The rapping continued and with a heavy sigh Garrett pushed on the sides of the bathtub to lift himself out of the warm water. The big man reached up and pushed on the back right of his neck with an almost ritual manner. There was a loud pop as he rolled his shoulders and stepped out of the copper tub. Water dripped onto the floor near the recessed fireplace that kept the outer wall room warm in the winter. Crossing across the floor with purposeful strides he snatched the towel the servant had left with the water and tumbled his short hair in it. The brown spiky mess refused to cooperate as he ran his hands through it.

Wiping the water from his face and purposefully towelling the rest of his body he wrapped the towel around his hips. Who in the world wanted his attention so soon? Perhaps the blacksmith had some question about the specifications for the new shield? “That was rather fast, you people don’t know how to live life properly.” Sir Garrett grumbled as he scooped up a single headed axe from the end of his bed. It was probably nothing but the day he opened the door without a weapon in hand would be the day that he came face to face with an assassin. Setting the axe against the wall he leaned into it and kept it pinned on the outside of the doorframe hiding it from view of the door.

“Calm down I’m coming.”

Grabbing the door handling he pulled the door open and came face to face with a flock of women whom he’d never seen before. Looking down at the most senior of the maids he raised an eyebrow. “Okay this is a new one. Why are there seven women standing outside my room?” Garrett carefully placed his right hand which had opened the door on his right hip behind the door. While he had no issue with the lack of clothing most of the people here had problems with it.

Raising his eyebrow he waited politely for the maids to explain.

@harinezumikouken

Marianne's Seven Deadly Lovely Maids

As soon as the door opened, each and every one of the maids froze. Peering up at the towering man who was supposedly Sir Garrett with mouths slightly agape in shock and awe. Never before had any of them seen a man of Sir Garrett's size. In fact, no such man was ever seen by anyone in the countryside where the Delacroix family called their home. Each of the maids seemed to take a step back and shrink down a little, clearly intimidated by his stature.

The senior maid was the only one who had the courage to speak first.
Clearing her throat, "A..ah. You must be Sir Garrett."
She bowed her head and curtsied to him.
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Garrett. We are Lady Marianne's maids, servants of the noble Delacroix family."
She swallowed dryly before continuing.
"Our Lady sent us for you. She formally requests that you join her for dinner, S-sir Garrett."

Once she had spoken, the rest of them found the bravery to whisper to one another.
"That's Sir Garrett?"
"Oh, my word.."
"He's so tall and..."
"Apparently he has no shame, daring to stand in front of ladies in naught but a towel. Hmph."
"What does he eat?"
"Large boar and oxen, it seems."
"Maybe Lady Marianne spoke of his name out of fear?"
"Nonsense!"
"Do you think that maybe she..."
"Absolutely not! Not a brutish and crude man like him!"
"Careful! If he hears you, he's liable to crush us under his thumb."
"I wonder where he calls home..."
"Do you think he has any brothers?"

Loudly clearing her throat, the senior maid stomped her heel on the ground and silenced the others. They weren't exactly quiet with their 'whispers' and she feared the worst if Sir Garrett overheard them and took offense. Continuing, the senior maid clarified a little more.
"Sir Garrett, Lady Marianne wishes to thank you for your actions out in the field. Need we relay to her your polite refusal or cordial acceptance?" She offered him a meek smile as she deduced a vague reasoning as to why Lady Marianne exactly wanted to invite him to dinner. She could only hope she guessed correctly.

The other maids couldn't help themselves, physically incapable of remaining silent for any length of period of time.
"I wouldn't mind him crushing me.."
The maid that said that was sharply smacked for her comment.
"His arms look like tree trunks!"
"He's probably very strong.."
"Nothing like the Delacroix men back home, am I right girls?"
"Agreed."
"Shh! Or he'll hear you!"
The senior maid wanted them all to flee as soon as she could, again loudly clearing her throat to quiet them for a few moments. She could feel her body slowly heating up, face burning. Some of them were thankful they wore silver domino masks that concealed their identities. For whatever reason they thought that.

@VitaVitaAR


"Wait" Viviane said aloud her voice carrying a bit as she asked the person who was supposed to be the captain to stop for a moment. "Are you Fanlily Captain of the knights?" She continued looking at her as if trying to size her up she knew that despite everything this was her first true step. Leaving and the journey to this point was nothing more than a prologue to her true rebellion she thought as she looked back at what happened to get her to this point. Still in her elaborate plate mail she probably made for a somewhat imposing figure she thought. This was her first step her way to prove her beautiful father wrong. With that thought in her head she couldn't help but smirk at the thought of finally being able to show that she was worthy.

Sir Garrett’s eyebrow quirked upwards at the gossiping maids that were filling the hall outside his room. If his ears could have flicked like the horses he’d grown up around they would have as he half paid attention to the senior maid and half listened to the tittering gossip from the other six.

I really am tall aren’t I? Never really noticed until I came here that there were people so short.

Horse actually...well not anymore. Lowland bison though it’s kind of like an Ox. Never seen a boar before I made the trip here.

Why would Marianne be afraid of me?

Maybe she what?....Well that’s rather assumptive. Maybe a few years ago but I Am a knight now. I have to be at least moderately cultured

Doubtful, Velt, and yes six of them. Why do you care? And do I really look like the kind of person who would smash you for asking a question?

Snapping his attention back to the senior maid who was standing right in front of his he leaned sideways and set the axe against the wall next to the door pushing the door open so that it was no longer shielding him. It was rude to not face someone who was clearly not an enemy and it was even more rude of him to hold a weapon when the person was relaying a message. “Of Course I would. Not only would it be rude for me to say no but frankly I think I’ve misjudged Dame Marianne. There are clearly things I don’t know about her and I do think I may have jumped to a rude conclusion about her.” Leaning back from the doorway he frowned for a moment. “Lady Delacroix is nobility yes? What is appropriate dress for dinner. You’ll have to help me as since I’ve been here I’ve yet to have any reason to use part of my wardrobe. Is this something casual or do I need to make use of something more.”

Eyeing the rest of the maids his ears practically flicked again at the other comments.

That is certainly a change of opinion. And a rather interesting piece of information

@harinezumikouken

Marianne's Seven Deadly Lovely Maids

The senior maid breathed a sigh of relief when Sir Garrett was more of a gentleman than his appearances led her to believe. Even more so relieved when he accepted the invitation. What had he meant by his 'misjudgement' of Lady Marianne? What exactly had happened while they were on their mission? Jumped to what such 'rude conclusion', surely he didn't think ill of their beloved Princess, did he? Giving him a curious sidelong look, she did her best to size him up looking him up and down. Being sure not to let her eyes linger on...certain parts. After he had posed his questions to them, she straightened up and refocused her attention.

"Ah, yes! Lady Marianne is indeed nobility. In fact, she heir to the Dutchy and is set to succeed the throne once our Most Noble Duke retires. As far as the appropriate dress, I'm certain Lady Marianne will not mind or care whatever you decide on to wear." the senior made said, her happy expression slowly fading once she realized she lit the powder keg that was her peers' love of gossiping.

Especially once the door opened a little more for them to see Sir Garrett's physique that much more clearly.
"What did he mean by 'misjudge' Lady Marianne?"
"Surely he did not think ill of our Lady..."
"I do not care who you are, you speak ill our Lady and those words will be your last.."
"Shh! Do not be ugly!"
"Again, what could you do? Look at him!"
"There are ways to dispatch of men such as him..."
"Maybe in b-"
The maid was not allowed to finish her comment, getting smacked on the arm again.
"Holy Goddess Reon above, that body...!"
"Is it a little warm in here?"
"Do you need help dressing, Sir Garrett? I'd be happy to oblige..."
A round of soft giggles from some of them.
"Certainly, Lady Marianne would not mind what he decides to wear...or not."
Another round of slightly louder giggling this time.
"Was that an invitation to come into his room?"
"I would not mind and accept in a heartbeat."
"We could all help, right ladies?"
"Take our time with him..."
"Seriously, the nerve of some of you!"
"If Lady Marianne caught wind of us gossiping again, it'd be our heads!"
The whispers were constant, soon overlapping one another. Making what was being said even more difficult to decipher and understand.
Especially when they wisened up and began to cast coy glances his way, using their native language to conceal their conversations even more.

The senior maid sighed wearily, dealing with her peers was absolutely nerve-wracking at times. Strike that. All the time. Speaking a little loudly, she hoped the volume of her voice could drown out their utterings. "I'm certain it is simply an informal affair and the manner of dress is not of importance, Sir Garrett. We'll leave at once and notify Lady Marianne of your acceptance." She bowed her head and curtsied to him once more. "Have a good evening, Sir Garrett."

Some of them let out little groans of protest, whining.
"Aww, we must leave already?"
"Some of us was enjoying the view..."
"I would not mind an 'informal affair' with Sir Garrett."
"I want to have a good evening too.."
"I can only imagine with whom." one said with disgust.
"We can help you have a good evening too, Sir Garrett..."
"In our quarters, privately."
The same ones making the more inappropriate remarks giggled again.
"Honestly, you girls need to get your heads out of the gutter!"
"Filthy minded harlots!"
"Do not be angry that we simply know what we want as women and choose to enjoy life."
"Or enjoy...certain men..."

The senior maid rolled her eyes, catching some of the nastier whispers and whirled on the spot.
"Merde!"
She pointed a sharp finger in the direction of the female baths, clapping her hands together loudly.
"Allons-y! Tout suite!"
As they reformed into their single file column, a few of the maids who took a liking to Sir Garrett lingered a little. Fluttering their eyelashes, biting their lips, and waving at the Iron Rose Knight before tearing away from him and returning down the hall from whence they came.

At the comment about Marianne not caring about what he wore he turned over his shoulder for the briefest of moments to eye the skull half mask before turning back to the gossiping maids. This was truly a new experience. At the comments about: dealing with men like him, the giant’s mouth quirked up at the corner. They really did have Princess Delacroix’s best interests at heart.

Sir Garrett bounced the word Princess around in his head for a moment as they continued to gossip. It was interesting to think that there were other cultures whose leaders took to the field of battle much like the Clan heads did. It was an interesting discovery as “royalty” all too often had appeared soft and unfit to lead but again it was a difference in culture. Catching the general tone that the maids had taken up he refocused his gaze on the other six maids in the hallway. A pity some of them hid behind masks, then again it sort of lent to their uniformity as a sort of wall around the Lady Marianne. Dame Garrett corrected himself mentally; she had earned the title and if he was going to change it apparently it needed to be Princess.

As the senior maid quickly turned and started running away Sir Garrett called after her. “Sun set is in a few hours. Since you’ve failed to provide me with an appropriate time to call then I shall have to take it upon myself to appear at a time of my choosing. Be ready ladies. You just invited a Savage to dine with the princess. The grin on his face was purposefully cheeky as he eyed the straggler maids. With a sudden jerk forward he made a sound close to the bark of a prairie wolf as he snapped his teeth together at the stragglers before he chuckled and closed the door of his room.

Tossing the towel onto the chair next to his bed he picked up the axe from the ground next to the door and set it on the chest at the foot of his bed. Stalking over to the wardrobe he began picking through it. Regardless of home much he might approve of showing up in the cured and tailored skins that he was use to riding in at home it probably would cause a scandal and his reputation as a brute really could only take him so far.

Collecting clothing which appeared at least reasonably suitable Sir Garrett began the process of getting dressed for the evening.

What does she want to thank me for?

@harinezumikouken

Marianne's Seven Deadly Lovely Maids

When Sir Garrett had mentioned her apparent 'failure' to think of an appropriate time, she turned back to look at him as her mouth hung open slightly. Her voice caught in her throat, realizing her mistake. He was right, but she could argue her case being that Lady Marianne herself had not specified a time. Perhaps she thought to send them again once she had finished with her bath and whatever other errands she had in mind. Closing her mouth, not offering an excuse, she turned back around and relinked with the rest of the maids. However, she had to stop short as some of them stopped to turn their heads to listen to Sir Garrett's parting words. The way he had growled out the word 'savage' elicited a round of high-pitched squealing and laughter from some of the maids as they were positively giddy, bouncing up on the balls of their feet as some of them even clapped. It was painfully obvious and clear that Sir Garret had somehow won some of their favor. The bark was merely icing on the cake as some of them jumped and scurried away with the senior maid ushering them along like little children, some of the women laughing enthusiastically.

As they finally regained their bearing and composure, they reformed into their single file column and walked back through the halls where the others were. All at once, when they saw they had left Lady Marianne's things, they realized that she was possibly finished with her bath and wondering where in hell they were. Rushing past the others, they quickly grabbed up Marianne's things and were in a flurry wondering where the bathhouses could possibly be. Before, they had Lady Marianne leading them. Now, they were at a loss.

"Oh, dear! Oh dear!"
"Where are the bathhouses?"
"We can't keep Lady Marianne waiting!"
"What if she's cold?"
"What if she's standing around naked?"
"What if she's cold and naked?"
"I think the bathhouses are this way!"
"No, don't be silly they're this way!"
"Damn that distraction of a man, Sir Garrett!"
"How long had we taken? Surely not that much time had passed!"

Like a flock of disoriented and confused birds, they continued to chatter amongst themselves as they desperately tried to find the correct route to take to the female bath houses. Their voices filling the halls, completely forgetting that Lady Marianne had ordered for their silence.

As her question was answered by Sir Tiral it came back pretty much as she expected. He was not comfortable with such situations and would no doubt be quite beside himself when the time came. Julianna started to consider offering to help him out with the whole affair when Dame 'Immortal' decided to step into the conversation, something about procuring a mountain of limes.

Now, limes were a delectable fruit and garnish of which Julianna actually had quite a bit of fondness for, sour things had always suited her taste for some reason, much more than delectable sweets. The suddenness and seemingly randomness of the proclamation took her aback for a bit, why would she need so many limes to prepare something for a royal ball of all things? Didn't it have enough food and delights to feed the entire city? Besides, did she even eat at all, considering she was undead?

It took only a moment or two before a light lit up in her head, of course she was just being her usual overprotective self and no doubt planned to use a delivery to gain greater access to the premises and be the best guardian she could be. For someone who wore armor all the time she could be painfully transparent. Well, in any case they certainly couldn't go wrong with whatever delight the limes would be used for at the ball.

Certainly there were easier ways to go about this but in the end it probably didn't matter. As her thought concluded, Sir Tiral made his escape, citing health reasons and she was left with the oldest knight in the order.

"Goodbye Sir Tiral. I'm sure it won't be as bad as you think." She waved as he departed then turned to the lime addict, an addiction she totally approved of.

"Well then Dame Tyaethe, let me just procure some of my servants for the occassion so we can procure a sufficient amount of delicious limes. Every party can use some improvement after all."

She just hoped the lime gathering wouldn't take too long, as she had to give herself enough time to be fully prepared for the ball herself. It wouldn't do for a proud member of the Silvern family to appear before her highness unprepared and unadorned.

Going to get his arm checked was about as eventful as one would expect. Ian simply went down the hall till he reached the infirmary and got someone to look at it. Now at the time they had more injured from the battle to deal with and he wasn't able to see one of the proper healers to get his bone mended and, since it wasn't as terrible a wound as some of the other, was told to come back tomorrow but take it easy until then.

Having been sent away his next thought was to have a bath to relax and maybe easy the slight ache in his arm, thing was he had no idea where the knight's baths were. He often avoided using them due to the complaints of a 'wet dog smell', usually just heading out to a bathhouse in the city. But since he was currently achy and just a little bit lazy he decided to use the ones here. Most of the other knights are probably finishing or done with their baths anyway.

He ended up having to get directions from someone and even then he only got a general direction, along the way his ears started picking up frantic chattering and unconsciously raised, knocking back his hood, to locate the direction of the sound. It wasn't to long later, however, that he rounded a corner and walked straight into the source. His ears shot straight up in surprise and he brought his hand up on what he thought was a shoulder and pulled his head back to look up at the person he ran into. He found that he had not only managed to walk into what appeared to be a maid, but that, due to his size, he managed to walk face-first into her bosom. He also found that it was not, in fact, a shoulder his hand was rested upon but her left breast.

In his still surprised state he just stood there for another moment before he finally moved his hand(mayhaps after the slightest of squeezes) and simply asked "Are the...baths around here?"

@harinezumikouken

Gillian stifles a groan as Fanilly walks (more sprints) away from him as fast as humanly possible. Rightfully, he couldn't blame her. Had he seen someone far and away his senior in the buff he doubt he'd be eager to listen to their apology either. "By Mayon's left tit..." he begins to grumble, grateful the young captain didn't deign to end him there and then. He starts to rub his head, a chitinous hand running through his hair, before regarding the 'good' doctor.

The was a lot to be unnerved by from the man, though Gillian wasn't sure what disturbed him more at the moment. The impassive, almost cruel, glint in the mask's foggy eyes or the flipflops. A short bursts of giggles from the maids as they passed brought him out of his gawking. "....Thanks for the save doctor." He offers quietly. Disturbed by the man as he was, the buzzard did break him break out of his daze.

"Part of the job."

He responded, turning to view Fanilly departure along with the carrion swarm of Harpies that passed for maids.
When they had passed, Teller returned his gaze to Gillian. More specifically his arm. The doctor was unconcerned with the anatomy of other people these days. He'd seen everything the human body consisted of, thoroughly, on multiple occasions.

"Any particular reason you felt the need to flash the captain."

Teller asked idly. More interested in the arm than the small talk. He would get there in time though.

"I did not flash the captain." Gillian retorts quickly, casting a stern look towards Teller. "It...she ran into my private bath at an inopportune moment. I was caught off guard. It was an unpleasant experience for everyone involved I am sure." He begins to rebutton his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkled mess he made from dressing so quickly earlier. "I don't make a habit out of exposing myself. And while I cant speak to her intentions in this, I doubt they were untoward...Probably."

"I'm not entirely convinced but I accept it anyways."

Clad only in his mask and towel with a pair of sandals on, Teller was wise enough to let the curiosity over the situation slip by. It wasn't any of his business anyways, given that he had only participated in breaking the obvious tension.

That only left the one other issue on the edge of his mind.
Teller was fast, sandals or no, and crossed the distance to Gillian in a flash. His sudden eagerness could be taken as hostile, but he wasn't armed with anything that could be used in a way that was life threatening.

His purpose had been to clasp the prosthetic limb, firmly dragging it in front of him to get a better look. To touch it and see if he could decipher it's mysteries.
He would love to know how to give a patient such an impressive augmented limb in the event of them losing one.

"How did you come by this? It is exquisite. The detailing alone must have been at the hands of a master craftsman. How does it move so freely. Perhaps it is your true arm? No. Couldn't be. You are far too human. If absent minded. Hmm.."

Like Gillian before, lost in the realm of thought, Teller neither felt nor heard his towel slip from his waist. Consumed by his insatiable hunger for answers.

"Be unconvinced all you-hey!" Gillian yells as the doctor takes a sudden and firm grip of his arm. He curses under his breath, he knew better than to walk around with that thing out. The doctors actions, to give him some credit, seemed more driven by burning curiosity than malice. Though, Gillian hesitated to say that was necessarily a good thing.

"I dont know how I came about this abomination." He answers, giving the doctor a partial truth, not keen on letting anyone (much less a stranger) about his deal with an unknown witch. "And I've no inkling as to the nature of its functions. It moves as my arm, thats all I..." He stops mid sentence, the soft thumping of a towel hitting the floor directing his attention downwards. "...Uh, doctor!" Gillian says, looking away quickly. "You can let go now!"

Teller looked down comically, head tilted to the side, and stared at the discarded garment. Taking nearly a full 10 seconds to realize that he had been disrobed. It only took another mere second to realize he didn't quite care about his own nudity.
Again; seen it all already.

"You seem tense." He pressed, "There's something you aren't sharing. You don't just get a prosthetic like this and not remember.."

Teller abruptly let go of his strong hold on the appendage. His body language was clear as day saying he still wanted to know about the arm. It would gnaw at him until he found out and find out he would. He had a knack for learning what he shouldn't.
But for now it was obvious Gillian would not share his closest secret, even with his doctor.

"I respect your privacy on this matter. In the future though, don't be so squirmy."

Teller reached out and idly flicked the man's nose and turned on his heel, forgoing the towel entirely.

"If you ever need a hand, you know where to find me."

With those ambiguous words the doctor departed the private room, clad only in his sandals and mask, back on his mission to find the baths.

"I'm going to elect to ignore the pun." Gillian says as he rubs his nose, glaring daggers at the back of Teller's head as he leaves. He considers, for a moment, telling the doctor he forget his towel, but decides against it. The sooner he could put distance between himself and that nude quack the better in his mind. Gillian kicks the abandoned towel before turning back into the room, locking it tight, intent on finishing the laundry he abandoned and to put the whole incident (and the image of Teller's retreating posterior) out of his mind as fast as possible.

How... disappointing, citing an injury as a reason to get out of such an important duty as helping with limes. It wasn't like he'd even been directly hit by anything and then he was resting in some fashion for the entire journey back. Meanwhile, she'd gone to battle with a spear through her stomach, which was more than a little inconvenient from a range of movement perspective, but it had been so long since she was alive that the paladin wasn't entirely sure what pain was like for normal people any more.

Fortunately, Julianna had hit upon an avenue that hadn't even entered her mind: getting servants to come along and help with transporting the load. This more than compensated for Tiral's choice to be of no use in the preparations for this ball and possibly gave her some assistance in preparing the marmalade.

"Whilst you round up your servants, I will gather money to actually pay for this," Tyaethe stated, belatedly realising that she ought to actually gather some manner of payment rather than showing up in armour and saying that she would pay after the ball. Being charged with extortion would be a poor idea...

@IceHeart

"... Ah?"

As the maids (thankfully) retreated without too much further embarrassment, another new recruit seemed to have appeared. Fanilly, well, to put it simply, had little to no idea of how to address new recruits by herself. Considering she'd already had something in mind to do, well... the most logical option continued to be what she said in her hasty bid to get away from the awkward situation moments prior. Proceed to the baths, talk to the new recruits in more depth there. She really, desperately wanted a bath anyway.

"Yes, I am Knight-Captain Fanilly Danbalion," she introduced herself, nodding her head, "I'm afraid this may be a little informal, As I was just proceeding to the baths. However, we can talk in more depth once we get there."

Speaking of which, moments later they had arrived. Fanilly was not necessarily an expert on other lands, but as far as she was aware there was a similar practice in distant Akitsushima. However, that was less out of necessity(they simply din't have enough room for every single bath they'd need to give everyone their own) as it was in Candaeln and more due to a cultural belief. Regardless of the reason, Fanilly became abundantly aware, as she stepped into the room, that she had never used a communal bath before. She had used private bathes before, and even bathed in front of a few of her maids(though that made her feel somewhat awkward as she got older as well), but that was... different.

Fanilly stood in the room designed to accomodate equipment and clothing for those who wished to bath, and stared, unmoving for several moments, towards the bath. The water was said to be blessed by Mayon, and as far as Fanilly knew it was blessed by her priestesses at least, a gift given during the Iron Roses' past as a religious order. This was signified by a few matters: It was a dark, crystalline blue, it was always clean no matter how dirty those who bathed in it were, and it kept its warm temperature even on the coldest day.

A few knights were already in the expansive bath. Fanilly was having trouble even taking a step towards it, or shedding her armor. Despite its elaborate design, one of the many bonuses of the armor that Fanilly wore as captain of the Iron Roses was that it was relatively easily removed by her own hand. As she stood there, the girl became more and more aware of how unclean she felt. Sweaty and hot from battle and travel.

Finally, she relented to her desires of cleanliness. She had said she'd speak to the two new knights here, as well.

A few moments later, Fanilly's armor was set aside. Its remarkably light weight was now fully apparent, she'd lifted it only with light effort to place it down. All her clothing was gathered and placed to the side, even as the small blonde blushed furiously in embarrassment, her hair now hanging loosely down to her waist. Beneath, she was pale, and almost had a fragile look to her. Certainly it wasn't entirely what one would expect from a captain of such a famed knight order.

She looked small, and harmless. Not like someone who had, not too long ago, fought and killed men and led the knights to the righteous destruction of those who would kill the innocent.

In a rather meek, silent fashion, the girl slid into the lightly-steaming waters and sat silent, attempting to work through her embarrassment and actually speak to her new knights.

She was captain. She had to. She couldn't let this get to her.

It took Christina slightly longer to enter the bath, not because she was embarrassed or ashamed of her body, but because her armor was simply difficult to remove on one's own. Meticulously she worked the many buckles and straps that held the fitted metal to her figure, setting each piece aside as she managed to work it free. Once her armor was off, her appearance was less intimidating. Her face was still a mask of impassivity, but her body was the same as any average woman. The same, that is, except for a long, straight scar running from the right side of her collar bone to her left hip. The silvery scar tissue barely stood out against her porcelain skin, but still told a story all it's own.

Although Christina hadn't been in combat, she had spent the last four days in the saddle. She would never show weakness, but she was sore, tired and sweaty and silently thanked Mayon that her captain was of a like mind. Despite her best efforts, a tiny sigh of appreciation escaped her lips as she eased into the steaming water a few feet to Fanilly's right. She closed her eyes and sank down to her chin in the bath, her short hair managing to splay out a little. She then remained still and silent, waiting for her captain to speak.

With that rather strange problem put out of the way, Tiral moved steadily towards his own room for something that would make him a little less sore: his bed. Opting to skip a bath for the moment, the mage tossed his equipment off to the side (though taking careful note to place his dagger on his desk) before unceremoniously slumping down on the chair in front of his desk. His muscles still ached like nothing else, and though nothing really hurt per se, the tenseness of his body would not help matters much in the near future. A masseuse or something might help; nothing like a simple massage to let everything relax... Right?

Sighing, Tiral straightened his back and looked down over the work on his desk. Though paper and ink were still somewhat expensive, the good they did to keep his thoughts in order was worth more than enough. With that in mind, though, it wasn't as if he was about to start wasting it willy-nilly. There were a lot of things he learned in the last outing, the most notable of which being the fact that the Captain was now looking at him as a future commander. If that was the case, then there was much more to be done than simple anti-electricity wards to be put in place; he'd have to work towards researching more utility-based magic to let him handle situations on the battlefield better. Though the magic in question was likely to be found with the magicians he had once studied under, Tiral was in no mood to go pestering them in search of resources at the moment. There were enough tomes in his room at the moment to at least begin to get a basis for the magic in question, so that was where he would begin.

Taking a book from off to the side of his desk, the ice mage began to flip through it in search of any pieces of information he could gather. While using already pre-existing spells was an option, creating his own would mean that his fundamental understanding of each spell was better, and thus allow him to adjust to whatever situation came to hand. It was a lot more work, but that, at least, had considerably more payoff.

...

He'd report to the Captain later, though. An hour was enough to deliver the information, right?

Marianne's Seven Deadly Lovely Maids

The maid whom Sir Ian had run into, let out a gasp when his face found its way buried into her chest. Her face instantly blushing a bright red when he even dared to reach for a grope. The absolute nerve! Deeply inhaling, not knowing who Sir Ian was, she let out a high pitched scream and quite swiftly slapped him across the face for his bold actions. The sound resounding and echoing loudly with its surprising force. Like vultures, each of the other maids locked in on Sir Ian and glared at him as the maid who was accosted scurried away to hide behind one of others. She peered from behind her friend as she pointed an accusatory finger at him, loudly yelling.

"That man just molested me!" she cried.
"Hey! Do you want to die?!" said another maid who stalked towards him, pushing up her sleeves as she balled her hands into fists.
She even hiked up her skirt as she came closer.
"Oh hush, don't make such a scene."
"Were you not one of the few that was swooning and drooling over Sir Garrett?"
The maid who had been groped turned to face the other, clearly insulted.
"What does that matter! That was uninvited!"
"Please, it's not like you're not used to it by now."
"Wh-what's that supposed to mean?!"
"I dare say you may have enjoyed it!"
"Are we really having this conversation right now?!"
"He looks like a child..."
"Wait, look at his ears!"
Another maid gasped excitedly and clapped her hands together.
"He has a tail!"
"By the Goddess Reon, he's a Hundi!"

Four out of the seven then flocked to surround Sir Ian, poking, touching, and prodding as they examined his ears and tail. They had quickly forgotten their violated compatriot who hid behind the senior maid. Who, was restraining the one maid who wanted to avenge her friend by the collar, the woman swinging at the air as she growled.

"My goodness, we've never seen a real life Hundi before!"
"He's so cute!"
"Look at his little ears and tail!"
"He's so adorable!"
"Who are you, little guy?"
"Where did you come from?"
"Can we pet you?"
"Can we touch your ears?"
"Can we touch your tail?"
Why they asked for permission was beyond anyone else's guess.
They were already touching and petting him all over.
"Are these really attached to you?"
"He's like a puppy!"
Patting his head.
Scratching his ears.
Stroking his tail.

In summary, they were probably doing more to invade Sir Ian's private space and inappropriately touching him than his own simple mishap. Though, it was still inexcusable for both sides. The senior maid had quite enough of this. Pulling back on the one maid who wanted to throw down and fight the Hundi Knight, she quickly walked forward and started shouting at them in their native tongue. Smacking each of them on the bottom and clapping her hands in their faces to get them to move faster. Quickly reorganizing, the maids gathered up Lady Marianne's things and the senior maid made an educated guess as to where the baths would be. Making the decision for the rest of them, she stuck with it and only hoped she was lucky enough to be right.

As they walked away, the maid whom Sir Ian had groped gave him an ugly glare. The maid who came to her defense left him with the parting words, "You had better sleep with one eye open, dog. We are more than simply servants."

---

Marianne Delacroix

After soaking for a good bit of time, Marianne had moved to scrubbing down her body and cleaning her hair. She had hoped to use her own products, but for some unknown reason her maids had yet to find her. She wouldn't put it past them for getting lost. She just hoped and prayed to the Goddesses that they weren't causing trouble. Thankfully, the bath houses' servants provided her with their own stock, and Marianne was able to wash herself. Thoroughly scrubbing, she noticed through the soapy lather that the bruise on her side had vanished. Pausing, she thought for a moment and figured it had to do something with the unusual waters of the bath houses. Thinking that her ease of breath came from the light steam, perhaps it was more than that. Staring at her reflection in the water and gently waving her hand across the surface of the water, she could detect a slight traces of magic.

"Hmm."
She shrugged and rinsed herself off.
Before starting on her hair, she gingerly touched at the back of her head.
Her headache had vanished and her head no longer hurt to touch.
"Good. I can skip the visit to the Healers and possibly that...odd doctor."
Her injuries were rather minor anyways. It wasn't like she had a spear shoved in her.
She shuddered, then got to the laborious task of tending to her long black hair.
As she worked, she looked around for her maids who still had yet to appear.
Instead, she noticed the good Captain Fanily and two others in tow arrive.
Looking away in order to not be rude, she refocused on her bath.
Though, she did cast a few curious glances to the other two women.
Interested to know who they were.
Perhaps new Iron Rose recruits? Or someone else?

Hearing the uniform clacking of heels on floor, Marianne looked up and saw her maids finally arriving. With a smile, she quickly finished up as they stood in a line beside the edge of the communal bath where Marianne was. With a heave, Marianne slipped herself out of the bath as she took a maid's offered hand to stand. A second maid quickly wrapped a fluffy towel around her body, and they then surrounded her to keep her naked body from prying curious eyes.

As she dried herself off, she conversed with them.
"Where in all of Thaln were you ladies?"
They each looked at each other nervously.
The senior maid responded with a semi-honest answer.
"We had gotten lost, Lady Marianne."
Marianne smiled, chuckling.
"I figured it was something like that."
Moving to toweling off her hair, she continued.
"You have all been on your best behavior, right?..."
Again, they all looked at one another nervously.
The senior maid would assume the responsibility for this if they were 'found out' later.
"Yes, Lady Marianne. Our absolute best."
She lied.
Some of the maids couldn't hide their shame and cast their eyes to the floor.
Thankfully, Lady Marianne hadn't noticed as she finished drying off and padded over to where her clothing had been set with wet bare feet.

---

After having finished her bath, Marianne was already present at the dining hall and seated. Awaiting for Sir Garrett to join her before the food was brought out. Dressed in a simple but yet lovely white dress her maids all stood in a silent line behind her, with one of them missing as she went to send for Sir Garrett. Fortunately, it was the senior maid that had taken the task upon herself. She didn't quite trust her peers with staying undistracted. After a brief (*and uneventful) encounter with Sir Garrett at his room, the senior maid had returned. Standing by Marianne's side, she whispered in her ear to let her Lady know that the knight would be arriving shortly.

The return trip was rather uneventful, and boring. Sult bit her lip in remorse, as it seemed that she had lost Sir Garret the delicious barbarian beefcake to her antics to the rather pruddish Sparky. Still, that was not as important as licking the wounds inflicted on the order as a whole. Those bandits had more fighting power than credited initially, and no doubt the critical voices against the order would reasonably rise.

Aimlenn. Her eyes stopped at the scenery. Her family had a property in the city, didn't they? They had a lot of properties scattered throughout the kingdom, a byproduct of prodigal generations of faithful servants and nobles. But they were more empty trophies than houses, really, usually manned by skeleton crews of servants. In all her life, rarely she had seen more than three people of her close kin in the same building, such was the dutiful way of the Sunfield.

Still, visiting a cold homestead with empty carvings and statues of the old glories was an acceptable price for some much needed solitude.The mini captain needs me at my full. She's much more green than I initially thought.

And down she separated, taking a detour to find herself before a rather stocky marble house, with exquisite Reonite imagery and militar carvings. Her eyes narrowed slightly upon spotting a banner jutting out of the windows.

Someone else of her family was here. The trickster knight bit her lip, recognizing the sigil. The Raven.

Nero. Damn him. Thoughts raced. Change of plans, she would endure all the people's japes for now, as they were preferrable to...

And then her mount froze. "Good horse." Said a voice, husky not unlike her own, but that belonged to a man. The interloper had driven a carrot in the mount's mouth, and was now petting it. "You're quite obedient and reliable, unlike some wild mares..." The figure turned out to face Sult, blue eyes meeting blue eyes in a glare full of conceited hostility.

He was clad in black, and his blue locks were one of the few hues the man sported. "Hey there, Sult. Are you now playing the knight?"

"I AM a knight." Sult answered, unable to make any polite of him. "And I need to rest now."

"That I see, my dear sister. You smell and look...well, filthy. But not to worry, the staff should be able to prepare you a bath for your lovely bosoms now. I can even join and scrub your back, like we used to do as siblings." The man said, cracking a grin.

"I think I'll share it with my sisters in arms." Sult answered, tugging the horse.

"Poor little beastie. Have some compassion. Don't overwork the horse, Sultie. The thing has nothing to do with family quarrels." Nero added, before clapping his hands.

"Besides, I had a carriage ready to head to the Iron Rose headquarters."

"What are you planning, Nero?" Sult said hesitantly, before heading to the carriage, always looking at her brother.

"Ah, that is the thing... dear little sis. You don't really show all of your cards, do you?" He added as he crouched to enter after her, and after a gentle tap, set his way to the Iron Rose Knights dwelling.
------------------------------------------

Like a ticking bomb, Sult's finger tapped against her leg the whole travel, quickening the pace. Blue eyes met blue eyes, and when the carriage opened, the Knight hurried her pace. There was no trace left of her playfulness as she tromped around the headquarters, with Nero at her tail, until she unceremoniously shut the bath door between the two.

"Hello there, Lovely day, hm?" Nero said gracefully as he leant against a wall, deciding not to cause a further ruckus than his sister.

"I CANT BELIEVE THIS. WHY IS THAT WRETCH HERE." Sult's careful image and persona exploded in a tiny million pieces, as she hurriedly removed the armor, the clothes, possessed with an unknown fury before.

"Oh my I'm nero, I have the sass to updo you, wench! Look at my black armor sis, I'm cool cause I AM DARK AND STUFF!" She kept on her rant, as she sampled the waters.

"And then Garret the beefcake goes with that Delacroix uppity wench. Oh look at it, we're so awkward with eachother. Let's make tiny barbarian spuds. ON LIGHTNING!"

"So great timing, I mean, I'll probably get that tiny captain's ass out of trouble again! I'm Fanilly! I'm new here! Please don't eat me because of my puppy eyes! BAH!"

"I should've signed for prostitute." Sult finished her rant, as she leveled her head to sink in the waters.

It was then when she noticed that she wasn't alone, and in fact it was the very captain near her.

"...oh, greetings Captain. The water is nice." She unceremonously said, trying to obviously masquerade her embarrassment.

With careful fingers Sir Garrett finished lacing up the front of hisblack poets shirt. Looking over his shoulder at the knock on the door he crossed the room and opened it to find one of the maids. Marianne’s maid delivered her summons and abruptly scurried off down the hallway. Chuckling gently to himself Sir Garrett crossed over to his window and finished checking his dress. Hopefully it was appropriate for the evening.

Picking up a few items off of the chest at the end of the bed he hooked the bracelets of wood and bone around his wrist. They carried clan markings, markings of different battles and raids as well as indication of his station within the clan.

Once his dressing finished he picked up a dagger which he belted to his lower back. Looking at the reflection in a burnished metal mirror on the wall which had been a gift from his mother he nodded to himself. Walking to the door he pulled it open and head out and down the hallway.

---

Walking into the dining hall he stopped and raised an eyebrow at the full group of maids lined up behind Marianne. It probably shouldn’t have been too surprising that they would be there; after all she was the Crown Princess. Walking over to the table Sir Garrett pulled the chair out across from Dame Marianne and sat down eyeing the line of maids behind her. “You really do have quite the entourage don’t you? I’ve never seen anything quite like them” Sir Garrett quirked his eyebrow up as he eyed the maids. “Probably best to keep them on a short leash too. Who knows what kind of trouble they might get into.” He smirked at the few maids he recognized as the stranglers.

Turning back to Marianne he raised an eyebrow at her. “So what is this about thanking me? I’m not entirely sure what I did to earn a dinner with the Lady Delacroix, heiress to the Dutchy.”

@harinezumikouken

Marianne Delacroix

Marianne looked up with an inviting and cordial smile when Sir Garrett came and took his seat across from her. Following his gaze, she turned around in her own chair to notice that he was giving her maids a rather curious look. Turning back around, she waved her hand at him dismissively. "Oh, before my Knighting as an Iron Rose, there were plenty more of them around my home. These wonderful ladies were merely the group that were closest to me, I even grew up with many of them." She laughed. "Yes, my friends are a rather interesting bunch aren't they?" She covered her mouth in shock when he spoke of leashes and trouble-making, assuming the worst. "Oh my, they didn't inconvenience you in any way, have they Sir Garrett?" She turned back around to glare at them, all of the maids remained silent and cast their eyes to the floor. It was better not to say anything. "They better not have. Otherwise they have some explaining to do later tonight..." Marianne said in a slightly threatening tone.

Turning back to face Sir Garrett, she explained her reasoning for having invited him to have dinner with her. "Well, it is simply to thank you for helping to wake me after I had fainted. I've been known in the past to not wake for many days and nights after exhausting my mana, which can be rather troublesome on the field of battle." She chuckled, cheeks rosy as she continued, "It would be rather embarrassing for me to be carted back like a sack of potatoes, so you helped me to save face there. Not only that, but you were one of the few Iron Roses that consoled me after my little...foolish moment. I appreciate you for that and for aiding me in locating my horse. It would've been a slight hassle for me to replenish my supplies and equipment had you not helped me there too." Folding her hands on her lap, she continued speaking with a certain...brightness in her eyes and her smile warmer and wider than normal. "Plus, is it so wrong to invite a fellow comrade to have dinner with one another and get to know each other? It is a common practice and tradition for we Delacroix to regularly invite allied noble families to banquets and dances, breaking bread with our comrades-in-arms."

Upon mention of her official 'royal' title, Marianne frowned and bristled. She turned back around to face her maids, who immediately cast their eyes away and to the side. Extremely interested in various random bricks and objects and not at all fearful of having been discovered 'blabbing'. "Who had mentioned that I am the heir Duchess?" she asked Sir Garrett, looking at each of her maids. It was no secret of hers, but rather a bit of information that she would rather not many would know as common knowledge. She would rather be known more as a knight of the Iron Roses and referred to by the lesser title of 'Dame' as opposed to 'Lady'.

“They didn’t inconvenience me but I get the impression they have never met some from the hills of Velt. Which is understandable since we are usually considered barbarians.” Not correcting the assumption he eyed the maids and then Marianne. “I can’t imagine growing up with someone always hanging over my shoulder or trying to do everything for me. It would have driven me crazy as a child. Then again it was never an option. Val, go wrangle that horse or Val, go get get enough water for the rest of the evening was a rather common theme for my childhood.” Sir Garrett chuckled at the memories.

At the mention of waking her Sir Garrett frowned pensively. Apparently magic had quite the cost associated with it. Then again he’d always known that, it was just that the magic users he was accustomed to tended to steal what they needed from others; hence his opinion. “I think I need to apologize to you. I have a very low opinion of magic wielders and my opinion of you initially was not the greatest. I know I shouldn’t assume things like that but I was taught from an early age that magic was a short cut and its price was always steeper than you it appeared from the outside.”

“As for dining, the concept of rank when one is eating is rather foreign to me to be honest. While I certainly understand the concept of rank and nobility; it never has factored in who I ate with. Such a thing is too important to separate by rank.” Pausing for a moment he considered the reason for such a thing “I would assume that the reason is that eating certain foods is a luxury for the nobility here; that and my understanding is that it also a place for politics.” Sir Garrett furrowed his brows a little at Marianne’s animation before he simply accepted it and smiled in return as she continued to talk.

Seeing the annoyance on her face as she turned towards the maids Sir Garrett looked directly at the maid who had let it slip and winked with a mischievous smirk. “In all honesty it's rather difficult to tell them apart so I couldn’t tell you who mentioned it…..M'Lady”

The mischievous smile crossed his face again as she turned back to face him. Folding his hands on the table before himself he chuckled. “Your secret is safe with me I promise.”

“….M'Lady..”

@harinezumikouken

Marianne Delacroix

Marianne placed a hand on her chest and breathed a sigh of relief when Sir Garrett had told her that the maids caused him no issue. Of course, he could've been lying, but he had given Marianne no reason to believe him capable of being dishonest to her. "Yes, I do remember some rather colorful moments from my childhood thanks to these ladies," she giggled. "They did drive me a little insane, at times. But, I love them all as if they were my own sisters." Marianne hadn't noticed, but a few of them sniffled and wiped at their eyes. "To be truthful, we hardly receive travelers from distant lands. Our only source of knowledge being papers, scrolls, and tomes. As such, we've never met others like yourself or Sir Ian. You'll have to forgive us if we stare rudely," she giggled again. Her laughter light and musical. One thing had piqued her curiosity however, Sir Garrett had referred to himself as "Val" was that a childhood nickname? She thought to ask, but didn't.

She tilted her head slightly when Sir Garrett mentioned an apology was in order. When he explained himself, one could visibly see Marianne's mood deflate a little. If they were being honest with each other, 'barbarian' was the very first impression she had of Sir Garrett as well. The idea especially reinforced when she saw him in combat. It wasn't until he had woken her and talked to her that her impression of him had changed. Having grown up around prim and proper nobles, royalty, politicians, scholars, it was learned that the dinner table was an important place to build bonds and discuss political matters. But, if what Sir Garrett was saying was true about himself, that he resided in the wilderness and Hills, to eat was to survive. To her, it was simply something one did and was a luxury. Looking at him quietly, she felt a little sorrow for him. His childhood must have been rough and tumble, indeed. Unlike her's, if one was to disregard her Knightess training.

Her sorrow quickly burned away when he looked at a maid standing behind her and winked, trying to locate who exactly it was. But just as Sir Garrett had difficulty in telling them apart, so did she. Only when their masks were off could she tell. Or if they spoke, she could tell them apart by their voices. Whoever she was, she displayed incredibly bearing in not reacting to Sir Garrett's smirk and wink. But, a little shiver travelled up Marianne's back when she heard the way he said M'lady.

Turning back around as she locked eye contact with him, her cheeks burned a little more red when he again repeated her higher ranking title. That smile...

It all made her...

Uncomfortable.

Breaking eye contact, she busied herself with ensuring the placement of utensils in front of her was perfectly aligned.

"What will you be having tonight, Sir Garrett?" she asked, disregarding what was already spoken for the moment.

She nervously laughed, smiling as best as she could and trying not to let on that she didn't quite enjoy the way he called her m'lady.
For some reason, the maids behind her snickered and giggled ever so quietly, much to Marianne's confusion. What had she said that was so funny? She looked at them as they quieted down.