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Following Voldemaras' suggestion, Burzum decided to make it his goal to seek out the reaver named Gaved and convince him to train him to fight. He had stalked and spied a great deal in the past few days to figure out who Gaved was and what he looked like. He had also learned what sort of a lion Gaved was, and while he came across as an utter jerk, Burz was willing to work with that if it meant he would learn what he wanted to know. After all, Burz was a tough cookie.

And there he was. Gaved. Just standing there squinting into the distance, looking right pissed. This was apparently normal for Gaved though. The looking pissed off. Burz was not going to let it bother him or deter him from asking Gaved to train him.

"Reaver!" he called. "Teach me to fight." Blunt. To the point. Yeah.

Gaved was indeed looking pissed. He was pissed in general these days. His home life was immensely aggravating, he hadn't been on a viking in what seemed like forever, and entertaining himself with thralls was no longer fun with a wife at home whining about it. Brooding over his problems, he didn't take any notice of the cub wandering around. Not that he noticed cubs as a general rule.

When the cub yelled at him, Gaved blinked in surprise as he turned to look at the little beast. A male, probably, and more than a cub but not quite an adolescent. With an awfully squeaky voice. He thought he remembered seeing this cub or one like him scrapping with another cub recently.

"Teach you to fight?" To tell the truth, he was rather flattered. No cub had asked him for training before. But that didn't mean he was interested. "Why should I teach you, squeaky?"

"I said I could. Not that I would," Burz pointed out. He was doing his very best not to yell at Gaved or do something else to him for calling him squeaky, but the fact was that it annoyed the s**t out of him. He hated his speaking voice.

"Because the best, I think, would probably be Voldemaras. He trained Ru, and Ru's basically the youngest captain I've ever heard of. But Voldemaras said I should ask you." Then he had a devious idea that made his black eyes sparkle wickedly.

"Thing is, I couldn't tell if Voldemaras wanted me to ask you as some part of initiation to convince him to train me, or if he honestly thought you would be a good teacher, so I'm going to work with the first idea, that if I can get you to say yes, Voldemaras will train me. Which means since he's the one I really want to train with, I'll be following you everywhere, squeaking at you until you agree."

Now Gaved was a bit aggravated. He could certainly be a better teacher than Voldemaras. If he wanted to. He scowled down at the irritating little pipsqueak. It was bad manners to kill cubs. Not that he really cared about manners one way or the other, but if he maimed this creature its mother would probably follow him around bawling and blathering and he couldn't take one more female annoyance in his life.

"I would never train an outlander like Vol did," Gaved growled. "And I don't think I want to train a squeaky little bit like you, either." Huh. Insinuating that he wouldn't be as good a teacher as some washed up old crust of a Reaver. The nerve.

"Listen, squeaky, if you want me to train you you keep your mouth shut around other lions until you grow up some. You sound ridiculous."

Burz's only response to Gaved's question about future glories was a sharp grin. Something like that. But he wasn't really interested in glory so much as infamy. There was a discernible difference, and Burz already knew he didn't have it in him to be a heroic figure from a ballad. He wasn't that type of lion. He was more likely to be the demonized enemy. He was okay with that. He was also, perhaps, a little bit vain for thinking he would be able to achieve that level of infamy, but cubs do think such things.

"I don't boast," he said softly. "There are a lot of seers in my family, and people who know how to divine the future from signs." Both technically true statements, but actually unrelated. He wouldn't lie outright if he could help it, but there didn't seem to be anything wrong with allowing people to draw their own conclusions and attempt to nudge them a certain way in their concluding.

"I don't have much to say to other reavers anyway," Burz replied, working very, very hard to sound nonchalant when he really wanted to bounce around and crow that he had won. Winnar!

Gaved lashed his tail, dissatisfied. Somehow he had been maneuvered into agreeing to teach the damnable cub. It was a Reaver's duty to pass on knowledge, he supposed, but the damned cub wasn't even his son. Probably had some weakly whiner for a father. Maybe that was where he got his squeak from. Gaved sighed.

"Good," he grunted. At least the other Reavers wouldn't think he was training some kind of pansy. Not that the cub appeared to be a pansy, but that voice was just dreadful. Hopefully the little brat would grow out of it. "We'll start tomorrow then. Now go away and do cub things."

Burzum grinned even more toothily than before. Perhaps he had some shark somewhere in his bloodlines, because there was just no way a lion could possibly have that many teeth to display all at once. Or maybe it was just how delighted Burz was to have been given an excuse to torment the splotchy black idiot again.

"I can do that," he agreed. "I'll see you tomorrow."