[color=goldenrod][i][h2][center]Gerard Segremors[/center][/h2][/i][/color]
[@ERode]

[color=goldenrod]"Speed, Gerard... C'mon, speed!"[/color]

For all his worries of unfamiliarity with the city laid before him, Sagramore found that eager strides made short work of the directions given, even in spite of a walk's slower pace. The sun had only just passed its zenith when he'd set forth from the outer gates of Candaeln— and still had plenty of time to weigh upon him like an anvil as he ran. Tucked away from the usual bustle of city life as this hill was, a little grunted self-coaching wouldn't garner many odd looks.

[color=goldenrod]"Agghh...mother[i]fucker[/i]."[/color] a ragged gasp tore itself from his burning lungs as he crested the hill and fought to keep his urge to keel over locked away. 

The concern of recognition from the parade had flickered through his mind after crossing the moat, but it was quickly allayed as he'd stepped into the throng. It was the pomp and circumstance and fantasy that had drawn the eyes— so much of them had affixed onto his unusually polished armor, or more likely the immense trophy he'd been waving around. When it came to his face, he clearly still had no trouble melting into the crowd, even now unmasked.

[color=goldenrod][i]I guess that's the upside to having so far to go,[/i][/color] his stream of consciousness mused, taking thought's place while his heart hammered. [color=goldenrod][i]Won't be recognized until I'm ready for it.[/i][/color]

...

The moment he'd been allotting for rest came and went— and, ever dutiful, he descended the slope to start anew, each step down closer to a jerking catch of the weight than the last.

The day drew on as he continued like this, sun sliding closer and closer to the earth as the knight threw his nose into the grindstone. Each sprint would shorten, each rest would lengthen, but it would not be until the low light matched the amber of his eyes that his will finally relented and listened to the protests of his body.

...

The walk back to Candaeln, given the pounding his calves had been put through, was by necessity a leisurely one. For the first few blocks his legs had felt to be made more of gelatine than bone and sinew, each step being a labor in its own right. Consistent a worker as discipline had forged him into, even he now found himself admitting that his fervor had pushed things... a little hard.

But, that consistency proved a virtue in equal measure— by the time Reon's blazing glory acceded to Mayon's gentler, calmer light in Aimlenn's cloudless air, he could walk normally in spite of the soreness. Recovery came quickly when the conditioning was maintained— a wisdom any proper soldier would have drilled into them first and foremost.

And just as well, too. Rounding a lamplit corner, the flash of a flaxen braid catching the glow was hard enough to miss on its own. His posture, instinctively by now, straightened. The frank, flat appraisal and prim bearing that accompanied were unmistakable, especially when they came from right at eye level.

[color=goldenrod]"And as ever, you're fresh as a daisy, Serenity."[/color]

There was no heat on the reply, and a cordial nod followed it quickly. It hadn't taken much time at all within the Order to realize that the young noblewoman was quick to get a read on him— and while he didn't consider himself terribly [i]difficult[/i] in such a regard, he had to admit he readily appreciated the honesty she brought with it. A mentor to an unfamiliar world such as knighthood was a blessing, one he dared not overlook.

[color=goldenrod]"Guilty as charged."[/color] a humble smile played across his face as he gauged her attire. Casual and light, moreso than he'd usually taken her for— but still carrying her blade on her hip. Smart. You never knew. [color=goldenrod]"Been out on the hills near the wall, running myself ragged. What about you, just on a stroll?"[/color]