LOOKING UP FOR HEAVEN

While some preferred to spend summer days soaking in any ounce of shade they could find, Maxence had sought to journey south on the heated wind currents until they might place him in the battlefields of the Bellum Steppe. Upon his departure he had called out to any in the Day Court fortress who might be listening and alerted them of where he was headed and when he expected to return as routine demanded. As sovereign he would never leave his people abandoned, not even for an hour or two. At all times he would allow them the peace of mind that he could be reached should something turn awry. 
"I am headed to the Steppe to train! Anyone is welcome to join me." the King had called back to the fortifications as his wings took him skyward, knees pointed toward the sun. Perhaps secretly he wished one of the warriors might follow - training with his comrades, teaching and learning from them had always been one of Maxence's most beloved past times. He was certainly not one to ever stand still, so time spent in sport with his brothers was always greatly cherished (and now terribly missed). 
It still came in dull aches when he remembered what had been, as icy cramps in his heart, a hiraeth for what should still be.

Novus was a continent that was still completely rogue and unfamiliar to him, though still the stag roughly knew the way to the Bellum Steppe - or rather, what it looked like from above when he got there. In the shadow of Veneror he had sailed, a mere ornament in the peachy morning sky that was made all the more beautiful by a passing flock of wetland birds taking a similar path past the mountain over the thin, diaphanous clouds. Below him the valleys were visible through the most pale puffs of cloud, and still he loved to observe how the desert became fields and the fields became forest, foothills and mountain. It was a view he thanked Solis for immediately, his oceanic eyes closing momentarily as he sighed a content breath of blissfulness. Though still, he knew reality waited beneath the cloud cover.

Angling his wings and leaning down against the current, Maxence was soon to aim his landing for the highlands. The sea of grass was easily picked from above and impossible to miss given it's giant expanse. In no time the sovereign had touched down upon the endless fields, his feet landing one after the other while his wings bent each blade of grass with a mighty SWOOSH. An ideal training ground if ever he'd seen one, though so far from Solterra.

Unfastening his bullwhip from it's strapping upon his harness, Maxence was soon to crane his nose over the great expanse of grass and shrub. There might be one or two to challenge for a spar our here, though truly Maxence wished to spar one of his own. Turning his nose over his shoulder in the direction of home, he hoped at least one had followed...

SERVATIS A PERICULUM
SERVATIS A MALEFICUM

A brontide of hoofbeats snared the kings full attention, the thunder of an approaching rival causing the drum within the Commanders own chest to beat at a clearer frequency. These were footfalls that he had come to recognise; light and urgent, though still inherently threatening. Avdotya.

 Maxence had almost begun to roll his eyes at the approaching shield maiden, anticipating nothing more than a snide comment or an exceedingly sincere greeting, the kind both sweetened and poisoned by sarcasm. Instead, the King met his regent with a perpetual scowl, a blink or two, followed by a gruff snort through his nostrils promptly after she offered him words of 'praise' and 'worship' for his part in slaying the Teryr. Casting his oceanic gaze over the rippling fields, refusing to meet her paralysing stare, (he had noticed that she had that effect on him) the chestnut watched her skeleton from outside her sweat-sheened skin, reading her body for a tactical swipe of her hooves or a distracting lash of her tail. To be a step ahead of an enemy was what Maxence had always prided himself on, though it had been months since his last proper brawl; it was not unlikely that the sovereign would be quite out of touch.
"What other title might he bear?"

It was these words that caused his glare to crack, a smirk easing out as he stared back with equal intensity. "A common son-of-a-whore" the Commander responded, his spine lowering as he took steps of his own to prepare for battle. He could see how she walked, talked, and sought to own the battleground's favor; there was no guessing whether Avdotya was challenging him to a spar. 
Especially after she lunged...

Like a cheetah chasing a dazed antelope she had struck, flexing forward from a strikingly low stance upon the ground, one Maxence really could only compare to a cat. Copping a THWACK to the back of his left knee, a grunt falling with a boom from behind his tight lips, the sovereign sought to turn upon his forehand; the only leg he had left standing by then. As he hooked his back tho legs underneath his ribs and across to where he assumed the regent could not reach, those two oceanic eyes made a cold, seeking glare in an attempt to guess the lioness's next move.
Teeth barred, Bullwhip secured between his tushes, Maxence promptly sent his wings down in an almighty push against the grass below; a plot to send debris into the eyes of his rival and to leave her temporarily blinded. Without any hesitation the King then sought to send the lash of his whip around the front-left pastern of the contender, thrusting his entire upper body, head and neck forwards in a terrifying shake, the kind solely designed to send the bullwhip's lash loose upon his rival. It was then that he began to back up, the entirety of his back and neck arched with the intention of pulling the warrior off balance or even to her knees should the whip find purchase in her leg.

LOOKING UP FOR HEAVEN

In no time at all the field had become hot and heavy, the tension of each muscle seeming to radiate outwards into the evolving mess of upturned ground and bloodied tufts of grass. Perhaps it was the flood of blood that stirred a peculiar kind of hiraeth within the warrior, his lips switching into a dickened and brooding smirk - But in his chaos there was calculation, and as his bullwhip coiled around the outstretched limb of the regent, it seemed his plan was falling into place like dominoes. 

Now clearly in his element, Maxence allowed the helm of his whip to fall from his mouth as soon as he noticed his rival taking advantage of it's pull. To say he was not impressed with how she had schooled sich a vicious move to her bidding would be a dead, cold lie, though it did frustrate him at how sharp and gods-damned nimble she was on the field. Where he excelled in strength and tactics, Avdotya seemed to be able to run circles around him simply by taking every opportunity that sprung to light. If he had found er strength, had he then found her weakness? Could she be fooled as easily as she could take an opponent's lash and use it as her own? It was a spar after all, so Maxence intended on testing this.

The cheetah landed, and much too close to comfort, though still Maxence was intent on finding her flaw. The commander lay in wait, practically baiting her as she ducked before him and seemingly prepared to barrel her hind legs in his direction. Maxence, luckily, had anticipated something of the sort.
Striding once to his left and turning his own hind end in a sweeping motion to the left, Maxence rose up briefly and outstretched his two front limbs, allowing his rival to strike toward his former location barely a yard away from where he had dodged to. Forcing his legs down, Maxence waited to hear the thwack and crack of bone against bone as he sought to block her attack by slamming her offending hind legs back to the soil with his own, aiming for the soft bones that lay behind each canon. 
There was no winner yet.