On any given day, Alinore expected to encounter some form of creature. Even in polite society, they were nearly impossible to avoid, and the only question was whether the offender, dressed in fineries and walking on two legs, would be bovine or boar-like or sheep-like or perhaps nothing more than a mongrel who needed to be taught not to bite its betters. After all, most of the nobles who frequented these stone halls were tragically easy to sort into their respective categories, while the commoners, naturally, were all like ants: numerous, insignificant, and there to be stepped on.

Suffice to say that while bleating was not uncommon in these parts, actual bleating from an actual sheep was.

The sheep did not knock her down, though not for lack of trying. With the poise of a proper Nevermerean noblewoman, Alinore recovered from the unexpected assault and upon hearing the officer’s approach, turned her unimpressed expression upon him. Though she did not frequent the military wing herself, she remembered what she had learned during her six years of service, and from the markings on his uniform, she could tell that he occupied a position of lesser importance, one given to men who could be fooled into believing that the morsel of authority they were given made them as powerful as a king. Perhaps there were two sheep in the courtyard.

“Officer Abbott,” Alinore said as he approached, having taken a moment to recall his name. “I see you have chosen to herd sheep instead of soldiers today. You are a man of many talents.” And one who was clearly being used to his full potential.

A lifetime spent in court had taught Alinore a great many skills. Chief among them was a penchant for feeding the the nobles of Nevermere insults disguised as flattery, but as Abbott continued speaking, she thought perhaps the talent was wasted on him. She hardly needed to illuminate his shortcomings when he highlighted them himself so clearly.

“I see.” While he searched for his wayward charge, she considered him with the court-perfected expression of polite disinterest, her hands folded neatly in front of her. An officer who took orders from his subordinates, and one who couldn’t even control a sheep? She wondered if his promotion had been one of pity rather than prestige.

At his inquiry, she let silence linger between them for a moment before, with a slight head tilt and a quirk of her lips, she replied, “I am unharmed, thank you for asking, Officer Abbott.” Another pause. “It does, however, appear as though your target continues to elude you. Do you require assistance?”

Alinore raised an eyebrow as she considered the officer standing before her. He may have been a noble in name, but the many years associating with the rabble had clearly caused him to forget his manners. Or perhaps he’d simply been unable to learn them in the first place.

“Indeed, it is just a sheep, Officer Abbott,” She agreed lightly. “One you have been tasked with retrieving, yet I can’t help but notice that only one of us has come into contact with the creature.” A moment passed as she let the observation sink in before she tilted her head slightly and continued in the same delicate tone as before, “Now, I confess myself rather confused. You are an officer in His Majesty’s military, are you not?”

She would pause to give him the opportunity to answer. If he withheld a response, then she would continue as if he had provided the only answer he could that would not have him appearing an utter fool: “Yes, Lady Thornhill”.

“You are at the service of the king and his people, be that fighting for your country or training new recruits or assisting a citizen in need.” Having served her mandatory six, Alinore knew that to be true. She might have laid down her sword in favor of a more delicate lethality, but that did not mean she forgot its teachings. “Today, our people require you to return a wayward sheep.” The slightest of pauses before she concluded, in the same mild tone:

“Therefore, I would posit that catching it is, in fact, exactly what you are being paid to do.”

Alinore had not forgotten that he could order any recruit or soldier to catch this sheep. It was, after all, the reason why she was unimpressed that he had decided to do so himself, despite whatever flimsy excuses he offered up. As an officer, his time ought to have been more valuable than that of his subordinates, and yet here he was, wasting it - and hers - with menial tasks that could be performed just as incompetently by any one of his new recruits.

If he struggled this much with catching a single sheep, she briefly considered how difficult he would find catching up to multiple opponents far more capable than a farm animal on the battlefield. Perhaps they ought to set aside some wood for his pyre now.

When he issued his invitation, one that she safely assumed was nowhere near as genuine as the accompanying smile suggested, Alinore arched an eyebrow at him. “I thank you for the generous offer, Officer Abbott. As my time in Arynn Frey has shown me, even the best among us can always learn something new.” Her tone stayed mild and her mannerisms as gracious as ever. “However, I find myself well-aware of the basic principles of combat, and in the spirit of such growth, I think it prudent that I extend to you an explanation as to why.” A pause.

“It may lack your swords and your blood, Officer Abbott, but do not forget: lives can be destroyed just as easily on the marble floors of my domain as they can on your battlefield.”