[PRP] Advancement (Kestven & Mittere)

[mouselet]

The pink lioness was seated, not standing, in the practice grounds. She'd done a great deal of work here in the past six years. In fact, this was the longest Mittere had ever lived in a single place in her entire life. It...wasn't a bad thing. She'd found love, lost it, and raised far more children and grandchildren than she cared to count. Hell, she was a great-grandmother now, which was a terrifying thought for multiple reasons.

Some of those reasons were directly related to why she'd summoned her adopted son Kestven. Unlike Tarafa's children, the lioness couldn't - wouldn't - pretend that the cheeton was related. Still, in many ways, he was more her child than any of the others. Even if she'd only agreed to accept the boy because her mate had insisted...  

[Excited Apathy]

Time had passed, as it does. Kestven's breed might make him look still the lanky adolescent, but he'd left that behind long ago. What he hadn't left behind was that if Mittere suggested you be somewhere, you got your a** there. He wasn't too old to be drilled to exhaustion and back, nor to be given extra patrols. You were never too old for that...unless, perhaps, you were retired. Besides, he was interested in finding out just why he'd been summoned this time. It wasn't like he didn't want to show, even if he had extra motivation to be prompt.

One thing he also hadn't left behind was his taciturn nature. As he approached Mittere, he said nothing, instead lifting a brow in question.  

[mouselet]

He didn't keep her waiting too long, which the pink lioness appreciated. Not everyone in the pride understood the definition of the word "promptly", which was enough to make Mittere grind her teeth. Stupid civilians. At least none of her Warriors would fail her in that respect.

"What is your opinion on the state of our borders?" the Master Warrior demanded, her voice raspier than usual. She spoke more these days than when she'd first found herself in the pride, but of late, the lioness had found more reasons to keep her mouth shut. It was annoying, but that way she gave less away to her all-too-perceptive family.  

[Excited Apathy]

Kestven's eyes narrowed a fraction. Worded differently, it might have been a request for a report, but as it stood the question was odd to him. This was the kind of thing that he knew Mittere was more than capable of assessing herself. Which meant that this was a test. Which meant not pointing out that she knew as well as he did. Instead, he briefly went over a mental tally of the warriors, guards, and scouts in the pride and compared that to the size of their territory. As was usual when he let himself consider it, he didn't like the conclusion.

"We're lucky nobody's attacked us," he said finally. "We'd need every combatant if they did, infected or not."  

[mouselet]

Mittere's response was a snort of air from her nostrils. The pride was never going to be as prepared as she would care for, but then again, few people wanted to deal with the disease that plagued the Kitwana'antara. Then there was the problem that they couldn't count their full strength as their full population - the disease took too great a toll on too many.

"And how would you go about fixing that problem?" the lioness demanded, blue eyes never wavering from Kestven. He had the skills yes, and he wasn't stupid enough to tell her what she obviously didn't want to hear. But how was his reasoning?  

[Excited Apathy]

How would he fix it? Kestven snorted quietly. The way he saw it, it wasn't an easy fix thanks to the way the pride worked, even before you got into the handicap the disease could be. "The king's not going to force anyone to change rank." It still felt damn weird to call Maji that, by the way. "So, train all non-combatants. Basic self-defense and evasion tactics, at least. Not optional." He fell silent for a long moment before continuing. "And evacuation plans."

If the pride didn't want to be wiped out by the first invading force larger than their assortment of guards, warriors, and scouts--not a tall order as things stood--they'd need to know how to fend off those invaders. Short of forcing more lions to choose military ranks, he didn't see another choice there. And if the pride scattered under such an attack, the disease would spread everywhere. If they all knew where to go, they could try to maintain their quarantine.  

[mouselet]

"And what of those who are unable to fight, who are barely able to move?" Mittere pressed the boy. There were always the elderly and disabled in a group, but in the Kitwana'antara, they were a significantly larger portion of the population. Given her own experience, the lioness didn't think all of Kestven's suggestions were feasible simply because the pride wasn't a military autocracy, but at least he was thinking.

Of course, if the pride did come under threat, his suggestions would be more relevant, useful, and vital.  

[Excited Apathy]

"Train them in stealth, or defend and move them." As far as Kestven was concerned, which of those options was taken depended on how much agency the pridemember wanted to have in their own defense. More of the pride needed to realize that their very existence could incite attacks by those that considered them a threat. Assuming that it wasn't possible just because it hadn't happened yet was stupid. "Don't have to move much to hide."

A much longer pause this time. The cheeton knew that what he said next wouldn't be taken well by a sizeable number of the pride. But he couldn't overlook options just because they weren't pleasant. "If it's bad...very bad...give mercy to those that are willing." He swallowed hard, but met Mittere's eyes with a level stare. "It's better than leaving them to die anyway."  

[mouselet]

A single eyebrow rose as the cheeton brought up one of the most painful factors of sickly lions and a need to move in a hurry. She honestly hadn't expected that kind of insight, but then again, wasn't that what this entire interrogation about?

"Well-reasoned," Mittere said at last. "Strategies worthy of the Master Warrior."  

[Excited Apathy]

...So that's what this was about...wait, what? Both of Kestven's eyebrows rose as her words actually registered, which was nearly as close as he could come to looking completely poleaxed.

"What...do you mean by that?" Quite possibly a stupid question. It sounded like a promotion. But this seemed the kind of thing he should make very certain of before assuming he'd heard it correctly. If it was a stupid question, he could live with that this time.  

[mouselet]

"I mean exactly what I said," Mittere informed her idiotic adopted offspring sternly. Inside, she was thrilled. It wasn't often the pink lioness played a practical joke - "never" might be a better term - but she was damned if she wasn't going to have a bit of fun springing this on Kestven.

"You are the new Master Warrior of the pride. I'll still be around of course, but you might consider me...Master Warrior Emeritus," the lioness elaborated. She would always reserve the right to ensure the pride was in the best possible paws, but it was necessary to promote someone while she could.  

[Excited Apathy]

"...As you will," Kestven finally managed to get out, his features rearranging into something closer to their usual expression. Mentally, he was still sorting out the implications of such an action. It certainly answered the question of why this had felt like a particularly difficult test, even for one of Mittere's devising. But why promote a new Master Warrior now? Had the disease tightened its grip? Somehow, a more unpleasant idea than that of hastening the end of pride members. More personal. For now, he shoved it away.

"Not sure what an Emeritus is, but I won't stop you from being one." A joke? Maybe. As if anyone could stop Mittere.  

[mouselet]

...right. Perhaps it was his upbringing, but Kestven's vocabulary often left something to be desired. The lioness sighed, some of her tensed muscles relaxing with the action. She hadn't been completely certain her adopted son would have what it took when she'd summoned him here. Thank the gods she'd been overly worried. He wasn't her - not by a long shot - but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Most importantly, the pride would be in good paws.

"It means," Mittere answered in the long-suffering tone of one who had raised the boy, "that you're in charge of the Warriors, but I can still tell you and any others what to do." Frankly, it was unlikely that anyone who'd ever had her for a commanding officer would dare refuse her commands, regardless of her retriement. Still, it was good to make these things clear at the beginning.

"Now go. I'm sure you have a lot to do, including reporting to your King and Queen as my successor."