The Grey Tower

Muireen do Morny a'Lordeine Delicate and Determined

Miendha Amayani do Ciresh a'Sorene

Muireen do Morny a’Lordeine The Height of Anticipation Well, what now, you bloody fool? The stable-hand would lose his lungs laughing if she went back out without the uniforms that all the other trainees wore. Muireen was not fond of the idea of making a fool out of herself on her first day trying. She knew well enough that she couldn’t channel; Aes Sedai would have descended upon her like hungry wolves in the presence of fresh meat if it were possible - she doubted they’d let one out from under their very noses, and here she was at their Tower! She pinched her lips into a stubborn line. She’d just have to find someone else that could teach her to throw a solid punch - but if not the Mistress of Training, then who?

She glanced up one side of the hall and then down the other. It was empty, and silent, aside from her hard-headed attempt to force the door open. It’s not like she’s hiding in there. Still your hand, girl. Even from a thousand leagues away, her mother’s voice held sway, and her hand dropped obediently to her side. It was a good job that it had, too. Not long after she stilled herself and and began to ponder if she should go left or right, a woman in grey greeted her.

“I see you.” she said firmly, pushing fiery hair behind her ear. Muireen gaped, her manners abandoning her. She had to be Aiel. She did not seem particularly savage, but she was very tall, and her eyes were as blue as spring water. “I’m glad you can see me,” she said nervously, glancing around the woman into the empty hallway. “I feel like no one can.” She tried to laugh, but it came out more of a strangled noise that died awkwardly.

“I am Miendha, drin’far’ji of the Grey Tower. You look lost.”

“Charmed.” Muireen stuck out her hand to shake it, but the woman stared at it as if she didn’t know what to do it with it. Muireen blushed furiously. Why would she want to shake her hand? She was dirty from traveling, with dust up to her eyebrows. No one would want to touch her before she’d properly bathed - it was beyond inconsiderate to assume otherwise. She coughed, and wiped her hand on her travel-worn dress. “I’m Muireen.” It was easy enough to leave her surname behind - she’d been doing that since she left Murandy, in an attempt to keep from being found. Truthfully, she was shocked that she’d managed to get this far without being discovered.

“And yes, it seems that I am lost. I told the stable-hand I wanted to enlist as a Warder trainee, and he laughed. He might have sent me here as a joke.”

“The Mistress of Training is out of the Tower currently,” the woman said with an air of confidence. “But let me take you to the Mistress of Arms, she can get you settled.” Muireen was relieved that she had not been the butt of some secret joke after all, but her blush returned with a vengeance. Her mother always told her that she worried too much about what others thought of her. Far too much for a first-born daughter from a small House, who’s run off from home to learn how to hit people.

She shook her head slightly as she followed the woman in grey. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever felt so embarrassed in her life - nor so out of place.

Miendha knocked upon a door that looked just like all the others. Apparently, they had reached her destination. She ducked in, had a conversation that Muireen could not discern, then ducked back out, herded Muireen over the threshold, and shut the door behind her. Muireen glanced around nervously, her eyes glazing over the sparse furnishings, and finally landing on another red-head. Her features were rounder, though. Kinder.

“Please come in, and have a seat.” Muireen would have been lying if she said that it did not give her great pleasure to hear a familiar accent, even if she still had her doubts about being taken seriously. She took the empty chair gratefully, and tried to force her gaze to settle on the Mistress of Arms. She disliked being so unsure of herself - she might be better off going home and facing her father, after all. “I am Amayani do Ciresh a’Sorene, Mistress of Arms and Head of the Warder Yards.” Muireen nearly leapt out of her skin when she heard the surname; do Ciresh a’Sorene was an allied House. Would the Mistress of Arms betray her?

Now you’re being truly silly. Da would have to know where to send the letter in order to find you. Mistress do Ciresh a’Sorene likely doesn’t even know that you’ve run away. Still, she chewed her lip nervously. “Please, tell me who you are, and why you wish to join us…?”

Muireen bit back a laugh. The Mistress of Arms was kinder than the stable-hand had been, but it was still obvious that her stature would not be an asset. Instead, she smoothed her skirt over her knees, and gave a careful answer. “I am Muireen do Morny a’Lordeine, and I wish to learn to fight.” Her last words were not quite so fierce as she wished they were: she still did not expect to be taken seriously.

“I… I don’t have a good reason, really. No exciting tales, or driving force at my heels.” Wanting to smash an ex-lover’s nose in because of an affair gone sour was not something she expected the Warder to respect; most Warders in the stories did what they did because of honor, justice, or some other great purpose . She laughed hollowly beneath her breath. “It’s a fools errand, really. But I’m here because I have no where else to be, and I am willing to try.”

Amayani do Ciresh a'Sorene A Hard Life “I am Muireen do Morny a’Lordeine, and I wish to learn to fight,” the girl said with a voice trying to be fierce and betraying nervousness and uncertainty. Amayani smiled a little as the girl was so similar to how she had been when she first arrived. Her name only showed how similar. The a'Lordeine family was an allied House to her own, if her memory served her correctly. She had never been too interested in the politics of her House, neither before she left home and even less so since coming here. Though, she thought she recalled her dad talking of the House a'Lordeine not long before she left home, and how they had recently had a daughter, their firstborn. This lass?

Not that any of that mattered here.

"A willingness to try is good, but more important will be a willingness to not give up. If I let you sign up, and I see no reason not to," she added to ease the girl's mind a little, as she could guess the girl was scared she'd be laughed at and sent away. She wouldn't be denied a chance here, but whether she wanted to take that chance or not was another matter, "you will be pushed to the limit of your powers and beyond, broken down and reforged to a new and stronger you. The Warder Yards is not an easy place, nor is it a gentle one. The training here is hard, but fair. You will learn a variety of skills, survival skills, knowledge in both warfare and weaponry as well as peacekeeping. Everything you need to be able to one day protect those who need protection, whether they want it or not.

"Because that is the purpose of a Warder, to protect and serve their Ward, an Aes Sedai or an Asha'man, with their life if need be. That is what you will be trained for, if you choose to join us. You will start out as a Drin'far'ji, a Soldier of Honor, and if you train well and learn well you will be deemed ready to be raised through the ranks to Ji'da, Sister of Honor, and later to earn the right to wear the fancloak and call yourself Gaidar, Sister of Battle. And possibly become Warder to an Aes Sedai or Asha'man."

Taking a short break from talking, she let her words sink into the girl, and watched her reaction.

"Do you know what the difference is between a Gaidar or Gaidin, and a Warder?" she asked after a moment. If the girl had paid attention to what she'd said, she should be able to deduce an answer to that question.