank barked as I slammed my first round.

“Good to see you too, Lieutenant,” Ace snapped, breaking from ordering with the server, “At least let the lady get her order in before she spills the nobles’ dirty secrets.” He was laying the sarcasm on thick for Hank, but snapped back to cheery politeness to finish his order.

I quickly ordered my usual, a ploughman’s sandwich, getting lost for a moment in the delight of the thick-cut ham I would soon be devouring. With my lunch order on the way, I could finally begin. “I was hoping to start with what you all have been told...”

My sandwich arrived as they each answered with what amounted to half truths, that my family wanted to host a debutante ball, that I may have been proposed to, that the ball would be in less than a week, that we were expecting foreign dignitaries, that it was maybe about the war, that I had been kicked out of the military, and my favorite, that I had been personally selected to be the King’s captain for his royal airship. Leaning back and taking in all of the rumors my parents had let fester, I thought about one thing that was missing from everyone's story. The Witches. I hadn’t been told explicitly that this event required secrecy. It was likely my parents would guarantee, through their marriage-related tactics, that the King’s desires for diplomatic ties to the Coven in the mistlands would be made public. Finishing the last bites of my lunch, I took a deep breath, “My House is organizing a debutante ball, and unless I’ve been left out more than I realize, the date is not yet set in stone.”

“Sooo, does this mean you’re finally getting hitched? Did you bite the bullet and propose to soon-to-be Captain Ace of House MacDove, or did he propose to you?” Jane snickered as she raised the hypothetical.

“Oh, please, Shaela already turned down two MacCrows. You really think the third will be any different?” Connor gave Ace a consoling pat on the back.

“Why did you turn them down anyway?” Morgan jumped in, “It would be a good move for you.”

Morgan wasn’t just an officer in training. They were also from House Drakhen, a branch of the royal bloodline. This type of political game was their life. The academy was mostly a brief respite, but even still, higher-ranking officers pestered her, trying to curry favor with the royals.

“This is old hat, Morgan. I was sixteen, and then seventeen, for back-to-back betrothal considerations of two older boys that I didn’t really know.” I rolled my eyes. While Morgan and I were close, I hadn’t resigned myself to the fate of some random marriage, like they seemed to have.

“Not to mention that those two made the rounds for any party hosted by someone with even a little renown.” Ace added, “They had their eyes set on some other nobles’ debutantes well before our parents could seal Shaela’s fate.”

“Back to Jane’s question, then.” Morgan pointed at Ace, “What about this one? At least you know him. I’m sure both of your parents assumed that as soon as you got to the academy, you’d be shacking up together.”

My eyes narrowed as I turned to Morgan and Jane, “I can assure you we’ve remained quite chaste, Duchess-” hearing her royal title, Morgan’s mood damped, and they met my eyes with an ire equal to mine. “and that neither of us have been proposed to and certainly not to each other--”

Ace cut me off, “Actually...” The snickering and hushed commentary were silenced completely. Ace's leg shook, causing the table to jitter slightly. It was rare to see him so fidgety. His eyes darted up and down from his drink to my gobsmacked expression. “I have been proposed to.”

“Who?” All of us managed to get out in imperfect unison.

“You’ve met her, Shaela.” Ace locked eyes with me, now gently rocking his flagon in nervous circles, “Asta of House Jormung, she visited this past winter.”

Hank spat out his drink, “House Jormung?” His excitement was palpable. “I’d die to serve a Jormung built ship, You’ve got to introduce me.”

Ace’s face warmed again, and his fidgeting stopped. “Given my first dance will be spoken for at the MacCrow ball, I think you’ll have your chance.”

“Of all of us idiots training to get ourselves killed, I hardly expected you to be the first to be married,” Jane said, finally recovering from the unexpected announcement.

“Not so fast, your highness,” Connor chimed in, “Ace has plenty of time to sink his own engagement.”

“True, and should we ever get to the end of Shaela’s story, we may find she’s skipped the proposal and engagement phase, and her parents have already wed her off!” Hank sent the table into an uproar again.

Breaking through their fits of laughter, Morgan called out to the owner, who was cleaning glasses and mugs from behind the bar. “Hey, boss! A round for everyone! On me! Something from the top shelf! Our friend Ace, here, is getting married!”

With a nod from the owner and an uproar of cheering from the other clients, who paused their games to tune into Morgan’s announcement, we were each delivered some fine Prydannian whisky. Still half laughing, we all stood, clanking our glasses together, and we erupted in a bombastic “Cheers!” before settling in.

Wincing from the pain in my sides, and struggling to wipe the smile off of my face, I shot a silent, congratulatory look to Ace, who had overcome his nerves and now dived deep into embarrassment, since the commotion had drawn the attention of the other guests, and was now hiding behind the wide rim of his flagon. Taking a deep breath, I began again, “Let's get everything out on the table then, so no one thinks I’ve abandoned my life as a military bachelor.” Like the soldiers they were, they all sat up straight at attention, listening to my every word as I explained my (surely doomed to fail) task, bestowed upon me from on high, to bring the surface dwelling witches into our fold.

We sat in silence for a moment, my friends wrapping their somewhat drunken heads around the King’s decision to open diplomacy with the Coven. To the idea that a surface dweller may be married into a noble family, an event that hadn’t happened possibly ever. Jane Expeditionary Corps’ classes may have covered historical precedent like this, but Morgan was wrapped around her finger, and Jane was enjoying the attention.

Finally, Hank broke the silence, “So we’re invited, right?”

“You really want to meet my Asta that badly?” Ace dropped his view from being lost in the ceiling back to the table.

“No, it's just that,” Hank paused, eyes snapping to Connor, Morgan, and me before lingering on Jane, “just that we’re commoners, despite our rank.” That comment finally broke Jane and Morgan out of their bubble. The two clenched their teeth at the thought.

Well, the drama and ongoings of the noble houses weren’t taboo at the academy, but bringing that drama into the military was. We were defined by our rank, our station. The navy, the army, and the support branches like Jane’s Expeditionary Corps. It made it easy to forget that one in ten officers were commoners who had tested out of the enlisted track to get into the academy.

“I’m not a Lupus like Connor, or a MacCrow or MacDove,” Hank gestured at Ace and me, “and certainly not a Drakhen.” Morgan sank back into her seat. “I’m some shipwright's son.”

“Don’t diminish your family's accomplishments, without your father’s work, the Six Moon War would be known as the Fall of Prydannia.” I dolled out a platitude that I’m sure he had heard many times before. Hank’s father was a great shipwright and did contribute a lot to the war, but we both knew a single shipyard was unlikely to turn the tide. “You’ll be there. And if Ace won’t introduce you to Asta, I will.” Turning now to Jane, “You’ll all be there. I will bribe the staff and security if I have to.”

Morgan smiled and freed Jane’s hand from the glass she was staring into for a quick squeeze. “Well, Shaela. I take back my advice, marrying Ace will not save you from whatever your parents are scheming.”

“Oh? The Duchess is being humble for once.” The alcohol and anxiety were getting the better of me as we approached evening. “Is there anyone I should keep my eyes open for at the ball?”

“Sure, Miss MacCrow. Why don’t I bring Lance? You two haven’t had the pleasure of meeting yet, have you?” Morgan’s response once again silenced the table.

“Sorry,” I knew I was pushing it, invoking her title a second time. “How has the Crown Prince been these days?”

“Wonderful.” Venom dripped from every syllable, “My Uncle was ecstatic to find out I would be on leave until after you throw this ball, and so I’ll get the pleasure of hosting Lance until then!” The irritation was clear, even through the intense smile Morgan had put on. “I’m lucky that the orders went out today, else I wouldn’t have had a chance to see you all before then. But that’s my problem to deal with. Shaela, I can tip you off on who I think would be a good fit for you, but-- but you honestly might be better off rolling the dice with whoever the witches send.”

“Ugh, you are probably right.” I leaned back, lightly banging my head on the wall. With that, I stood up from the booth, and the others followed.

Morgan picked up our tab on the way out. Fixing their uniform before giving me and Ace a big hug. They stepped back from the hug. “You’ll be fine, Shaela. And you,” she said, pointing to Ace, “I’m happy for you.” And then they stumbled off down the street.

Jane gave us both a quick hug, shot Ace a wink, and then hustled to catch up with Morgan and guide them home.

“‘Preciate ya,” Hank patted me on the back, “Keep us in the loop, yeah?” and then disappeared into the city.

Connor gave an affirmative nod, clasped my shoulder in his large hand, “Let me know if you need anything, they’re letting me stay in the barracks instead of heading all the way back to the Midlands during this leave, so..”

“Will do,” I replied, and Connor wandered off towards the academy.

Just Ace and I were left, lingering outside of Clashers. Neither of us spoke. All you could hear was the wind whistling by. We both pulled our collars up around our faces. Our uniforms did well to keep us warm, but without scarves or anything, our faces were starting to freeze.

“Bloody wild.” Ace mused.

“What? The Witches? The King? The Prince? Asta?” I posited, half joking and half unsure what he meant. Rubbing my hands together and breathing into them for a little warmth.

“All of it really... I guess,” He took a deep breath. “I still don’t get how the MacCrows get handed down a totally unprecedented task from the King. And what possibly was running through your folks’ minds as they concluded this was their chance to get you hitched to someone?”

“I figure they kinda hope it fails, and then we have the ball anyway, and then I somehow get... obliged into an engagement over the course of the night.”

“Yeah, maybe...”

“Ace?”

“Hmm?”

“Congratulations. I really mean it.”

Ace smiled, “Thanks.” We hugged and then started our walk back home.

---

I finally had time to myself again. It was mid-evening, and my parents were out. I had managed to go the whole day without any altercation with them, although now their actions have given rise to the suspicion that these absences have been to sow the seeds of the ball’s inevitability. I had missed my morning bath, only freshening up a bit between Ace finding me in the garden and heading into town, and finally had the chance to relax and give my aching legs and sore muscles some rest.

Lying submerged in my bath, lost in my thoughts over the day’s events, I heard a knocking at the bathroom door. “Hello?” I yelled, but there was no response. Annoyed at the timing, I quickly covered myself in a towel and cracked the door, ready to receive a servant who hadn’t realized I was home or intended to help me draw the bath. But there was no one. The knocking came again, and, listening more closely, I realized it was from the window. I left a trail of dripping water as I headed over and found myself face to face with a black bird perched on the window seal. Wiping the condensation from the window, I got a clearer view. It was a crow, and it had a roll of parchment strapped to its foot. I flicked the latch on the window, and the crow hopped over the threshold and twitched its head back and forth, examining me with either eye. It seemed to make some judgment picking at the cord that held the parchment in place, freeing it, and then the crow turned, and flew away, disappearing into the night sky. My pulse as I dried my hands against the towel wrapped around me. Quickly closing the window so as not to lose the letter to the wind, I fumbled to unfurl it. Frustrated, I tucked the towel over itself, dried my other hand, and finally read the letter.

To Lieutenant Shaela of House MacCrow,

I hope this letter finds you well. We have considered your proposal and see the value it may hold. Long have our peoples been neighbors, and even longer have we inhabited these lands and wish to continue to see them flourish. However, the details of the treaty are unclear to us, and the customs used to uphold it are also unfamiliar.

This does not mean we wish to engage in diplomacy. We would like to send a representative to learn more about your nation and to discuss the best way to establish relations going forward.

Should you find this acceptable, write the date and time you’d be able to host our representative on the line below.

Oh, and apologies about your carrier bird not returning. We received your letter by means of one of our cats bringing us the limp bird.

Sincerely,

The Mistborn Witches

Without a second thought, I sprinted out from the bathroom to my desk, clutching my towel in one hand, the letter in the other, grabbed my ink and quill, and wrote down the day of the new moon, high noon. As soon as I put my quill away, the letter shimmered silver briefly and then vanished in front of me. I rubbed my eyes to be sure, decided to hope for the best, and returned to my bath to finally relax before bed.