The King's Gauntlet

The Lynx's Ministrations

It is a little kept secret that the fate of most princesses is to be trapped first by their own family and then by a stranger's. A popular saying had even developed, that the men of the royal family fight their wars on the battleground while the women fight in the bedchamber, but both end up on their backs for the kingdom's independence. So my situation wasn't entirely unexpected, ending up pinned and sweating under an overpowering stranger, but it certainly wasn't pleasant.

The Lynx finally released her grip, standing back up. She had a lithe body but I had felt the full force of the deceptively muscular woman.

"Woeful," the Lynx commented. "I'll have to show you some more grips tomorrow."

I staggered to my feet, biting back a curse. Through a throbbing headache I began to realize that she had admitted we'd be training tomorrow as well. Somehow that little victory was enough to help me keep my composure. I wanted this, I realized, more than I had wanted anything else. After all, why couldn't I fight for Aland's independence on the battleground? I like to think I had the raw material required. I stretched up to my full height, barely past the shoulder of the older woman.

I would get there one day though. Perhaps.

I almost asked if it was tea time yet, but stilled my tongue just in time. The Lynx must consider me soft already. There would be no need to confirm it.

"I wonder," the Lynx mused, "if you realize the true capabilities of Gauntlets. They must seem little more than guards to you, but they are the armored hands of the King, able to carry out his will wherever and whenever he desires. Even so, most missions are not known even to the King himself. They are carried out to ensure Aland's independence and security. We would have fallen long ago, without the sacrifices of many Gauntlets... not that the common people would know."

Curious, I took in the Lynx's pensive expression. In some ways, I had to admit she was right. I didn't see them as much more than guards—elite knights, I supposed, but I was beginning to realize there was a subtlety to their role that I hadn't fully understood.

"Cartography then," the Lynx said, and took a long breath. It was a little thing, that breath, but it suddenly confirmed to Kara that this unstoppable force was actually human. "What do you know of Aland's neighbors?"

"The Rosvene Empire curves to our north and east. The Hundred Families first settled Aland along the Ostrolyne River at the edge of Rosvene control. Since then the burgher republic of Preston and the Hennes-Favarian dual monarchy emerged to our south, with our west up against the Great Northern Sea."

The Lynx snorted. "Any schoolchild knows of that. But what do you know of the Marraland Territories? The Bison Beetle Clans of the Thousand Mesas? The Favarian pretender kept under guard by the Rosvene Empire?"

I had always hated geography, the droning tutors going on and on, the voice of my head instructor somehow selected at a pitch designed to put me to sleep. In fact, of all the subjects I had hated, geography must have been paramount. You saw a place with your eyes and ears, not by staring at squiggles on parchment and memorizing the names.

The Lynx assessed my blank gaze and, once more, found me wanting.

"We'll go over it then. And I won't tolerate any complaining. I mean it, if you can't learn geography then you have no use as a Gauntlet and then I can be off on the next barge. I imagine you'll get bored and drop out within the hour and get back to your tea and—"

"So very imaginative! As a matter of fact I hate tea and I have always loved geography."

The Lynx raised an eyebrow. "Your lies need work. I thought you nobles were supposed to be naturals at intrigue. Even your brother can barely tell a lie. We'll work on that next, it'll be useful once you drop out." She ignored Kara's huffing at this. "Now then, to geography! The world awaits. Tell me, since you love tea so much. Where is it grown? Harvested? Assessed? Taxed? Loaded? Unloaded? Why do Kalandris prefer it black and Farenthers drink only green?"