Suzera Irina had learned to conceal her emotions. It initially began as a means for survival to live with her uncle.  As time passed, limiting her emotions had become a way to maintain her sanity.

Dear Princess Irina,

It is my dearest hope this letter reaches you in good spirits and health. These wishes are, of course, extended to your family. My apologies for taking so long to contact you. I required time to meditate on the words to use when contacting your scintillating aura. My mother, of course, provided lovely insight into my plights. It would harm my karma not to provide such acknowledgment, so please do not take it as a mark against your character. She always has a way to provide pearls of wisdom that are fruitful and giving.

She wished for my contemplation upon your aura to take many hours. It would be useless to digress too far upon my study's results, as it would take away your opportunity for such inner reflection upon me. Thus, here is my understanding of your aura: it is of a rare pinkish hue. This pink is an indication of your move away from the heated flames of your soul. At moments it seems you wish to quell parts of your past, but this seems difficult for you to do since the ghosts continue to stay close to you.  The fire and calm melds into one; thus, there are still sparks of red waiting to ignite your soul, while white still melds into your soul because of the purity it holds. This mellowing effect keeps the fire from burning too brightly.

You are in luck that my aura burns a bright blue to help quell your flames. Thus, we do not need to worry about how our relationship will develop. Though elementally, we could be considered opposites, they are really harmonious. What better way to begin our journey than in the acknowledgment and acceptance of this variance that is so innately needed to balance the flame?

I look forward to your response, as our discourse should be enlightening. The universe looks forward to our meeting again soon.  And, I look forward to reading about your reflection upon me.  It shall feed my yearning soul.

All the best,

Konrik Loren

"I saw the horse," Zakarus announced as Irina folded up the letter.

Irina shifted her eyes up to a nervous Zakarus.  He had been watching for horses bringing the post for the past few weeks.  She almost felt guilty the letter was for her.

Irina nodded, "It is a letter from Konrik Loren."  

She watched his face transition between disappointed to intrigued.  Irina could not quench his curiosity.  Her mind moved too swiftly for the words to stick to matter and form the utterances needed to express her meaning to Zakarus.

"Your face expresses the wonder of the content," Zakarus smirked, pouring himself a small glass of dark liquid.

Irina quickly terminated the rush in the name of sanity.  "It is just a letter. Though, not the one you keep tracking the riders for."

Zakarus raised his glass to Irina before downing the contents. The sound of Zakarus terminating their conversation reverberated off the table.

"There is infrequency in your ability to use the tone of a Suzera, though when it is used, the impact is far from superficial," Zakarus smirked, moving to sit upon the chair across Irina. "Pray, tell, what has your tongue so sharpened for war."

"Have you found the mole?" Irina asked, shifting her eyes around the room.  

"Does it really matter when there is a shut door, and you hold a letter from Konrik Loren?" Zakarus shrugged, rising to get another drink.

Irina watched Zakarus turnover another glass.  "Do not bother if the whisky is not the right age."

"So two glasses then," Zakarus nodded with a slightly pouted lip as he finished pouring the glasses. "Cousin, you should not let letters affect you so much."

"Re—"

Zak shook his head and pressed the glass into her hand.  "Drink your whisky."

Irina's eyes held Zakarus's as she downed the whisky.  She slammed the glass upon the table with a sound that reminded him of games played during their youth.

He smirked at this cousin.  "Now, sip this one like the lady you wish to be, and tell me about the letter from—"

Koman Shaed Sutter entered the room by slamming the door open.  "If your father provides me with another case of training these young puppies, who barely know how to pee standing, I will walk away from this place and—"

"Konrik Loren," Zakarus finished while assessing Shaed's tirade. "Close the door, Koman Sutter."

"Do not give me that look," Shaed glared, pouring himself a glass of whisky. "What year is it? How are you supposed to teach a boy to hold a sword correctly and strike fear in his foes when he could probably not even write his name in the dirt while peeing?"

"The age is almost right," Irina shrugged. "Where would you go if you left? The late Koman Ban's mother still has your house. And, Shaed, if that's the gauge of how deadly a person is with their sword, then I am at a complete loss."

"She lost a son. She did not need to lose a home as well," Shaed muttered. "It is not a weakness to show mercy. And, you are the one who wishes to remind us you are a lady."

"Excellent points," Zakarus agreed.

"Wait, did you mention Konrik Loren? He is one who most likely does not know how to use his own sword," Shaed smirked with a small toast to Zakarus before downing his whisky to pour another.

A silence hung in the air as both gentlemen observed Irina down her glass before holding it out to Shaed for another. Shaed's eyebrows rose in shock before walking over to pour another glass.

"Irina received a letter," Zakarus supplied.

"Really?" Shaed asked with a small shrug, placing the whisky in the middle table between the cousins and himself. "Did you find the letter provided better insight into his deep and artistic emotions?"

Irina shrugged.

"She is drinking whisky again," Zakarus mock whispered.

Shaed nodded.  "Very true. It must be quite exposing. Yes, Suzera, take another drink before answering your Suzerain and Koman."

"This is like the nights we combined spirits," Irina groaned.

"Oh, the memories of a good evening," Shaed smiled.

"Yes, but never mixing the sailor's gin with whisky again," Zakarus returned. "The lessons learned by the young."

"My burdens are heavy," Irina whispered, making the two gentlemen laugh.

"Continue to tell us of your love note, Iri." Zak forced out, grabbing the whisky in the middle of the table to pour the next round.

"It held nothing of great importance." Irina sighed, folding her note into the confines of her dress. "He just spoke of our connection and wishing to see me again."

Shaed laughed.  "That is what got you to drink whisky again? A gentleman speaking of your bond and wishing to see you again? Are you that disturbed by a gentleman's attention? Well, his attention, I understand. Here, have another drink."

"I am not adverse—you are ridiculous, Shaed. Just because you are a koman does not mean you can state opinions as if they are truths," Irina sighed, taking a sip of her drink.

"Did I state it to be a truth? It meant it to be an inquiry." Shaed shrugged while holding his glass.

Irina leaned her head back before settling her head upon her hand.  "It is your tone, Shaed. Every person knows the truth lies in the tone and not the words!"

"Just because you are a suzera does not mean you can speak to a koman with a steal tongue and not be expected to be challenged in return."  Shaed and Irina held eachother's gaze.

Irina felt her stomach clench and her cheeks redden as something in Shaed's gaze shifted.  She clenched her glass and he smirked.

Zakarus took a small sip of his whisky. "The swords are always ready," he motioned with his free hand towards the door.

"Oh, but she is a lady now, Zak." Shaed tutted while leaning back in his chair.

I will not be bated by these idiots.  Irina resolved within her mind.  They will not get me to lower myself to their immaturity.

"The skirt would be a problem. It is doubtful she could even hold a sword correctly. Only her words hold the edge now. That is the only art of war she can contr—" Zakarus's words were halted by Irina swiftly rising from her chair to the protest of the wooden floors.

"Call your little boys so they may see how a true warrior wields a sword. Though—" Irina dropped her glass in Shaed's. "Do not cry this time when you lose your sword to the water, or, worse, have to admit your own fault."

Irina smirked on seeing Shaed jump back to avoid the whisky pouring over onto his trousers.

"Would hate for them to think you soiled yourself at the thought of challenging me." She winked.

"I was not finished," Shaed hissed, eyeing her as she moved towards the door.

"Are you ever? I will wait five minutes." She waved.

These men will not determine my personality.  I will be a brightly burning red if I wish to be.  Irina seethed to herself.  I cannot always sustain a mundane pink.  These men are too idiotic for that.

***

In the room, Shaed and Zakarus sat in silence.  The koman stared at the door with a contemplative look upon his face.

Zakarus broke the silence.  "Put the glasses down gently, Shaed."

Shaed looked confusingly at Zakarus before following his orders.  "Do not judge me, Zak. You are the one stalking horse riders for a response that does not even come from a lady."

"You only have five minutes," Zakarus shrugged.

Shaed sighed, walking towards the door.  "Perhaps this will provide those idiot children with swords some education on how to  defend our borders," Shaed called over his shoulder.

"You are having difficulty training my soldiers, Koman Sutter?" Suzerain's Abran voice traveled into the room, causing Zakarus to plug the whiskey as Shaed bowed in the doorway.

"It is nothing more than trying to demand maturity within a young heart, Suzerain Abran," Shaed responded on rising.  

Zakarus hoped that when Shaed pounded upon his heart, it camouflaged the sound of tinkering crystal. The late Suzera Eirene had a taste for fine things, no matter how frivolous Suzerain Abran found it.

"Well, I hope that you may teach them to sharpen their swords and wits. The latest skirmish killed twenty of our brothers," Abran sighed.  "Though, some of the men you inherited from Koman Ban did show promise.  I heard many great things about the way they fought.  I hope you can lead them to greatness."

"Yes, Suzerain Abran." Shaed bowed, turning to hurry away.

Shaed only had five minutes. He did not have time to reflect upon if Suzerain Abran really complimented him. Shaed knew Suzerain Abran only gave him the task of securing the Vetusian borders as a way to ensure his death.  Only a foolish man would be comfortable when in the snake's den. 

"Did I miss the meeting?" Abran asked, closing the door softly behind him.

"No, Father," Zakarus responded, motioning to the chair. "We were simply taking our midday mental rests."

"Has life truly become so stressful?" Abran questioned with a nod towards the whisky. "Does Koman Sutter find the task of securing our borders so stressful? Such a skilled warrior should find it easy to train others and ensure his life."

"Irina required her mind to be put at ease," Zakarus responded with a sharper tone than expected while watching his father sit in the chair across from him. "She received a letter from Konrik Loren that unnerved her."

"Ah, and what of your letters?" Abran asked, folding his hands in front of him.

Zakarus cocked his head slightly.  "There are none, Father."

"It seems your plan has no weight," Abran smirked.

"There is still time," Zakarus responded.

Abran nodded, turning to look towards the window.

"All options must be trialed before he realizes my proposal is the only choice." Zakarus continued, trying to muster more confidence in his voice.

"Then you must be certain Konrik Loren stays interested in our Irina." Abran paused. "Do these politics not provide you with a headache? This could be far simpler if—"

Zakarus interrupted his father in a tone that would have once gotten him slapped.  "I will not shed blood if there is not a need."

"So you will sacrifice Irina's happiness instead?"  Abran pressed, assessing his son.

"She would be happy with him. She fancies him enough. Now, you must excuse me Father, as Suzera Irina has accepted Koman Sutter's challenge to a sword fight.   It has been too long since I have seen her make him cry," Zakarus asserted, rising from his chair with measured steps to the door.

"To think," Abran started, causing Zakarus to pause at the door. "All the time spent in the past planning the strength of this nation. All those sacrifices, and here I sit alone in a room with my son running away to begin the next phase of our history. Is it wrong to relish the knowledge that my life will soon be nothing but a moment for reflection? I have grown tired of making the sacrifices that others judge, censure or praise me for."

"Father?" Zakarus stood confused, unsure if his father had been drinking today as well.  

"I am still confused as to how you believe that you can achieve all you wish without sacrificing something present at this table," Abran continued, softly touching the crystal.

Abran's eyes became almost wistful, causing Zakarus to turn away and clutch to the doorframe.  He knew Abran was thinking of his mother.

"Maybe you are alone because you thought sacrifice to be the only way," he whispered.

Abran's next words were not heard as Zakarus swiftly closed the door. He needed to observe the battle. The sounds of metal upon metal would do well to replace his father's words reverberating in his mind.

Zakarus refused to believe he sacrificed Irina for power. She yearned for the path she is taking.  Irina wanted to be a lady of prestige. This other life she flirted with at the moment simply provided a lovely nostalgia for their shared pasts. Irina did not want this from the moment she pushed Shaed into the pond. Zakarus did not, oh goodness; he could not miss their first swordfight in four years. He picked up his pace through the halls.

***

I hope you enjoyed the first part of this chapter.  Thanks for reading :)