"Etiquette, novices, is more important than speech or even strength. It can stop conflict, encourage good will, and even help you to get your way in a dispute."
Eirinn sat in her early morning etiquette class listening to the rather stuffy Gray go on and on. It was not her favorite class. Much of it bored her. What to do if you are at dinner in a Cairhenian noble's house. Which fork do you eat with and in which hand. How you hold a wine glass depends upon which region you are in. It bored her to tears but she dutifully took notes and tried not to fall asleep.
"Now girls, today you will put some of your training into practice. You will serve chilled tea to those who are working in the warder yard. You will all serve with grace and poise. There will be NO flirting, touching, or unladylike interaction of any kind. You may however engage in civilized conversation under my watchful eyes. The art of conversation is also a skillset of etiquette. Do not disappoint me or you will regret it. Now let us go. Single file novices!"
Eirinn's eyes widened. Novices were always scolded for hanging around the warder yards unless they were taking a weapons class. Now that she was supposed to perforn in front of their teacher she wistfully wished she had paid more attention. I've poured tea for company before. I'll be fine. Eirinn reassured herself.
Upon their arrival at the yards just about everyone stopped practicing, wondering what a flood of novices was doing descending upon the yards followed by a large table containing pitchers of liquid. The pitchers had been chilled by the one power Eirinn guessed, and had a thin layer of frost on the rims. They were heavy in Eirinn's arms and she struggled to pour the glasses, spilling a bit here and there, and praying she wouldn't drop the pitcher altogether.
She took her tray of glasses to a group of men in the field close to the offices. The sun was hot and they seemed most in need of a cold drink. She addressed each one with "Sir, would you like a cup of chilled tea?' and did her best to balance the tray while taking each glass off.
She had never seen the yards up close and had never seen so many different weapons or so many strong men and women carrying them. Those few still practicing were unbelievably fast! It was almost scary. There was one last glass left in her tray and one last man near her under the hot sun.
Just as she was approaching him, a loud clang from two metal swords clashing startled her momentarily, and she glanced in that direction while still moving forward, forgetting to watch where she was going. A sword scabbard belonging to one of the men lay across her path.
"Sir, would you like a cup of chilled...ieeeeee!" she yelled as her foot caught on the sword and scabbard and gravity continued to pull her in the direction she was going. The glass flew out of her hand into the air and she landed hard on her hands and knees. When she looked up, with dread, she saw where her wayward glass fell....right into the lap of the tall, well muscled man with torn trousers.
