[X] All the Right Moves {Glozelle!} [Finished!]

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"Cara has managed to...create a character that is both mythical and life-like. Impulsive, moody, and yet kind and good-hearted, Caspian is just beginning to show the makings of a true leader."
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[Lady Michala Harran]

With every day that passed, Michala felt more and frustrated with her current situation, her current surroundings and virtually everything about her drudgingly boring life. She was reduced to menial tasks; tasks that were, to her, quite offensive. Washing, mending, all sorts of things that she really had no idea how to do them. Which was why Michala had become quite an expert at getting out of the work she detested. She was a terrible liar but she didn’t need to lie to make herself seem helpless and useless. In fact, what one might assume to be an act, a play of innocence and naivety, wasn’t hardly an act at all. Having lived a rather privileged life, she really was naive. She really did tend to make a mess of things more than fix things. On the plus side, no one might deem her a threat. She wasn’t entirely bright enough to endanger anyone, at least, not knowingly.

So she’d become something of a pet among the soldiers at camp. She was young, eager enough to flirt and dote and, for a little of her light, usually cheerful company, plenty of the men were willing to carry water for her, or assist her in other dull little tasks when they weren’t otherwise occupied. She thought with some disdain that for a war, not a whole lot was happening. The soldiers practiced fighting, but she’d heard no word of actual combat. Which was why she was confused. Why couldn’t she go home then? Too bad of a journey, she’d been told, too dangerous. No one could take her, and she couldn’t very well go alone. But why not? She could take care of herself! Well, she thought with some chagrin, she really couldn’t take care of herself. But it was worth a try if it meant a return to the comforts and luxuries of home!

“Did you need some help with that, Lady Michala?”

Michala turned and painted a smile on her face. “Thank you,” she said sweetly, passing the overly eager soldier a ridiculously full bucket of water. Sometimes she was sure the other women gave her things to do that they knew she’d fail at. It wasn’t very nice of them, and if she actually had some way with which to intimidate or threaten them, she’d happily use it. Unfortunately, she was rather at a loss. “How kind of you.” She batted her eyelashes at the  young soldier who seemed easily flustered .

“Where is this supposed to go?” He asked, trying to look as though the bucket was no heavier than a feather and Michala laughed, her voice light when she spoke. “Oh to the cookhouse. I never would have gotten it there on my own, you know.” She followed along beside him, her voice dripping with praise. “It was so heavy, how it made my arms ache! But you don’t seem to feel the strain at all! It must be all that training you have to do.” She felt quite smug with  herself; she hadn’t even had to ask anyone this time! All the better; she could play the role of the damsel in distress quite perfectly.

[General Glozelle]

General Favino Glozelle made a habit to be aware of the doings of the men in his camp.  (It was Miraz's camp, really, but in the absence of the dictator, Glozelle had unofficially declared it his.)  Some of the soldiers were little more than children, really - though children would have been easier, and surely more pleasant.  He could appreciate the work that they were doing, to be sure, if only that work was directed for the correct purposes.  For it seemed that, now that there were a few women in the camp, the doings of the men could be chalked up to the doings of the women.  Especially since one young woman, in particular, was getting them - with a bat of her dark eyelashes - to do her work instead of their own.

He had been observing the little vixen, who looked rather familiar to him for whatever reason, even though it was difficult to tell from afar.  He had not approached her as of yet, more because it was simply entertaining to watch than any other reason.  He shook his head in wonder as he observed the spectacle.  If men bowed so easily before a doe-eyed girl, could he expect them to fight off a bunch of animals?  Unlikely.  Perhaps it was a good thing they had not yet seen battle.  At least he knew that these men were men, in physical makeup if not in mental fortitude.  It was amusing, really.  He was unused to seeing men behave this way, for they did so only outside of Miraz's fist.

It was possible that Glozelle needed to have a firmer hand, but he could not give orders which he himself had not been given.  Miraz was, at times, irritatingly lax with his commands, which freed Glozelle to go through with his own plans, it was true, but Miraz had started this war and he would be the one to finish it.  Glozelle was eager to fight, but he only wanted to see the expenses of the Telmarine soldier come to fruition.  He only opposed the Narnians because they posed a threat to the Telmarines - just as he opposed Miraz because the "king" did the same.  Miraz was not interested in protecting the Telmarine people, as was his duty, but rather in protecting himself.  For this reason, Glozelle - and most Telmarines - hated the man.

Alas, he could express such sentiments to no one, if he valued his life.  Not yet.  Overhearing a snatch of conversation, he approached the girl and the soldier with whom she was speaking.  "Go on.  You heard the lady," he said to the soldier shortly, in a voice which brooked no refusal.  To the girl, he spoke in the same monotone, but humor was hidden in his words as he greeted her dryly, "Our esteemed king would do well to possess a skill in command such as yours, lady."  A smirk flashed fleetingly white beneath his mustache.  From what he had seen, today and before, he knew that it was man who needed women and not the other way around... despite the way this particular lady was acting.

A name flashed into his mind then, as he matched it with her face, which he could now see more distinctly. "Lady Michala, I presume.  I should have known after our last meeting that you would be averse to doing your work."  This was not said accusingly, for nothing Glozelle ever said sounded accusing unless you knew him quite well... as no one did.  "I have no qualms with your intelligence, Lady.  But every man - and woman - here must do their fair share."  He valued work, believing it to be above nearly everything else, and thought it a healthy thing for the bourgeoisie to experience.  He also valued women, placing them equal to (or above) men, but realized the best way to stop discrimination was not to give someone special treatment, but rather to give them the same treatment as everyone else.  And so he would.  Michala, too, must work.  Or at least try.

[Lady Michala Harran]

“Go on, you heard the lady.”

Michala blinked at the voice behind them. The soldier hurried off to do as he was ordered – obviously he recognized the voice far quicker than Michala herself did. She turned just as he levelled some words at her. “Our esteemed king would do well to possess a skill in command such as yours, lady.” She blushed at the words. General Glozelle. Why did the fates seem fit to send her running into him yet again? Not that he was a terrible sort, but he did intimidate her – as he seemed to intimidate everyone – and even more so now that he’d caught her at her game. She knew full well his soldiers probably had better things to do than be ordered around by a young woman who really didn’t want to be here. So she was completely embarrassed and she folded her hands behind her back, lowering her eyes. She wanted to argue, she wanted to defend herself. It wasn’t exactly that she was adverse to doing her work. It was more so that the other ladies gave her too much work, and things she couldn’t be reasonably expected to do. That and she didn’t like doing her work.

“Yes of course, General,” she said demurely, “I meant no harm. I just couldn’t carry the water. It was too heavy for me.” And what good would it be, spilt all over the ground? Then she would have to go back and fetch more water and that would be a waste of time! Oh how she could argue her case; but she wouldn’t, because who knew what might happen then? She was in a camp that she shouldn’t be in, she should be back home surrounded by pretty things and happy courtiers. But she wasn’t. She chastised herself for her longing, and decided she should try and make the best of her situation, as hard as it might be. “I do mean to work,” she said softly, glancing up at him with wide eyes, “and I try, really. But it isn’t... well, I’m not any good at it, and the women like to spite me by giving me tasks they know I’ll only fail at.” How he’d take her statements, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t trying to whine, she was merely trying to fix herself; she’d been caught in a rather unfortunate place. And she certainly had no intention of giving up her ability to convince the men to do her work for her. Things would get done that way. They wouldn’t get done if she had to do them all on her own.

She tried to think back to her last interaction with the man. She’d been washing laundry, rather cross, muttering to herself and had managed to cut up her hand rather unfortunately. He’s come along, they’d had an unlikely conversation, and Michala’s opinion of him had changed a little. Not completely, but at least she had to begrudgingly acknowledge that he wasn’t the monster she’d thought. He was no Miraz. Still, that didn’t mean she liked him, or trusted him, in the slightest. But she would be pleasant because she didn’t want to get herself into any more trouble than she was already in.

((ooc;; sorry it was short; I didn’t want to make you wait longer, lol, and I was at a bit of a loss.))

[General Glozelle]

Glozelle listened in a mood somewhere between boredom and annoyance to Michala's sort of apology.  "Your deference is charming, but quite unnecessary," he murmured.  "You are not under my charge."  It may have sounded like a dismissal, but it was not.  He was thinking back to the women in charge of Michala, who according to her gave her impossible tasks.  He stared at the retreating back of the man who Michala had convinced to take the water bucket, and it looked like he was straining somewhat to carry it.  Well, that simply wouldn't do.  It was true that some of his men were weak from trying to evade their training, but even so, it would be impossible for Michala to complete such a task which a soldier could hardly do. "Everyone must work, but I can only ask that you do what is possible," he agreed.  His eyes moved back to Michala then.  "Have you discussed your duties with the women?"  It was unlikely - usually any sort of tenacity was intimidating.  The most fleeting of smiles flashed under his mustache.  "I will aid you in talking to them, if it is required."  Uppity people irked him; no one was above anyone else and people who thought so needed to be punished for it and taught a lesson.

Despite her posture, it was clear Michala knew how to stand up for herself.  She was a beautiful young woman, and a strong one - in opinion, if not in physical or mental capacity.  She didn't belong in a place like this, with dirty, rowdy men undeserving of her company.  It was a shame, really.  But what could Glozelle do?  This was how society worked.  Women were slaves to men, and that was that - and likely that was how it would always be.  For a long moment, the general stared in the girl silently, intently, as if assessing her.  His eyes searched hers.  Finally, he said, "Never marry, Lady Michala.  It would make any man happy to have you as a wife, but it would only degrade a woman such as yourself."  He turned away rather abruptly, not because he didn't have any more to say on the subject but because he did not think it necessary to say anything else.  He had learned the value of being concise in his dangerous position, where he seemed to be forever teetering on the edge between fame and famine, prospering and perishing.  It was unlikely that Michala would not understand him, or at least not understand where he was coming from, so there was really no point in wasting words.  He was aware that he had already confused her.  Or perhaps he had intimidated her, as he did in most instances.  But for once, he was not proud of it.

He made no move to dismiss her, instead walking in a slow circle, not meeting her eye.  Life was one grand, hopeless circle.  The same unfair dictator would forever have power, in the form of one man or another.  Women would always be below men.  There would never be equality between classes.  Even the birds did nothing new, returning to their home every season to be eaten by predators instead of flying away as they should.  No one learned anything.  Nothing changed.  They just followed the same fruitless pattern, out of which no one would ever break.  Glozelle couldn't bear to pace anymore, because in his mind the circle in which he'd been walking was now representative of the life he hated.  But he also stopped pacing because a thought had come to him, one which might be called an epiphany.  His gaze slid to Michala.  Perhaps she could be the one to break the pattern.  Perhaps she could be the one to turn Telmarine society upside down.  Perhaps she could be the one to change everything... under his tutelage, of course.  There was still hope.  "Lady Harran," he addressed her.  "What would you say if I offered to have you do a different sort of work?"

[Lady Michala Harran]

She felt rebuked at his insisting her deference was unnecessary, that she wasn’t under his charge so while it might be charming, it was not important. Michala lifted her chin, a tad insulted, but determined not to show it. Fine, so maybe she’d been a little over the top. She usually was. But she’d better keep her expression demure and her irritation under control else she’d only find herself in hot water. Maybe. Or maybe he didn’t care. It wasn’t like there was much harm she could do; she’d just have to step carefully. That was all. It was impossible to know what was going through his head – from what she could see of him, he masked his emotions well. Better than anyone else she knew, anyway. “Have you discussed your duties with the women?” He asked, and Michala tried not to laugh. What good would that do her? “I will aid you in talking to them, if it is required.” An offer that startled her. Really, truly startled her. He’d help her? Why? She crossed her arms, studying him, wondering what might prompt him to care a bit about whether or not her work was too strenuous or too difficult. She wasn’t under his charge, as he’d already said. So why then would he take any pains to make sure she was fairly treated?

Chin lifted, back straight, Michala fought the amusement at the flickering thought; if the General Glozelle stood up for her, surely they would have to back down.  Her amusement faded when she truly thought it over, however, and realized that it would in all likelihood make matters worse. At the moment, when he was there, of course they would act remorseful. Of course they would say they would be better to her. But the moment he was gone... he was the General, after all! He had other things to worry about, things that didn’t involve her and heavy lifting. And if he sided with her now, the other women would only resent her more. She couldn’t, and wouldn’t, go crying to him every time things weren’t nice. No, she would have to stand up for herself. Or find another way to make them back down. “The offer is highly appreciated,” Michala said steadily, “but I think that, regardless of how it goes about, I will have to deal with it on my own.” Her father would have a fit if he knew she’d dared to say such a thing, not that it was disrespectful, not really. It was just... disagreeable. She sighed. It would have been awfully funny though.

Michala was aware of him studying her and while she knew she ought to drop her eyes and look away, she met his gaze – even if doing so made her rather nervous. She meant no disrespect, of course, but she was tired of shying away. He didn’t seem to like that anyway – he never seemed altogether pleased with her apologies and backing down. So fine then, she’d stand firm. Maybe that would be better? It was impossible to know. His comment about her never marrying set a tiny smile upon her face and she struggled to refrain from laughter. Yes, perhaps marriage would degrade her – but without a husband, she would be eternally viewed as useless, eternally a burden. At least she had time for that, there was no rush to marry, not quite yet. It was a rather untoward comment he’d made, but she didn’t care. Wondering if he was leaving as he turned away, she watched him still, all the more curious by the strange figure that was General Glozelle.

As he circled, she let her arms drop to her sides. She did not feel as defensive, as uneasy, as one might think she ought. He was obviously of no mind to cause her harm, so she stood and waited for him to either dismiss her or walk away. And when he stopped and looked at her, Michala folded her hands behind her back.

“Lady Harran, what would you say if I offered to have you do a different sort of work?”

A different sort of work? She rose an eyebrow and observed him curiously. “What sort of work do you mean, sir?” It was an odd offer, and she was naturally suspicious. Too, she was curious and... hopeful. She’d do practically anything, so long as it didn’t require lugging heavy buckets of water and catering to the whims of the bitter old women who had nothing better to do than be here, nagging her.

[General Glozelle]

((ooc: ugh sorry for the wait))

The fact that the normally outspoken Michala (well, she was more outspoken than any of the other women and even most of the men here anyway) was silent after hearing his words troubled Glozelle, and he took her silence to be a bad thing.  Perhaps he had been wrong to word it that way.  He should know better, by now, than to speak out of turn or more than was necessary.  Being a general, he could do what he wanted, and shouldn't have to worry about whether or not people liked him, particularly not a young woman who most others would deem unimportant.  But for some reason, he did.  It was possible that she was taking it too hard...  And really, despite his status as a general, Glozelle had been out of line to correct her for her behavior, since it was technically in accordance with the stance deemed proper by all other Telmarine society.  In telling her not to be so demure, he had basically been telling her to ignore all social precedent in favor of adopting a completely new ideology.  Or at least that was how it would seem.  Maybe her silence was born of confusion and not anger.  Either would make sense.

Well, now the guilt was piling up on the poor general.  If Michala was angry at him, he couldn't really blame her.  He'd been trying to do a good job, or at least an adequate one, of lying low.  But when he was alone with her, it seemed that he was incapable of staying cool; his true personality and thoughts seemed to flow from him without his permission.  It was painfully ironic that he was making a fool of himself before the one person he really wanted to please - why he wanted her to like him, he couldn't say, because he really didn't know.  Maybe it was the innocence which lay beneath her rough exterior, and the fact that she reminded him of his sisters.  Maybe it was because she seemed like she could use his protection, and his suppressed heroic nature was starving to make use of itself.  Maybe it was simply because she was one of the only people he felt comfortable around here - even though he was of the highest rank here, that position had been won by groveling and currying favor that could be undone in a moment, and he was always on his toes.  But not with Michala.  She was different.

He could see the fact that she was different even in spite of her current submissive behavior - which, in truth, was probably why he had been so quick to point such behavior out to her as unnecessary, even if just in his own presence.  The way she was submitting to him like this... It didn't seem right.  Glozelle couldn't abide by the societal system which pressed people into doing something they didn't want, something they didn't deserve - and he wanted to change it.  Michala didn't seem like the sort of woman who would so easily submit.  Of course, that kind of behavior was expected from every woman.  By any other man, Michala's humility would be expected.  It was the mark of a good woman.  An obedient woman was a desirable one... in the eyes of nearly every man but Glozelle.  In all likelihood, his wish to reform society in whole extended from his wish to reform the one person who ruled it - and he assumed automatically that this change would encompass the rest of society as well.  Maybe it was rash or foolish to think, but Glozelle thought it anyway. 

To tell the truth, he was surprised at Michala's decision to take care of the situation with the camp women herself, but really, he should not have been.  He was actually pleased by it.  That spark of independence she was showing was just like her, really - or at least so he had gathered from snippets of past conversation, and a bit of plain old-fashioned inference.  There was that bit of fire in her he had been expecting, and even hoping for.  "I would be glad to check up on you every once in a while," he offered finally.  "The ladies do love me."  Realizing that had been entirely uncharacteristic of him (or at least uncharacteristic of the facade which he had already been badly failing to maintain), and perhaps could be viewed as inappropriate, he cleared his throat awkwardly.  "But your decision is a noble one, for which I commend you."  At least he had tried.  He just wanted to be friends with Michala, and he wanted to help her.  He hadn't given her any reason to distrust him - was that why she had declined his offer? - though he supposed it was only natural for her to be suspicious.

He was glad to see the tiniest of smiles flicker across her features.  All right, well, at least this conversation had not been a total loss.  Even if she was amused at his own expense, it was worth it.  He couldn't recall if he had ever seen her smile, and it was a nice smile.  He hadn't seen a smile in some time - just Miraz's ugly smirk.  The king - about whom nearly everything was ugly, in Glozelle's opinion - had given his subjects very few reasons to smile lately.  He was here to help those subjects, the oppressed Telmarine people.  He was one of them, but he wouldn't be for long.  (So he hoped, anyway.)  And neither would Michala.  He wasn't sure exactly what he had in mind for her just yet, which was unusual for the man who planned nearly everything far in advance and yet could be terribly impulsive ...as he was being now.  All he knew was that she would be helpful in one way or another.  Her determination would be of use to him and his cause - that is, if she chose to join it, which remained to be seen.  And perhaps her femininity, which had thus far been only a hindrance to her, could also be of use.

He turned back to Michala when she asked what type of work it was that she would be doing.  Smiling, he said, "Nothing too difficult, don't fret.  It is still work, but not the sort you are used to."  He didn't answer her directly, but rather, with an explanation of sorts.  "As general, one of my duties is to gauge the loyalty of my men.  When I am otherwise engaged, you shall aide me in that regard.  Simply go from man to man asking them their opinion of the king.  Most of them won't worry because it is unlikely they will take you seriously.  You needn't remember everything - just share with me the thoughts of the majority."  He knew that because she was a woman, the men wouldn't worry about talking to her like they would be if they were talking directly to, say, their general.  Also it appeared that Michala had built up a good reputation for herself among the men of the camp.  "Well, what do you say?  Will you do it?  I'm sure your beau can take over your old job, as he is not otherwise engaged as I am.  Or as you will be, if you accept."

[Lady Michala Harran]

He’d be glad to check up on her, once in awhile? What for? What was she to him? Still, the offer did soften her a little, bringing a smile to her face a little at the thought. It was nice, at least, having someone who seemed to want to look after her. Sure, she didn’t understand why. But that didn’t mean it was any less... nice, she supposed. Michala wasn’t particularly liked around camp, not among the ladies, and while she was entertaining for the men... well, that’s all she was. Entertaining. She wanted to go home, but she’d not be easily made a fool of. She’d not easily show great weakness, She’d not show fear, she’d not show her incredible discomfort. She’d make the best of a bad situation, even if it killed her to do so.

Michala listened silently as he spoke, wondering what the catch was. He wanted her to talk to the soldiers? He wanted her to gauge their opinion of the king? Was this some crazy plot to get her killed? Miraz didn’t take well to dissention; she knew that much about him. She didn’t know the king, not really, but she knew he kept a tight fist wrapped around anyone who was his, or anyone he felt should be his. She also knew he wasn’t very well liked – it didn’t take a genius to figure that out. So what exactly was he up to? Did he think that they were all loyal? What did he think? But no, surely he couldn’t be that oblivious. She didn’t know the general all too well, but she didn’t think that he was stupid. She knew he wasn’t stupid. So where was this going?

Still... all he wanted her to do was to talk to the men? She could do that! She did that anyway! In fact, she thrived on being social. And he had a point, no one would think anything of her being chatty. In fact, they’d probably be more honest with her than Glozelle, or Miraz. She wondered if she ought to take offense to him saying that they likely wouldn’t take her seriously but then, he was right, so she decided not to bother with the effort of taking offense. No, they wouldn’t take her seriously. But then, who’s to say they would even talk to her about such things? Maybe to go along with her, maybe because they’d like someone they could talk at without worry of retribution?

Michala lifted her chin, staring him down. What was the purpose of this? What exactly did he want from her? Surely it couldn’t be that easy? But what could she say? Maybe it was in her best interest to agree. Maybe she should just... give it a try. It wasn’t like it was hard work, it wasn’t like it was anything beyond what she’d normally do. Granted, she didn’t normally ask them what they thought of the king, but she could. If it meant she could stop lugging water, she’d ask them what they thought of the camp, the sun, the moon, the stars – she’d ask them whatever Glozelle wanted her to ask them, if it meant she could stop doing such... grunt work.

“Yes,” she said slowly, “yes I can do that.” It was far better than the alternative. Her hands were red and raw, she was always tired, and she never felt... well. And what did it matter what the general’s motives were? They shouldn’t be any concern of hers. This was... well, it was obviously a matter of every man – or woman – for themselves. If Michala could improve her situation by making small talk with a couple of soldiers, something she did to make her days more tolerable anyway, then she would definitely do it. “I’ll ask them whatever you want me to ask them,” it would definitely make her life easier. Giving him the sweetest smile she could muster, Michala knew she seemed hesitant – she was not a particularly good liar – but she wished to make up for it, somehow. “I suppose I could be good at that.” She laughed softly. “Talking, I mean. I have enough experience.”

[General Glozelle]

ooc: sooooo sorry it's late and short.  ...school sucks.  And I think we're done here (?).

For a while Glozelle said nothing, allowing Michala to make the decision on her own.  He had already said enough, and given her plenty of reasons why she should accept his proposal.  He supposed he could simply say outright that it would possibly enable him to overthrow the usurper Miraz and give the country back to a proper ruler (if not the rightful one)... if enough men agreed to help him, that is.  After all, he had an entire army at his fingertips.  They would probably listen to him even out of the fact that he was their general, and on the battlefield he had practically more authority than Miraz did (all right, that was an exaggeration, wishful thinking - but close enough) - not to mention that they probably disliked Miraz anyway.  No one liked being taxed, oppressed, or conscripted.  But he told Michala none of this.  Surely she could understand the possible benefits for herself.  While not, perhaps, intelligent, at least she was savvy (she had to be to survive here), and he trusted her to make the right decision.  And so he was satisfied with her answer, a pleasingly confident yes. 

He didn't laugh, but he did give her a little smile (which, while forced, was better than nothing).  "Very well.  Don't worry yourself about completing this task in a timely manner, just... converse with them.  As you normally do."  Ah, the beauty of hiding in plain sight.  He could get the information he needed and gage the attitude of the soldiers towards their king without even arousing suspicion.  "When you feel you have talked to enough men to be helpful, come and see me.  I am always available to you, Lady Michala."  Up until then he had done his best to maintain an expression of some nonchalance, but with his final words his tone turned rather grave, indicating that they were a double entendre of sorts: if Michala needed him, for anything, he would help her.  He had never had a daughter, and he might never have one, but perhaps in the absence of a daughter of his own blood, he could treat Michala as one, at least for the time being.  There was no real harm in it.  And in a place like this, it seemed like she could use a friend.  He cleared his throat and rose to dismiss her, but before she left, he said, "Thank you, Lady Michala."