"Well, I guess I should have expected as much..." Tiral berated himself internally. He felt it was the right decision to stay quiet, at least; without all the knowledge they had gathered up until now, there was still that uncertainty that the whole ordeal would drag them all on a wild goose chase and split their forces even further.

And even so...

"Contracts exist for a reason, and it is bad form to break them without sufficient reason. Even nonmagical ones hold significance in that community, but I guess you don't have that, do you? Even if you are a knight," Tiral retorted, glaring at Gillian before sighing and shaking his head. "And do you think that spouting that sort of information willy-nilly would help our situation? Internal chaos within the kingdom and outside of it? I guess I should be thankful that you would have looser lips than I; makes it easier to leak false plans to any enemies if it came down to it."

Needless to say, he wasn't very pleased at all with his fellow soldiers' disapproval of his own judgements. Before he could throw any more venomous dialogue out, though, Tiral caught a glimpse of the note on one of the bandits.

...

Son of a bitch.

"...For the love of--Of course. There's always bigger fish to fry, aren't there?" he hissed through gritted teeth, pacing back and forth as he began to sift through his head for possible culprits of the sabotage.

...

Wait, the insignia--!

"Give me that," Tiral said, grabbing the object in quiestion before kneeling down near the ground and rapidly scratching an intricate magic circle in the dirt in the center of the road. Carefully placing the note in the center of the circle, Tiral took a deep breath and began to channel his energy into what he had set up.

There was a faint possibility that the culprits failed to account for anyone learning scrying magic--after all, most of the knights didn't bother with anything so supportive. Glory and fame, fighting tooth and nail-- that was the standard. It wasn't as if any of the mages in the College would be available to hunt for them, either.

Luckily for him, though, that possible oversight might lead to some sort of conclusion.

"No countermeasures, no countermeasures, no countermeasures..." he muttered under his breath as the note began to glow and levitate slightly above the ground. If it backfired, then that would be a shame. But if it didn't--!

The bandit girl was terrified out of her wits. She'd been told that it would be an easy job. No-one would be hurt. No-one would have to die. Her weapons didn't have a drop of blood on them. She'd just joined up with this group, she'd never even killed anyone in her life. It seemed like the gods had chosen to frown upon her, however, and immediately things plummeted lower then the black pit.

"L-look, er, I... I d-don't know okay? I j-just joined up er..." the girl squirmed. Her broken leg hurt so bad. She'd never broken anything before. Was this, too, some kind of punishment from the gods? For what? What did she-okay, sure, being part of a kidnapping attempt was bad, but she didn't think that the intent was to kill her or anything right? Ransom and return home safe, right? Nobles ate up that kind of thing... right? "The boss said we had to do this and we did, o-okay? I b-barely knew him, and he's the dead guy you just got that note from. M-my knife's not even bloody, o-okay? I just thought this would be a ransom, no-one hurt. I d-didn't even fight the guards, I got freaked out! P-please don't cut my head off okay? I l-like my head."

She was babbling nonsense, mostly out of fear.

The moment Tyaethe went for the girl, Fanilly quickly followed. She could not have one of her knights slay a wounded prisoner. Even if she was fairly certain the paladin would not carry out the sordid deed, she still couldn't stand by. If there was the slimmest chance... it seemed Indrau had the same idea, interposing himself between the two. Still, the fact that there remained some remnants of Phoran Cal's rebellion lurking somewhere. But why pursue his daughter? What was the purpose? Was it because of her own intention to take the shard to keep it safe?

"Sir Tyaethe," Fanilly began, her voice level, "Even if she was working with remnants of Cal's Rebellion, we cannot-"

She was interrupted when an arrow struck the Paladin's armor. Before she could even begin to admonish Umbra, Gillian spoke... saying that Tyaethe's death would have been a favor.

For a few moments, the young Captain of the Iron Roses was silent.

"... That's enough!" Fanilly snapped, finally, "What do you think this achieves?! Attacking one another?! Wishing death on one another?! What kind of knights are you?! We are the Iron Roses! We stand for justice, we stand for the defense of the innocent, don't we?!"

Her trembling fist was clutched tightly.

"Attacking one another, wishing death on one another..." The blonde-haired girl could no longer take it, "Why?! This... this infighting can't go on! This girl-"

Fanilly gestured to the wounded bandit, who seized up in fear.

"-Will not die here, slain while defenseless," she declared. The bandit girl let out a sigh of relief. "And no longer will we attack one another. No longer will we say such terrible things about one another! We are the Iron Roses, and this will carry on no longer!"

Fanilly lowered her hand, trembling.

For a few moments, Veileena Cal was silent. Then, she folded her arms and let out a sigh.

"How disorganized," she complained, before eyeing the knight who had spoken about her family. "You're an idiot. I'm the only remaining member of my family living anywhere nearby."

Her gaze shifted to a glare at Sult. At least the other sister was holding her back, now.

"... Stop her earlier, next time," she complained once more, though really she hoped there would be no next time. "Just listening to her is embarrassing."

Finally, in spite of all the commotion, Tiral's scrying attempt went off relatively well. The images that were displayed, however, were hazy and difficult to discern. A clearing, some sort of shrine...? The briefest glimpse of a dark, cloaked figure...

The clearing, however, was likely recognizable to at least a few knights. The oldest shrine to Mayon in Thaln, a aged stone structure standing alone... its Reon counterpart stood not far off, positioned in a spot that caught the sunlight just as well as the Mayon shrine caught the moonlight.

The arrow, quite surprisingly, actually penetrated the thick armour. However, it still did its job well enough: the person beneath wasn't actually scratched by the projectile and it served as little more than an annoying thud. A wholly unnecessary one, as by the time it had been fired any danger had already passed and the girl was perfectly safe--enough that she was more carefully lowered to the ground rather than being dropped onto her broken leg.

It freed her hand up to rip the arrow pressing against the padding inside quite easily.

"Umbra, just because I have tolerated your attitude for nearing one hundred years, it does not mean that I will hesitate to defend myself if you attack me again. You are here to learn that actions have consequences and that extends to attacking compatriots in the belief it won't matter." she said, voice too level. Tyaethe dropped the arrow.

The scrying attracted her attention--who could miss that? It wasn't a perfect image, nor anywhere near as clear as she was used to (those had the advantage of using some clear medium as a portal to view through) but it was recognisable. Of course a paladin knew of the shrine and, furthermore, its location.

"Those shrines are further down this road."

The knight caught the bandit girl as her broken leg refused to bear her weight, managing to keep a hold of his cane. Even this casual disregard was too much for him to sit idly by and let happen. Hadn't he himself been crippled after a similar injury that wasn't treated properly? With Tyeathe otherwise occupied he turned his attention to their prisoner.

Indrau eased her to the ground before pointing sternly with a gloved finger.

"Stay down girl."

He doubted that she would have trouble following that advice as he used his sword to cut down a couple of saplings from the roadside for a splint and the shirt from one of her companions backs to bind it together. It was only a moment before he returned with the materials and began to apply it to her leg. An extra scrap from the shirt was used to bind her arms together behind her back. Indrau was rough but not unnecessarily so as he half carried her to the wagon that Gillian had been riding in up until that point.



Back at the headquarters of the Iron Roses an unfamiliar figure strode in through the main gates. The armored figure stood tall, taller even than Lady Radastirin. Hanging from one hand was a bundle of luggage that looked tiny in comparison. They pushed through the main doors, ducking slightly in order to avoid hitting the pointed top of the helmet on anything. She pulled the chain mail covering the lower half of her face down and called out in a feminine voice that sounded small from someone so tall.

"Helloo?"

Umbra's gaze did not waver, even when Tyaethe turned her back. Many would've cowered or even flinched before those words, but Umbra was a forest elf, the daughter of a Queen. Not even Tyaethe Radistirin. Neatly, she tucked her bow away without breaking the visual contact, her voice starting like a soft whisper.

"Actions have consequences, alright. Just like our actions five years ago. Or lack of them for the matter." She growled. "You were about to pile on that girl the frustration of your own failure." The elf said solemnly. "Pathetic." She added as she shut her mouth, her sight now resting on Fanilly, a piercing stare matching hers.

"Let me show how it is done, then." Umbra said, as she hopped off from her position, and with long deliberate strides, went towards the girl. Chanting once again her healing spell, she knelt before the bandit, healing her broken leg.

"I believe this should do it. How are you feeling?" Umbra's eyes rested on the human girl. "I hope you learned your lesson today. Banditry is a despicable craft. But luckily for you, we shall not hold you on this harshly." Umbra sighed, as she eyed the other knights. "The girl does not know anything, nor she has caused lasting harm. I believe we should free her. Interrogating her further and keeping her captive now would be a waste of time." The elven knight said solemnly.

Meanwhile, Nero sighed, as she barely managed to rein Sult in. "Well, I can't blame her, lady Cal. I am sure that in a few years, half of the high society will be longing to be on your good graces. The male half, that is." Nero smirked, as she then let Sult go.

"Oh, by the way, I know a couple of former disgraced Cal servants who hated him as much as you do. If you're in need of assistance, I could get in touch with them. That way you'd not need to rely on dodgy mercenaries." Nero added, as she then carried Sult to the scrying place.

"Mm, shrines, uh? I hope they aren't desecrating them." Sult added.

“oh. My poor feelings.” Gillian scoffs, rolling his eyes at Trials passive aggression. “Alas I shall never again question the honor among thieves, kidnappers and murderers. Truly you've set me on the path of righteousness.” He snarks, listening half way to the bandit girls stammering explanation. “oh. Good. You're just an attempted murder and kidnapper. My mistake, changes so much.”

He would have continued if not for Fanlily's patience finally reaching its end. He resisted his urge to roll his eyes, if only for respect for her position as his captain. Still, this wasn't the first time he'd heard such and overly romanticized idea of the knights. And always, from someone too green to know that the 'distinguished honor' of their order didnt kill the enemies of Thaln. “...I'll follow your orders on sparing the girls life captain.” He says, coldly. “Frankly I prefer it. But there is no order you can issue me that will make me find Tyaethe's presence agreeable. Though I apologize you found my humor in poor taste.” He says, bluntly.

He left it at that, deciding he was already treading the line on insubordination. Besides, unlike Tyaethe, who to him seemed wholly ignorant of the dangers and the necessary evils of their profession, the girl's anger came out of a place of passion and naivety. “Sooner I find an elf princess's panties the better...” he grumbles to himself (attempting to ignore the absurdity of the statement), regretting having come on this mission. He huffs, reminding himself he came as a favor to the Sunfields and Soulscale. He just had to grin and bear through this for a little longer.

Klien awkwardly watched as the bandit girl was loaded into his cart, though made no objection to her presence. Frankly it was just nice to have a non-rose visitor to his humble mobile home. “Feel free to help yer self to any rations you can find back there. Got plenty!” He offers in a cheery tone. “And dear elf woman! Thank you from the bottom of my old soul for protecting my wagon during the attack....you know, I've a son who quiet fancies your kind if you are in the market for a husband!” He adds with a laugh.

Klaus pulled out her sword without hesitation the moment she saw an arrow soaring to Tyaethe. She was pondering on which bandit is stupid enough to send himself to his own death until she turned to see an Elf Knight with the bow on her hands. "What the hell...?" She placed her palms in front of her forehead and sighed.

Hearing a bandit girl pleading for mercy makes the whole ordeal even more frustrating to her. "I doubt it would be a waste of time, especially for tree hugging old ladies more than ten times my age. With a few racks here & there, it wouldn't be long before every ounce of information could be extracted from a bandit~"

Klaus said this without much care to the bandit as she sheathed her sword, still tightly gripping on the handle. Shrines? Hope there would be something this time...

Tiral glared at Gillian in silence, noting full well that the sarcasm was half-lost on the man. With a mental note to bump the man down his descending list of intelligent people he knew. Granted, it wasn't as if he had been high on that ranking to start with, but every bit lower he fell was just more and more disappointment.

The captain's outburst simply caused the mage to sigh in relief, though. An eye for an eye was fine for him, but there were lines that had been crossed, and he could at least understand the rage from that lens. He still felt wholly justified in snapping back--words did better to vent without causing any lasting harm.

Which, to be fair, would be particularly bad in this sort of situation.

Turning his attention back to the image that was generated from his spell, Tiral clenched his right hand into a fist and smiled as a hazy image began to form and slowly take shape.

"Success... I think."

Getting to his feet as he listened to the various statements of recognition and location, the young mage took the note off the ground and handed it back to the Captain.

"You can argue later. The mission should take priority," he stated, forcefully composing himself as he walked back over to mount his horse. "Lead the way--time is of the essence."

Fanilly found her trembling fists shaking. For a few moments she said nothing, glaring at the offending knights. This glare was now directed at Klaus, as well. Torture? Torturing a girl who knew nothing? Torture was not an act of the Iron Roses. Fanilly would not accept torture. Never had the Iron Rose Knights accepted it before, and they would not under her. In a strange way, her confidence was briefly bolstered simply by how angry she felt in this moment.

"Gillian. Umbra. Klaus," she said, flatly, "We'll be having a talk once we return to Candaeln."

Trying to choke her anger back down, Fanilly turned to the rest of her knights. Tiral had scried the location of the meeting, and handed the note back to her. Therefore, that meant that they likely had to work quickly in order to had any chance of success.

"Iron Roses, there's no time to waste. We'll need to make our way to the Shrine immediately," she said, simply. "And we'll be keeping Lady Cal close in order to protect her from any possible kidnapping attempts."

Veileena immediately frowned.

"Hmph. As long as I have Haelstadt, there's no way I'm going to be escorted like that," she complained, "I don't need it. As long as my heart beats, Haelstadt will make sure no-one can do me any harm."

The bandit sat in the cart in silence. This was one of the most confusing, terrifying, and painful days in her entire like. When someone had mentioned she attempted murder, she weakly shook her head. She hadn't! She really hadn't! When she saw people were actually trying to kill one another she panicked and stayed back. She didn't even know that killing anyone had been on the menu, let alone so much death. Okay, the kidnapping was a valid accusation but... but she hadn't tried to kill anyone!

---

It didn't take too long to reach the shrine. There, it was apparent that age and distance from any city or village rendered it difficult to care for it. The venerable structure was old and worn, and moss clung to it. Carvings of the moon were frequent across its surface, and a simple pool of water laid beneath the small roof.

Wild roses grew in abundance around it.

The undead knight paused a second to look back at the bandit as she climbed back into the saddle. How was it that she'd put the girl on an injured leg? She'd meant to lower her all the way to the ground--though as Indrau was seeing to her injury, no harm was going to be done in the long run. Once they got back to Aimlenn, a healer could see to it--if the girl was going to be allowed to go free, that was.

And she made a note to arrange history lessons for Gillian.

---

It wasn't the first time that the paladin had visited this shrine, out of the way as it was, nor the first that she felt that it needed someone to take the time to care for it. Had this been a planned trip, she would have brought some tools to help clean it up--instead, she moved straight to the second part of her rare trips here: take one of the roses and scatter the petals on the water.

The world would have to be ending before she just walked past a shrine like this.

Minerva Fairchild -- The Lion's Fang

The day began early for her, it always had.

Silken lavender sheets stretched and snaked across a plush mattress as her fingertips tugged wearily at them, curling about her nightgown laden form. Thin rays of sunlight snuck through cracks in her curtains, directly beaming onto her gaze, and they finally caused a pair of crystalline azure eyes to open. The day had begun, and so must she. Rising out of bed and wrapping the silk tightly around her form in the vain attempt to keep warm, Minerva seemed to drift across the ornately carpeted floor of her quarters, through the still dust that lingered in the air she strode, disturbing their stained glass beauty with her shadows.

A door swung open to a simple, plain shower, and the poorly oiled squeak of faucet handles declared the spray of a hot shower, and a humid, thick mist filled the room. Nearly fifteen minutes later she emerged through the dissipating cloud enraveled by a white towel, which was tossed onto a drying rack delicately before she strode across thebroom to find her dresser. Her usual regaila was chosen then, one that she was so infamous for as a long white coat stretched over her shoulders. A thick wide belt settled across her waist after crimson pants had drawn up the curves of her legs. Upon them, resting in their sheaths were a duet of longswords, which formed a neatly shaped 'X' just above the small of her back.

Once her eyepatch settled in place, her boots were put on and the gauntlets shortly therafter. Her hands ran through the luxurious lengths of her chestnut hair, and at long last she was ready for the day ahead. Wondering if there was a dispatch for her to go on finally, the Fang headed for the commons. The place where those with her occupation tended to congregate. She kept walking then, passing the commons without hesitation as she saw no postings up quite yet. While such did cause a sigh of disappointment, she knew all too well that it was still early in the day, the rest of the world was still waking up.

So early in fact that breakfast hadn't been served quite yet. Which meant only one thing: it was time for her to practice.

Out the front door and alomg the grounds she strolled through the gardens until she found her prefeered place. It was quiet, the air was sweet with the scent of flowers, and reaching to her side, Minerva smoothly drew out Durendal. The blade seemed to sing as it was drawn out, resonating with a hum that bespoke of the Durendal's craftsmanship and beauty alike as it shone brilliantly in the sunlight akin to a star. Diamond shaped rubies inlaid with the runes the famously priceless Fairchild Weapons were known for glistened as if ablaze, and Minerva slowly rose the hilt so that one open hand stretched in front of her.

The hilt itself would rise and rest against her cheek as her stance widened, and the Knight shortly thrust the blade forward. It was a sharp, precise movement. Putting on display the extraordinary prowess she possessed as the nearby flowers whisked away from the blade as if the movement was so powerful, it had created wind behind it. A series of cuts and slices, mock parries and ripostes , each movement being just as graceful yet as powerful and controlled as the first. In the end however, the blade was sheathed and once it clicked neatly into where it belonged, she remained standing silently.

Statuesque even, as the breeze seemed to pass through her. Waiting for a few more peaceful moments to pass before heading back in and to the chaos of a mess hall.

Markus Peregris

The sun had risen into the morning by the time Markus got back to the gates of Candaeln. Arrivals so early in the day were unusual, but Markus paid that no mind. He'd tried setting out for home as soon as his task had been tended to- a Thaln noblemen wanted his family escorted to their holiday home and he feared brigands, so he'd requisitioned a Knight as protection. But a multitude of setbacks had turned what should have been a simple mission into an aggravation. A broken wagon wheel, a twisted horse hoof, inclimate weather, and of course the actual brigands had all extended the trip by days. He'd made a strong effort to get back last night. In fact, he'd gotten inside of two hour's ride before dusk passed into night and it became simply too dark. He could've waited until the afternoon, but his body was pining for the warm, blessed waters of the baths, and they were, in his opinion, at their best first thing in the morning. Not to mention it would be waffles for breakfast if he had the day right.

So, calling upon his time spent in the Emerald Winds Mercenaries, he roused himself at the crack of dawn, packed up his campsite, and made for the headquarters. He wasn't a morning person by any stretch, but mercifully neither were any of the people he had to interact with, so conversaion was kept to a minimum. Once his horse was stabled, he went directly to his room and shed his armor. He'd need to take some time cleaning it later, after the beating it had taken from the rain and the mud, but when swords and clubs had rained down it hadn't budged an inch. Just as it was supposed to perform. His body, however, was practically creaking. He'd learned to ignore the discomfort that was inherent in wearing it, but that didn't stop it from being ornery and awful to sleep in.

As fast as he could he'd grabbed a towel, donned some everyday clothes, and headed for the men's bath. Once inside, the steam and warm water sapped the ache and fatigue from his very bones wherever it touched, and he found himself slipping further in to better enjoy it. Not long after, however, he was drying himself and redressing. The water was lovely, but if he spent too much time in there he may never have left! And so, he slung his trusted shield over his arm as he moved for the door. Most people would think it unconventional and strange to take a shield into the bath, but Markus was never able to feel whole without the Falcon's Wing close at hand. Plus, he thought, he'd never been able to determine if it was blessed by the goddesses or simply very strongly enchanted, and he figured if it was the former being near some sacred waters would do it some good.

By the time that line of thought had concluded, he was in the mess hall and could smell the food from there. Having subsisted on field rations for the previous four days, it was all Markus could do to restrain himself from rushing to the head of the line. Once he'd gotten his breakfast, he forced himself to wait until he got to a table to dive into it. As soon as he had found a spot to sit, however, he was devouring it.

Gillian huffed silently as Fanlily ordered them to march on, and the apparent scolding he was to receive once they returned to Candlean. He resolved to come up with a snarky retort….after the danger had passed. Would be pretty embarrassing to explain to Reon he died in glorious combat because he was too mentally preoccupied with coming up with sarcastic remarks to use on the chosen captain.

“Is this the shrine Master Trial saw in his vision?” Nori asks, somewhat taken aback by the...humble, she decided, nature of the shrine. She begins to scan the surrounding area, looking for signs of life, waiting on an answer.

“Yeah, we do seem one dooms-day evil cult short what we were expecting.” Gillian adds, watching as Tyaethe tosses a quick prayer into the pool. “Possible ambush?” He asks, more or less to everyone. Considering what had happened at the fort, could not write off the possibility after all.

----------------------------------------------------------
Meanwhile ealeir that morning, a rather...unwelcome visitor trudge his way through the gates of Candlean, flanked on all sides by cloaked figures, a light haired man following closely behind. It was hardly rare to see a noble not of the order. After all, there were pleasantries to exchange, generous donations to contribute to their noble cause, and even the ever frequently (though rarely helpful) eager volunteer seeking to prove themselves.

However it was known publicly that the lead man, Livius Sunfield, was in no way the sort to make public appearances. A mixed blessing depending on who you asked. The youngest, and last, of the previous lady Sunfields progeny, the boy was considered a true prodigy in the field of golemancy. However, what few visits to the noble court he'd dare taken had left him with a reputation of being irascible and stubborn.

"I demand to see Captain Danbelion!" He says above the din of the morning chatter in the mess hall, voice rasping and straining to reach such a volume, clearly unaccustomed to needing to do so. A few servers awkwardly shuffle in place, unsure what to do with the sudden screaming noble in their dining hall.

"Ahh..sir..." The man from behind begins. "Perhaps you should take a more polite ton-" He begins, before being cut off by the younger man. "As a son of the house of Sunfield, I've a right to demand an audience with her if need be Vizer." He says, crossing his arms in opposition to the advice. The older man sighs, but says no more. Content to allow the noble to act as he wished, knowing there was little he could do to control him at this point. And he got the impression that the boy wouldn't listen to him, even if he were to explain that the captain currently wasn't in the fort. Best leave THAT headache to another poor soul.

@Feisty-Pants@Saltwater Thief

As a child, Tanda had heard stories of the cities of Taln, the kinds of places she passed on her journey south toward the headquarters of Candaeln. The Patriarchs considered any Hold with more than a thousand souls within it too large in the eyes of the Green God. And, the Patriarchs said, such cities were vile in the eyes of the Green God. And though there were many cities in Taln, none was more vile than Aimlenn in their stories. The people lived lives of squalor and sin. The poor slept in the gutters, the elderly left to die by the young, the King and Queen sealed within their fortress castle, and plague running rampant through the streets like so much filth in the roads. And this was to say nothing of the morals of the citizens themselves. Gamblers, thieves, layabouts, soiled doves, and false prophets by the thousands. Not a single soul was worth saving within those walls, and one day the Green God would wipe it from the land while the Hillfolk in their Holds would be left in his favor for their faith.

As the trading boat Mayon's Grace slid into the riverside docks with its loads of furs and fish, at every step of her journey, Tanda was not surprised to find these descriptions of Taln's cities were largely false. Poverty and banditry existed, but they were not all powerful forces that ruled Taln. Besides, half of the things the Patriarchs preached were proven to be lies before the children of the Hillfolk had arrived at the Temple of Mayon back in Garethen.

Tanda had no experience with being a sailor at all, and she did as she had for most of the voyage down the river- kept out of the way of the ship's sailors and watched the people on the shore for any ne'er-do-well types, ready to protect the sailors and their cargo. As lines were tied down and the oars and sails stowed away at her final destination, the Outer Ward of Aimlenn, she was practically vibrating with excitement.

She held her sling at the ready, watching the citizens in the riverside district up until the moment the captain presented Tanda with her pay and released her from the ship's service. If Tanda's father had ever known she would take a journey to Candaeln, Tanda would have been locked in the house and never let loose. But if he'd known she would have been paid by a woman- a woman captain of her own merchant boat no less- she could only imagine a burning stake within the courtyard of her old hill hold to know how that would have turned out. The captain, Ailsa, was kind enough to point out the compound of Candaeln by its flags over the rooftops of the city.

The road through the Outer Ward in the early morning was somewhat congested, full of peddlers and artisans on their way to do a day's work. Navigating the roads and rivers of Aimlenn was difficult enough, but walking to Candaeln was a simpler affair by far if she stayed on the path. And the one time she did get turned around, a local Justicar was more than willing to put her back on the path.

So it was that Tanda came upon a gate to the walled compound of the Iron Rose Knights. The rose bushes outside the walls were a dead giveaway, but having been pricked by thorns in the wild before and seeing the needle length thorns being left to grow in those bushes, she had to smile and wonder how many thieves or attackers would want to wander through those without anything short of plate mail on.

The smile on her face quickly died when she heard the boisterous, loud, and demanding voice of a man with authority in the courtyard ahead of her, marching into another building with his entire retinue.

Trouble, she had no doubt. Not the kind that ended with someone dead. Definitely the kind that ended with someone flat on the floor.

Tanda took a deep breath, straightened her shepherd's shawl, considered the signed wax-sealed note that was still in her satchel, and stepped across the threshold into the courtyard. And didn't feel much different on the other side. Except that she was in the presence of dozens of what she assumed were Rose Knights and the squires, attendants, hangers on- someplace a country shepherdess wasn't supposed to be.

"Excuse me," she asked one young man- man? Granma always said Rose Knights were women. What else was she wrong about?

Minerva Fairchild -- The Lion's Fang

While the world around her seemed so willing to remain tranquil, the sudden commotion from the Mess Hall sharply drew Minerva's attention. A long sigh passed between her lips in bitter resignation. There was always melodrama in the mornings it seemed, usually from an external force. By the lack of familiarity she found within the voice that had been so boisterous, the Lioness assumed it was precisely that. Letting one last breath escape between her nostrils so that she could find her temperance, Minerva strode smartly from the secluded garden and towards the Mess Hall.

While their newfound company had been mostly annoying if anything at all, she still easily held to her military bearing as the precise sound of her plate armored heels marked her entrance into the mess hall from one opposite end. A swift study of the attentions of others easily enabled her to discern the location of the disturbance as her one-eyed gaze fell upon the boy and his...accompaniment. Silence had lingered since his intrusion and interruption, and settling one hand upon the hilt of Durendal, the Lion's Fang, an infamous Knight among the ranks of her peers would be the first to approach them.

Her cadence was swift, but ever precise as she approached with a demure of confidence, perhaps even arrogance that could be best described as unrivaled. Yet it was never put to words as stood just a few feet distant, her singular eye studying the ranks of his company carefully as a light frown began to tug just lightly at one corner of her lips. Not a single one of them would be a challenge to her, she could sense it, she could feel it, and her hand fell off the hilt of her sword as a result. She didn't even doubt that she could easily defeat them unarmed.

"You shall make no demands here," Minerva began in a flat, but passive tone. "The Captain answers to no one, especially impudent children who believe they are privileged to her presence." Despite her negative response to his demand, Minerva swept herself into a low, formal, and effortlessly graceful bow. Marking her as one of the Nobles' court as well, she obliged the boy by giving her information to him. "My name is Lady Minerva Fairchild," she stated ever smoothly, "here, I am called the Lion's Fang." Rising once more from her bow, her arms tightly folded beneath her chest in a guarded fashion as her glare towards the boy seemed filled with burning, righteous conviction.

Before him stood the Knight that had defeated one of the most horrific Magi of their age, her own father no less, in brutal fashion. "Tell me why you are here," She began again, her brows furrowing with a display of slight, but subtle anger. "And it ought to be a good reason. Less I will remove you from our sacred grounds. With...or without your limbs intact."

@ghastlyInc
@Saltwater Thief

As much as it pained him to, Indrau dismounted a distance from the shrine. Horses were too noisy and would give away any surprise they might have. He followed Tyeathe to the shrine but kept his distance, standing sentry with an eye towards the other shrine and a hand on the hilt of his blade.

"Could Tiral attempt another scrying? It would be useful to see what we were getting into before going in."




Things began to get very busy as she arrived. It also appeared that this other visitor was also looking for someone. She followed this newly arrived group, curious about the kind of person that would arrive with such an entourage and proceed to be so demanding. Eventually she heard the name of the Sunfield family, something that she recognized only through the letters that she had been receiving. These letters had only made mention of a single Sunfield daughter, no son. It was obvious that he was not one of the knights of Candaeln, or any other kind for that matter.

She grabbed the boy by the back of his jacket and lifted him until his eyes were level with hers and his feet were nearly his own height again off of the floor. It also offered him a much better view of the room and saved her the effort of having to bring herself down to his level. Despite her face being hidden behind the helmet the eyes that were visible didn't look at all angry. At least not as angry as the knight that had confronted him.

"There appears to be many empty chairs here. I expect that the Captain might be out. A pity. I had business with her as well."

Salz paused for a second.

"Are you a brother of Sult Sunfield?"

A trio of metallic wolf like ears pop out from beneath the hoods of the cloaked figures as they step forward to protect their master from the implied threat from Minerva. On closer inspection, its clear they are not living protectors, glassy green lens for eyes peek out at the woman. Each are adorn in some animalistic theme, though with the cloaks in the way its rather difficult to tell what exactly each is.

“As a member of Thaln nobility, and not of a lower house like yourself...” Livius starts with equal coldness. “I've a right to demand whatever is needed of my station. Including an audience with your captain.” Behind him, the man with the eye patch simply rubs his temples. He was clearly expecting this to go more smoothly.

“As for removing my limbs, I would love to see someone of such a lowly family tryiieeEEE” he says, fading out into a squeal of surprise as another knight lifts him. He awkwardly turns as best he can to look at the new aggressor, as best as he could anyway. “....my lord. You are a tall one. I should use you as a model for future experiments...rare to see such a refined example of power...” He says, looking them over, half way ignoring their question.

“But yes, as you say I am of the incandescent Sunfield family. Elder half brother to Sult. I suppose you've had the honor of working with my darling baby sister?” He says, the trio of golems still watching Minerva intently. “And if the child captain isnt here, then summon her. I doubt whatever paltry mission she is on is more important than the task I've need of her performing.”

Vizer finally steps in, hoping to calm the issue. He bows politely to Minerva, seeing the new giant of a woman to not be as hostile for the moment. “Please excuse my friend. His lordship is...unaccustomed to needing aid. He is right though, the matter to which we both came here to discuss with her is of vital importance to the maintenance of good relations with our neighbors.”

Lilianna's morning had been spent taking stock of what currently remained at Candaeln--both in the supplies sense, as far too much space was still being taken up by the inexplicable appearance of dozens of jars of lime marmalade, and in case the king had something that demanded the intervention of another hundred blades or so. It seemed that breaking from the accounting for lunch was more than necessary from the people gathering around the entrance to the mess hall. It seemed that she wouldn't be able to take a break after all...

"Sunfield, is your entire family bereft of sense? Fanilly is not here. Even if you had the authority to demand a meeting when the knights owe no fealty to your parents, there is no way for her to be summoned. You may either wait and deliver your missive upon her return or you can deliver it to us now and return home," the grey-haired knight said, straightening out her coat. Three of them in a few weeks? It was beginning to seem like there was some infestation among the knights. At least the girls hadn't taken their family's rank straight to the head and assumed it allowed them to ignore the very structure of the realm.

"That applies to you as well, miss. Fanilly is leading many of the knights on royal business and, as such, could be occupied for any length of time."

And so, the captain made her remark about what had trascended. It was ironic how she left Tyaethe's brutality yet once again out of the question. But then again, it was more than probably that the little girl was imbibed in the awe of the order's oldest. The elf shook her head, and shot a glare at the ignorant cart driver who was trying to set up a match with no doubt, was his droll crotchspawn. If only he knew...

Meanwhile Nero thoughtfully pondered the Cal's response. I had to try, Bobd. She said to herself, as she travelled by her sister. Surprisingly enough, Sult had decided to end her charades, picking up on the heavy mood with the current dissent of Gillian ad other knights. Nero shook his head. Sir Gillian...well, he could use some work at picking the choice of words. It was clear that Fanilly was not a battle-hardened veteran mercenary with a jaded vision of the world, and some things would naturally set her off.

The eldest of the twins looked at the Shrine with a quizzical expression. Right in the middle of nowhere. It could meant some kind of rendezvous point? She shook her head. Magic was oftentimes so vague.

That is what she noticed her sister tugging her out. "Sult, what are you doing."

"Let us pray, Nero." Sult said, leading her sister to the Reon shrine. "We're blessed for many things and we should pay respects..."

"Haaaa.?" Nero's face retorted in disbelief. Tyaethe was one thing, but she couldn't even begin to fathom why her sister of all things had a religious epiphany.

"Oh come on, Nero." Sult. "I mean, a month earlier I'd have never believed that my sister would be coming back, and would be fighting by my side. If that's not divine intervention, I don't know what it is." Sult answered back, as she led her sister into the Reon temple.

"..." Nero didn't answer, instead she just lowered her head. Why do you spout the most sweet things right out of the blue you two faced bitch. She thought, before finally conceding. Well, I can see your point. I think very much like you. Let's get this done with.

Umbra in the meantime, was rather tense. The earlier exchange had not done anything to calm her down, and she scrutinized the area with her eyes, trying to look for any kind of sign of movement. Her eyes darted to some shuffling of the grass, as she once more drew her bow swiftly, tucking an arrow on it. She would've shot, but the earlier incident could make her fellow knights turn against her in the worst possible of situations.

"Who's there!?" She asked, her bow aiming at the dark cloaked figure that emerged from nearby the shrine, with slow silent steps. Without mediating a word, the man lifted a hand... and pulled away the hood.. Obviously, the man was no such. He was an elf. <<"Antsy, aren't we, Gwathneth?">> He muttered in Elven, and the eyes of Umbra widened, her hands hurriedly putting the bow away and dismounting.

<<"Brother!">> She exclaimed, showing surprise in her face, a rare event.

"Greetings, Knights of the Iron Roses. I can sense you're after a prey. I pray for your success, and forgive my humble self for this interdiction, but I must...escort Lady Gwathneth back to her mother." The male elf said. "The agreement has been terminated. Other...circumstances...have arisen." He said, carefully producing a letter which then he then deposited into Fanilly's hands. "I, Forthan Thalnaywuen, son of the Forest Queen, thank you for taking care of my sister, captain." He added, with a curtsy, before taking slow but strong strides.

Umbra's expression melted from surprise to concern, and then her brother started speaking in elven towards the knight, an arm on her shoulder. Her reaction worsened, as she yelped somewhat, hands covered in her mouth. Even for someone as haughty as her, those were the clear hallmarks of a profound grief, as her hands flailed from her mouth, to her brother, away from her brother, and finally trying to stop the welling tears. Forkan, fully understanding of the situation, covered his sister under the cloak as she carried her away, muffled sobs silenced under the cloth.

The letter, written in a exquisite penmanship was both in elven and the language of Thaln.

"To the Current Captain of the Iron Roses,

I must regretfully inform that I, the Queen of the Forest, has decided to withdraw the agreement by whom my daughter Gwathneth is bound to serve in your ranks. These are trying times. I would have loved the Iron Roses making her a fine example of virtue, but there are matters she must attend to. Gwathneth's father is currently bound to breathe his last, and he has asked me to see our daughter and absolve her of my punishment. I cannot go against the wishes of him, for it is I who I love.

It pains me that I do such disservice to the order. I sincerely hope this will not damage our future relationships.

Signed,

Queen Alayna"

Markus Peregris

As he was eating, a series of newcomers to the hall made their presence known. One was a boisterous, loudmouthed noble who was demanding an audience with the Captain at once. The other was young lady with brown hair and a country look about her that approached his table. "Excuse me," she asked, a little unsure of herself it seemed- probably because of the preposterous loudness that wasn't far off, "I'm, ah, looking for someone to give this to." She held out a sealed envelope, sealed with the mark of the Temple and addressed to the Captain. Perhaps a letter of recommendation?
"Ah, you'll want to find the Captain or one of her assistants," he replied between bites of food, "Unfortunately, the Captain's out right now. She's likely to be back before too long though, possibly even today. In the meantime, I'd say you're welcome to- oh by the goddesses. Step behind me for a moment, if you would." As he spoke, he set down his utensils and rose from his seat, hefting his shield from behind his chair. The noble who had demanded an audience had been accosted by Minerva, of all people, and the result was going poorly. If things came to blows- which always seemed a possibility with Minerva Fairchild involved- someone would need to step in.
Mercifully, someone did- Salz the half-giant had interceded, and with some aid from who Markus guessed was the noble's retainer the issue seemed to quiet down. With a sigh of relief Markus let his shield slip down his arm and set it back at his feet, then sat down again. "Well, at least that ended well. May I ask your name, miss? Mine's Markus. Markus Peregris, at your service."

@ghastlyInc@TheFake@Feisty-Pants@Aleranicus