Gerard Segremors

I don't deserve to fight alongside a comrade as exemplary as Sir Fleuri Jodeau.

Gerard marvelously concealed a sigh of relief from his now-captivated audience, nodding along with the avatar of his Goddess's mercy's recounting of the skirmish. Paladin Tyaethe's abandonment was worrying, yes, but as he followed her gaze during the brief dialogue between the three he found it to be an inevitability. Their Captain had found herself similarly accosted by high society— and even without the slimy air that surrounded the man, it was only natural that she prioritize supporting their representative. Not some newbie in over his head.

Still, that had left him in a bit of a bind. He was lucky to have not lost their attention the moment "bandit" left his mouth, in truth. As the knights had written off this mission on the ride to it, he would have expected those who hadn't witnessed the man's ferocity firsthand to make the same mistake. But it seemed that there was yet one knight he could rely upon to set him upright as he stumbled his way through this, a man who, continually, seemed as the ideal Gerard chased. With Jarde in tow, all it took him was three sentences.

"It was as Sir Jodeau says. I don't know about a Fallen Divine, but he was a monster of a man. He cut down the burning tree to separate the Captain from the rest of us," he continued, gesturing towards the collected nobleman. "Though if I'm going to speak of my participation in our clash with Jeremiah, I owe it to him that I even got there."

He was no braggart, and knew when others deserved credit. Especially more than they were allotting themselves. Fleuri's humility reflected well upon him, and Gerard respected the man all the more for it, but it did not change that he was instrumental in whatever tale the former mercenary had of the Bandit King.

"You cleared the path for me, Sir, and urged me forward." he said, meeting the eyes of the man backing away. "For that I have to thank you."

And as he gave him an opportunity then, so too did he now... right? Despite commanding the conversation with grace, the eldest of the three knights had ceded the attention back to he and Jarde, just as he'd cut off that trio of bandits to let Gerard and Renar pass unobstructed and engage Jeremiah in earnest.

If he knew not to waste one, then surely the other held a similar weight.

Court was its own battlefield.

Approach it with courage.

"Anyways," he continued, inclining his head to Angenese and her drill-haired friend, still yet unnamed. "I won't lie to you two, it would be a tough fight for me on my own. The man held a sword the size of me— in simply parrying a quick thrust, he forced me to spin with the strike against my blade, or risk it getting snapped." he said, first raising a hand to roughly eye level to illustrate the immense sword Jeremiah had carried, then motioning with his head to the pommel that peeked over his right shoulder.

He really wasn't sure how to appease the youngest of the three, clad in all black. Obviously she held little interest in a tale of battle, and seemed to be of a more realistic mind than her peers regarding the skirmish. Certainly nowhere near so awestruck.

"In fact, I'm certain of it." he gestured to Jarde, then Fanilly, then Tyaethe. "Without our teamwork, on my own I wouldn't have been standing here to regale you. He was that kind of monster. Stronger than me by far, and despite his size, at least as fast— and skilled enough to turn aside not only my own attack, but those of everyone there save the Captain, who managed to knock an arm out of commission. And he still fought through it."

Not quite an embellishment. Knight-Captain Fanilly definitely did cripple that hand, it was just before he'd arrived.

"It wasn't until our dear Artificer, who unfortunately couldn't attend tonight, blew him up that I landed a solid hit— right at the end. Sir Devaron here's much quicker on his feet than I— his agility, from what I recall, served him much better than my aggression." he looked to Jarde for confirmation. Perhaps passing the ball to him would give an opportunity to ask what troubled the third of their number— much like dividing a group of opponents in battle.

Gillian bit into his apple again, eyeing the little Lordling, starting to question how much lee way his position as a Living Reliquary gave him. He decided that eschewing social convention and slapping the little fucker probably wasn't in his wheel house for the moment. Still, the bastard was putting the screws to the minicaptain, and he was starting to doubt the girl even knew it. It annoyed him, even if he silently agreed that the girl had no right to her position. But it was different. He'd have to follow orders. He had a stake in the Rose's and what good they could or couldn't do with this child at the helm. He would live and possibly die on her decisions. This...outsider. He had earned none of that right to question.

"Who cares?" Gillian said bluntly, pointedly looking at Fanlily. "Saint's nothing more than a fancy title with a little divine backing. Living Reliquary is much the same." He said clearly and evenly, trying to pick his words carefully as he skirted some quasi-heretical dismissal of Sainthood. "But you wanna know a secret I've learned?"

"When you might die and someone saves you a bandit is as good as a Saint. It doesn't really matter what you were before..." he adds, taking a bite of his apple once more, munching as he continues. "You just ARE the person who stuck their neck out for them. Elionne ain't special in that regard. Never was."

Gill unceremoniously drops the half eaten apple onto a plate, seemingly finished with it. "And while I didn't know the woman, I can't really imagined she'd care much for things like caliber or worthiness. Can't exactly use either to protect anyone but yourself."

"... Of course not," responded Lord Velbrance, noticeably growing somewhat more wary at the appearance of the vampiric Paladin as he spoke. "Saints are few and far between, are they not? And so it takes exceptionally rare capability to even approach one, does it not? I was simply attempting to see if the Knight-Captain felt she was on that level."

Even though Fanilly wasn't certain what the goal of the comments was, she could tell that Lord Velbrance was most certainly not asking any of this in good faith. But it was overwhelming, she hadn't been prepared for this. She'd wanted to try and... and do anything but get into a war of words with a noble with ill intentions. She didn't even know what Lord Velbrance's goal was, she had barely spoken with him as a child all of once.

"Besides, crushing some thieves is only-"

Being cut off by Gillian's minor tirade brought the Lord to silence once more. Fanilly, too, stared with wide eyes as she heard Gillian's words. A saint was no better? Ah... what did she say to all this...?

"..." For a few moments, the nobleman was silent.

And then he chuckled.

"Really? Are all the knights under your command so irreverent?" he commented, "To think, you adhere to such an old tradition and yet your reverence is so thin? An order founded by a saint and yet you care nothing for sainthood?"

He smirked.

"Perhaps this really is too much for poor Danbalion to manage... well, I wish you good luck regardless!"

With that, he began to turn to leave...

@ghastlyInc@Raineh Daze

The vampire's drink was drained entirely as Gillian launched into his speech, red eyes glaring at him. The nerve... to suggest that Elionne was just someone with a fancy title... oh, the Saint wasn't perfect, nobody knew that better than Tyaethe did. But there was definitely something that set her apart from the rest, a talent that couldn't be approximated by the skills someone could accumulate in their life. Nothing that would mark her as some inhuman perfectness, but enough of something that any member of the church could tell.

Of course, the nobles all too happily offered an alternate target for her immediate ire, the glass being set aside and one hand seizing Velbrance's shoulder as he made to leave. False righteousness was even worse than dismissiveness. "You think I should treat Elly as some incomprehensible ideal, Velbrance? Oh, she was very gifted, able to achieve so much at a younger age than you even inherited your title... but much of what she did was even more remarkable because we were a new order. Now, the captain benefits from her example and the experience we have gathered."

Tyaethe's grip tightened, magic pulsing as it started to creak bones. "And surely, milord, we don't want to suggest that a living Saint is unreachably inhuman?"

@ghastlyInc

oops

oops

Indrau dismounted from his carriage, his brow creasing at his left leg took his weight alone on the step for a moment. His formal attire matched a dark shirt and trousers with a long white and blue leather coat cut similarly to what he wore the day before, but lacking the metal plates and chain to armour it. Instead it was lined with blue silk. His eye patch was similarly replaced with a lion embossed black leather version.

He tightened his grip on his cane, leaning on the ivory and rosewood walking stick that hid a three foot blade of pattern welded steel. Despite the request that the knights come armed, he couldn't justify carrying a sword as long as Silence in a possibly crowded room. Instead he carried the cane sword, which while smaller was no less formidable and equally endowed.

He was only slightly late as he made his way into the castle, pausing slightly as her was announced. The iron shod cap of his cane tapped out his pace on the floor. He looked about for the captain, confidently waving a servant over for a drink.

"You're right, Sir Devaron. This is not an occasion for lamentation. It is a time for celebrating our victory. And if you would be so gracious to assist me in this celebration, simply follow my lead."

Jarde raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious as to what Fleuri wanted him to assist with. He followed without a word and they came over to Gerard and the three noble girls.

With a confused and curious Jarde just behind him, Sir Fleuri chimed into the conversation. Greeting the knight and the ladies, Fleuri recounted the battle with the Bandit King Jeremiah. It felt such a long time ago, even if it just happened literally yesterday. It was Jarde's first fight and his first time killing someone else, something quickly noticed by some knights including Sir Gerard. Still, it all felt so distant now, so far away.

"Sir Devaron, you fought Jeremiah too, might you assist our friend Gerard here on recounting the battle against that terrible fiend to these lovely ladies?"

"Huh, what?" Jarde was broken from his thoughts, suddenly having the spotlight. "Oh, uhh..." What happened in that battle again? Nothing came up in Jarde's head but fortunately, Sir Gerard continued his account and allowed Jarde to organize his thoughts. But what does he say, how does he say it? These were noblewomen, not his neighbors who knew how he talked and would get his slang.

"It wasn't until our dear Artificer, who unfortunately couldn't attend tonight, blew him up that I landed a solid hit— right at the end. Sir Devaron here's much quicker on his feet than I— his agility, from what I recall, served him much better than my aggression."

Jarde was listening this time but that did not mean he was at all ready. He decided to just go with what he knew. "I don't know about that, Sir Gerard. The only thing I did in that battle was distract the Bandit King a bit." Jarde countered.

"Oh but by distracting him, I bore witness to the awesome power of the Iron Rose Knights." He launched into storytime mode to the ladies. "There was Lady Tyaethe, oh she was a blur when she fought, using magic without flaw." Placing a hand on Gerard's shoulder, he continued. "And Sir Gerard over here may not have cool powers, but his style is refined. His moves are fluid, a truly honed warrior. Then there's Artificer Elodie and like what Sir Gerard, she made the Bandit King explode into flame. Like kaboom!" He made an explosion gesture with his hands.

Then he looked at Captain Fanilly. She was still talking with that nobleman with the others. "And then there was the Captain. She was new and green certainly, but she showed no fear. The Bandit King had singled her out in the battle but she did not back down. She stood tall, she stood strong and she ultimately delivered the final blow." Jarde still could not believe he got to see Fanilly again, leading the most esteemed knight order in the land no less. He was not sure what to make of his feelings for her, but he was sure that he was glad for this one-sided reunion.

"Anyway, Sir Gerard's right about Jeremiah. He was tall, held a large sword and was skilled with it. But with these knights in the Iron Roses, the Bandit King didn't stand a chance."

Fleuri Jodeau

My work here is done, Fleuri concluded as he watched with some satisfaction. With Gerard and Jarde fully engaged in their storytelling, he took a few further steps back and turned around, slipping away from the conversation. He'd probably need to keep an occasional eye on them in case something unexpected came up, but it looked like they had this well in hand.

He took another look at what the other knights were up to. Near the refreshment tables he spotted Tyaethe near Gilliand and the captain, currently in the process of confronting a noble. Fleuri guessed it was some aristocrat who didn't like how the Iron Roses were run or how its captain was chosen. It wasn't an uncommon sentiment, especially after the order transitioned to a secular order in service of the crown, and it wasn't unheard of for even fellow Iron Roses to disagree with the tradition. With Fanilly being as young and new to the station as she was, such opinions would be emboldened for the time being.

It's best I don't get involved in whatever is going on over there.

He noticed Maritza at another table, currently gathering food and not engaged in conversation with anyone. I suppose it's as good a time as any to grab something, he mused. Fleuri weaved through the crowd to the table where the Knight-Serpenta currently stood.

"Good evening, Dame Verenna," Fleuri greeted her as he grabbed an empty plate in one hand and put his wine glass down with the other. "How are you enjoying the ball so far?"

@FlappyTheSpybot

With the story being told, the elder two girls practically swooned, wrapping their arms around one another from sheer excitement. The black-clad girl seemed decidedly unimpressed by the whole affair.

"Such a monstrous man... vanquished by the noble Iron Rose Knights, with sorcery and steel!" Angenese practically squealed, squeezing her friend tightly for a moment before letting go, "Even if he wasn't a fallen divine, he sounds so terrifying! But now he can never harm another person ever again, thanks to the bravery of the Iron Roses! It's amazing!"

The black-haired girl simply sighed again, then jumped slightly when the other blonde wrapped her arms around her from behind, a slightly teasing smile on her face.

"Come now," began the drill-haired blonde, "Surely it was a little exciting, wasn't it, Violette?"

"I'm not sure what's so thrilling about a bandit subjugation, it's not exactly a legendary quest," responded the younger girl with a rather sour look on her face. She didn't appear to like being hugged from behind so suddenly at all, "Perhaps if it was slaying some manner of wicked sorcerer, or even a dragon..."

"Ah!"

That note appeared to awaken something in both the elder girls, though Angenese spoke first.

"Good sir knights, have either of you ever seen a dragon?!"

There seemed to be some kind of preparations occurring at the far end of the hall, on the large balcony overlooking the party, but for the moment nothing much seemed to have changed.

@HereComesTheSnow@PaulHaynek

Gerard Segremors

What.

What.

"What?"

With a trio of blinks in rapid succession, it all fell away. Beneath Jarde continuing with his account, his brother in arms had finally slipped.

It's really more like extremely violent— Refined? What?

Eyes that had just chased out the nonplussed precursors of panic now turned fully to Jarde, shining openly with amber bewilderment. It was a momentary thing, one that passed in undercurrent beneath the two swoons and a sigh, but it was still undeniable— for all Gerard Segremors had spent attempting to be the spitting image of a correctly polite and unflappable knight, that veneer cracked.

For just an instant, Jarde and any others still watching the black-haired knight would find a distinctly ignoble, naked confusion on display.

It wasn't Jarde's fault— Gerard was certain that to him the difference between ruthless pragmatics and refined performance was much less clear than those more inundated in the art of swordsmanship. Rationally, there wasn't any reason for this to draw such a reaction— but rationality only made for so much of the mind, especially of the mind of a man still very much learning knighthood, with a self-image to match.

I'm not there yet. I'm not even close. He couldn't see that? My skill is nothing compared to—

"Ah!"

He shook his head free of the chains, shackles forged around his mind out of every mistake he knew he'd made.

"Ah."

At Angenese's words, he just as hurriedly snapped back to attention, his focus mostly regained.

"Good sir knights, have either of you ever seen a dragon?!"

"A dragon? No. Never in my life."

He spoke a little too quickly, more than he'd meant.

He had faced smoke. He had faced flame. Streaking death from above, hundreds of fangs that bit out at he and his fellows from the stark heavens. Armor that all but the sternest of strikes bounced off of. He had fought a great many things emblematic of those ferocious beasts.

And all of them were his fellow man, at the end of the day. It was unfortunate for the shimmery-eyed young women, but he had no such tales left. Nothing thrilling as the black-clad one described it, and nothing worth telling.

Just days logged in red.

It would be with this Order that he could pen a righteous and heroic story of the nature she seeked to hear, nowhere before. These were the threats the Roses had faced, not bands of swords for hire. He was in the right place now, but had not yet been present for the right time. How his heart leapt at the thought... The finest of a Knight's romances, and one's highest calling.

It would come to pass. And when it did, he would need to be ready for it— to be every bit as refined as his fellow apparently saw him now.

He cleared his throat, now conscious that the one-two punch of Jarde unwittingly challenging every self-assessment he had made in the past 48 hours and the noblewomen's excited questioning had left him, once again, off-balance in a sense. More than that, he was beginning to let it get to him— he couldn't let that continue.

"Should the opportunity arise I would leap at the chance to face one, that said, but I've not yet had the luck. But, I suppose that in its own way is lucky— Just as you said about Jeremiah, Angenese," he inclined his head, a little less bluntly intoning his words now. "That I haven't just means they aren't terrorizing our people, right?"

The former mercenary hadn't noticed, however, that he had let a casual manner of address slip through the cracks.

Sir Jerel Ban

Jerel received his invitation to the ball after a long ride, which hadn’t done much to clear is head, no matter how hard he went. Both horse and human had been studded with sweat, stinking of each other and dust and earth. Never had Jerel made so fast for the baths.

Quite why the captain had chosen him was a mystery that occupied Jerel all the while, one he was not able to unpick: was this a punishment, a reward, or some gesture beyond that, beyond the scope of just him? Thoughts for later, as so many wonderings were; for now he had to make preparations as tardiness would just not do.

Before leaving, uncertain of so much, Jerel had taken up a red rose from its vase and began a prayer to Mayon, watching the sun falling in the sky, knowing she would be near, that it was her time alone in the sky soon. Crushing the flower in his hand, a thorn drawing blood, he dropped the perfumed petals from the balcony and ended his silent prayer. For guidance now that he felt so lost, for strength now that he felt so weak, and for faith above all else in her will.

He did not think of the Horse Gods.

The ball was much as any would expect. Ter could not come, not after last time; he was too smart for his own good, and had a quick dislike of nobles and a good aim.

Yet still Jerel found himself daunted: throngs of highest society peered through the masks that were their own faces. Their eyes gave away nothing. It was what put Jerel most ill at ease; in court nothing was as it seemed, everything had layers and repercussions, as a breeze bent differently a thousand blades of grass.

Which is why Jerel flowed around the outskirts in silks and a rigid jacket, watching, avoiding the wolves and lions, letting his path cross with only minor nobles and lordlings. Ambition glowed in some like hot embers, and these Jerel quickly disengaged, as politely as possible - an empty drink, an old acquaintance over there, hunger, a story of Bloody Aria or another comrade to leave them appeased - for they were just as dangerous as the established names in their own right. Perhaps more so in the risks they took.

Of course, the Grand Game was above Jerel, and what he understood was from smatterings of history he came across by chance. It was a lethal thing.

During his flitting between small circles he came across the flint-edged Indrau, rapping along.

“Ho Ser Indrau,” Jerel banged his chest in salute, even tilted forward, almost a bow, “How are you finding the affair?”

Over the elder man’s shoulder he caught the moment Tyaethe put a hand on Velbrance. His jaw clenched, and he nodded at the happening, “Paladin Radistirin does not look pleased.”
@TheFake

The Naga offered Sir Jodeau a shrug. "Well enough, I suppose. Things could be a lot worse, no one's fainted or demanded that I leave yet, so that's a positive." Mari pauses, taking a moment to savor a slice of pork. Wiping a spot of sauce from the corner of her mouth, the Naga continues. "If I'm being honest, these sorts of things don't really hold much interest for me. That said, there is something rather entertaining about watching nobles struggle to interact with a supposed "beast" who has a solid grasp of formal etiquette." Mari says dryly, a wry smile crossing her face.

"So, What about yourself?" She asks absently, returning the question to Fleuri ask she watches the exchange between Tyaethe and the young nobleman out of the corner of her eye.

Gillian grinned viciously as their resident immortal cornered Lord Velbrance. Part of him wished the woman's impulse control would slip for a moment, just enough that the mans wrist broke. It wouldn't be ideal, he knew. It was a controversy hey didn't really need at the moment. Besides, men like Velbrance had a history of ending up on the wrong side of the Rose's eventually, though not always fatally. "My irreverence is my own." Gill said, cutting in and gently attempting to pull Tyathe's hand away. Not terribly urgently however.

"Whilst Sir Radistirin and yourself may disagree with me on the importance of theology, we can be agreed on the importance of Elione's example." He said evenly and loudly enough that whatever eaves droppers that might have congregated could understand him clearly. "My point was that there was nothing innately special about Elionne. She merely that she acted on a base impulse present in all people, that of protecting others. Be that with personal sacrifice or not. The only difference Elionne has from any other soul, as Tyathe is pointing out, is the extent to which she was willing to go in the name of that impulse."

He released Tyathe's hand, freed of Velbrance's filth or not. "I have failed to meet that example in the past. Likely everyone here has. Hell, perhaps even Elionne has failed once or twice in such matters. And it is likely we will, in moments of weakness, fail again." He said, crossing his arms.

"That, more than her sainthood, is the example that Elionne set that I choose to admire. That in the face of the inevitable failures that she might have suffered, she did NOT fail to maintain that base impulse and act on it at every opportunity she thought possible as so many of us do. Sainthood is the REWARD for that, and that is all it is. A reward. If Elionne never achieved it, then she'd still be someone to admired and emulated. So, I stand by what I said." He finished, glaring at the boy Lord. Oh the slimy fucker would find some way to put all that in a bad light, he was sure.

He turned his gaze over to Fanlily. "Who cares about saints. The people who matter are the ones who will help. Saints might be in that category, they may at times define it, but they are not its sole occupants. Try and maybe fail to become a saint if you must, but never fail to be willing to help no matter the cost. That is all that I, or anyone else, should demand from a Captain. Or ourselves for that mater."

"I'm not sure what's so thrilling about a bandit subjugation, it's not exactly a legendary quest. Perhaps if it was slaying some manner of wicked sorcerer, or even a dragon..."

"Good sir knights, have either of you ever seen a dragon?!"

"A dragon? No. Never in my life. Should the opportunity arise I would leap at the chance to face one, that said, but I've not yet had the luck. But, I suppose that in its own way is lucky— Just as you said about Jeremiah, Angenese. That I haven't just means they aren't terrorizing our people, right?"

"Yup. What he said." Jarde agreed with Gerard.

"Although in my case, I'd rather not fight a dragon. I mean, I would if I have to and to the best of my ability. But you know, I'd rather not." Jarde was honest in his words. He was not built nor had any abilities that could take on such great creatures. He would need considerable backup if he were to take on one. In fact, if he were to take on one he would rather let other, more capable warriors to do it.

"Being burnt alive before being devoured is a rather unpleasant way to go, right?"

Fleuri Jodeau

"I've been to soirées akin to this before, but nothing quite as high profile as this, and not as an Iron Rose," Fleuri answered, before turning to the table to fill his plate. He assembled an impromptu entrée from the available meat and vegetables, taking his time to make the dish look presentable for what would be a very brief and largely unnoticed existence. Once Fleuri was satisfied with his creation, he turned back to the serpentine knight, plate in hand. "To answer your question, I am enjoying it so far. House Jodeau is no longer a player in the game of intrigue, but we're still considered aristocracy and are thus obligated to keep up appearances, and I am honored to have the opportunity to attend a ball hosted by the monarchy."

All the more reason we must be on our best behavior, Fleuri thought as he briefly glanced over at Tyaethe and Gillian, still arguing with that noble.

Fleuri picked up his glass and took another drink. "And if anyone here disparages you, they're a fool. It is because of the valor of knights like yourself that they, not Phoran Cal and his treacherous cronies, celebrate tonight within the Crown of Thaln. Granted, not everyone who sided with the monarchy did so for unselfish reasons, but they all gained from the efforts of those who took up arms against those traitors."

@FlappyTheSpybot

"Erk..."

Finally, Lord Velbrance's demeanor seemed to crack, if only a little. His smarmy grin faltered as that grip tightened on his shoulder, and he looked back towards the vampiric knight. After a few moments, he seemed to jerk his head towards other people in the crowd, those that appeared to be his guards of some sort.

This was all too much for Fanilly. Everything Sir Gillian had said... she didn't know what to think. But by this point she knew that Edvard Velbrance's intent was nothing but ill. He wanted to try and cause some kind of incident. He was hoping to disrupt things, hoping to have something he could spread the word about. Even if Fanilly wasn't certain she was worthy of praise, or anything like that...

"... Dame Tyaethe... let him go," she said, finally, "No matter what he's said... Princess Eliabelle arranged this party and invited us to it, I don't want there to be some kind of incident."

She didn't want to do that to the Princess, not when she had been so excited to meet them.

... Besides, the Velbrance's bodyguards probably didn't deserve to be beaten by the vampire paladin.

But then, there was more commotion at the head of the hall...

@Raineh Daze@ghastlyinc

---

The two blonde girls sagged somewhat in disappointment, but the one who as of yet had been unnamed was quick to bounce back.

"I'm sure the both of you shall become famous and well-respected among the order!" she declared, brightly, "You have been nothing but model knights in the presence of three fine young gentleladies!"

She giggled at her self-description, and Angenese shoved at her shoulder lightly.

Violette simply rolled her eyes with a heavy sigh.

"No dragons, and one of them sounds scared to fight one..." she grumbled, "Of all the knights we could talk to it's these two..."

"... Now now, Violette, they've told us about their battles, haven't they?" Angenese attempted to admonish her younger friend.

The black-haired girl was having none of it.

"You never said I had to be enthusiastic about that, did you?"

But then, there was more commotion at the head of the hall...

@HereComesTheSnow@PaulHaynek

---

"Presenting the Young Lady of the Throne and the Heir Apparent, Princess Eliabelle Tanenway Falthaen!"

Princess Eliabelle was known for many things. Her friendly demeanor, her popularity, and her beauty. Her elaborate dress was tailored, it was rumored, by an elven seamstress from beyond distant Lethienvel, although this seemed far too unlikely to be true.

She stopped before the thrones where her parents, occupied with other matters, would usually sit.

"It's wonderful to see you all!" she said, brightly, "But, I must admit, my reason for holding this function was both to grant everyone a pleasant time shared with friends, and to meet the Iron Rose Knights! I would be delighted if they would take some time to speak with me."

She curtsied.

"Thank you!"

@HereComesTheSnow@Asuras@jdh97@Animal@TheFake@Crimson Paladin@PaulHaynek@FlappyTheSpybot@Raineh Daze@ghastlyinc

The air around Tyaethe had taken on a particularly heavy feeling, of energy compressed and barely held in check. Nonetheless, the white-haired vampire didn't do anything rash, grip on Velbrance's shoulder releasing. Without even looking around, she made one last parting statement: "Reynaud, I am going to teach you basic religion before we attend another ball."

With that, she slunk away, draining another glass of wine in the process, and heading over to the commotion--not to talk to the princess, at least not yet, but starting up a conversation with what appeared to be the Church's attendees to the ball. Judging from the designs on their clothes, the token present Reonite seemed rather put out by Tyaethe's presence.

@VitaVitaAR@ghastlyInc

Gerard Segremors

"You don't know anything of war, do you?"

An almost boyishly innocent question passed through the air between the five.

It was said without accusation, without vitriol, without even disdain. It simply was, posed as if to convey something so casual as having just figured out the time. Where the words might have seemed at home in a sneer that would cut her down like a cold blade, instead they were found in almost placid, contemplative murmur.

If Violette looked into Gerard's amber eyes, currently settled upon her, she would find no malice. Only a dawning recognition, an understanding that had always been under the current of his consciousness and had now clicked into a place upon the forefront. He beheld her not as an enemy, but simply as the uninformed.

"You're blessed for that. I hope you never need to."

Utter sincerity.

After all, it was in the end familiar. He had once been the same way, long ago, and though he dared not mention it so brazenly, he was willing to believe he would have been similarly disappointed. That she was a noblewoman only made it all the more so— high society made for a very demanding employer, and precious few understood the ramifications of what they ordered. Anything less than the job done was a waste, in their eyes, regardless of the lives spent in doing so. Go out and earn your gold, or get out of my sight.

If you die, you die. Nobody will remember you. I sure won't.

You fools all even wear the same mask. How can you expect me to?

I didn't pay you to be cowards.

...

He doubted she was one of those callous ones, at least. Much more likely the naive. Someone raised upon tales of the greatest heroes and heroines, who looked at each and every man to don armor as someone who simply must have some shining moment to their name.

As he had been. Perhaps as he still was now.

Nothing to do with class. This wasn't that. Everything to do with experience.

...It would be good if she never had to follow his path. Better she continue to learn from afar, safe from the pitch and fire.

"Thank you both for your words of encouragement," he continued simply, offering an earnest inclination of his head to the blondes. "We'll carry them in our hearts to the next battle. It is a rare soldier who's still sane to risk their life without fear—"

Jarde was not wrong to have his misgivings about the prospect of fighting such a legendary creature. At the very least he knew that his limits, as they were now, would not allow him favorable odds. When faced with such a strengthened specter of death looming over you, it would be the mark of a fool to feel nothing. Fear was a primal emotion. Something that had existed in humanity for as long as humanity itself had. It was not so easily forgotten as many seemed to think, and had to be forcibly burnt out over a long, long time; if one truly desired such a madness.

"It'll mean victory, won't it? Someone has to. Might as well be me."

That was all it could ever be called, madness. Lunacy. To cast off something so intrinsic to the mind completely... It was wrong. Knowing fear, understanding fear, recognizing fear— It all served to keep you alive. It was how your mind knew it you were in danger. Of course, if it paralyzed you, you were still as good as dead.

"This is insane... Six months and I still can't believe I'm doing this..."

Yet when the time had come, Jarde quelled his fear and fought.

That was courage. Not forgetting, nor embodying, but acknowledging, wrestling, and overcoming. A process made easier with time and experience, which Jarde had yet to obtain. And already, he had proven himself willing to stand against a monster like Jeremiah when the need for courage called. She couldn't know how much that meant. Faced with an insurmountable hurricane on your first battle, even if he was "just a bandit", she who had never worried of bloodshed couldn't know what it took.

"On your feet, newbie! Snap the fuck out of it!"

"I don't wanna die!"

But Gerard did. And he knew that it was a sign of things to come. As such:

"—but I'm certain your faith in us will make conquering it, again and again, so much the easier. Enough that when we next meet, we'll both have many more stories for you. Something truly valorous. Enough to finally excite you a little too, Lady Violette."

He meant every word.

Finally, well after the commotion had reached a fever pitch towards the head of the chamber, he too turned to witness the entrance of the Princess.

"No dragons, and one of them sounds scared to fight one... Of all the knights we could talk to it's these two..."

Now that hurt. It confirmed Jarde's worst fears about being in this party. Even the other girl's words were not much help since she also, albeit indirectly, said that both Gerard and Jarde were nobodies right now, only starting off in their careers. Not that he did not appreciate the sentiment, at least someone honestly believed in them. Or so he would like to believe.

Jarde decided not to dwell on these matters too much. At least, he attempted to. Try as he might but circumstances appear to always remind him of how he did not belong there. Fortunately, his mind and attention was caught on something else when Gerard when he made his reply.

"Thank you both for your words of encouragement. We'll carry them in our hearts to the next battle. It is a rare soldier who's still sane to risk their life without fear——but I'm certain your faith in us will make conquering it, again and again, so much the easier. Enough that when we next meet, we'll both have many more stories for you. Something truly valorous. Enough to finally excite you a little too, Lady Violette."

It appeared the disappointment elicited quite the response from Gerard. It was not like he was telling them off, but it sure felt like that. Jarde wanted to add something to lighten the mood, but found that he could not. His spirit was doused and his mind was busy battling off his anxiety. In the end, he just smiled and nodded at the noble ladies, in agreement with Sir Gerard.

"Presenting the Young Lady of the Throne and the Heir Apparent, Princess Eliabelle Tanenway Falthaen!"

The announcement caught everyone's attention in the hall. The princess herself came forth, appearing to shine brightly to all those present. She was a woman of beauty complemented with a white, elaborate dress rumored to have been weaved by a great elven seamstress from distand lands.

"It's wonderful to see you all! But, I must admit, my reason for holding this function was both to grant everyone a pleasant time shared with friends, and to meet the Iron Rose Knights! I would be delighted if they would take some time to speak with me."

Jarde was technically with the Iron Rose Knights but he doubted it was him the Crown Princess wanted to speak with. There were other, more qualified knights to talk to her.

"Well then, it was nice meeting you ladies. Like what my friend here said, perhaps next time we'll have more exciting stories to tell you. Or maybe we'll be stuck dealing with bandits forever. Who knows?" He bid farewell to the three noble ladies with a laugh before turning to Gerard. "I'll be outside to look at the pretty gardens. You guys have fun with the princess, alright?"

Jarde turned to make his leave. He caught a glimpse of the beautiful castle gardens on the way and this was his chance to get a good look and appreciate them. It would also help get his mind off some unpleasant thoughts and feelings. He spared a glance at Fanilly and her company. It looked like they were done talking to that noble but he guessed there would be more talking for them now that the Princess was around.