Tyelle paced in her rooms. If Jonathon found out about this, she was dead. Dead as it was ever possible to be. The King did not like it when girls who were supposed to be boys not to tell him what was going on.

Ty had never liked the treatment that the Protector of the Small had received when she had tried for her shield. If you asked Ty, she would tell you right away that neither Kel nor Alanna had slept with anyone to gain their shields. It had been only hard work, and a fair bit of discrimination where Kel was concerned.

Ty was the kind of girl to defy authority with a will at all times. When her parents had told her she must marry what's-his-face from some islands to the south, she had stormed out of the room to spit on the man's shoes and return to her rooms. When she had told her parents she intended to be a fighter, they had locked her in a tower for a good six months, hoping this way the need to fight would evaporate.

One's parents can be so STUPID sometimes.

Ty had had no plan to return and apologize to no young gentleman and marry quietly. No intention to surrender whatsoever. She had decided she might try and gain a shield at the palace, but had known better than to ask her parents. Like she needed another lecture. No, no, no no no. No more. Tyelle had had enough.

So, what could she have done? Being supremely unconcerned about things such as treason to the Crown as well as her family, she had kept her nickname but changed her real name to Tykel and gone off to the Palace. She had decided to be a fighter, and she was not going to give it up.

She knew she could have forged her parents' signature, but decided she would rather hide her female identity. It would be considerably easier for her if she went about it this way. Also, if she did as the Lioness had done and stuck it out, though altered her behavior so as not to sleep with any prince as the Lioness had done (but the prince in question was betrothed anyway and would have no interest in her charm even if she tried), no one would ever be able to say she had not rightfully won her shield. The fact that the Ceremonial Bath was, in fact, a bath in front of males, did not bother her either. She would deal with it all in due time, as she did everything.

Mael appeared at the door. Ty hastened after him as he headed down to the Mess Hall. She didn't need to be late for her first night at the castle, that was for sure! As she ran after her sponsor she spotted a mirror and, while passing, checked herself for details. Her dark gray eyes, though rimmed with red from lack of sleep, still looked, in a way, blue. Her hair was cut short and braided all over her head for reasons none of the boys suspected. Her sharp features looked somewhat menacing---perhaps she ought to fix that. Her eyebrows, as ever, curled upwards, giving her a threatening and defying face. Nothing was out of place. She was ready.

As Mael opened the doors Ty saw something she would certainly have preferred not seeing: Ferbur de Croimant, the training master, accordingly appointed by her the nickname the Weed. She knew of no other men wound up so tight in her life, and this one in particular had a talent for showing up, not only when no one wanted him, but only to ruin things. The name The Weed was rightly placed, of course, for only weeds were stupid enough to linger when people did not want them, and like a rightful gardener, she intended to uproot him.

He had also been appointed by her the more popular name of Ticker, for he was wound up tight as a clock and always ticking, not to mention very picky about the time and was the kind to, as his name stated, 'tick everyone off'. He was above all other training masters in status, though there were several, and was the last word at all times. Or, at least, until now. He was the very first authority she thought to challenge, and thus her first test. Considerably more fun than a trial year, to be sure.

As she sped to take her tray behind Mael, she studied her possibilities. She despised getting up early, but she would have no choice. Men showered in the same room all the time, and she needed to be seen left from the Men's Bathing House to confirm her story. The only thing she could think of to avoid being spotted was to go very early and then, with her hair wet and once again braided and magicked, go wake Mael. It was the perfect strategy so that, in the case that folk asked why they never saw her bathe, she would simply reply "because I get up earlier than you to do it."

She needed to also consider the fact that her magic must stay hid. This was the reason she grew her hair cropped short and braided to the skull: her powers, in order to stay hidden from most mages, had to be placed in one place they would never check: who checked the pages for lice, much less for magic? No one. Never to this day. So she had kept her magic hid upon entering the Palace and the city of Corus by braiding her hair in a complex set of miniature braids she could do without looking even, making their way through her scalp in the oddest of spirals, swirls and such other forms. It fitted her Gift perfectly, as it was not the typical Gift at all. She only hoped she could fool Salmalin too, which was not something anyone could do.

As the Ticker Clock asked them all to stand end began to pray aloud to Mithros for some favor or other, Ty silently sent a prayer to the Goddess of thanks and for a little luck, then, as was her custom, when all readied to mutter the ritual "so mote it be" under their breaths, she spoke with them, defiantly and louder, "So mote it not!"