---

@VitaVitaAR

"Pfff, ahaha!" She couldn't help but to laugh at the expected reaction from Fanilly. She had been a bit concerned when the young knight captain gave no real reaction to being force fed the pastry, but that was what the little extra in the treat was for. "I'd apologize but that'd be a lie, captain." She'd flash the captain an innocent grin as she'd pull a second from her coat. "They're a neat little treat that has a sweet outside but a spicy cream in the center. Great for pranking people, eheheh." The archer playfully stuck her tongue out at Fanilly, taking a few steps back just in case retaliation was about to be had.

"I got more if you want 'em! I brought em to share." Cecil held out a few more towards Fanilly.

If nothing else, it seemed like she at least succeeded in taking the girls mind off things for the moment.

"Well, I can't offer any assistance there," Tyaethe said, leaning back into the mound of cushions and making a vague gesture, "Everything I do is too mana intensive, and the least draining thing I can do has no combat application at all."

There was another example of that ominous red shadow flowing over the vampire, but it dissipated almost immediately to leave... well, it was still the same girl, just with about a decade in age and a rather disappointing few inches more in height. If anything, despite the much sharper cast to her features, she looked even less knightly than normal; the change in figure obviously contradictory to her overly-acrobatic approach to combat.

"There have been various magic-using knights down the years, I'm sure some of them wrote more general tips down, if you can find someone willing to instruct you in the basics of magic. I'm sure Parv left something... although he was equally heavy on mana usage. Maybe the principles would come in handy?"

@The Otter

---

@Raineh Daze

---

Parv.

The way she oh-so-casually abbreviated one of the founding knight's names, one of her old friends, gave him hope that he might manage to convince the others to drop the surplus of formality at some point—beyond just the extent to which they all let him get away with it. That small hope was enough to luckly distract him from commenting on how Tyaethe's adult-size body was still kid sized. Multiple inches shorter than Fanilly, if he had to guess, and Fanilly herself was already fairly short.

Calling attention to that couldn't be a good idea.

"Principles, basics, whichever you want to call it, I'll need to get them down if I'm going to make anything usable out of this." That was quite the if; given his current role, he didn't exactly have the time to dedicate to long study of the magical arts in the way that most who were dedicated to such practice would—nor did he have the surplus of energy to devote to brute-forcing his way into extraordinary effects that Tyaethe did. "But, first..."

He slid from his kneel back into a sitting position, leaning against the wall underneath Tyaethe's window seat, and reached back to grab his half-eaten cake.

"Sambocade."

@VitaVitaAR @Rune_Alchemist

After finishing his maintenance on his weapons and separating from Fionn and Serenity, Renar did exactly as he stated he'd do, and returned to his quarters to begin drafting several letters. They'd been exactly as he said they were supposed to be as well, comprising of various reports of the battle on his end, sent out to contacts of his with varying influence. And his family. Some were of more use than others, but anything that got his name on the lips of the upper echelon of power in Thaln would be beneficial towards his goal.

Writing the letters hadn't taken too much time, given that most were the exact same in content, and Renar left his quarters once more in order to send them off. Once he'd finished mailing them away, he began the slow walk back to the dormitory, wondering what to do with the remainder of his free time for the day. Under ordinary circumstances, he'd be training. However, for some reason, none of his usual training partners and/or friends were located within the training grounds. Unfortunate. Perhaps they all had something else to do for the moment. Regardless, that did leave him with a wealth of free time.

It was during his musings of what to do that Renar stumbled across a rare sight. The knight-captain and Cecilia in the chapel, with the latter having fed the former...something. Judging by Fanilly's reaction, it wasn't exactly pleasant. Still, it clearly wasn't a poisoning attempt. Or at the very least, it was the worst poisoning attempt Renar had ever heard of. Regardless, the chapel was a public place, and this didn't quite seem to be a private conversation. If nothing else, he could use this chance to get more of a gauge on his new commander.

"Captain Fanilly. Dame Cecilia." Renar approached, giving Cecilia a respectful nod and Fanilly a brief salute. "I hope you're not trying to poison our new knight-captain so soon after our first successful mission." He smirked briefly at Cecilia, conveying his jest.

"Sprints?"

A smile graced her lips as Serenity's eyes lead to Gerard's dirt-stained boots. Worn and scuffed up, even more so than before, and in truth, the rest of his attire managed to be in even worse shape, the tears in the seams along the joints making him appear quite...unseemly.

"Your steed will thank you for the early retirement. And I'm out for a meal myself. Eating in Candealn would be unpleasant, given circumstances." She mulled something over, then snapped her fingers. "Care to join me?"

The young woman took another bite out of the half-eaten tart, before continuing, "I don't mean the basic principles of magic--I can explain those well enough, on a theoretical level, even if I don't know the first thing about proper spell construction or the actual role chants play in it. I mean that there's a chance he left the principles of his speciality in a more knight-friendly format, although I've never cared to look. Explosions. Breaking things. A small, controlled attack on a foe's weapon can be as much a victory as removing their entire upper body."

She twirled her fork a few times before pointing it at him, expression stern. "However, you must be more mindful of your limits than with physical training. Exhaustion is the best you could expect if you push too long or too hard. Temporary loss of magical ability or even death aren't unheard of if you go too hard. Consider it to be always adverse conditions and rest appropriately."

Well, not that she knew firsthand. If Tyaethe ever ran her reserves that low, she'd be delirious with hunger first, and then just drop dead.

@The Otter

The spice had yet to subside. Fanilly had enjoyed a very mild, slight bite in a meal before. It was just the barest hint of spice. But any more then that, she simply couldn't handle very well in the least.

This was quite a bit spicier then that meal. Even if she no longer felt like she had to keep her hands clapped over her mouth, the slim blonde's tongue was hanging as she gulped in air, trying and failing to address the hot sensation currently mounting a full-scale assault on her tongue.

More? Why would she want more?! Fanilly was completely unable to wrap her mind over why she could possibly want more when just one was causing her mouth to burn up this much. At the very least, the heat was beginning to ebb away, losing intensity more and more by the moment.

At least for the moment, however, Cecilia's secondary motivations had indeed paid off. There was no way that Fanilly could focus right now, the young knight-captain quite distracted by the fiery little prank.

But when Sir Renar entered, she frantically tucked her tongue back into her mouth, the burning having subsided enough by now for her to at least attempt to project some kind of composure. It was enough that she'd faltered so much in front of just one of her knights, she couldn't do the same in front of another.

"I-I'm fine," she stammered, "A-absolutely fine. Don't worry, Sir Renar."

Flush on her face indicated otherwise.

@Psyker Landshark@Rune_Alchemist

Lein

---

Location: Old Aimlenn Backstreets
Interactions: Sergio @VahkiDane

---

"Thought the chapel was back in the castle?" Lein responded with an alacritous slyness.

"Tell him to go away." An unamused grumble said, unclear if 'him' was addressing Lein or Sergio.

Lein bent back down on the trapdoor, trying to put on his most welcoming smile. "Hey now, don't act all crammed now, we were just jesting. This crummy bastard's actually a dear-"

"Go away." The eye shot a dreary look at Sergio, another one at Lein, then withdrew entirely. A sound of a lock soon followed the pitter-patter of footsteps shuffling off.

"Oi! What's eating you?" Two sharp raps, but no response this time. Lein sighed and hung his head, his tail sagging in defeat. This damned morveaux. Why were kids so moody these days? Lein had to accept his losses at these times, even if he did look rather foolish. "Well, the box's out here anyhow. I'll be back for the payment later, alright?" Lein shouted one last time down at the sealed trapdoor before dusting himself off. He pushed his delivery further in-between the roots and threw some leaves over it, just in case a curious eye might snoop.

Perhaps it was for the best. Lein had strung Sergio along in case he needed someone with a bigger frame to intimidate squatters out of the courtyard, but apparently they had moved of their own accord. Hopefully of their own accord. No more need to pull more sets of eyes on his goings-on here.

"Whelp, that's bout it. Sorry to disappoint if you were looking for a show." Turning to Lein loosened one of the sleeve linings in his tunic and pushed out two coins from a hidden pocket. "Well, in case you did wanted to go somewhere around these parts - two lucky coins specially kept for you. Nothing more to it, alright?" He held it out to Sergio between his mechanical digits, his usually laid back smile a little diminished.

---

@Raineh Daze

---

"Not that dissimilar from what I already do, then. Exhaustion is the best I can expect if I overwork out on the training field, but I could always do something really bad and tear a muscle or tendon and put myself completely out of use." He wouldn't dismiss the warning entirely, but it wasn't entirely necessary either. Overworking anything was a fast way to get an injury, not just make yourself tired. "Even heard tell once of a man who strained so hard trying to lift something he burst a blood vessel in his head. Not that they realized at the time, of course, but apparently when they asked a healer to take a look and figure out what did him in, they caught on right quick soon as they described the symptoms. Punched a hole through his skull with an awl to make sure and it just gushed out like a spring."

Utterly unperturbed by the story he was telling, he took another bite of his cake. "Not that it's the same, but that sure sounds a lot like that overworking too hard and too long to the point of causing an untimely demise to me. Trying to push yourself too hard, or dive in unprepared, especially when you're working on something entirely new to you, is one of the biggest mistakes you can make. I'm not about to try and start blasting energy out of my sword or knocking people's blades out of their hands like I fling stones out in the yard. I want to keep myself fit, not give myself fits." Sure, he might push his limits out on the practice field fairly often, but he had the experience to know what his limits were, and how far he could push them before he injured himself. When it came to figuring out magic, he had absolutely no clue what his limits were, and until he could develop a feel for that, he wasn't about to go pushing as hard as possible.

"Start small, gradually work up to the maximum of what I've got the potential to handle, and always stay mindful. For that, as interesting as Sir Parvan's writings might be, I should probably find something that's actually meant for the beginners, wouldn't you agree?"

"If you're pushing yourself physically, you already know the signs to watch out for," Tyaethe said with a shrug, making a good attempt at polishing off the remainder of the tart, "Here, you don't know your limits or even have any familiarity with approaching them. It's not something where you can get away with pushing yourself just a little further."

The talk of blood and death obviously didn't bother the vampire at all, as she chewed over another bite thoughtfully, "Not that there's the same impetus to push yourself as with exercise. How much mana you have is a trait of the soul, no matter how much you push it would always stay the same. It's why most mages use catalysts of some type to help focus it more efficiently or why rituals are even designed. You don't get more efficient by working yourself into a coma.

"Well, I can't say I know where beginners should start. I learned the standard fire-lighting trick back in the day, but since the dark doesn't bother me it was never something I needed..." she mused, stabbing the fork into the remnant of the chart and focusing on a raised fingertip. There was an imperceptible feeling of something around Tyaethe as she frowned at the offending digit, a glimpse of an oily red sheen... and then, without any fanfare, a small fire dancing above her finger, connected to nothing. "It's something like this. There's words and everything, too; it makes sense the bookworms are the ones most concerned with lighting candles."

The fire winked out a second later, job done--and the obvious reason to not just start by teaching magical illumination. Starting a fire was a simple task you didn't need to keep going for long.

@The Otter

Gerard Segremors

@ERode

"Hardly," his glib reply came readily in the wake of her just. "He and I have a good arrangement— he handles the long distances, I handle running into enemy lines. Works great for us both."

Beneath this veneer of flippantness, however, he didn't miss her giving him a similar once-over as he'd done moments ago, starting down at the soil-caked boots and quickly darting across the attire on his frame. Drab and shabby clothing. Understated, putting it mildly, and well-worn. Good for training, if nothing else, and casual enough for a farmboy— but knowing Dame Serenity...

"If you'll have me, I'm all for it. I need to learn the city more thoroughly anyway."

Was she, always polishing and preening and ensuring she put her best foot forward, no matter the circumstance, really fine with it? With the way she was noting down all the run-down fabric, Gerard had his doubts. Not when this was a point on propriety she could hammer home, a teachable moment for the etiquette both knew he lacked. If it came to expectations, he definitely expected her to expect better.

...Still, though.

It was a nice night after a good victory.

Cross the bridge when you come to it.

Sergio carefully looked over Lein, before taking the coins. He raised one to his mouth, quickly biting it to make sure he hadn't been given some sort of faux-metal scam coin.

Evidently not.

"Ah, and yet the day is still young. Clearly I bore you, Ser Estouls. The shame, by Mayon." The knight stretched out, pouting a little before making eye contact with him again. "I could never think another reason you'd want me gone, ah?"

The Knight of the Harvest Moon's eyes glimmered in amusement. He'd have eased up on Lein if the Hundi was a clueless new recruit - but being as sly and conniving as he was...a little friendly hazing couldn't hurt.

A coin flipped into the air, caught as quick as it was thrown.

@PigeonOfAstora

@VitaVitaAR @Rune_Alchemist

For a moment, Renar had to remind himself to be patient, lest he start thinking like Serenity. He had to be patient with the captain acting like a teenage girl, because she was a teenage girl. One that didn't exactly ask for this role, unless he was catastrophically mistaken about how the selection process worked. And so Renar simply didn't comment on Fanilly stammering, instead giving her a patient, blank stare. Smiling would just be brown-nosing.

"How have you been settling into Candealn, Captain?" Time to continue taking the girl's measure. Judging by the fact they'd mopped up a group of war veterans while losing only a single man, Renar had little to complain about thus far. But that was only one battle. Flukes could happen. He glanced over to Cecilia, eyeing the little snacks she'd brought.

"Mind if I take one? Now I'm just curious as to what had the Captain in such a fuss."

Fleuri Jodeau

"Very well," Fleuri replied, as he fetched a training sword of approximately the length of Gerard's weapon. "I actually used a weapon of similar size as during my time as a squire, and occasionally in tournaments."

Fleuri started out by demonstrating some stances with the weapon.

"You already probably know this, but good stances and a good grip are key. You never want to find yourself losing your grip on your sword," he explained, thinking back to the battle when Lucas had dropped his weapon.

"A sword like this can be used with either one or two hands without too much difficulty. Since Sir Gerard does not use a shield, we'll focus on using two hands." Fleuri waited for Lucas to mirror his stance, then struck at his foe's sword with some of the basic attacks, both swinging and stabbing, that he knew of. He did not strike at the boy holding the sword, though- he didn't want to bruise Lucas up. Afterwards, he would beckon Lucas to do the same, to make a few blows at Fleuri's sword, which the older knight would try to block, deflect, or parry. Once this was over he'd go over the various attacks and counterattacks that he had demonstrated.

It wasn't knowledge that he thought he'd be using any time soon. He had no page or squire, and tended to favor larger blades for combat because they were more suited to dismembering undead and other tough foes. Still, the smaller swords were definitely formidable in the right hands, and many great knights had used him. Fleuri could hardly live up to those great bastions of heroism, but he'd do his best to impart some of what he did know to Lucas.

Fleuri would then go over over techniques such as half-swording, showing how one could increase leverage on the blade in this manner or even use the crossguard as a weapon. He'd also try to convey the capabilities and limitations of double-edged swords like the longsword, at one point fetching some actual swords to better demonstrate his point.

The sparring match had turned into more of an instruction, but Fleuri didn't mind. It was clear that Lucas had a lot to learn and would at this point be better served by instruction rather than beating on him with a wooden weapon. Of course, practice made perfect and the boy would definitely need to spar to get the hang of it, but one step at a time.

"I think that's enough for now," he concluded. "I'd suggest practicing what I showed you, and in the future we'll spar to try and get it committed to reflex."

Eventually, Lucas would probably have to seek out those more experienced with longswords than Fleuri, but he felt his proficiency should be adequate to get the boy started.

@Saiyan

Lein

---

Location: The Lonely Frame
Interactions: Sergio @VahkiDane

---

"Woah, 'Estouls'? Where'd you pull that one from? Sounds flattering, but we're friends enough! Just 'Lein' will do."

He'd been pretty shut about his past involvements with the Estouls. Far as anyone's guess, "Lein" was just a lost Hundi who walked up to the castle one day, shot up the shooting range and demanded to be let in. Hmm. Perhaps it was the archivist. Either way, this particular knight was two steps within Lein's margins. Grumpy kid needs a bit of place.

Practically arresting Sergio and pulling him out of the courtyard, Lein pulled another couple of coins seemingly out of nowhere and flipped it around in front of the knight. "In fact why not celebrate our newfound friendship? I've got just the place."

In yet another whirlwind of diversions and impossibly narrow walkways, Lein (and supposedly Sergio, though he never bothered to check) squeezed himself back to the main roads of the city. Before them lay a squat building with an unassuming building, its purpose betrayed by the din of its occupants. The day had not yet fully melted into the horizon, vestiges of orange and blue clinging onto each other against the clouds, but still the smell of alcohol and sounds of merriment leaked in bolts and waves into the road outside. Lein's tail wagged at the noise, a dog soaking in the sound of familiarity. Not quite home, but something to the shape of it. The Lonely Frame.

'The Lonely Frame' was hardly the first name the establishment had assumed. The sign that hosted the first name 'The Castle Yard', was broken off by a knight who lost control of his horse. The next sign that humored the occasion, 'The Cracked Hoof', was subsequently burnt to crisp in a drunk darts contest. The third, "Grill and Sons", was tucked silently in a conspicuous corner in Lein's bunk. Thus with a huff the greying frame of the bartender decreed that the sign would no longer be replaced and the incorrigible bunch better find their own damned way to the tavern. Thus the empty iron girders that used to hold the signs was bestowed a name of it's own - 'The Lonely Frame'.

Sitting squarely next to the main road and leaning over the cobblestone that lead toward the western gate, The Lonely Frame attracted a swill of both the rambunctious workers looking to be knocked off their knees and knights looking for a warm drink before heading back into the castle. Off to the flank was a large countertop made from stacked barrels that overlooked a sea of creaky stools and tables, though the scrapes upon the permanently stained wooden floors of the tavern suggested the layout had been arranged and rearranged countless times for all manners of entertainment and merry brawls. With the walls lavishly furbished with trophies of battle and generously lit with a fireplace and several lanterns hanging from the rafters, the tavern was welcome to host its patrons well into the night.

Tonight, without fail, there were contests of harrumphs and boastful claims about the depth of their alcohol tolerance, pink-faced soldiers crowding over the tables and throwing tankards of beer to each other. The bushy-eyed bartender hardly reacted to the Hundi and his charge stepping in, busily ushering through overflowing cups and platters of grilled meat. A sign (a blackboard hammered somewhat shakily into a column) gleefully informed the bar patrons that of the last 43 days, none had managed to down the entirety of the 'Giant's Boot'.

"Eh, you can probably take that right?" Lein thumped Sergio's stomach, pointing to the blackboard.

---

@Raineh Daze

---

Fionn glanced up at the tiny flame hovering by Tyaethe's finger before it disappeared from existence. That was a trick that would've come in extremely useful a few times when he was younger, shortly after leaving home; before he'd made it to the river and joined up with the traders that travelled it regularly, there were some cold nights out in the woods, and he'd managed to lose his fire starter fairly early on. It was an odd thought, that he might have had the capability to get a flame going without the tools all along, just lacking the knowlege to do it.

"Not that it's a bad idea for them. Reserves more limited than yours, they probably need those books in a way you don't." Which he would as well, if he intended to make any actual progress with incorporating magical effects to any of his work. At least in a way that wouldn't kill him the first time he tried. He absent-mindedly finished off the last of his cake, setting the plate off to the side and letting his head lean back against the wall. Figuring out how to incorporate the magic in his combat skills—however much or little he might actually have available to use—would likely prove a fairly intensive undertaking.

Rest of the summer, probably, given that he was approaching it from the position of a complete beginner; hopefully he wouldn't be too locked up in it once autumn came around, however. It might be difficult trying to fit it into his other plans.

"Do you think there'll be a good apple and pear harvest this year?"

"A sword like this can be used with either one or two hands without too much difficulty. Since Sir Gerard does not use a shield, we'll focus on using two hands."

Lucas was ecstatic when Fleuri agreed to his request, and he tried his best to be a good student, mirroring the knight as he was showed some proper longsword stances. Fleuri demonstrated his knowledge, explaining each strike and position in detail. Lucas tried to soak it up, nodding away, his eyebrows knitting together as if the learning was hurting his head. They went through each exercise in practice, Lucas trying to replicate the strikes from the right stances by attempting to strike his teacher. Of course, Fleuri easily fended off the blows, and pointed out any flaws in Lucas' form, at which point he would try again, to do it correctly.

<"Ha! An Amateur," Jeremiah's elite warrior goaded. "I'm gonna gut you like a fish boy!">

You have to get better lad, Lucas thought to himself (in the voice of his father, which was a common occurence, of late, whenever he lectured himself) as he advanced on Fleuri. He closed distance, his feet shifting effortlessly underneath him, his balance perfect. Nonetheless, he couldn't land a hit on Fleuri. You're gonna die out there if don't.

The two spent hours in the yard, going over a plethora of attacks and counterattacks, taking time repeat the fundamental ones over and over. Lucas' arms and shoulders burned with the work. It wasn't that the training was overly taxing, in of itself - the young man simply needed a proper rest was all. It had been a while, and Lucas didn't have the tireless endurance of his comrades. But he didn't slow in his efforts to follow Fleuri's instruction, nor did his concentration drop.

"Oh yeah," was a verbal nod from Lucas as Fleuri demonstrated with a real sword, some of the capabilities and limitations of the double-edged longsword.

The Flower was as good a teacher as any Lucas had trained under. Better even, Lucas reckoned. They did a few more drills with wooden swords before their training came to an end.

"I think that's enough for now," he concluded. Lucas rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck to one side. "I'd suggest practicing what I showed you, and in the future we'll spar to try and get it committed to reflex."

"Will do," Lucas replied eagerly. "Thanks for this. I'll practice everyday. Twice a day." The two put away the practice weapons and Lucas decided if he wanted to go to bed early, he'd need to get a few drinks in him early too. And it was late enough in the day to get started. "Hey, fancy a few drinks?" he asked the knight with a sidelong look as they walked across the yard. Then he quirked an eyebrow, realising that the man next to him was a devout follower of the church. "Do you drink?" he added, quickly. "I was thinking of heading into the city. Get out the castle for a bit. Find a proper tavern."

When Fleuri agreed, Lucas cheered and slapped him on the shoulder. "Let's have it, then!"

Lucas parted ways with the knight as he wanted to have a wash and change shirts. They met up right where they left eachother and went off into the city. They didn't have to go far. Out under the western gate they went, Lucas regaling Fleuri with a story about a time, a few years back, that Lucas' father, Harold, had taken him to his first tavern in this very city. "The Cracked Hoof, it's called," Lucas said. "Word was that a pissed up knight had ridden his horse right into the sign, ha! That's how it got it's name."

When they got there, the sign was gone (as was the name,) but the tavern was still there, looking just as Lucas had remembered it. The volume of it's patrons was loud enough to be heard from outside as Lucas and Fleuri approached. That volume went up a few notches as Lucas pushed open the door, a smirk on his face as he surveyed the taproom and the rambunctious, boisterous atmosphere. As they wound through the tables and chairs towards the bar, Lucas spied some familiar faces.

"Lein! Sergio!" he remembered their names, but the formalities of honorifics had faded from memory, in the wake of a more common and familiar backdrop. "Fancy seeing you here. I'll get the round in," he added, nudging Fleuri with an elbow and then going to the bar. He came back with four tankards, two in each hand, and slid them onto the table before taking a seat. "You been here all day?" he asked Lein and Sergio.

He took a whiff of his ale, before gulping a large swig.

---

@VitaVitaAR@Psyker Landshark

"Poison? Perish the though, Sir Renar! I was just sharing some pastries with the knight captain." Cecil flashed a cheeky grin towards Renar. "Want one? Captain Fanilly can attest to their taste." She'd pat the captain roughly on the back. "She's been rendered speechless by their fluffiness and their sweet, creamy filling." She could feel Shael becoming increasingly agitated with this little prank. if it hadn't been meant to get Fanilly's mind off this whole captaining business then she'd probably already be getting an earful.

Lein

---

Location: The Lonely Frame
Interactions: Sergio @VahkiDane Lucas @Saiyan Fleuri @Crimson Paladin

---

Lein beamed at the entrance of the two knights he had seen riding the griffins. "It's the griffin riders himself! My, I've only wandered in and I'm graced with your presence." Lein proclaimed, loud enough for much of the tavern to hear. Though Lein himself didn't slack in agility, there was something about how the white-haired trainee bounded off the tower that told him that those movements were ingrained with experience. And the sheer guts of the knights to run up to a griffin and try and tackle it to the ground? Well, not exactly the most thought out of plans, sure - but it was undeniably entertaining. Nothing to count against a stylish plan, no?

Lein pushed past the passing soldiers and planted himself firmly next to Lucas. He lifted the mug slid in front of him in thanks, though he did not drink from it. In a quick exchange of hands, the mug before Lein disappeared behind the bartender's arms and reappeared before the Hundi, filled to the brim with some kind of clear liquid. Lein winked at the bartender, who grunted disapprovingly but knew better to entangle with the strangeness of the Hundi's behavior. Lein took a big swig of his drink as if it was still the stiff alcohol and addressed Lucas with ears eager and attentive. "Now, if you'd regale me, where'd you learn to move like that? Did the Flower of the North teach you that one?"

As he scooched over to hear Lucas' tale, he kept watch on Fleuri's reaction. Unlike Lucas, whose name Lein had to badger out of a knight on their way back, the Champion of Flowers needed no such introduction. Some of the Aimlenn folk loved to talk about the hottest new champion, and the mysterious gladiator who gave up his title to serve the Roses was rich tinder for gossip indeed. Strange, though, since Lein hadn't seen much of Fleuri outside the training grounds or the Church sermons, so to have wandered all the way to the Frame... Perhaps he had taken a liking to the trainee. Let's put an eye on this one. This might get pretty interesting.