Mint and Honey

KieranSoares

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Snow blanketed Inverness, the white only broken up here and there by figures of people and wagons, and the first emerging decorations for the upcoming holidays. It was a week until the Solstice Festival began the day before the actual Solstice. The day of was also Yule for other pagans, and then Christmas would come just after the end of the festival. It was an incredibly busy week, equaled only by the Summer Solstice and the Equinoxes for Lunasians and pagans, but it was far bigger than Easter for the Christians. Everyone managed to get along fairly well and most Christians enjoyed the Solstice celebrations and involved the pagans with Christmas in return.

Being a rather bitter winter and with an early frost that took a toll on late harvests, it was going to be a bit leaner than usual. The ruling Ghis family had spared quite a sum to help keep food costs down, and were donating heavily from their own stocks to make sure the festival didn't suffer. Several businesses like bakeries and butchers and other food-providers had also received donations to keep meal costs low for the local folks. One of those businesses had been a favorite, rather rowdy tavern. The owners, Gerald and Ria, were too proud to accept a donation from their own family, so their workers simply did it for them without asking.

Ria Espios was a rather exotic woman to most Scots, being Greek with dark Mediterranean skin and ebony hair. She was a beauty, untouched by age despite being nearly fifty. It seemed every week she quite literally kicked some drunken lout out of the bar for trying to flirt or making comments about her beautiful form. Despite curves, she was all muscle from working on her ships in the harbor whenever she wasn't at the tavern.

Beside her, the true owner, was her mate Gerald. He was a rugged, handsome black Wolf who'd gladly taken her name when they properly married. His fur was littered with silver, especially around his face and mane and chest, but Ria loved to sing his praises about how handsome he was (though she often commented he wasn't good for much else beyond taking to bed). The two had a solid partnership that was well-respected.

Aside from Ria's son David occasionally coming by to help out, the usual help at the tavern consisted of Seamus and Jeanine Ghis who, except for when their family needed them at the keep or at Seamus' father Durban's home, worked there constantly. Seamus had once been a wayward soul with a vicious temper and a stubborn streak a mile wide, but Jeanine kept him tame. She was a beauty in her own right, petite and feminine with a lovely French accent and a kind word for everyone. Seamus melted like butter for her, but whenever she became the center of flirting and teasing, his temper ignited and he had more than once ended up in brawls for her. It was practically a requirement of the job, the tavern getting rowdy usually on Sunday nights. If there wasn't at least one fight, there was something wrong.

That particular Friday evening, the tavern was half-full and fairly quiet, everyone drinking to chase the chill from their bones and discussing the upcoming festival and plans for spring. There was a bit of a racket coming from a game of dice off to one side between men from Ria's ships, some locals, and a few travelers. The front door flew open thanks to the vicious wind kicking up, and in stepped two cloaked figures. One had a bit of a struggle with closing the door again, and the other hung up their cloaks.

"Alex!" Ria called across the tavern, leaning over the bar with a sweet smile to the younger man. Being her daughter-in-law's nephew, and Ria being a favorite to talk to during both the good and the bad times, Ria knew everyone in the extended Ghis family well. Alex was among the ones she knew best, as he was the man on call for whenever anyone got hurt at the tavern.

"Evening, Ria," Alex's usual, gentle tone returned. "I found a fellow stranded out in the snow after his horse bolted. Can you get him something hot to eat and maybe tea? No whiskey until he's warmed up a bit." Alex offered a smile to the stranger he'd brought in, motioning him toward the bar. The stranger thanked him through chattering teeth and gratefully accepted what Ria brought out for him.

Alex took a seat off to the side to open up his healer's satchel and check what he needed to fix or stop by home and refill. Ria brought him warm mead with a kiss pressed to his cheek, and left him to his work after refusing to take his money to pay for the stranger.
 
Tucked in next to the fire was a lone figure, quietly reading through a small leather bound book. The woman was obviously not from Inverness, her tanned skin exotic looking among the paler Scots. Her eyes were a dark olive green, piercing and sharp, as were the rest of her Middle Eastern features. She was stunning to look at, if not slightly out of place. Her long, thick hair was plaited, pinned along the crown of her head. A finely woven shawl of dark blue covered most of her head, thrown loosely about her neck and hair.

The rest of her outfit was that of a solider. Trousers and a tunic were those issued to most of the ax-men of Inverness. Leather pieces were strategically placed among her clothing, protecting her from sword blows while she was in action. She was lithe, tall, sturdy, but still incredibly fragile looking. She had traveled a long way from home to train with the famed ax-men, proving herself to none other than Durban Ghis himself that she could handle it.

Glancing up from her book, she listened to the game of dice that was going on a short distance away. It was getting loud, more boisterous as time went on. She recognized a few of the words said back and forth from the traders, accusations of cheating growing more heated.

"Do you really believe it wise to accuse them of cheating?" She responded to them in her native tongue, her dark brow quirking. "They work for the woman who owns the tavern."
 
The traders looked up, those that understood her giving her vicious glares. "And do you really believe it wise to meddle in men's dealings?" One with a heavy Turkish accent snapped back at her. He was dressed in silks and fine fabrics with a finely-combed long beard and long hair under a richly-colored taqiyah.

The native Scots looked between the strange woman and the traders, quiet at the sudden confrontation.
 
"Oh, I do. Especially when we are in a place where a woman's freedom is celebrated." She murmured, placing her book aside and standing from her spot.

She was wearing her short sword, something she never really took off and had near her at all times. It had been a gift from her brother before his death and it was one of her most cherished possessions. She was deadly with it but hardly ever reached for it during a fight.

"I apologize for them." She said in English, glancing towards the Scots who were watching the scene with a sense of apprehension. "Their bark is much worse than their bite."

Her English was impeccable, but accented. She had spent many years on the island, traveling from place to place and seeking to make a better future for herself. It had started when she was 14, traveling the first moment that she could from her home in the desert. While she still was not use to the cold, it was certainly getting much more bearable.
 
"Ah, tha's alrigh', lass," the most brawny of the sailors spoke in return. "They're jus' frustrated tha' they can' figure out th' game."

"We cannot understand because you keep adding rules!" An ebony-skinned trader snarled with a Swahili accent.

"We told ya y'can't call out lesser numbers, y'gotta either agree with th'last guess, or pick a higher number either on th'die 'r the number of 'em," a skinnier sailor insisted. "An' ya keep showin' yer dice. Not our fault if yer lettin' us win."

"That's it!" The third trader growled, standing from his seat. His accent was further eastern, likely close to India. "I want my coin back, and we're leaving!"

"You lost it fair an' square, boyo," an Irishman among the sailors chuckled, standing to face him with crossed arms.
 
"The three of you give the rest of us travelers a bad reputation. Can you not lick your wounds and accept that you were in the wrong?" She asked, stepping closer to the ground that seemed to be heading towards hostile territory.
 
The Turkish trader stood to face the Middle Eastern woman, and met her with a back-handed slap across the face, snapping at her, "Silence, woman!"

The sailors were all suddenly on their feet, the brawny Scotsman lunging toward the Turk only to be punched square in the jaw by the Swahili man. Soon the Indian was squaring off with the Irishman and another sailor, three others took on the African fellow, and the brawny Scot stood firm against the Turk beside the woman who'd spoken up against the traders.

"You look like a fightin' lass," the Scot murmured, wiping blood away from a cut lip. "What say you we teach 'im how t'be a proper gentleman?" He raised his hands in a ready stance. Weapons would not play into this unless the aggressors drew first, and then they'd be in real trouble.

"Keep it clean, no broken furniture!" Gerald called from across the tavern, several patrons moving a few tables away to watch with interest as brawls were such a common occurence.
 
Her cheek burned like fire from the slap, but she stood her ground, glaring at the man as the Scotsman insisted that they teach the man a lesson. "I don't need any help." She said, immediately punching the man in the abdomen, not stopping until they were on the floor in a pile and her fists felt bruised and raw.

She was a vicious fighter, never once giving up in the heat of the moment. It wasn't until big brawny arms wrapped around her waist and yanked her off of the now unconscious man did she finally sag. Seamus had stepped in to save her from literally killing the man who had slapped her so hard.
 
"Whoa, whoa!" Seamus grunted as he pulled her back, one arm around her waist and one hooked under her own arm. "Y'won, lass. Let 'im be," he murmured, slowly letting her go when she relaxed. The other two traders were on the floor too, hands raised in surrender as the sailors backed off.

Seamus stepped past to haul the unconscious man up, dragging him aside so he could come to in a safe corner. The other two traders were kicked out before Ria approached, hands on her hips as she looked at the men. "What happened here? I told you boys not to get into so many fights."

"Bloody Turk hit th'lady, Captain," the Irishman muttered, nursing a bloody nose.

"Hm. I suppose I can let that go, then." Ria turned to the foreign woman. "I apologize. Normally we don't get brutish traders like that."

"Excuse me," a soft male voice spoke up from behind the woman. "Is everyone alright?" Alex had stepped up, his tall and lean form tense as he looked over everyone to make sure no serious injuries had been incurred.

"Yeah," the sailors all answered, though Alex gave them each small cloth bandages for bloody noses and lips and knuckles. When he looked to the foreign woman, he offered her a seat.

"It looks like you might've broken a knuckle," he told her quietly, looking down at her left hand where her middle knuckle had begun to swell slightly.
 
"Trust me. I can handle them." She murmured, glancing down at the hand that hurt so badly.

She had done damage. Nothing more than a bad strike against her hand would have caused, but it still hurt like nothing else. She was sure it would be difficult to train for a while, but she had a lot to prove many different people. As the soft voice issued in the middle of the dying chaos, she turned to look at th eman who had made his way towards them.

"I don't need help." She said as he offered her a seat, looking down at her hand and declaring that he believed she had broken a knuckle. "It will take a lot more than a slap to the cheek and a broken hand to bring Yasmine al-Zaqir down."
 
"There's a time to be stubborn and macho, and then there's a time to take care of yourself, preferably with the help of someone who knows how to set bones," Alex told her, his voice calm and confident, though still quiet.

"He's not wrong, love," Ria offered before stepping away with her sailors to get them drinks.
 
"Oh? And would that be you?" Yasmine asked, looking at Alex as he seemed so quiet, but incredibly sure of himself. "Because you look barely old enough to have passed your healer exams."
 
"On the contrary. I passed my master's test nearly six years ago with full marks," he told her, but there was no hint of bragging in his voice. "I just want to help you, I'm not here to belittle you. There's no shame in accepting help, especially from a healer."
 
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"When you were a child?" She asked, slightly dubious that someone so young would have been able to pass his healer's test. "Thank you for the offer, but I'm fine."

She turned from him then, moving to scoop up the book that she had left next to the fire. "There are healers at the barracks where I'm staying. I can just as easily see one there."
 
"When I was eighteen," he corrected quietly, but he pushed no further, returning to his seat. Before she could leave, though, he added, "Mind that hand in training, though. If you displace it any more, it could cause serious problems."
 
"I am of no concern to you." Yasmine murmured, tucking her book away in her leather pouch at her waist, glancing towards Alex as he tried to offer her some advice. "If those at the barracks wish for me to see a healer, then I will. Until then, I will wear this as a badge of honor won while teaching someone a very valuable lesson."
 
Alex simply shook his head, returning to taking stock of the items in his satchel and writing notes in a small journal. The other patrons kept out of Yasmine's way for the moment.
 
Yasmine watched the strange healer for a long moment. He was so quiet and serious, well beyond his years as he checked over his doctor's bag. It seemed that he took his role seriously. She said nothing more as she moved towards him, taking his chin in her hand and kissing him with a heated press of her lips.

"Don't be so serious, healer." She murmured when the kiss ended, chuckling to herself before she turned to gather her thick, oiled cloak and then she stepped out into the cold night beyond.
 
Alex froze when he was suddenly kissed, and he remained frozen for several seconds, recovering just in time to look behind him and see the door closing. He earned a few hoots and hollers from teasing patrons and friends, but he could only shake his head and try to refocus. He had a long night ahead of him and he couldn't afford the distraction.

By the time Yasmine returned to the barracks, most of her fellows were already there. Most of the Axemen lived in Inverness, but those without their own homes or those wishing to focus solely on their training stayed at the barracks. There weren't many other foreigners, and even fewer women among the ranks, and they were mixed quite well with werefolk from the surrounding areas and those who'd come to escape slavery. The Middle East and Africa were hubs of werefolk slavery alongside Greece and a few Asian countries, so Yasmine had never seen free werefolk until she stopped in Inverness. They weren't the ragged, beaten shepherds and masons she had known before. They were bright, lively, covered in their cultural tattoos, and spoke in beautiful tribal languages and lived side-by-side with humans. There would always be those who didn't like the other race, but they were truly free in the isles.

When Yasmine entered, her unit Sergeant Matilov Kiniyr rose to meet her. He was a titan of a Wolf with rich red-brown fur and sharp dark amber eyes. His fur was littered with Lunar tattoos and he, like most of the werefolk men, wore just a simple vest and trousers and his battleaxe was in its holster on his back. "Kosovo, al-Zaqir," he greeted her. "I've been waiting for you."
 
Jeanine laughed as she saw Alex sitting there so stunned that the woman had kissed him and then disappeared. As Seamus and Ria tended to the aftermath of the fight, she moved towards her cousin and offered him one of his favorite drinks: hot orange cider with cinnamon.

"It was bound to happen sooner or later, Alex." She murmured as she placed the mug beside him and disappeared back behind the bar to let him be.

Yasmine entered the barracks as the snow picked up again, the warm interior of the space instantly making her relax. It felt like home, or as close to a home as she had been in for a very long time. The recruits were a lively bunch but loyal to one another. She was hanging up her cloak by the fire, pausing when she heard a greeting from her commander.

"Kosovo, sir." She murmured, glancing towards him as he mentioned that he had been waiting for her. "Why is that?"
 
"While Prince Samuel is away, Durban Ghis is taking up his old mantle as Captain and is testing my most able, newer recruits this week, and you are on that list. If you do well, you'll find yourself promoted with a permanent place here, and you'll be joining one of the main battalions. I also suggested you for a rider's role, seeing as you have plenty of experience with horses. You might find yourself working with the Rangers and Ciaran Ghis if Durban agrees, but you'll certainly be working with the city guard and the village warriors outside the city."

Though Yasmine hadn't been in Inverness long, she had been one of a small few constantly impressing Matilov, and Matilov was among the first to get Durban and Sam's audience for his best recruits, being one of the best training officers. Durban was still heavily involved with the Axemen, often referred to as 'Captain' just as much as Sam was.
 
"I'm honored that you think so highly of my skills and progress, sir." Yasmine said, thinking about the path that was opening up before her. "Making Inverness my permanent home doesn't sound like such a bad idea these days."
 
"It'll certainly be possible with a full Axeman's wage if Durban does place you in the main forces. You'll be provided with a dress uniform and a new weapon and shield of choice. If you're included with the riders, you'll be issued a horse from the royal stables too, and your wages will include extra to take care of it. Make me proud, al-Zaqir. Durban will meet you in the first dueling ring tomorrow an hour before noon. Make sure you bring all your leather armor, your blade and shield, and your bow." Matilov stepped away from her then with a smile and returned to his desk in the back corner.
 
"Well, this deal keeps getting better and better." Yasmine said with a grin as her commander told her to make him proud.

She had ever intention to make him proud. She had made many promises along the way to people who she didn't intend to let down. Most of all, Durban Ghis, who had been the man who had decided that she was worthy of training. She looked to him as a hero, perhaps even a bit of a father figure. It was exciting to know that he would be the one taking on her training. It would be a whole new world.

It was growing late when Alex entered his parent's house that evening. Valentina had long since gone to sleep with Ruari, both of them snuggled in bed. The little boy had been demanding more and more of her time, which she willingly gave to him in the evenings. He was curious and fearless, a gentle soul who simply wanted to be loved. The same could be said for Frannie and Theo, the girl spending more time with her father before she went off to Kate's court in the spring time.

The only one still awake was Viola, the young girl sitting next to the fire as she read a book and waited for her cookies to bake. She glanced up as the door opened and smiled at her older brother.

"I'm almost done with your cookies." She murmured, having baked Alex his favorite for the Solstice.
 
"It's a bit late to be baking, isn't it?" Alex asked with a smile for his sister and a kiss pressed to her forehead. As of late, Alex had begun to look a little older than usual. After a small outbreak of flu on one end of town, he hadn't shaved for nearly two weeks, and had decided to keep the short beard but kept it neatly trimmed. But his hair always remained short. In a culture that often cut their hair short when dishonored or mourning, many found that odd about him and, in particular, his cousin Sam.
 
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