Martin Hollowsland

It was definitely concerning to see the knight straight up reattach his own head before marching off to the side of his lady. He knew well what magic was capable of given what he has learned himself but the dangers of what this could mean were very readily clear, another reason for why he had to be as careful as he has.

Meekly he scurried out of everyone's way as a standoff seemed to be brewing between the knights and this other character. On one hand he loathed to insert himself into a growing conflict, even if it hadn't yet come to blows, however he knew that by choosing this path he'd be thrust into conflict sooner or later. Swallowing his fear he slowly minced his way up to the renown knight captain herself, Knight Captain Fanilly Danbalion.

"H-hello captain Danbalion. I- I- I'm Martin, a healer t-that was dispatched to your unit." It was clear he was very nervous speaking to someone as important as her, stuttering and tripping over his own words whilst he was unable to even look at her directly.

"I- if there is a- any need for my service p- please let me know. I'll try and h-help however I can." With that said he bowed deeply, eyes shut tight. He tried to hide the fact that his hands were shaking but it seeped through all the same.

_
@VitaVitaAR

Fleuri Jodeau

It seemed that at least one of the Golden Boars wasn't quite dead. Judging by his injury, he probably didn't have much time left, but it might be enough time to glean some information out of him. Unfortunately, as luck would have it, they wouldn't get that chance. A newly arriving knight swiftly put an end to the mortally wounded mercenary's life. Fleuri might have commended their apparent mercy, if it didn't just deprive them of an opportunity to interrogate the man.

"Was that necessary?" Fleuri interjected as the newly arrived knight introduced himself to Fanilly. "It is ultimately up the the captain, but I would have preferred if we at least had the option to question the man before he succumbed to his sounds. I'm afraid there are still a lot of questions that remain unanswered, and he might have had some of those answers."

They were getting nowhere in finding information. Veileena didn't sound like she was going to cooperate any more than what she had already told them about the shard, and without a surviving mercenary to interrogate, all they could do for now was search the dead for any orders or anything else that might shed some light on what was going on. Once that was exhausted, it might just be best to head back to the capital, to get some answers from the College and perhaps figure out where the remaining Golden Boars might be found.

@Martian@VitaVitaAR

Staring somewhat askance at Lady Cal for several long seconds, the naga eventually relented with an irritable groan. Equating your actions to those of the man who sired you based on circumstantial evidence alone was out of line. My apologies, Lady Cal." She admitted somewhat reluctantly, shifting to gaze off in thought.

After letting the silence hang for a minute, Mari eventually shifted back to stare down Lady Cal; crossing her arms under her chest. "Still, I'd like to know why you chose to hire the quiet blade of mercenaries over asking for help from the hammer that we are. Because no matter what direction I approach the question from, I keep coming to the same conclusion. You believe, or know there to be, a group of traitors conspiring against the kingdom from within. After all, why else would you chose to discretely hire mercenaries over the kingdom's own knights for a threat as great as a shard of Angroron?" Maritza carefully probed and queried, closely watching the young noblewoman's body language through the slit of her visor.

Gerard Segremors

@VitaVitaAR@Crimson Paladin

Fleuri was tense. He could hear it, if only just, beneath the reassurances in his words. Gerard had heard the same tone out his own mouth many times— though he was having a little trouble divining why the man was still holding himself to caution. They had, for all practical purposes, beaten the mercenaries handily, hadn't they?

"That's good, sir." he let out, a shaky breath that was halfway laughing hitching the words a little beneath a lopsided smirk. "All the better to enjoy double pay, eh?"

His face then fell, as he noted the man's eyes affixing themselves to something beyond his back— in the direction of tight and raised voices both. No time for jokes— their duties were far from over.

Gerard, ever the faithful student of his betters, scanned the field as Fleuri had— looking for breath among the stricken bodies of gilded swine. Even if he couldn't quite read him, his esteem of the man told him that the Jodeau household's noble son did not rankle easily, nor without reason. Watching him march forward, towards the corpses, then to the congregation at the center, Gerard drew in a breath through his teeth, deep and slow. Talking was necessary, and he'd muscled through worse— but damn if moving his mouth hadn't made the scratch on his cheek—

My, does it hurt?

He blinked once, then twice. Well, yeah, it definitely did, but... was that somebody? It didn't sound like Dame Runa, as sparingly as he'd heard her voice, nor was it any of the Captain, Tyaethe, or Maritza—

His eyes darted to and fro, searching the erstwhile battleground for the source of the words, yet finding nothing. Nobody but him... at least nobody but him close enough to hear that clearly. ...What the hell? He didn't recognize the feminine tones. He didn't think he did. Did he? No, that's getting ahead of the point.

His self concept?

He... didn't remember his thoughts sounding so girlish.

"Hmph." He grunted, feeling himself begin to think in circles. He had better uses for the energy. "I'll live. Nothing some rest can't get me through."

Might as well reassure whomever the hell it was, and move on.

Of all the lies a man could tell, this came by leagues the most easily and naturally.

Hell, maybe that's what had Sir Fleuri all terse. I probably look pretty bad.

His brow furrowed, mouth drawing into a tight-lipped line, as he stalked forwards, opposite the sounds of continued standoff with the young scion of the disgraced house of Cal. He was no interrogator, and he'd already pushed his luck once in trading words with young ladies of the upper crust at the ball. The last thing the Knights needed was him cutting in with the wrong approach. He hardly trusted himself to speak gently.

Nah. He'd be better served with work that was silent until it needed not to be. Sword still in hand, his march arrived at one of the fallen Boars, scalded flesh and blood burnt black wafting up to his nose in an acrid stench. Runa's kill. That bastard sword of hers, cloaked in crackling blaze, had certainly done a number on mortal men— and yet.

The tip, a point of umbra-streaked silver in the blueing light of the full moon, sunk into still flesh. He looked the fallen man over. Young guy. No older than Gerard himself. Could well have been a man much like him, really...

Nothing interesting on him, though, Least of all movement. Dead for sure. He moved on a half-step to the next of the fallen. Especially with the magics and unrelenting force so manyt of his compatriots commanded, this much was a formality—

But, a glance down his gambeson revealed similar stains blossoming out onto the cotton, points of darkness that matched sting, burning Mistakes all along his frame.

He continued down the line with a chuff.

You never really knew.

Fanilly hadn't expected to suddenly be greeted by some of the newer members and names attached to the order at this very moment, when she was caught up trying to extract further information from the Cal heir. Still, it seemed as if Dame Maritza had realized her current approach was only succeeding in causing Veileena to lock down and refuse to answer any further questions. Perhaps they would at last get some answers from the young noble girl?

Regardless, the Knight-Captain decided to pause for a moment and respond.

"I'm happy to have your assistance," she began, as she turned to face the both of them, "This may not be the best time for a discussion, however. Sir Kherun, I believe you would be best served continuing to search the bodies for survivors. Perhaps your familiars could aid you in finding potential survivors? We need all the information we can get."

She paused for a moment. Was that the right choice? Were there even any survivors? The skirmish had been relatively swift and certainly lopsided.

A fight where none among their knights and their allies should have been lethally injured. The voice in her mind had spoken up once again, reminding her that even though Haelstadt had somehow survived there never should have been a situation where the knight in black armor was beheaded in the first place.

"As a healer, Hollowsland," she continued, trying not simply dismiss her own thoughts, "You should look among my knights for any in need of your talents."

With that, her attention returned to the young Cal girl.

"I'm glad you came to your senses," said Veileena, though she still seemed to be in something of a huff, "As for your questions, it's nothing so clear cut as that."

She sighed, unfolding her arms.

"You're right. The Iron Rose Knights are a hammer. A big, crushing hammer that slams down on any enemies of Thaln," continued the Cal heir, "And hits hard enough to make a lot of noise. The moment I tried to raise the issue to you, some idiot noble would find out and think he's got the right to claim the shard and present it to the crown, as if it was his idea all along and that he deserves the credit for securing it and completely ignoring the dangers in doing so. Besides..."

She trailed off for a few moments.

"... You already believed I wanted the shard for some evil purpose, didn't you?"

Veileena averted her eyes.

"Would you have believed any different if I'd told you from the start, truly? Hmph, your reaction certainly hasn't given me any reason to think so."

For Gerard, the voice that had spoken to him simply giggled lightly after a moment's pause.

Very well~ I hope to see plenty more from you~

@Raineh Daze@Crimson Paladin@HereComesTheSnow@Martian@A Lowly Wretch@JessieTargaryen@FlappyTheSpybot@ghastlyinc

Giving Veileena the best unimpressed look she could (whether or not it was even that visible), Tyaethe said, "Of course, as a paladin of the moon, I'm clearly more interested in accusing children of wrongdoing than protecting the country from evil. Mayon would have no issues with that at all."

Although that only went for Tyaethe, she didn't seem to be drawing a distinction between what she would do and what the knights would do, even if Fanilly was neither the most experienced nor the most assertive leader. Or the paladin who looked so young much of the time treating a nearly grown lady of the nobility as just another child.

Though her attention appeared to be wandering from the conversation, sweeping over to the well and looking down it curiously. It was still possible that the goal might just have been to desecrate this, right? Maybe, in that case, it would conveniently remain accessible with a bucket...

The young druid stood at perfect attention as the Knight-Captain addressed him. Of course it wasn’t a good time Kherun quickly realized as the Captain had been preparing to speak with someone of importance. Truth be told Kherun hadn’t really been prepped on what the situation was before being sent as a reinforcement. For all he knew Kherun could be interrupting important matters that would affect the entire kingdom.

Thus he took the command to look for more possible survivors with the aid of his familiars as a good one. But just as Kherun turned away from the Knight-Captain, he was approached by a more senior knight. They asked if it was necessary for Kherun to have mercy killed the fallen mercenary, as they still gotten information from him as they were still many questions apparently. Kherun was not aware of what any of those questions as he was out of the loop.

“My apologies,” Kherun said quickly as he bowed a little, “I made the call as it appeared that he couldn’t even form words anymore. His mouth was full of blood and it looked like he was drowning in it.”

As Kherun stopped bowing, Watcher landed on his shoulder, giving a shrill hoot and staring at Fleuri.

“I am sorry I am new to this. It was my first battle as a Knight and I didn’t know the proper protocol. So I shall redeem my error by looking for more who may have survived.”

With another bow, Kherun walked away from the veteran knight. As he did so, Watcher lifted back into the air, also looking for the living. Kherun then waded back into the field of the dead, Wedge following from behind. Wishing to redeem his mistake, Kherun took great effort to check every body. After a few minutes his gloves were coated in blood, as he inspected all kinds of weapon injuries.

The pain in his shoulder where he had been hit continued to get worse as he moved it up and down to inspect the bodies. Eventually Kherun had to stand up, leaning on his staff, as a bolt of pain went up his whole right side. He began breathing deeply, calling upon druidic practices instilled in him as a child. It helped center Kherun once more, the rush of battle slowly fading away.

But this meditation was interrupted by a loud hoot from Watcher. The familiar cry awoke Kherun to the outside world. He saw the owl circling near the tree line, and beneath him a body. Except as he stared at the fallen mercenary, Kherun could see that it was slowly moving.

The druid knight immediately ran over toward the trees, sword and staff in hand. As he got closer, Kherun saw the main wounds on his body, a set of slices to his legs, effectively crippling his lower half. The mercenary was pulling himself with just his arms away from the battlefield, as his legs left a trail of blood in the grass.

“I would stop if I were you,” stated Kherun as he stepped in front of the man, pointing his sword at him.

The mercenary chuckled, “So you going to kill me? Or you going to let me bleed out?”

“Neither,” replied Kherun as he placed his staff down on the ground.

Magic flowed from Kherun, through the staff, and into the ground. After a few moments vines began to grow out of the ground, wrapping around the mercenary’s legs, tight enough to stifle the bleeding. The mercenary grunted at the pressure. Kherun then picked up the man, lifting him onto the back of Wedge. As he did so, his shoulder throbbed with pain. Kherun then began to lead Wedge back toward the other Knights, Watcher hovering just above them.

Once they got close enough, he called to the other knights, “I found a live one.”

Kherun was glad that he had done something properly, as he did have fears that he would totally screw up his first interaction with the other knights. But so far it hadn’t been that bad.

@VitaVitaAR @Crimson Paladin

Fleuri Jodeau

"You're probably right, we probably wouldn't have gotten anything out of him" Fleuri spoke to Kherun as he looked down at the corpse. "I apologize for my words, this ordeal has been quite frustrating." There was no excuse for being unwelcoming to one of the fellow members of the order in this manner. In the future, Fleuri would need to remember to mind himself even in times of stress.

Fleuri glanced at Fanilly and Veileena, still holding conversation. As annoyed as Fleuri was that there were still many questions that remained unanswered, they at least had some idea of what was going on, and they now had several leads to pursue. Given the urgent nature of this situation, however, Fleuri figured that this would be going straight to the crown, and it'd be up to them to determine exactly what role the Iron Roses would continue to play. He had no doubt, however, that they would be employed in this matter in some capacity- the kingdom could not afford to hold back as long as a potentially apocalyptic artifact was in the wrong hands.

Fleuri was ready to head back home. It had been a long day, and the sooner the crown received word of the Iron Roses' discoveries, the better. He remained silent, waiting for Fanilly and Tyaethe to finish questioning the Cal girl.

@Martian

"No." The Naga replied to Lady Cal with blunt simplicity as she shook her head. "What prompted that line of thought was your guardian surviving the severance of his head. That is what put the idea of you practicing necromancy and other such ill thoughts into my mind. Of course, if Lady Radistirin says that said effects were achieved without the use of dark magicks, such an assessment is more than sufficient for myself." Maritza added, the accent of her formal learning of Thaln's language suddenly coming out in full force. "Regardless, the truth is coming to light and we share a common goal; securing the shard and preventing it from causing any more chaos. I can see no logical reason to not pool our efforts and work as one. Captain, Lady Radistirin, your orders?" She finished, her piece said as she turned to Fanilly and the senior knight.

"Haelstadt? Hmph, haven't you ever heard of contract magic? As long as I live, so does Haelstadt," explained Veileena. Fanilly had heard of contract magic, but never had she heard of it being so strong as to prevent someone from dying even when beheaded. What kind of contract was so powerful that it could perform something like that?

Just what kind of person was Haelstadt?

With no signs that the shrine itself had been desecrated, and the uncomfortable feeling that had permeated its grounds slowly fading, Fanilly was at a loss for how to continue.

A prisoner, however, gave them at least some sort of lead.

"Sir Kherun, we'll be taking the prisoner back to Aimlenn with us so that he may be interrogated," she began, face her knights in turn, "Dame Maritza... we'll return to Candaeln with Lady Cal. From there we can better pool our efforts."

With no further leads, there was no way they could continue the search. Fanilly couldn't help but feel frustrated over this outcome. They had failed to find the shard, which meant it was still out there, somewhere. That it could still hurt people.

But what choice did they have but to regroup?

The Knight-Captain saw no other path forward.

---

It had been a day since they had returned from Candaeln. The prisoner had been handed off for questioning, there were preparations to make a formal meeting with the headmaster and faculty of the Mage's College for the purposes of discussing their choices to hide the shard, and in addition another meeting with Lady Cal in hopes of solidifying a path forward.

Fanilly had begun her day with a stop at Candaeln's shrine. It was situated in the fort's garden, a mixed Mayon-Reon site of worship surrounded by lilies and roses and equipped with both a sacrificial flame and a sacrificial pool.

For the sake of those who had fallen, and for the guidance of the goddesses, she had prayed for quite some time. For the sake of further guidance, to deal with this situation and all others, as well.

When she departed, the blonde knight made her way to Candaeln's library.

They needed to know as much as they could about the shard, and that meant researching as much as she could manage.

Until they managed to access the College's records, this was her best opportunity.

Candaeln's library was vast and well-stocked. Second only to the College's library itself, its rows upon rows of books made for excellent research material, tall shelves lining the walls.

Admittedly, she had only perused the library's novels before, but now she had a more serious purpose.

@Raineh Daze@Crimson Paladin@HereComesTheSnow@Martian@A Lowly Wretch@JessieTargaryen@FlappyTheSpybot@ghastlyinc

Tyaethe had not been in a positive mood on their return, to put it mildly. Although she had stopped short of barricading herself away for the rest of the day, the vampire had still been uncharacteristically hard to find until the next morning, seemingly having only taken as her cue to emerge the idea of needing to feed. A thought that was weighing heavily on her mind, at the moment.

Seeing the small figure seated in a shaded windowed alcove, looking out over the courtyard and any training therein, was hardly an unusual sight around Candaeln. Often, Tyaethe only seemed half-present, regularly dozing off and offering minimal input if she saw the other knights later. Today, however, her eyes were focused entirely on those outside. Oh, and she was carrying the sword around; that was a pretty unusual change.

Gerard Segremors

The ride back had been a quiet one, as it so often was, for Gerard— though upon their arrival the attending healers had broken into a bit of a sweat regarding his pallor. This redoubled, much to his and their mutually weary chagrin, when he responded with confusion regarding why he'd not at least allowed Martin to take a look over him— something to the tune of "Was he there? I never saw him."

He... could only reason a guess as to why: mainly being a little too involved in his own head, and own duties confirming the knights' kills. He must have blundered past his compatriot at some point while gutting it out, and not drawn enough attention to himself in doing so. No fault of the healer's, seeing as the knight's mind was a thousand leagues away by that point.

Very well~ I hope to see plenty more from you~

He'd gotten the urge to snap back at the lilting, cheshire tone, and in his tightly bundled haze of thoughts had begun to jumble out the half-formed concept of a steely-toned promise that he wasn't going anywhere... but no matter what happened through the rest of the night, the voice had been content to let the knight stew upon it in silence.

Not a word more in his head. Baffling... but, if nothing else, the "solitude" helped him focus on the important things like managing the canter and his stance upon it on the way back. A cold, stinging, and achey ride, but one he didn't slump out of his stirrups in— good enough. He had managed to escape serious, serious harm— no loss of limb nor break of any major bones. Once the medical and esoteric arts of healing had gotten their hands upon him, they'd seen to it that his wounds were closed, muscles treated with pungent balms, and his torso pockmarked by a manic scattering of bandages. That pull in his right elbow had manifested into a sling, even.

A loss of blood and the multitude of lacerations had also meant a day of harshly enforced bed rest, and so the knight was confined to his quarters for most of the direct aftermath of their excursion to the moon stone, only meeting any compatriots who had elected to drop by (mainly those that had been kind enough to chauffer meals from the mess to help him get his strength back) and spending the rest of his time bored through his skull.

Only today had he managed to get out into the fresh air of the halls proper, damning his idle hands as he walked and took in the morning sun as it warmed his drab black shirt. Truth be told, that was the worst part— he hardly minded the solitude and quiet, but the fact that he spent the entire time without doing something had made it as agreeable as pulling a rotted tooth.

He'd always favored the Training Grounds for this much, but with a sword arm out of commission...

He grimaced openly, the patch of gauze over the numbly painful line down his cheek wrinkling some as the corner of his mouth pulled into it.

That one's gonna scar. I know it.

He desperately wished to hone his form.

He half-turned. Further down the path that branched off to his right lay Candaeln's library, somewhere he'd never really found himself visiting in anything more than passing, or as a favor to a tied-up compatriot looking to grab a novel and seeing a free hand. Maybe further on, the kitchens? Well, not much reason to visit there...

But even he had to admit that probably wasn't the best idea.

Not yet.

The morning after, Maritza had found herself in the training courtyard, quarterstaff in hand. At some point since the battle in the crypt the royal armory had seen fit to have the naga's staff returned to her. In spite of her newfound axe being a far more powerful weapon, it felt good to return to her roots. Drawing a large circle on the dusty ground around her with the tip of her staff, Mari settled into a ready position at the center and began.

With slow, deliberate sweeping motions the naga started to spin the staff in figure eights. Switching from hand to hand as it spun, the flanged mace heads on either end of the quarterstaff began to whistle through the air as her movements picked up speed. Below, Maritza's hips and tail moved in counterbalance to the staff; a swaying, shifting mass of olive green scales.

Snapping back into a ready position without warning, she launched into her exercises proper. Tight rapid jabs lashed out in tight clusters before whirling around to parry or snap sweeping blows against would-be opponents. Nor was the rest of her body idle either. Mari's serpentine half twisted and writhed to avoid invisible attacks, her tail occasionally lashing out to trip up a nonexistent enemy.

Gerard Segremors

@VitaVitaAR

"You hunting something, Captain?" called a low voice that, to its meager credit, was only just too loud for a library, rather than the trumpeting horn one would expect from its owner's prior profession. If Fanilly deigned to turn, she would find a rare sight for the many tomes of history, literature, and myth ensconced within the vast, eerily still hall deep within Candaeln— a man of coal-colored hair and clothing, right arm limply hanging in a sling of white cloth and bereft of the sword it seemed incomplete without. "Four eyes are better than two."

In the end, Gerard's better sense finally won out. The simple fact of the matter was that he ran too much risk aggravating the pile of injuries— and more to the point, working in the open air of the training fields meant he would run far too much risk of being spotted and hauled off back to his bed in chains.

Metaphorically, anyway. I hope they wouldn't do that for real.

So, his thirst for betterment took him instead here, to a rare haunt. While the Library was impressive in the size and scope of the knowledge contained within, Gerard admittedly felt far too simple to be trying to wrap his head around most of the esoterism— and as such, his ventures here usually manifested in poring over Fechtbucher, old manuals for training and swordsmanship that he'd doubtlessly spend the rest of the day putting into practice on the fields. If he was laid up, his thinking was simply that he may as well frontload his bored skull with new things to try once he was back to full strength.

His golden eyes slid over the many shelves as they left the form of his small blonde commander for a moment, squinting to pick out names of authors and titles upon each carefully-bound spine. Owing to the sporadic frequency of his visits, he wasn't entirely sure which section he'd wandered into upon coming across Fanilly— only that it probably wasn't the one he'd personally been looking for.

But that was fine. There was satisfaction in a hunt even if it wasn't prey you necessarily chased, and moreover, the erstwhile soldier for hire could count on one hand the times he'd had a conversation with his leader. He had to wonder what went through the mind of one taking up the mantle of command at such a young age, preordained for her by the threads of fate woven by the Goddesses. Helping her'd... Be an interesting way to spend the forced rest. He'd spoken before on the importance of getting to know the man or woman you were faithfully raising your sword for— might as well follow up on that idea here.

"Not like I'm up to much."

The banner of the Roses was one thing. But it'd pay dividends to demystify the Knight-Captain.

"Ah?"

Fanilly was surprised to hear a voice behind her.

She was even more surprised to see who it was. But then again, perhaps pursuing a more leisurely activity in comparison to further training was an ideal pastime for the mercenary-turned knight before her. Aggravating that injury would do no good.

For that matter, the sight of his arm in that sling caused a twinge of guilt in the Knight-Captain's heart. In her head, she was already running through scenarios in which her commanding was just a bit better, where she was able to keep any of her knights from being injured. Surely, surely, she could have done better.

But she didn't speak of them.

"Sir Gerard, it's good to see you," Fanilly greeted her knight with a pleasant smile.

Rather then her resplendent silver armor, the slight blonde was dressed in the blue, white, and gold uniform granted to the Captain of the Iron Rose Knights. To be honest, at times she wished she could dress more casually, but it wouldn't to for her to do so among her knights.

"I'm looking for any information we may have on the shards of Angroron," she explained, blue eyes returning to the bookshelf, "Everyone's familiar with the story of Saint Lilianna and the fall of Orodrunn, but the nature and whereabouts of the shards aren't common knowledge."

She let out a small sight. It was for good reason. Few wanted to risk such terrible artifacts being discovered. And those that sought them out were likely precisely the sort of people who should never obtain them.

But that did make it harder to prevent someone who had already found them from doing something terrible.

A few of the books she was examining were labeled with titles such as Theology and History: The Divine Influence on Our Past, Record of the Orodrunn War, and Tools of the Wicked: Know the Enemy.

Somewhat embarrassed, Fanilly awkwardly scratched the back of her head.

"I guess I've never really looked at anything but the library's novels before, so I didn't have a great idea of where to start... I just picked out titles that looked promising."

The young girl paused for a moment.

"How is your arm?"

@HereComesTheSnow

The young druid was pleased at the fact that he had captured a survivor. As he rode back to Candaeln on the back of his horse Wedge, Kherun went over the battle countless times in his head. The rush of actual combat still coursed through Kherun’s body, his blood pumping, his hair standing up on its own.

But what he also felt was the pain in his upper arm. That last minute hit from a mercenary had throbbed for several hours now. But even with that injury, Kherun felt himself lucky that he hadn’t been beheaded or something like that in his first battle. Watcher seemed to agree with this thought, hooting loudly as he flew right above the young knight.

The ride back to Candaeln was slower this time, as he was not in a rush to join a battle and that the knights had to take it slower with their injuries. Also injured was the mercenary that Kherun found. The prisoner was still wrapped in the plant roots and slumped over the back of a horse. Kherun figured that he would probably survive the ride back to the fort.

And sure enough the prisoner did survive as he was handed off to the guards for questioning. Shortly after the knights returned to the fort, Kherun quietly retired to his quarters. Quickly falling asleep, the druid’s dreams would be filled of clanging steel and bloodshed. When he did awake the next morning, Kherun found that his arm hurt even worse. Lifting up his garments, Kherun saw that there was a massive black and purple bruise on his arm.

Calling upon his druidic knowledge, Kherun remembered a herb that would reduce swelling and duration of a bruised body part. Getting dressed, Kherun left his quarters for the market. As the young knight made his way among the early morning shops and stalls, he quickly spotted what he was looking for. While the herb wasn’t particularly rare, it didn’t grow anywhere close to the fort.

Paying a little bit more than he thought it would be, Kherun would take a bandage and wrap it around the herb on top of his bruise. With his connection to nature, Kherun could immediately tell that it was working. Satisfied with his purchase, Kherun would begin to wander the streets.

Soon he found himself in the garden of the fort. As he walked through the patches of roses, Kherun saw the Knight-Captain leaving the mixed deity shrine. Wondering if she had been praying, Kherun realized that he knew so little about the captain as he wasn’t sure who she worshiped.

Figuring that he should pray to the god who he professed a belief in, Kherun sat in front of the statue of Mayon. Reciting the age old prayers of this belief system, Kherun closed his eyes and spoke silently. Though he hadn’t been born into the Mayonite faith, Kherun did take comfort in their practices.

After two minutes of reciting prayer and directing thoughts to the deity, Kherun stood back up. Figuring that he was now covered spiritually, the young druid decided to head toward the training area. Looking back on his first battle, there was a lot he could do the improve. Plus his arm had already started hurting less, which means he could probably swing a sword properly.

Gerard Segremors

@VitaVitaAR

"Been better," He hedged, bluntly honest in the tone of his self-assessment. A thousand battles behind had bored it into him, well before the aspirations of knighthood, always pushing him into the next, had even a chance of being realized. In the ghost of a smirk that flitted across his features, there was a darkly cavalier edge to his words as he began to explain thoroughly. "Been worse too. I was more worried about the nicks—"

Here, he presented her his cheek, showing the white square of gauze that was complaining to his face about moving his mouth so carelessly.

"Felt woozy the whole ride back. Think for the arm I just wrenched an oberhau too hard onto a shield, or yanked too recklessly in a grapple— tough to tell." The knight shrugged his shoulders. "I was lost in the swordplay. Whomever the new Quartermaster is for the Boars, he's definitely kicked their training up a notch. I won't say they're suddenly amazing fighters, far from it, but they're better than I remembered... Makes their hiring all the more interesting."

Mercenaries are an economy. Asking fees had to go up with the quality.

The raised eyebrows of impressed hindsight faded, a contemplative furrow taking their place as he looked over the tiny Captain's choices in literature. In lieu of a concrete title or direction... these guesses were as good as his, all told. Direct understanding of the legend's text and body aside, they all sounded like they'd have the sort of background upon which the history was couched. Information like that could prove useful in hunting down the shards for certain.

... Fees. Hunt. Hold on.

"I'll be honest, Captain, I'd be lucky to even be in the same boat as you." he chuffed with a touch of self-effacement, backpedalling through the shelves, squinting as he searched through the rows at head height. He'd just passed this one... "I'm only here as a favor, or if I'm hunting down the old training manuals. I'm too simple for the literature; even your novels'd be wasted on me."

His eyes lit for a moment, and his free hand pulled a spine, then an old navy tome loose from the shelf. He looked over it momentarily, as if double-checking the cover for the words that had caught his attention, before placing it upon the stack Fanilly had already procured: Lost Treasures of Thaln: For Legendary Collectors.

"That said, we know they're in demand. Artifacts that powerful have to have all kinds of treasure hunter and adventurer hunting them down. 'Least I'd think so."

What else did they know about them? If he had to narrow it down from this ocean of books, what would he look for in search of "things that suit a Shard to hide in"?

He frowned openly now, throwing his mind at the problem in spite of his previous admissions of thoughtlessness.

"...Maybe a travel guide too..." he now murmured beneath his breath, cupping his chin. "...Since they're corruptive influences like in the fort... Look for areas warned away from..."

He blinked, then looked back up, meeting the blue and gold blur that sharpened and clarified back into the form of his commanding officer.

"Pardon, ma'am. Not presuming to overstep. Your investigation."

With people gathering to train outside, Tyaethe stretched thoughtfully, looking up towards the sky. Cloudy? Good enough, it would be annoying and burn over time, but it wasn't an immediately pressing concern.

Maritza and Kherun, if looking, were treated to the rather unusual sight of a vampire coming outside in daylight, leaning against her sword. It really put into perspective how absolutely pale that was, although there was definitely less smoke and fire than traditional stories might have indicated.

"So, Maritza, what would you do if you had to fight a dragon?"

@FlappyTheSpybot@Martian

Sir Gerard's knowledge of these mercenary bands was certainly useful. While Fanilly had definitely heard of the Golden Boars and their ruthless nature before, she would not have been able to speak of their training or prior conduct in battle with anywhere near the level of accuracy as someone who had previously met them in combat more then once.

It was good to learn his injuries were mending well without too much further attention being necessary.

"I'm glad to hear you're doing well," she replied, "As for the Boars, I hope we can determine who hired them quickly..."

The imprisoned man would hopefully offer some information that could lead them to the Boars' employer. And if they were directly the one who desired the Angroron shard, then that would be all the better.

The idea of looking for books for treasure hunters for information made a lot of sense! She hadn't even thought about that angle before, but costly treasure was surely a draw towards those with plenty of daring and little common sense. The shard could be transported if insulted fully, as per the note that had originated from Lady Cal. Someone with that knowledge could easily think they would be able to claim it.

"You're right, Sir Gerard," Fanilly began, "I didn't think about it at all, but tomes for treasure hunters and travel guides could have the kind of information we're looking for too."

It hadn't even occurred to her, she'd been so focused on the legendary and historical side of things that the practical side had totally escaped her.

Even if she didn't say it aloud, it was obvious the girl was embarrassed at the fact that she'd failed to even consider a wider breadth of knowledge. Her cheeks had colored somewhat, as she examined the title that Sir Gerard had placed on top of the stack of books.

"There's no need to apologize, I appreciate your assistance," added Fanilly, doing her best to brush aside her awkwardness.

@HereComesTheSnow

There was a funny look from the Naga as she paused mid form. "Fight a... dragon?..." There was an almost incredulous tone to Mari's immediate response as she stared down the diminutive vampire. Her eyes slowly narrowing as she realized the at least somewhat serious nature of the question. "In all seriousness, run. Though assuming that isn't an option... I can think of a few ideas." The knight serpenta paused for a moment as she collected her thoughts.

"One, if I had time to prepare and numerical superiority through allies, I'd use ballistae or similar siege weapons to ground my would-be opponent. Attach heavy ropes or chains to the projectiles to bind them up and hold them to the ground. Then, overwhelm with numbers. Death by a thousand cuts. The naga explained, now leaning on her quarterstaff, free hand gesticulating to add to her words. "Two, if I'm by myself, engage in the most beneficial environment possible. Somewhere with enough cover to impede the dragon's movement, but not so much that I wouldn't have enough room to dodge any attempts by them to just crush me through sheer mass. Then, target their joints and other vitals. Ankles, knees, wings, eyes, etc. Do everything I can to hamper their movement and make the killing blow easier." Maritza eventually finished, seeming moderately impressed with her own off the cuff assessment.