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Frjo was so excited that he was finally going on a viking. He'd thought it was something that would happen for him as soon as he grew up, but his dad hadn't done his bit and taken him out, no matter how his mother griped at him. He didn't know how his father was able to ignore being prodded at by the high priestess, but then, that's just how it was.

He shook his head and turned his attention back to the young reaver lecturing him. To his embarrassment, Frjo had already forgotten the dark lion's name, but he was sure he would have ample time to figure it out over the course of the viking to come. It was just so difficult to pay proper attention. He was in the roguelands. He wanted to start viking.

"Don't see the need for all this talking," he muttered to Midas.

Kale was one hundred percent certain that he did not deserve to be the one lecturing the two new reavers. For one thing, he didn't have a great deal of experience. For another, it seemed almost like a punishment, and he didn't think he'd done anything to warrant being punished.

He'd only barely begun to lecture when he noticed one of the lions turn to his neighbor and mutter something about not seeing the need for all this talk. He narrowed his fiery eyes at the pair of mostly-brown lions and stalked very, very close, until his nose was only inches away from the nose of the one with the yellowest mane and paws.

"Did you have something you wanted to say?" he demanded. It felt both strange and invigorating to be doing this. He could certainly get used to it.

Frjo turned briefly to Midas, his eyes widened in panic, but his friend was looking anywhere but at him. Traitor. Well, he'd get him back for that later.

"I..." he began before falling briefly silent to consider his next words.

He had been about to apologize, but he didn't actually want to begin his career as a reaver with an apology. That would make him seem flower-blooded. But if he didn't apologize he would make himself seem like an arse.

Better to be an arse than a coward, though, he decided. So he shook his mane back from his face and met the dark lion's burning gaze before replying, "I said I don't see the need for all this talking. Won't we learn everything we need to know as we go along?"

Kale's lips curled back from his teeth as he snarled. At the same time one paw shot out and he struck the other lion hard across the muzzle. The blow was hard enough to rock the other lion back off his haunches.

"You are an idiot if you think you're going to rely on luck to serve you out here in the roguelands," he said, following the other lion's sprawl so that he was still very close to him, too close for the brown lion to get back on his feet.

"Whatever practice you've been doing with your da or your brothers or whomever, it hasn't been enough. Maybe you can fight. Maybe. But can you track? Can you hunt? How long can you go without sleep?"

He didn't know quite where these words were coming from, but they felt right. He took it as a sign he really was intended to be a captain someday. Soon, he hoped.

That blow came out of nowhere, and before he could think of defending himself, Frjo was on his side, the younger lion still in his face, still snarling about all the things Frjo didn't know. He hated to admit it, but he wasn't wrong about his assumptions. Frjo didn't know anything about most of those things.

Unfortunately, his pride was stung, and so he didn't bite his tongue when he should have, instead answering back, "Ja that may be, but I don't think I'm going to learn any of that from listening to you talk, will I?"

He knew it was a stupid thing to have said as soon as the words left his mouth, but the realization still came too late for him to do anything to prevent a second blow from connecting with his head again. This time, since he was already on the ground, it just meant he banged his head painfully on the ground.

Kale probably would have been content to let it go and go back to his lecture, but then the new lion had talked back to him again. That had been too much, and so Kale had struck him again, this time letting his claws slip out and tear shallow gashes in the brown lion's face.

"On your feet," he growled.

He took a few steps back so that the other lion actually could get to his feet. His eyes still blazed with fury. It wasn't the rudeness. He could get used to that. It was the sheer stupidity. This lion was lucky to have a captain who cared that his reavers knew the basics. Kale's first captain hadn't and his first viking had been a shitstorm.

"You will stand and be silent..." He didn't know the new lion's name. He looked too similar to the other new lion. "Once you've told me your name."

Frjo climbed to his feet at a deliberate speed that wasn't so quick it looked like he did so because he was afraid to be hit again, but wasn't so slow he was likely to actually be hit again.

There was a moment, briefly, where Frjo considered giving the black lion Midas's name. They didn't really resemble each other, but if you didn't know either one well, the brown coat, blond mane, yellow paw thing could be confusing. It was a cowardly thought to have, and he banished it quickly. Besides, the repercussions would undoubtedly be dire.

"My name is Frjokorn," he said as clearly as he could. He wished he could ask the other lion's name, but it was blatantly obvious that for him to do so in this moment would be the utter height of foolishness.

Frjokorn. Kekale would remember that name. It wouldn't be difficult. His name very clearly described his physical appearance. Thank goodness for unoriginal mothers.

"All right, Frjokorn. Think of this: you won't acquire any of the skills I've mentioned by listening to me talk, it is true, but you will at least know what it is you don't know, and what you will be expected to learn on this viking. Nobody expects you new lions to distinguish yourselves on this viking. It's just expected that you don't ******** things up for the rest of us."

He was surprised by how quickly he recovered his temper. That, too, he took as a sign that the stormlords intended him to be a captain.

"So if you can manage not to ******** things up, all will be well. But if you can't keep your mouth shut even this long, I will personally walk you back to the stronghold and tell everyone that you were too stupid to make a reaver. Do you understand?"

If Kekale was surprised by how easily he conquered his temper, it was nothing to Frjokorn's astonishment at the same thing. He had expected that the dark lion would continue to rage at him and beat him. He wasn't looking forward to it, but he was ready to withstand it. He would prove himself, no matter what it meant.

"I understand," he said soberly.

Behind him, he could hear the sound of Midas stifling laughter, and was momentarily struck by the unfairness of it all, but the dark-coated reaver's threat was sufficient to keep him from glaring over his shoulder at his friend. He would definitely have to get back at him sometime. And find a way to win his lecturer's goodwill again, or else this viking would be utterly miserable.

Kekale nodded, accepting Frjokorn's word. He didn't know the lion. He had no idea that his mother was the high priestess, nor that he was her illicit son by a thrall with whom she was inexplicably obsessed. He only knew that he was a raw recruit in need of instruction and experience.

"All right. Fall back in, Frjokorn," he said, waiting for the older lion to do as he was told.

He was silent for a few more seconds while he tried to recall where he had left off in his lecture, and what points were still left worth covering. When he remembered he shot a repressive glare at his listeners and said, "Now, to get back to what I was saying..."