Nero Sunfield put a hand to her hip, as she eyed the display before her eyes. The funny man had stopped running the laps, and apparently this was a prank. A tasteful prank nevertheless. The elder of the Sunfield sighed, as she threw her arms up in the air. "That I have no doubt, bunny knight." She eyed both of them, as well as the newcomer. "My name is Nero Sunfield, elder sister to Sult Sunfield and former Captain of the Knights of the Raven... and that I recently lost a duel with the most strange conditions." She dropped, as she eyed Merilia.

"I should not indeed, but when the opportunity to know in person one of these rare Akitsushiman denizens one must... seize the oportunity as they say." She beamed a smile, as she eyed the group. "I can start to gather why my dear sister likes this order so much..." She finally voiced her thoughts.

"Yawnss---" Klaus woke up in her Knight quarters. The food the previous night was good, she forgotten how much have she stuffed into her stomach, but its sure is alot. However, her stomach rumbled again. "Time to have some breakfast, or lunch maybe...?" She changed from her pajamas to her usual Knight outfit. She wasn't sure what time is it, but hopefully she didn't oversleep or anything.

Descending groggily down the stairs, Klaus headed to the Kitchen to grab some food, and to 'borrow' extra portions. Opening the kitchen door quietly, Klaus put on a well-mannered facade to avoid attracting any unwanted attention from the Kitchen staffs. "I'm hungry, so I will be taking a bit of food myself here, I will be fine myself ~" She stated to the kitchen staffs in a polite demeanor. One portion wouldn't be enough for her, she need extras, alot of them. She headed to the table, taking five portions while acting as naturally as possible. Of course, nobody would be falling for her act, that wasn't the first time she's doing something like this.

@ghastlyInc @AtomicNut @Raineh Daze

"Oh. Did you finish your laps? And yes, this is Lady Merilia, my mistress and witch knight of your order. And I believe she was the one who may or may not have cast that curse upon you in a fit of mischief."

Jarde shot up and looked more closely at the figure referred by Nori. She was definitely Knight-Witch Merilia, founder of the Iron Rose Knights. "Ah...! Lady Merilia." Jarde instinctively made a bow while also wondering how such an important figure is still alive. He remembered the Iron Rose Knights being formed hundreds of years ago.

And now that the identity of the library spirit has been revealed. "Lady Merilia." Jarde repeated the name, this time with a serious tone. He bowed once more. "Please forgive my behavior in the library. I swear it shall not happen again and so humbly ask that you lift my curse from me before it is too late."

"You've shown a willingness to lead people into battle from the front, you listen to advice when it's given, you aren't trying to use the Knights for your own personal gain. Compared to some examples, you're a tactical genius. There was one Captain whose only order was attacking... it was a good thing that was when we still had a lot of the original veterans to enforce some organisation anyway," Tyaethe stated, confused that Fanilly would look down on her own abilities so much. She didn't have a lot of experience but that was why she was there: nothing but experience to be drawn on, "And it helps that you're cute. It's already won you a few fans and they could be reliable delegates when you're older."

---

The floating projection adjusted her outfit and considered whether to put Jarde out of his misery. He was spectacularly gullible to still think that there was really a curse and she could lead him around all day without having to do anything more. That would be needlessly cruel and boring to boot and she couldn't keep the threat of a curse hanging in the air to set up some more sneaky tricks without being there in the first place. "No curse. It was a joke."

The other two seemed to be behaving themselves. Also good.

For several moments, Fanilly was silent, listening to Tyaethe's explanation of the praise she had leveled on her. Was... she really worthy such praise...? Was all that true...? However, when the armored figure called her cute, however, the smallish blonde found her cheeks coloring in embarrassment. The Immortal Paladin had just called her cute?! What... how... Certainly that was nothing she had ever expected to hear at any point in her life, undeniably so. Quietly, the girl averted her eyes towards the ground and shifted awkwardly, opening and closing her mouth slightly as she did.

Finally, Fanilly managed to get something out that was at all coherent.

"I... I see..." she said, finally, turning away as she did, embarrassment rising. Really, it was hardly anything she had expected to hear, and there was no denying that.

It wasn't much longer that the call for breakfast rang out, cutting off most conversations.

The eggs chauntressy was delicious.

---

It had been a week since the attempt on Princess Eliabelle's life. An interrogation of the remaining conspirator had offered relatively little information, save that Damon Cal had been sent to join them by another outside source. The Nem sisters were currently housed in relative comfort, though a decision on Tili's fate had yet to be made, save that execution was absolutely not in her future.

The Iron Roses had received little rest. Many of their number had been deployed to keep watch on the castle and to ensure there was not another assassination attempt. They could not be certain that anyone else would not appear and attempt to take the Princesses' life. And so, Fanilly had sent many of her knights to be put on guard, greatly bolstering the palace guard with their numbers and skills. Only, this morning, they had received a strange cry for help.

The messenger told them he had been sent from Fort Daelantine. Or, rather, the message they received told them that. The messenger had, according to the city guard, dropped dead shortly after his arrival. His note was hastily scrawled, a desperate plea to immediately send the Iron Roses to assist.

Other details were scarce.

Fanilly could not in good conscious recall the knights guarding the Princess. And so, she put together a small force of knights who had proven themselves in the past or in recent combat, and set out for for Fort Daelantine. It was much of the day before the outline of the fort's towers appeared in the distance. From here, it seemed there had been little to no disturbance. Around them the plains were wide and flat, the fort the most notable landmark.

"We're almost there," Fanilly called to her knights, from atop her horse. "We can't be sure what's happened, so we must be careful."

Klaus laid lazily on top of her horse, slinging along a sack of food supplies on her back. She was one of the knights who have been sent as a detachment to Ford Daelantine. Its good news to her, 'cause it gives her the perfect excuse to grab as much food as possible back at Caedlyn, stating that she needed more food for feeding her horses, but most of the potatoes are for herself actually.

She wasn't so good at horseriding, the rein and the stirrup was a bit overwhelming to her. But at least this one is tame, what should I call this one, Pig?

"Hungry... and tired---" Crunching on a potato, Klaus let out a yawn from her tiredness from the long trip, until she caught sight of the fort that the Knights have mentioned. She doesn't care much about her discipline and all, since the number of times she've been reprimanded for that is more than the stars in the sky, and she got used to it by now.

"Al-wite, Captain~" The inside of her mouth is still full of food, but she got a bit more enthusiatic when she realizes they were about to arrive. Generally, she's okay with Fanilly, a girl younger than her as her captain, since Klaus finds younger people easier to get along & such. "This is not bad, want some, Captain?" Klaus asked as she offered a baked potato to Fanilly.

Gillian grumbled from his seat on the wagon. There was little reason for him to have followed the captain on this trip, and even worse he'd have to PAY Klein for the use of his transport.And some bizzare rabbit person trotted along side them, evidentally in awe of their surroundings. He damned his stars, the last week had not been a joyous one. He leans back against the ragged tarp covering, recounting his meet up with Nero.
 
The young man had laid himself down for a days long nap several hours ago. The various interruptions of the previous night still wearing him down. Heavy blankets covered him as dusk fell, though he made no motion to awake. Beds were a rare resourced, and Mayon be damned if he'd not take advantage. His slumber continued until well into the evening, well beyond point the various servants had finished their rounds.
 
It was then, when the door of his room opened, slightly ajar. Feminine hands grabbed the edge of the door, as blue-haired figure entered through the room. She was still wearing her maidly clothes, somewhat ruffled of the entire evening servitude. The female stepped lightly, as she loomed in on the still sleeping figure of Gillian.
 
"That was one promise down, sir Gillian. I always make up of my word, unlike my dearest sister." Nero said coyly, as she loomed over the figure of the other knight.
 
Gillian jumped as her voice hit his ears, reaching for the sword laid next to his bed out of reflex. "oh...Sunfield." the shirtless knight yawns, recognizing her after a moment. "You'll have to forgive me.." He grumbles climbing out of the blankets as best he could. "Busy day?" He asks as he paws for a shirt, hoping the darkness of the room concealed his unwanted appendage. 
 
"Maids are always busy. So are knights." Nero sighed, as she unceremoniously dropped on top of the bed, alleviating the pressure of standing all day on her feet. "But I do like the fact I can grab some master keys for myself." The blue haired woman coyly smiled. "My master always said that servants were good disguises." She said, tilting her head and letting her gaze linger on his figure. 
 
".,,and he probably ran his mouth off on you? So typical of him." Nero said, as she huffed. "Okay, ask."
 
A silk shirt (albeit unbuttoned) soon covers the young man. "What? No foreplay?" He teases as he lights a kerosene lamp. "Always business with your family isn't it?" He clears his throat, "Very well. As I said this morning, I've a keen interest in the armor your order reportedly had. I'm interested in how you came to possess such a thing...and why you'd think it a wise decision to use something that dangerous to your health. Though I can probably guess the latter."
 
"Ouch, that wounds me... because clearly, the Sunfields should be all fun and games like that sister of mine." Nero said, slightly chuckling, but with a hint of bitterness. "Who ate the princess cake on her birthday no less." Nero began to say. "Well, let me say you. Sunfields are bound by blood to the Royal family. But our blood claim over the throne is so weak we have no choice but be cornerstones of the order of the kingdom."  She cleared her throat, as she then eyed Gillian directly. "Have you known despair, sir Gillian?" The former captain of the Ravens stood on her feet, as she turned her back as she began to browse the wares on the shelf.
 
 variety of books lay on the shelf(and floor...and desk. And in various other places book should not reside.) Mostly they are military histories, a few novels, a strange amount of poetry, and various other genres. "I've had my share." He answers, deciding not to go into detail. She could ask her old assassin if she truly desired to know.
 
Nero Sunfield skipped most of them, only taking one of the oldest, and thickest books in the shelf, alongside a rolled up map of the kingdoms that had been wedged in between books somehow. Opening the binder and gently dusting it off, she presented it to Gillian. The War against Hidroroth. A war where gods and men battled face to face. A conflict that scarred the word. And the war were the Soulscales were initially deployed, as demonic armors on the side of the dark god. Her finger tapped to a miniature map, of an unspecific location during the war, as she let go of the book and unfolded the map right next to it.
 
"I did think at first, that going on my own and joining a mercenary band to strike out on my own would be easier. I felt hurt and betrayed by my own sister. I did not have any magic powers back then, unlike her. We mostly got by getting the dirty jobs no other knight would do." Nero Sunfield began to spin her tale. "One of such was barbarian culling." She said, as she began to trace the path in the map with her finger. "So we set forth, north and north, until the frozen reaches of the world. We were doing okay, for such a campaign."
 
"Until we realized something." She added, as she pointed a spot both in the map and the old book. The resemblance of the landmarks was uncanny. "That was no barbarian invasion, they were running...from something."
 
"Your armor then I suspect?" He asks, noting with some concern that she'd gone that far north. He'd been well into his sixth year of squire-ship before Parnella even dared let him step foot on those lands. The Sunfields, he decided, were either dangerously reckless or just dangerous full stop. He imagined the truth lay somewhere in the middle of those two.
 
"The armor was there, yes. But it wasn't the cause. See, these old places are often so scarred... that not even the dead can find peace, and lash out at the living." Nero said, her semblance darkening. "The first of them were manageable, even though we lost a few rank and file." Nero said. "But... when the giant skeletons, and the remains of ancient woolly beasts trapped in ice raised against us, we were like rag dolls in a storm."Nero clutched her fist, obviously not entirely comfortable with the memories.
 
"I was rank and file back then, command collapsed incredibly quickly. People were dying right and forth, and only me and that old man could find some cover inside a cave, with no other plan but to last some minutes more." Nero said, her voice drowning in a whisper.
 
Gillian remained quiet. He'd been in similar straits before (though not in such an extreme), and knew there was no comfort to be given on such matters. Knights die. It was a simple reality that those in their profession had to face. "Solid choice..." He offers weakly, "old battlefield like that is bound to have some old trenches or tunnels. Guessing that was the old mans idea?" The words, he knew, would do little to ease the woman. But if there was any comfort to take, it was that tactically that was their best option.
 
 
"Not really. We just happened to think the same." Nero said. "But inside that crevice... we found it. The old relic. Although, there was something different about it. See, centuries of being trapped in ice had quelled the destructive temper it once had. She now longed for a cute body to be worn on...just like the old man." Nero said, as her tone raised again. "It was what we needed. The battlefield changer." Nero said.
 
"For our deeds, we were both knighted and I was given the right to create the Ravens, alongside my fellow survivor." Nero chuckled. "I gotta say I admire Master Rinaldo's vitality. He killed all those undead without any other tools or magic, once he figured a trick. The Master of the Blood Hand Guild knows his craft." She added.
 
"I'm sure his skills with a blade match his fondness for women..." Gillian grumbled, standing up. "Well, I suppose that answers your end of the bargain, now If you'll excuse me, I need to prepare to head north." He says flatly, going to his wardrobe.
 
"You'll find nothing but death there." Nero added flatly. "I can see what you're trying to answer. But I can't say that the answer will be there. See, your arm might resemble a Soulscale...but who knows? Someone might've found the old forbidden techniques to create such things and has experimented with them, roaming around the world." Nero said. "I'd advise asking Soulscale first...even if the price might be odd." Nero finished.
 
Gillian huffs, buttoning his shirt. "No family to miss me. And no blood to fill a title. If I find death, I find death. If not, I might find nothing. At worst odds, its a net gain zero..." He says, voice edge with slight hostility. More agitated at the attempt to dissuade him from finding answers than honestly angry with the woman. "And I'd sooner lose my other arm than trust the words of that...thing. But I'll... consider it" He adds. 
 
"I'll miss you, for once, sir Gillian." Nero said, her voice acquiring a playful tone.
 
"We're touched. Truly. He retorts, putting on his boots. "Your sincerity burns as brightly as your beauty. And I should fine. Worked alone most of my career."
 
"I don't really pay attention to that kind of comment." Nero added, closing one of her eyes. "But hey, I warned you. I mean, you're bound to Fanilly, not me, so it's not my problem if a knight of hers goes stupid again." Nero finished, as she began to walk towards the door, having the conversation finished. "Just don't drag my sister dearest with you in your travel." She said, gently closing the door afterwards.
 
"....Wouldn't dream." He says to himself, in a futile attempt at the last word. He knew she was more than likely right, but this was the only lead he'd gotten in the better part of a decade. A few minutes later he exits the room, locking it tight and descending the stair well. As a courtesy he'd humor her request to talk to soulscale. He relieved the two young knights guarding the chamber, telling them of an unscheduled shift change. It was a lie, but it was so late in the day he doubted being caught. 
 
He pushed open the heavy steel door, cold air from the ice blasting him in greeting. "....Are you conscious?" he asks to the block, eying the armor carefully 
 
The little demonic girl did not even blink, not even stare back. But Gillian could see clearly that there was a pout forming in her factions. Finally, her eyes actually met Gillian's and a clear, mental voice was heard.
 
"I AM SOULSCALE, AND I DO NOT ANSWER TO MERE MORTALS LIKE YOU."
 
"I'll be sure to note that." He says, crossing his arms. "Though I'd say you've little to do besides answering to mortals like myself at the moment." He stifled the urge to insult the tantruming child like creature. "My name is Gillian. Nice to meet you." He takes a seat in front of the bars, glaring at the girl. He expected armor, but he supposed the armor was capable of all sorts of things. "I was wondering if you'd be willing to let me ask a few questions." He says flatly.
 
"..." The armor stood silent for the moment being. "Break me out of here and I shall think about it." She finally added, her gaze eying the man. "Even though you're rather unpalatable, seeing as you have something like me attached already."
 
"Not a chance in hell." He says. "How would i know you'd not betray me immediately? And that would put my position in this order at risk. At best, we'd both end up in jail. At worst, me dead and you back here. And I'm certainly not risking all of that just for you to think about it."
 
"Look at my own state. I'm just a little gnat trapped in ice. Me, the great Soulscale! Last of her kind, surviving long after all the others have been destroyed." The creature retorted.
 
"A little gnat that still proclaims to be great." He adds. "And it is not as though I could remove the seals that contain your body. I'm no mage. And if you left, suspicions would be raised to no end. I will tell you what. Provided you answer my questions, I'll consider helping you." He says, taking the position of power from the armor. It wasn't like it was in the position to make demands, after all. 
 
"Why can't they all be cute girls..." The armor sighed, contemplating her chances. "...well, to be honest, I could just wait. I am a demon after all. I can wait for everyone to die around me, again. But that arm of yours... is intriguing. Fine. We have a deal." Soulscale said.
 
 
"An agreement." He said, stubbornly. "Deals imply that I will help you. Give me what I want and I'll consider helping. Now...what can you tell me about my arm." He gently takes off his coat, rolling up his shirt sleeve to let the small demonic entity get a look at it.
 
"Mmm, it's gross. Like, really gross." Soulscale pondered. "Someone tried to make one of us, but only went halfway, that thing is just raw demonic essence without will nor structure, other than the obvious one. Like if someone stuck a demon finger in your wound and forcibly sewn it together... Seems like someone has been studying my kind around, and has been rather busy." Soulscale said, folding her arms.
 
"Any way you know of removing it or restoring my arm proper?" He asks, eying the arm. "Preferably without leaving me one arm short oft of a pair. Not keen on getting my arm cut off twice."
 
"Picky, aren't we. Restoration of flesh isn't my specialty. There is a way, though... but you'd not like it." She smirked. "If you were to become me, i could regrow that missing limb for you." She smiled. "But that would imply losing yourself."
 
"I've enough trouble with women in my life without becoming one, thank you very much." He said, trying to push the argument with the elder Sunfield out of his mind for now. "And at any rate, that seems to help you more than me. Think harder Scalie."
 
"Oh, come on, what is not to like of an eternity being able to hug cute women? All men yearn for that. I know. I've been worn by them aeons ago." She chuckled. "Scalie. Nobody has called me that in a long time."
 
"II know a few men that would consider that less than the ideal." He grumbled, shifting his weight to be comfortable on the stone floor. They really should try and make these cells more accommodating. "Hm. What if I wore you? only for a moment or something along those lines. Could your regeneration help then? Or at least help you analyze the thing better."
 
"Eew, no. Not in the world. I've had my share of sweaty barbarians during the war. They even do their nature calls inside!".
 
"I really didn't need to know that...."
 
"Still, weakened as I am... there might be something that can be done, if you're up for risking your life." The demon grinned. "Normally my essence would kill you and turn you into me, but if we can do it halfway... maybe you can detach and regenerate that arm." She pondered.

"....move your head a little closer." He said, visibly weighing his options. 

"Uh. I'm not going to give some of my precious essence for nothing. Your part of the deal needs to be done." She furrowed her brow. "Naturally."

"What do you want then." He barked, loosing his cool a little. Being this close to finally being rid of his arm was starting to affect his judgment. He could feel it, but he also wasn't sure he cared fully.

"The panties of an Elven Princess." The demon giggled in a most mischievous manner. "Find them, and I shall share my essence with you. Or even let myself be worn by you, a notable exception."

Gillian stared at the girl. "...yo.." he stammers, still processing what he heard. "You're joking right?" He stares at her further in disbelief. "....by the gods you're serious. What kind of request even is that?!"

"I AM SOULSCALE, STUPID MORTAL!" She beamed, letting a rather high pitched evil laugh. "Hi hi hi hi! Fortunately for you, according to the rumors you might not need to look very far!"

Gillian remained quiet, still somewhat stunned. "I should have just walked into the death trap..." he grumbles to himself, leaning in and flicking the demon girls forehead. "Fine. I'll find you some panties. But in the meantime, you will behave yourself and do whatever the order tells you. That clear?"

"Not a chance." Soulscale folded her arms pouting. "After all, you just took advantage of being mistreated by my true owner. Or former owner. I belong to no one."

"Fine. I'll make it up to her. But I'm not going on your panty goose chase without an assurance you will be here to fulfill your end. Sound fair?"

"Fair. Now, leave me be, mortal." The demon sighed as she sulked about and minded her own business.

Gillian left shortly there after, standing sentinel outside of the door until the next shift showed up, wondering all the while how the hell his life ended up this way. 

"I should have just been a poet..." His whines pulling him from his memories of the last week. Little had been done to acquire panties of any sort, and even less so in making it up to the Sunfields. Hard to recover from admitting you're about to walk in to the most dangerous place in Thaln and abandon your post then show up the next day for morning chit chat. He sits up, legs wobbling a bit from the shaking of the wagon. He leans out the backside of the wagon, yelling forward to the rest of the party. "So any clues what we might be dealing with captain?" He calls, wanting to distract his mind with work.

((quick collab with AN))

The Lion Knight shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, wearing a combined expression of displeseaure and boredom. It wasn't as if he didn't look forward to something interesting happening but he had always seemed to miss anything that happened closer to home and didn't require tedious amounts of travel. Riding didn't help any but pride would not let him ride in the back of a cart like an invalid.

He stood on the stirrups, stretching his leg and getting a look at the road ahead. After a moment he eased back down and loosened his blade in its scabbard, exposing several inches of naked steel. At least the journey was at an end, one way or another.

"I would think the we should have come across a patrol by now, even noticed one in the distance."

His voice ran with confidence but Indraus expression became uneasy.

Tyaethe rode at the head of the group, alongside Fanilly, and drummed her fingers against the sword in thought. The resulting metallic staccato was slightly grating but, with the large knight on an even larger horse, after a week of being fully armoured once again Tyaethe hoped that her normally intimidating visage had been restored. The deep red of today's scarf might help.

"Indrau is right that we should have expected a patrol. With how desperately the message was sent and how close we are to the capital, I would have thought the enemy would be keeping more of a watch for assistance, especially after a messenger broke through them," the paladin said, "That we haven't makes me think that we're too late or the enemy got inside and have the defensible position."

Typically, she seemed irritated by their enemy doing either rather than being right there to fight properly.

Marianne Delacroix & Sir Ricard

Marianne's horse struggled to maintain its position near the front of their formation. Not due to any injury, but out of fear. As it warily trotted along, Sir Ricard was more than what was comfortably close to it's body. Instinct allowed the steed knowledge that this giant creature that eclipsed it in nearly all aspects could easily make it its breakfast or snack. No matter how much Marianne soothed it with sweet whispers and gentle caresses, it could not calm down enough to break up its pace and gait to keep a steady speed with the others in the formation of Iron Roses. Periodically, the horse nervously turned its head away to glance side-long at the massive wolf. As if it needed to know Ricard's actions and movements at any given time so that it may possibly have a chance at living should Ricard decide to attack it. It knew not of Ricard's deep relationship with its rider and master. It cared not.

Marianne made a face, frowning as she ceased her patting and petting her horse's side. She could detect its fear and sighed quietly, knowing there wasn't much she could do about it. She just hoped that Ricard wouldn't startle it and cause it to buck her off before fleeing from her canine companion. Quiet, as usual, Marianne kept an attentive eye on the horizon and had her ears open to the conversation being held by her fellow knights. Taking a brief moment to take account of the other knights of their order that she had never seen before or spoken to. It was quite interesting, seeing new faces every day. She really had to speak with the dearest Captain and find out just exactly how large was their order. She was under the impression that they were much smaller than most typical armies.

Turning to Sir Ricard, she reached out and gently patted his fur to get his attention. His eyes and snout looking every which way constantly to ensure that the other knights kept their distance from his beloved Delacroix duchess. Feeling her touch, his ears perked up and he turned his head just enough to make eye contact one of his eyes. Having gotten his attention, she quietly spoke to him.

"Sir Ricard, do you detect anything up ahead? What do your senses tell you?"
Turning away from her, he raised his snout to the winds and sniffed deeply at whatever scents he could pick up.
His ears swiveled as he turned his head this way and that.
Eyes scanning from the left most to the right most boundaries of his vision of the distant lands.
Nothing.
Either they were too far away for him to pick up anything.
Or it was all of the other disgustingly odorous Iron Roses that surrounded him and suffocated his senses.
He would've preferred the others gave them more space, but he knew the reasoning of their formation.
To him, they were moving and hunting as a pack, which he could completely understand.
But most importantly, Marianne was safer within the group to a certain extent.
Turning his head towards Marianne to catch her in his eye, Ricard softly huffed.
'Voicing' that he could not perceive any thing as of yet.
Marianne made a worried frown, but then smiled.

Reaching and leaning forward, she ruffled his fur and scratched behind his ear.
"Thank you, Ricard. Keep on the alert and at first notice of danger, let us know."
It wasn't needed to be said, but might as well state the obvious.
Even still, Ricard bowed his head slightly as if nodding and resumed his watch.
Marianne and Ricard both thought to possibly have the giant direwolf scout ahead.
But with this not being the snowy forests of Barukstaed, that wasn't quite feasible.
No matter how swiftly or silently he could move for his size, the problem was simply that.
His size.
As large as he was, and as brightly as he and his fur stood out, him scouting ahead may cause far more issues for the Iron Roses than he could help.

Besides, that would mean leaving Marianne's side.
And he was always hesitant to ever do such a thing.
As much as it would be welcome to escape the reeking stench of other humans behind.
He was here for his beloved Duchess and nothing else.
He merely wanted to see her in action, and ensure that her current mission went well.
For her to return unharmed.
Nothing more, nothing less, though he wouldn't be making this a habit.
As much as Ricard would love to.

Given the grandiose way in which the messenger had arrived, Tiral had been on his guard ever since the Knights set forth to check out the Fort. If the last two excursions they had set out were any indication, what was waiting for them at their destination was certainly not going to be very welcoming.

Granted, the one who had delivered the message had been riddled with wounds, so it wasn't anywhere near as subtle this time around, but that didn't stop the mage from worrying in the first place. At this point, he considered using the clairvoyance spell he had been messing around with the past few days or so after it was discovered that the lightning wards were a bust for the moment, but trying to set that up on a horse was a level of inefficient that he wouldn't even try such a thing without a lot more experimentation.

That wasn't something he had the time for right now.

The vanguard seemed to have things under control, luckily enough, so Tiral was free to simply ride along, unhindered by any worry the rest of them might have. Thankfully, he wasn't in any sort of position of authority, so this time he was free to just prepare countermeasures for any incidents that came up. No worrying about tactics or anything; just simple measures and countermeasures for what might be a giant mess waiting for them.

He didn't have much faith in the people remaining in the fort, assuming that any were left.

[REDACTED]

"No curse. It was a joke."

"Huh...?"



Fanilly led a detachment of knights to Fort Daelantine after receiving an ominous plea for aid. Jarde found it a bit suspicious that they specifically asked for the Iron Rose Knights to help. Then again, the order is renowned so it was probably the go-to group for any sort of help.

The small regiment was getting close to the besieged fort but there were no signs of the enemy or ally or anything for that matter. Something that was noticed by the knights and got them on guard.

Jarde rode his horse to the front of the group to meet Fanilly. "Captain Danbalion, permit to scout the area ahead. At the very least, I shall trigger any traps laid out for us." He requested. "I know it might be dangerous but I'm a pretty slippery individual." While he was glad that he was talking to Fanilly, it was not the time to indulge in that. Life and death hung in the balance.

The veteran knight eyed the surroundings warily, from the confines of her hood. A vast expanse with little to no cover. It made her heart flutter a little. She was used to the forest surroundings, and whenever vast expanses opened before her eyes, she felt... inconvenieced by the fact. Yet, despite the circumstances, she still was steeling her position in her improvised stag mount, remaining alert and vigilant. A veteran knight led by example, as a captain should have done. But the example she was giving was... debatable at best. She had known Fanilly as a trainee. And now she was supposed to be her captain. While still having the very same level of skill and attitudes.

Oh yeah, what else to state, my dear captain? That water is wet? Umbra chided herself as she leant towards the head of her steed, carefully caressing the head of the animal. The elf knight eyed both Indrau (a crippled junior, but certainly more apt than half the humans that were gathered), and Tyaethe (one of the most senior knights, but as far as she was concerned, also a nature defying abomination). She blatantly disregarded the newcomer with the baked potato, the knight known as Jarde and she didn't even eyed Fanilly once.

"I agree with Sir Tyaethe." She said, paying little to no heed to the loudmouth wanna be knight that was trying to reach the captain's ears with his awfully naive voice of his. "This is far too odd. I've not seen many animals either skulking around. Something did happen to scare them away." Umbra added. "Even trying to recruit a flock of crows to keep an eye on the heights is proving to be trickier than expected. I've not seen hidden corpses either." She added, her other hand clutching her bow. "I'll have my weapon at the ready. If something moves, I shoot."

It was then when she decided she had enough. "Oh, young man, how kind of you. That plan sounds great! Why don't you have a go at it." And get killed in the process, you dimwitted excuse of a human knight. She added mentally herself.

---

Sult shifted in her armor, readjusting herself in her sitting position. The armor clanked significantly as a result, and her elbow was inadvertedly shoved into Nero's own pectoral plate, causing a loud clank and a stream of protests from her elder sister, who was riding side by side. Veritably, they were the spitting image of eachother, fully geared as Iron Rose knights. Sult had even managed to trade in their current horses for a couple of twin mares, much to her sister's displeasure. Sult still defended matched looks were the way to go.

"Hey, watch it, you idiot!" Nero threw herself a dirty look at her sister.

"But my butt is all sore from riding." Sult herself answered, in that playful voice of hers.

"Like I care. Why don't you go and pester your barbarian hunk?" Nero frowned as a reply.

"He's not here."

"Then go pester, uh... sir Indrau?" Nero said the first name that came to her head, as she herself looked at each side. "Anyway, keep peeled. This doesn't look right."

"Hmph, maybe I should go after your Sir Gillian, you've been talking an awful lot to him lately." Sult snapped back. "But yeah, I agree. Think we're too late?"

"I do not know for certain. But let's keep on our toes." Nero added, giving herself a fair distance between herself and the cadre of the veterans. Even if she had been a captain once, she was still a newcomer among the knights, so probably her advice would not be welcome.

Fanilly, taken off-guard by the spontaneous offer of a baked potato, stared at it in blank silence for a moment before shaking her head. "Er, no, no, not now."

She waved her hand. Now was certainly not the time for her to be snacking. It would look completely irresponsible, and beyond that it was hardly the time for anyone to be. But before she could protest, Tyaethe made a comment about the lack of... well, anything. Fanilly nodded. "You're right... if we're too late..."

A pang of guilt came at the prospect. If they had been too late, if the fort had been taken... ah, even if they hadn't known until the messenger's arrival... It was hard to avoid feeling guilty at the prospect of failing those who had made a cry for assistance in the end.

Fanilly was dragged from her thoughts almost immediately when they drew close enough to make out more details about the fort. The first and foremost among these details was what had been done to the reinforced wooden doors that would bar entry to anyone but those using siege weaponry or potent magic. They had been destroyed, splinters of wood scattered across the ground, one of the doors even smashed off its reinforced hinges and lying on the ground. And within...

Corpses.

The bodies of the soldiers who had occupied the fort were visible, now. Not all of them, but enough to make it clear what had happened. Bodies lay strewn across the fort's open entryway. They had died through various means, more and more discernible as the knights approached. Some had been stabbed, others riddled with arrows, some burned... and some seemingly hit with extreme force, limbs at odd angles. Whatever the case had been, the fort's soldiers had been absolutely massacred.

And inside, Fanilly could see a man wearing Thaln's colors frantically raising a crossbow. Spurring her horse on, she tried to get to his assistance...

A crimson spear pierced his chest before he could even aim.

"You had a plan and you threw it all away for that?" said a voice, as the spear's wielder came into view. It was a strange tone, somewhat... squeaky in a way that might be endearing if not for the situation. The wielder's appearance was that of an extremely pale girl with dark blue hair, her eyes noticeably crimson. The armor she wore was light, leather, overlapping to provide better protection. "What a wasted life."

Almost immediately, Fanilly drew her sword.

"Drop your weapon immediately, or the Iron Roses will kill you where you stand," she said, her tone cold and piercing. This girl had just slain a soldier of Thaln right before their eyes. If she did not immediately surrender, her execution would be immediate rather then after imprisonment.

"... Ah?" the spear-wielding girl looked up, resting her weapon on her shoulder. "... Ohhh, those Rose knights, huh? Heh, your captain's just as cute as I heard. I wonder if that's why you all follow her so closely?"

In spite of the situation, the leather-clad girl grinned.

"You don't have to be so pissed off," she continued, "These aren't the noble soldiers of Thaln you think they are, or whatever crap like that. Just go inside and you'll see what's really going on."

This was... they weren't Thaln's soldiers? But they were wearing the colors, the armor... what was going on? To Fanilly, it sounded like a trap.

The blue-haired girl sighed, cocking her head. Her pigtails bobbed. "What, are you going to attack me?"

She snickered. If they had taken this entire fort, there were surely other fighters somewhere around here...

Umbra Thalbound stood there, silently, eyeing the situation. It was the usual cocky-mercenary showoff smug situation. These types were usually braggarts, and sometimes crazy strong. However, what these types were not usually was very foreplanning, and they usually had this bad habit of posturing in the middle of a fight to chat, so as the mercenary drew her attention over Fanilly, the bow of Umbra had already fired.

But not at her desired target, no. There was the chance it could be somewhat the second type, the crazy strong one, so Umbra decided to pull one of the elven tricks of old. The pinpoint arrow rain.

10 Seconds.

Her cloak visiblely shifted, as she unclasped furiously, casting it forth before the opponent, obscuring her sight on what she was about to do.

20 seconds.

It was then when she brought forth two more arrows, and without mediating a word, she aimed at the little girl's face. More precisely at the eyes.

35 seconds.

However, that wasn't the main attack. The cloak..., the second set of arrows, it was just to obscure the first shoot. And it was timed in such a way that both attacks would happen simultaneously. One directly aimed at the face, thus bound to trigger combat reflexes, and one in the blind point all humans and humanoids had.

You could never see what was incoming directly above you. This was the pinpoint elven arrow rain.

"I believe she asked to drop your weapon, dimwit." She finally said, her elven factions apparent. It didn't hurt speaking now. If she had survived such an attack, she was a legitimate monster, and as such one human worthy of being addressed. "Do you really think you can play games at this point? You were caught red handed, so spill what you know." Her eyes narrowed in resent.

Almost immediately, the blue-haired girl sprang back. The spear became a red flash, sweeping the cloak aside and snapping back. The fine tip, made as much for cutting as it was for piercing, flashed back and neatly split the arrows in a single blow.

The final arrow hit just in front of her.

"So you are, huh?" the girl commented, narrowing her eyes. "I already told you the truth, these aren't the people you think they are."

Fanilly raised her sword again. This... was a trap, wasn't it? But why was she still insisting even after being attacked? None of this seemed right, and all these dead soldiers...

"... But if you're more interested in a fight, I'm happy to oblige," continued the girl, a vicious grin coming to her face as she spoke, "Borifos!"

The doors of the large tower to the right exploded out in a shower of wood and iron fragments, and through them stepped an enormous humanoid figure of steel.

At first glance, Fanilly thought it was a steel golem, until it spoke in a deep, rumbling voice.

"If you had not moved back far enough, my lady, you would have died. Please do not risk yourself alone unnecessarily," the enormous figure in armor spoke.

"Oi oi, I dodged it, didn't I?"

As quickly as anyone else amongst the knights, Tyaethe drew her blade, though when the apparent enemy made no move to attack it dipped towards the floor. It was too late to save the fort's occupants and all that left them was the task of meting out justice--though as much as her emotions told her to strike out now and as itchy as she was to push the horse forward into battle, the mere step of raising doubts about their innocence was enough to force her to stop. Her vows wouldn't allow her to immediately brush concerns off.

Not without a direct and valid order.

Umbra had no such compunctions however, and neither did the rest of the knights, so the paladin could hardly fault her for doing the normal thing. It didn't work, which meant their mysterious aggressor was at least quick to respond to visible threats. Unfortunately, it made the diplomatic step of their current mission a lot more difficult.

"Then if you aren't responsible, put down your weapons until such time as our investigation of the fortress is complete. We cannot simply let those responsible for this slaughter go without reason," the fully-armoured knight said, "And if you will comply, I offer my protection so long as it remains necessary."

Even if her gut was telling her to stab them.

Nori dismounted her horse carefully as Umbra fired at the mysterious spear woman, examining the bodies of the fallen soliders. She had little reason to impart any trust on the girl, though experience did tell her that what she was suggesting wasn't outside the realm of possibility. The young captain, afterall, was a prime target for assassination, and there is no better bait than a comrade in trouble.
“I...” she begins hesitantly, hand remaining on the hilt of her sword. “I am inclined to agree with Mistress Radistirin. Lay down your arms and allow us to investi-” she is cut off abruptly from an explosion of movement from the wagon trailing behind the group.


Gillian stared in awe of the carnage that was before them as they entered the fortress. He'd seen slaughter like this before, hell even been part of it. But these werent orcs or bandits, these were soldiers of Thaln. Their soldiers Reon damn it. And now the undead woman wanted to play nice? “LIKE HELL.” He yells, cutting off the rabbit as he leaped from the wagon, landing a meter or so away from the spear woman. He considered engaging her for a moment, but decided against it. The elf (a trait he'd note for later, given his agreement with soulscale) held the advantage of range, and he doubted he could best her if they clashed blades. That she even called for aid in the first place made the giant all the more appealing a target.

”Weapons no good here. Spears not getting through that armor and sword even less so. Need to make an opening first...” He thinks, rushing the larger man, hoping the others would be able to distract the spear woman. “Le Bras du Géants” He breathes, feeling mana rush into the demonic arm, bones creaking under the strain of the tightening artificial muscles. Once he closed enough distance, Gillian leaps at the armored behemoth, hoping to crack the murderer square in the breastplate.

"Maybe if I hadn't just been shot at, I'd feel more safe putting my weapon down," replied the blue-haired girl, cocking her head to one side as she did. Her expression was still that of a somewhat vicious smile, as if she wasn't too displeased about the prospect of it coming to a fight. Fanilly hesitated. She couldn't be certain what was happening. If these people were truthful, an attack would not be justified. If they were not, and this was a trap, taking their word for it could mean death for some of their knights... Could she make the right decision? Could she?

The blonde shook her head, trying to clear her mind.

"Anyway, I told you the truth," continued the blue-haired girl, "Alette the Shark's word isn't to be taken lightly."

Alette's grin really was rather shark-like. And that title... Fanilly thought she'd heard it before. In some report a while ago, about a mercenary force of some sort with an impressive track record.

"These 'soldiers' are imposters, and murderers too," she continued, with a shrug, "Believe me or not, it's the truth. See? That pretty little thing serving as your captain isn't even sure what to do. If you'd just go inside you could see what I mean, but-"

Before anyone could react, however, Gillian had suddenly lunged forward and drove a fist directly towards the enormous armored figure's chest.

For a few moments, everything seemed to go still. The enormous man took a step back, the ground seeming to shake as it did, a dent clear in the armor of his chest.

After a moment, he spoke.

"My, I felt that," he commented, simply, before promptly raising his own fist... and then, lightning-fast, a kick came from the right, directed at Gillian and followed by a trail of flames. Regardless of if it struck or not, the one who delivered it skidded along the ground a few meters.

The perpetrator's nature was undeniable, the doll-like girl sported a pair of pointed ears and blonde hair, a short staff clasped in one hand.

"What the blazes are you waiting for, boss?!" she snapped, rounding on Alette, "They've attacked you! They've attacked Borifos!"

Fanilly readied her sword. There was no delaying it any longer.

"Iron Roses, ready yourselves," she said, finally. Gillian had been directly attacked, now...

"Haaah, and for once I was trying to be diplomatic," commented the blue haired girl with a sigh, before her almost fanged grin returned as she pointed her crimson spear towards the knights.

"Let's scrap!"

"Iron Roses, ch-"

In what almost seemed to be an inhuman display of speed, Fanilly felt the shaft of Alette's spear slam into her chest, taking her clear from her horse before she could even finish speaking. Desperately, she thrust out her free hand to brace herself as she hit the ground, rolling once as she did. In the scant seconds she had to raise herself, the flashing shaft of the spear came down again, giving Fanilly only a split second to hastily deflect it with her sword and force herself up and off the ground, stepping back as she did.

"You should have told 'em to stand down!" Alette declared, as fire surged around the elven mage's staff and the enormous man began to charge right for them. "But it's too late for that, huh?"

Fanilly raised her sword, swiftly, blocking another sweeping blow from the shaft of the spear. Even as the fight began, more figures began to emerge from the fort... the band of mercenaries was largely then just those three, to say the least. A deathly pale young woman in leather armor with a multitude of knives strapped on her body was a notable member of the group that was swiftly emerging.