Chương 37: Vol 1. An Amiable Conversation: Part 4

"When I awoke, I lay in a field hospital. The surviving crew had recovered me and brought me back. My head was bandaged. I tried to open both eyes. At first, I thought the room was dark on one side… or, I suppose, dark does not really describe it. It just… did not exist.

"The physician sat down on the edge of my bed, put one paw on my shoulder, and said to me solemnly, 'Your Highness, I am afraid that your eye could not be saved. It was too badly damaged, and had we not removed it, you would have perished.'"'Can I still serve?' I asked.

"The physician hesitated for a moment, and that hurt far more than the wounds ever did.

"Then, to my utter shock, the Queen herself visited me. I remember my heart feeling as though it was about to leap out of my chest. She walked quaveringly with a cane and sat on the edge of my bed, where, to the horror of my already overworked heart, she put one paw upon my leg.

"In her gruff, aged voice, she asked, 'How are you holding up?'"'As much as you need me to, Your Majesty!' I sputtered.

"She gave a choking laugh and said, 'You definitely took quite the beating. I did too in my youth, but not to this extent. I will not lie to you: you will need to retrain completely. But a warrior is not measured by how much of her body remains after a battle, but by whether she did something honourable."' When you knelt before me, I could see upon your face that you thought yourself immortal—all too common among women your age. I wondered how long the world would allow that belief.

I want you to promise me that you will never use your disability as an excuse. If you do, I shall see you slain for dishonour by my own blade.'

"I nodded so hard that I felt as though my neck was going to break. Even after my master's encouragement, the recovery felt so humiliating. I would miss easy strikes and fall because I had misjudged distances. I could not read attacks from my left. I was treated gently by former comrades, as though I were a cub who needed to be coddled, and a little voice would whisper in my head that my career was over.

"I could not eat without spilling my food. I hated being pitied by those around me… even my own mother. Oh, how humiliating that was!

"During my first training session, my instructor initially went easy on me. That made me irate. I told her, as firmly yet respectfully as I could, that I did not need her pity; I needed her to train me. After that, she did not hold back.

"Once, she threw a wooden blade towards me. It came from my left. I never saw it. It struck me right in the forehead, and I fell hard onto my rump. One of my former subordinates rushed forward to retrieve it for me. My instructor then bent down, her paws on her thighs, and spoke in that soft little voice people reserve for very small cubs. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"And so, I struck my instructor.

"Not hard, to be sure, but not gently either. I sent her tumbling onto her rump as well, and she looked up at me with a startled expression, as though I had become someone else.

"Well, perhaps I had.

"That evening, I distinctly remember ordering every lamp in the training hall lit, using the strongest snarl that had ever graced the land, and making a servant throw the same wooden blade towards me until dawn.

"I kept going and going and going, just as I always did, until I could dodge it with ease. And I kept training like that. My hard work paid off. I kept my rank. I kept fighting for my queen until my mother grew too frail to run the estate anymore. That was when I married my beloved. Despite that, I kept training.

"I kept going.

"There are two things I swear until I cease from this world: I shall never commit an act in combat that I deem dishonourable; and should I ever lose again, I shall continue onwards." Korra crossed her arms.

"So, there it is. I did not lose my eye because I was brave or honourable. I lost it because I was an arrogant little bastard who underestimated her opponent."

"Sounds like ya' lost it savin' somebody."

"Both can be true," Korra replied.

"It was honourable to try to save her, but she was only there because of my arrogance. She did not even survive. I scorned her bloodline and her ancestors, and I do not think I will ever be able to forgive myself for that."

"You know," Morton said, "based on what ya' were tellin' me, those orcs sound like they planned that ambush, used bait to lure you in, understood formation weaknesses, and even exploited your pride. They don't sound too mindless to me."

"Having some kind of intelligence does not make them any more civilised."

"Never said it did." Korra poured herself another cup of tea. The kettle was empty afterwards.

"You know," Morton said, "any more of this tea and we're gonna start pissin' our pants."

"Such is life," Korra said with a wry grin.

"Now that I have answered your question, it is time for me to ask you a question."

"Go ahead," Morton said with a slight wave of his hand.

"Your homeland… Texas, you called it?"

"The answer is yes—our men are warriors." Korra removed the tea leaves and deliberately took a long, drawn-out sip of her tea, making sure to produce a loud slurping noise as she did so. When she set the cup back down upon the saucer, she said, "Sure, that is interesting enough, but that is not the question I wished to ask.

"You talked quite negatively about those… Nazis. So I have a more general question. The warriors of Texas—are they, or have they ever been, honourable, in your opinion?"