Fleuri Jodeau

"I'm not sure," Fleuri answered, trying his best to recall the fight "It was all so chaotic that I didn't get a good chance to see who had what effect on it, aside from the fatal blow that Serenity inflicted upon it." It was only fitting that the person who handled the fight in the most sane and level-headed manner had the honor of the fatal blow.

"Truth be told I'd rather she had let it live- it was already subdued and injured," he lamented. "Griffins are majestic, noble creatures once you get past the whole horse-eating thing. There'd have been no point in trying to capture it, though- they're also immensely proud creatures that as we saw already, don't take well to being caged."

Fleuri would not have shared this sentiment with the other knights- after that foolhardy stunt he pulled, they'd probably dismiss him as being mad and his actions counterproductive to the fight. But Lucas had been gripped by the same madness, and it was for that reason he was comfortable talking openly about it.

"Looking back, I don't know what I was thinking, jumping on its back like that," he said, taking a bite from, fittingly, a cooked bird's wing. "I was nearly crushed, burned, and could very well have simply missed and hit the ground hard enough to break my bones. It's a miracle I got out of it unharmed." He would not disparage Lucas, but he wanted to convey his concerns with his own actions.

@Saiyan

And now he was being scolded. Renar bit back a sigh, simply staring at Fionn impassively until he finished. Frankly, Fionn was one of very few people he would tolerate this sort of lecture from. And only because he knew that his friend was a genuine believer in church and chivalry. If Fionn didn't want to hear this from him, fine. Fionn wouldn't hear this from his mouth again. In earshot, at least. But his own injured pride wasn't quite worth continuing this argument with one of his only friends in the order.

"Fine, friend. I hear you." Renar looked to Fionn, his expression resigned. "Consider the matter dropped on my end. I'd prefer not to argue with you over it. And Gerard would likely take your side on this." But he couldn't resist getting one last jab in. "Though I still reserve the right to complain about the little shit's antics."

"As for the Captain, that's good. Seems we're in no immediate danger of disgrace or disaster, then. Unless you'd object to that, Dame Serenity?" Renar looked over to her, a half-smirk rising to his lips in challenge. He had a suspicion that she felt more strong about this subject than she'd let on. It was just a matter of seeing if she'd take the bait or not.

"As an Order," Serenity spoke up, "the Iron Rose Knights have little in the way of a hierarchy. As such, in the absence of a Knight-Captain, the one responsible for accepting others into the Order is likely to be Paladin Tyaethe. If you'd like to learn her reasoning, Sir Renar, I'm sure she'll be obliged to it."

Though the fact of the matter was that in the eyes of a centuries-old relic of war and blood, shadow and magic, there was likely no discernible difference between Renar and Lucas. All that mattered, after all, was the Knight-Captain, if one took the stories told of the First and Youngest to heart. The Immortal Dragon Slayer, so inundated by the boons of circumstance that she's unmatched in Thaln despite having yet to even leverage the full weight of her talents.

"I find no reason to leave their learning to luck though. What's the point in discussing Lucas's education, if we're not to point out his faults?"

Still, the matter was dropped, forcibly, and as if aiming to stoke her own ire, Renar brought up the topic of Fanilly Danbalion instead, his second remark a naked attempt to toss fuel to the flame. If he was to be so obvious with it though? "If she fancies herself a knight, she ought to redouble her efforts as a swordswoman." Which Serenity would gladly join her in. "And if she fancies herself a Captain, she ought to better her ability to command under duress. Though I reckon that would be hard, if Captain Fanilly continues to be ambushed."

The flaxen-haired knight paused briefly as she leveled her hammer to drive a nail through the socket of her spear and into the wood beneath, then continued.

"But perhaps the Iron Rose Knights are such that all we need to be is individually competent? Certainly, the legends of our predecessors leave behind only anecdotes of singular glory, rather than united efforts." She hefted the spear up once more, though there wasn't room enough to swing it as she wished. "Thoughts, good sirs? Sir Villis, certainly, was just running ahead of the rest, but how did the Paladin and the Knight-Captain function as leaders?"

Not sure? Well, that answer did fall into the disappointment category, but at least there was a chance that his idea had limited the griffin's mobility enough that such a killing blow could be landed. A man can dream, eh.

Serenity. One of Gerard's sparring buddies. She was a ferocious fighter. Even after a bunch of bandits had been blown off their feet from a mere flap of the griffin's wings (one even high-tailing it out of there, Lucas saw,) Serenity had gotten right in the beast's face and stayed there. The mental fortitude, the physical skills... the girl was a phenom. It was hard to believe she was the same age. She carried herself with far more dignity and power than any 17 year old girl Lucas had ever known. Lucas found himself wondering what her childhood must've been like, for a moment, but brought himself back to reality and the conversation quickly.

"Let it live?" Lucas echoed the older knight, a little perplexed. Fleuri went on.

"Griffins are majestic, noble creatures once you get past the whole horse-eating thing. There'd have been no point in trying to capture it, though- they're also immensely proud creatures that as we saw already, don't take well to being caged."

"Just imagine we broke it though, eh," Lucas offered with a grin. "My old man's best mate was the finest horse breaker in all the lands. Carrot was his name. Broke the wildest of stallions. Imagine we broke a griffin. Imagine the Knight-Captain's charge at the head of a column. There'd be no stoppin it. And no finer sight.

It was a joke, of course. Well... a half-joke. Well...

""Anyway, I guess you're probably right. If the griffin was no danger to good folk, then it was just another prisoner of Jeremiah. I didn't really think about it that way.

Lucas put a whole large potato in his mouth, not anticipating that it would still be so hot. His face froze in pain as he bit into it, desperately wanting to spit it out, but realising that such an action would cross the line of table etiquette, even by his own standards. And so, without thinking, he just swallowed. In one slow, laboured and painful motion, he swallowed the entire thing. The heat was intense, his face stuck with one eye squinting as he stared at Fleuri who was sharing his misgivings about their wild decision-making regarding the griffin.

"...It's a miracle I got out of it unharmed."

Lucas wasn't sharpest tool on the rack, but he noticed that this lesson wasn't just for Fleuri himself, but both of them. It was true; so many things could've gone wrong. He, himself, didn't escape without injury. After the battle, once he got himself to one of the healing mages in the rearguard, he'd discovered that adrenaline had been masking quite a few injuries. A broken collarbone. A broken rib. Fractured wrist. Concussion. And that was without the various grazes and lacerations. Back in the circus, they could've really done with one of the Iron Rose mages in their troupe. They were a boon unlike any other.

What he wanted to say was that heroes don't think about the danger to themselves, they just act - try to save the day. But this was the nonsense rambling of a young man. Instead, he tried to listen to the more experienced knight who was doing him the honour of imparting some wisdom and reflection on the battle.

"I'll try to do better aswell," he told Fleuri. "I just... it's hard to think... battles are..." it was difficult to find the right words. "Bloody madness," he finally settled on. He stopped himself from going on. It was just excuses for his misconduct. "But I will try. To think about my actions more." As much as he was trying to be more mature, the boy in him still escaped. "Got out of it alive though, eh. Sir Lein didn't get flattened. And we rode a griffin... sort of... for a second." He offered the last words with raised eyebrows and a cheeky grin, as if daring Fleuri to smile back. "Not bad, eh?"

By Reon. Already, the lesson appeared to be disappearing out of the thick skull of the gypsy.

After their exchange about the griffin, Lucas chose to focus on wolfing down the third and final course of his meal. Once he'd stopped talking, it didn't take long for the plates to be clean.

"Ah, I. Am. Done," he said to the Flower of the North. "I think I need proper drink tonight. A few, in fact."

Such bravado. Inside, he was worried that these images and sounds of the battle might not ever go away, but he could hardly explain that to anyone here. They were all well beyond their first battles. And what if word got back to the Knight-Captain or Paladin Tyaethe. Sir Lucas Storm can't handle the weight of killing? That might be the last straw.

"What will you be up to, with the rest of your day, Sir Fleuri?"

---

@VitaVitaAR

Ah, back to civilization. On one hand, she loved being out in the forests. On the other hand, the forests sorely lacked modern amenities and she absolutely loved just being around the hustle and bustle of the city most times. Especially after a battle like that! She was no battle hungry warrior, in fact, she’d say she was more of a coward than anything that avoided fighting directly if she could help it, but having a drink with the lads and lasses of her former company was always something to look forward too.

That said…others might not have noticed the Knight Captain, splitting off from the others, but it was hard to put things past her eyes, and Fanilly? Looked like someone had just kicked her down the stairs.

Hm…

If you make her cry I’ll make you cry.

“Jeez, Shael, you act like I’m a little miscreant who goes around just breaking hearts for no good reason! I’d never have such intentions on a pure lady like Captain Fanilly.” A sudden gust of wind caused Cecil to lose balance, tripping and falling onto the ground while Shael rambled about a number of things she wasn’t listening hard enough too.

Hmm, something to lift the girls spirits a bit…

“Well, don’t overthink it Cecil. Overthinking things is what gets you into trouble…” She’d let the girl say her obvious prayer. No doubt she was feeling uncertain about a lot of things. She could honestly sympathize with such a feeling well. After all…she still couldn’t be certain about anything.

Hmm…

Cecil inhaled, shaking her head and proceeded to walk up to the captain, and poke her right in the forehead while she knelt in prayer.

“Hiya, Captain Fanilly. Where are you going here all by yourself, eh?” She’d ask, giving the girl a bright smile. “Mind if I join ya for a bit or you gonna run me off like Shael does if I flirt too much with someone?”

Her eyes shut, her hands clasped in prayer, Fanilly only just noticed the presence of someone else in the shrine. Of course, there was no reason someone else couldn't enter. The shrine was meant for the use of all the Knights. It just so happened that she was the one kneeling in prayer now.

For Sir Rickert. For the sake of continued success against all enemies. For these reasons, she had to make sure her words reached the goddesses.

Se'd have to arrange for word to be sent to the Knight's family. She hadn't spoken with him enough to know exactly who he had now left behind, but-

"Hyah?!"

She was torn from her thoughts when she felt a finger prod her in the forehead, opening her eyes and leaning back.

"O-oh, it was you, Dame Cecil!" she stammered, placing one still-armored gauntlet over the spot where she'd been poked. She knew someone else had entered the shrine, but she hadn't expected this at all!

"E-er, I was finished, anyway, so..." she trailed off uncertainly. She at least hoped that her prayer hd made it to the ears of the goddesses. If Dame Cecil wanted to pray as well, she didn't want to get in the way. But Dame Cecil mentioned wanting to join her?

The blonde girl-knight took a deep breath.

"You may join me, if you like."

Fanilly had managed to compose herself once she spoke again, at least enough to project some measure of authority. At least, it's what she hoped.

To be honest, she wasn't entirely sure why any of the knights would wish to speak with her now, after she had succeeded in losing one of their number already.

@Rune_Alchemist

Lein

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Location: Outside Castle Candaeln
Interactions: Sergio @VahkiDane

---

"Well, it is a private affair..." Lein met Sergio's suspicious stare with a curious look, like a cat looking over a new toy. "Oh well, one more pair of eyes wouldn't dare hurt." You'll have to blend a bit, eh?" The Hundi patted the jacket yet again, leaving another mark of dirt over it. With a visible cheer, Lein swung around, the contents of the box thudding dully within.

As they started their way into town, Lein kept an eye on his new...companion. Some inevitable scars, yes, but Sergio was more well-kept than most of the Knights he had seen. At least, if an artist was to frame him, the red-maned Knight looked the part for a nobleman. From what Lein had heard, it wasn't quite far off the mark either. "Say, I hear you were a high-born. What would drive an upitty one like you to throw a lot in with the Roses?" Lein asked.

Gerard Segremors

South from gates. Simple enough.

Destination set, Gerard's steady march saw him float through the grounds of Candaeln at a pace not exactly leisurely, but far from the prior explosions of speed he'd torn through the yard with.

If it overlooked the river, she was probably intent on sending him right by Calnahen's banks, outside of Aimlenn's sturdy walls. Admittedly, Gerard couldn't place the watchtower in question from his memory— in the few times he'd had the privilege to see the city from afar, such as this morning, he was always most drawn by his awe at the immense spires, letting the surrounding farmlands sort of fade into the foreground.

But, her directions had left it clear, even if his sense for the city landmarks was lacking— just get out of the gates and follow the river as it flanked the southern face of Aimlenn. Any idiot could manage that. The watchtower she spoke of would show itself soon, if it were tall enough to appreciably be counted as such. Up on the cliffs, surrounded by a crowding of other buildings... By all rights, it oughta be impossible to miss.

River cutting through the land would make for muddy soils as well as a certain grade. Maybe not the rolling hills of central Velt, but the slick would more than make up for a gentler incline. For all the long walk it'd be, hard to ask for anything more true to life.

By now, his advance had taken him onto the drawbridge across Candaeln's moat. He glanced down, taking in the brackish, murky, and very still water below. He'd seen his fair share of moats in battle too, if one wanted to speak on "true to life".

His eyes narrowed, the mind behind them thinking for a long, silent moment.

...

Shaking his head as if disappointed in himself, he kept walking. There was a whole city to get through, and half the day'd been spent parading.

At least the riverbed wouldn't get him poisoned.

Fleuri Jodeau

"No, not bad at all," Fleuri replied sincerely. After swallowing another bite out of the piece of poultry he continued. "We've obtained quite a story to tell out of it. Few knights can say they were ever astride a griffin."

There were things that Fleuri had done in his past that ashamed of, things that he looked upon with scorn for his past self. Their antics with the griffin was not one of them. He recognized it as a mistake and resolved to do better in the future, but it was something to be looked back upon and laughed at, not something to hold his head down in mortification upon recalling.

"With all of that said, I believe there is a time and place for theatrics, even in battle," Fleuri spoke. Just because we do not perform for the crowds anymore does not mean that we do not have audiences anymore. On a battlefield, our friends and allies alike compose our audience, and I believe the right action at the right time can serve to inspire, intimidate, or mislead."

Like Fleuri, Lucas was accustomed to demonstrating his skills in front of an audience. It was a common ground shared by two otherwise very different warriors, and Fleuri felt that it was a good way to establish an understanding with the younger knight.

"Of course, when the combat begins, that is when it is time to get serious." he advised. "But I am a believer that there is an unsurpassed aesthetic beauty in brutally effective, flawlessly performed, and well-timed combat techniques. Never be afraid to get practical or even unorthodox if that's what it takes to be the one who stands victorious."

Lucas had already demonstrated some of his circus skills, and Fleuri believed that they could prove quite useful as a knight, if applied in the right ways. After all, the Iron Rose had a history of warriors with unusual skills going back all the way to Ellione and her original knights.

After he and Lucas finished his meal, and the young knight inquired what he would do.

I suppose I will keep myself sharp, work in my plans to improve myself. If you wish, we could head to the practice yard and train together. I'd be glad to impart some sword techniques, if you'd be willing to show me the knife and dagger techniques you picked up in the circus." This was as good a time as any to assist in the rookie knight's training, and Fleuri was quite interested to see what Lucas could do with short blades.

@Saiyan

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@ERode @Psyker Landshark

---

Luckily, none of them seemed to want to turn any of the conversation into a full argument. "I won't stop you from complaining, just don't start wishing ill on him," he replied, his expression remaining serious for a moment longer...before breaking into a sly smile.

"It doesn't really fit the aesthetic you've tried to cultivate to look like you care so much about what he does, anyways."

As for the matter of Fanilly, Serenity's truest thoughts weren't hard to guess at on that matter, but the fact that she took care to remain diplomatic delivering some of them was worth a bit of relief. "She's not the worst captain I've ever dealt with, at least. She had to have some training before taking the reins—a lot of the free companies, you get made leader just because you're of noble birth and felt like jumping in, regardless of any experience you have. I once had to deal with one who strapped his cuirass on backwards. She's already far better than that, so I've no doubt that she'll manage in time."

He might've said something about drilling out a hole and pinning the spear head rather than just nailing it onto the haft after seeing Serenity's choice of attachment, but decided against it; hafts would still break all the time, and it didn't look or sound like the ash pole she'd found had split or cracked near where the head was attached. The bardiche would be fine in the hands of the smith and his apprentices and assistants to polish out the nicks and scratches, and then he could mount it back in his quarters as a souvenir from his first full-scale battle with the Iron Roses; he could go train, but there was something more pressing that he could feel gnawing in the pit of his stomach.

Before long, the other two would be just as likely to start hearing it as he could feel it. It had been a while since breakfast.

"Well, I think it's high time I go and find something to eat. I'll see you each on the training grounds bright and early, unless you have any more questions for me?" If it was more about the Captain, he honestly hoped they didn't. "Maybe I'll even pester Tyaethe, and see if she knows why they let Lucas in, just to satisfy your curiosity. Or get some more tales of Iron Roses unit tactics rather than champion antics."

---

@VitaVitaAR

“Hmm…” Cecil didn’t immediately respond, merely instead looking up towards the statues of the Goddesses herself. Honestly, she was second guessing herself already. What had she even come here for? Sure, Fanilly looked like she could use some help, but could she even do that? Best she could do was be a dumbass and offer some levity. Guh, overthinking things again. Right. Do what she does best then.

Be an absolute scoundrel.

She could already feel Shael getting ready to violently remove her from the shrine.

“Oooh, finished?” She’d grin, cozying up to Fanilly, her focus turning back towards the captain. “Good, then I can do this.” Cecil’s hands moved quickly, pulling something from her cloak. Fanilly would find something soft and sweet being shoved right into her mouth. A simple, sweet pastry about the size of ones palm.

“Here. Just a little something I picked up on the way here. Thought you’d like it.” Of course, unbeknownst to Fanilly or Shael for that matter, this was something of a prank. The outside was definitely sweet, but the inside? It had a spicy filling in it. She was probably gonna get yelled at later, but oh well.

"Mmm?!"

Out of everything that Fanilly had been expecting, suddenly being fed a small sweet pastry was not on the list. It didn't make any sense to her at all, even if she couldn't exactly say it was unwelcome. In the first place she didn't know why one of her knights even wanted to speak to her, but now she was giving her some sort of snack?

Regardless, Fanilly found herself holding her hands up to her mouth to and chewing. It wasn't very large, but she still didn't want to accidentally make some sort of mess in the shrine of all places.

Sweet things like reminded her a little of home. The sort of thing her family's servants would make in the kitchen. Three of them had accompanied her to Candaeln, but the kitchen staff hadn't been among them.

But Candaeln had fantastic chefs that rivaled the royal family's. Maybe if she asked...

... Not that any of that mattered. What mattered most was ensuring that what happened in the fight against Jeremiah never happened again.

Before her mind could travel once again to Sir Rickert, however, a sudden torrent of heat erupted through her mouth. A muffled squeak escaped the girl's lips, her eyes immediately watering as her hands clamped over her mouth once again, her cheeks flushed. What was this? Where had this come from? It went from sweet to so hot!

And now it was filling her entire mouth, burning away at her tongue, everything, even as she tried to quickly swallow it down as fast as possible.

"Wh-why is it so hot?!"

She allowed herself a moment to exclaim her all-important question to the gods above.

Given they were already in a shrine, it was perhaps a fitting place to do so.

@Rune_Alchemist

The Knight almost backhanded Lein when he smudged his jacket, but just about held himself back. He was lucky it would probably brush out.

"Careful with that jacket in future, eh?" He growled, as he greeted Lein's inspection of him with his own. He was easily the one of the strangest recruits of the bunch, though Lucas too made him question Tyaethe's logic. He had seen his bow in action, however, and he was well aware of how difficult that weapon was to use in the hands of an unskilled warrior. And so he did have his begrudging respect for that.

"Well, ah...let's just say not all highborns enjoy sitting in ivory towers. Not that I had one to claim, hmmhmm." He looked off to where they were walking, glancing around them briefly to make sure they weren't being followed. "There's only so little I can do working solo, you see? With the resources the Roses have...well, a lot is possible, hmm?"

He patted Lein on the back, smirking.

@PigeonOfAstora

Frankly, he hadn't expected Serenity to actually take the bait. Still, what she said told him enough about her feelings on the matter. As for her own question...

"Paladin Tyaethe gave us our commands, and we executed them. I suspect she'd prefer not to be in a position of leadership, but her target prioritzation was correct. We were ordered to focus on either Jeremiah or what we now know to be the griffin should they appear, and I would have commanded the same in her position. As for unit tactics, to be frank, I'd wager the fault is more on our individual components than our leadership." He glanced in Fionn's direction in acknowledgement for a moment before continuing on.

"Unlike the common soldiery our friend here came from, I find that most knights tend to be somewhat too proud to consider unit tactics and formation warfare past the lance or wedge on horseback. There are exceptions, like ourselves, but to an average member of the order? Doubtful. After all, it's the poor bastards on foot bearing shoddy munitions that need exact drilling to survive and win against men in full plate and on horseback, not the other way around."

Renar glanced down to his own armaments, having finally finished maintenance on them. As he began packing his supplies back up, he looked to Fionn who seemed to be leaving.

"Go on, then. I'd join you immediately, but I've some letters to send out first. Reports of the battle, petitions, and whatnot. While I can't claim any greater glories, I'll not see any effort I made go to waste."

The vampire had yet to set off in search of someone willing to serve as the day's meal when she was saved the effort by someone coming to her instead. Or, maybe, she had fallen into a light nap thinking about who might be more eager to comply on the start of their current break without falling back on the same few people--if preferable, she'd want to drink more than merely necessary, and she didn't want to leave a small number of knights in a state of permanent anaemia.

Whether she had been asleep or not was hard to tell with how fast Tyaethe seemed to recover, sitting up straight and tilting her head. Fionn wasn't a bad one to see; anyone so fervently devoted to the goddess was in her good books for a start... and his personality did remind her rather pleassantly of past friends. On the other hand, he was still far too new to the order to have much of a strong relationship, and she hadn't yet broached the topic of feeding on him.

So, her opinions on the man were still quite unformed. But they did not, yet, include an expectation that she would be approached by the man carrying both cake and some unidentified slice of pie. "Can I help you?"

@The Otter

Lein

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Location: Old Aimlenn Backstreets
Interactions: Sergio @VahkiDane

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Neither did I, but here we both are. "Sure, just looking out for a fellow, is all. Though really, I'm kinda disappointed! Thought you may be a 'I'm secretly the heir to the throne and I'm hiding from assassins' or something exciting like that. Now come on, we're late already."

The route that Lein led Sergio on was not so much a coherent route as it was a collection of twists and hidden corners. Occasionally Though the pair started off on the well-trodden cobblestone streets, with a couple turns between the alleyways of the pair soon began to tread into dirt roads that had clearly not weathered time gracefully. Though the whole journey didn't take long, with the number of times Lein simply dodged into a place betwixt crates of merchandise and continue down what was supposedly a walk-through.

Lein didn't afford the courtesy to slow down for Sergio as he navigated the passageways, even as the trickle of passerby became choking torrents. The Hundi runt, disappearing frequently in crowds due to his tiny height, knew the way from the sight of the old roofs alone. If his temporary charge couldn't keep up? Eh, Sergio looked like he could use a night or two outside.

Signs that enthusiastically informed of new wares were soon replaced with scrawled symbols, rusting off their hinges, before being entirely abandoned in favor of the shopkeepers arresting attention with whistles and shouts. The bleached walls of the main streets similarly gave way to patches of yellow and black mold, many times exposing the skeletal weave of wattle below the mud wall. Some wounds were crammed with sacks, others simply covered with a panel and little else.

Like a forest canopy these buildings had several levels stacked up on top of each other, with each subsequent roof being larger than the one below. They loomed over the passageways, creaking with strain yet somehow finding sturdiness enough to not come crashing down, making each passerby perform the remarkable feat of bravery of simply ignoring the possibility.

Lein had taken to a quick fondness to this place, finding a sort of comfort in the chaotic rabble of architecture and humanity. As ill-taken as it were, Lein had seen places twisted with vitriol and at the very least, this was not yet one of them. It was more a consequence of neglect: a collective forgetting as new buildings bloomed outward and left the old to accumulate grime and mold. The air was filled with the overwhelming smell of lavender pushing down the algae that had been ill-drained and gathered in brackish puddles, but the metallic smell of blood was absent.

As chaotic and crowded as the streets became, there was a notable accumulation of glances toward the Knight and the Hundi guide. Lein was used to the attention - it was a ways off from Ithillin, and he had long since given up to the fact that the mischievous street urchin would hop up behind the Hundi and tug at his tail. He'd just trust that the stares were of idleness rather than scorn. It would be less clear for Sergio, however, with his coat and general cleanliness (apart from where Lein had kindly slapped dirt over) being distinctly fine and well-made compared to the coarse yellow-green tunics. The folk here never bothered to discern the fine looks of the Knights that dwelt in the castle, and neither the Knights towards them. As far as they were concerned, the towering walls and occasional guard was sign enough of their presence.

As they continued deeper and deeper, wooden box firmly in tow, Lein produced an apple from his stash (read: absconded from an inattentive shopkeep) and kept it juggling across his prosthetic hand as he pushed along. "Nearly there~" Lein said, glancing back and clearly enjoying himself.

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@ERode @Psyker Landshark @Raineh Daze

---

Common soldiery might even have been a stretch, as Renar put it; mercenaries often carried a strange blend of professionalism and outright terrible discipline that set them well apart from the common soldiery and the noble men-at-arms and knights alike. "Maybe make sure one of those letters you send out is a request for some instructional tomes on tactics to add to the library, then," he said as he turned, walking out the smithy with one hand lazily waved at them in farewell. Though, as he walked on towards the main dining hall, the joke seemed to make more and more actual sense to him.

Certainly, most of the knights in the order knew more of tactics than a novice in a nunnery, but if nobles the country over had the same opinions that Renar was suggesting they did...he'd rather the order as a whole have more than a smattering of elemental strategy.

After their ride into town, the talk in the smithy, and all, by the time he'd made it to the dining hall much of the food from the recent meal was going cold; the servants and staff that kept the keep running were gathering up what was left untouched to give out as alms to the poor and such. While he could take advantage of his status to have the cooks whip up something small and fresh for him, it suited him far better to take something from the leftovers that he could find. Some crusty bread, a few slices of roast something laid atop it with some cheese and the gravy from the roast that hadn't congealed, and whatever decent-looking vegetables he could find made a decent and fast late lunch for him; for dessert, a slice each of cake and pie that he could find.

One for him, one for the next target of conversation for the day, assuming she was in a good enough mood to converse at all; hopefully the dessert would be good enough to bribe her into it. Smuggling the two desserts he'd taken past any of the staff near the doors to the dining hall, he quickly made his way toward the paladin's usual spot—one marked by a collection of pillows, one of which looked suspiciously like the one he'd noticed had gone missing from his bed before they set out on their little mission—just to find her bespectacled red eyes already placed firmly upon him.

"Can I help you?"

He held out the desserts.

"Sambocade, dame Tyaethe, or a spiced pome tart?" He glanced back down at the pie slice. "Oh, the tart has dates in it too."

... well, that half explained why the former mercenary was bearing food, if not what reasoning he had for bringing it over here. Bribery by cake? But bribery to what ends? It was a rather prescient gift, Candaeln's desserts were always delicious, even if you could get them yourself, to be saved the trouble (or the risk all the good ones were gone)... if she had an idea why.

"As much as I appreciate the offer of dessert, MacKerracher, I'm afraid I must ask you for something different. Oh, you don't have to go anywhere; it's your blood I need," Tyaethe answered, swinging her legs off the window seat and sitting up. "It's entirely voluntary, but I won't take that much. Just avoid strenuous activity until tomorrow.

"Oh, and you only need to offer your arm," she added. For some reason, people always seemed to expect she might go for the neck. As if the paladin wanted to get that intimate with every junior knight in the order... or could actually reach on most of them. Did they expect her to cling to them like some sort of monkey?

@The Otter

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@Raineh Daze

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He started to withdraw the desserts with a small bit of surprise, before reflexively answering "Fionn's fine, honest—"

And then the rest of what she was saying sank in. He blinked once, twice, and raised an eyebrow in morbid curiosity. "There's veins right at the surface in the wrist, and it's easier to bite them open without killing the person anyways. Why would you go for anywhere different?" A simple, clinical fact; anywhere else trying to reach the blood would probably need more damage to be done to the surrounding flesh, and would be harder to stop the bleeding after.

He blinked again. That was probably the wrong outlook to take on this.

"Wait, is this the normal protocol for having a conversation with you, or do you just ask every knight this eventually?" Probably only the clean ones, actually; he couldn't imagine biting into one of the grimier, unwashed fools among the knights would be a particularly pleasant experience. Beyond the extent to which being a vampire probably wasn't the most pleasant experience to begin with.

Farewells spoken, Serenity finished off the rest of her work in the forge, tapering the point of her spearhead before going over each individual piece of armor one by one, fixing up dents and scratches, polishing it all until it shown, and re-linking what portions of her chainmail needed repair. It was quick work, once she didn't have any conversation to attend to, though she certainly caught the gaze of more than one apprentice as she did so.

It wasn't as if it was all that rare a sight, but she supposed she must still have been an oddity by those whose eyes wandered habitually, to be doing her work without even having gotten herself changed out of her armor fully yet.

The afternoon passed, inviting in the dappled magenta of evening, and Serenity strode through the streets of Aimlenn with all the purposeless poise that a noblewoman could possess. Some of the irritation from the previous day persisted still, enough that solace was better found in relative anonymity than in the same space that both gloryhounds and the pious shared. There would be toasts, no doubt, to the late Sir Rickert, and there would be stories too, to tell, of the mounting of the griffin. She could imagine it already, the boy Lucas jumping up on the tables, riding on Sir Fleuri's back as the Flower wiggled his plumed helmet about. Two buffoons joined as one, clowning about in a gesture of their newfound brotherhood.

Honestly, that'd be funny to see. She'd hate it, but it'd be something to talk about down the line.

Still, the call of the night drew her out further. Lamps cast warm glows, and music flowed from open doors, taverns alive with laborers eager to spend their coinage. Pristine as it was in the morning, Aimlenn was still a city, after all, one where life was peaceful and prosperous enough to enjoy freely. And Serenity herself was dressed for enjoyment. Her flaxen hair was braided for the occasion, a silver ornament tied to the very end, and she sported an indigo tunic to complement her dark green stockings, while her arming sword hung from her leather belt in an embellished scabbard. It was a good night indeed, with Mayon's grace unobstructed by clouds. A night to enjoy oneself, before she began her nightly, knightly training. Another spot of bemusement. She allowed the smile.

Now, what establishment would inspire her patronage today...

"Ah, Gerard."

Average though he may have been, there certainly was no day labourer who looked nearly as disheveled as he, nor one that possessed such a conventionally handsome face, and she approached, sniffing the air once.

"You stink," Serenity spoke flatly. "Been out training til now?"