---

@VitaVitaAR@Raineh Daze

---

"Not unless stealing my pillow counts!"

No doubt she'd still try to claim it was an accident, just like Lilia had suggested. He wasn't buying it. Not that it wasn't plausible—just that he refused to believe it. "That's a bit bigger than the one we just pulled. Have to try again sometime. She ever try to bully you about who did what in the hunt?"

Gerard Segremors

@VitaVitaAR@Raineh Daze@The Otter@Octo

"Try not to let her get too hurt before you’ve wrapped up your current problem~”

A puff of air escaped Gerard's nose, and with it about a dozen unspoken sentences, none of which would serve to help the knights' case or garner any enlightenment from Knight-Witch Merilia, their honored "examiner". A Witch was a being of immense arcane power, the woman herself clearly of certain capricious character, the state of dreaming famously vulnerable to all sorts of hexes and curses, and most importantly— his way with words was almost certainly going to cause more harm than help, at least right now.

That moment they'd returned to the plateau as an ensemble, he'd instantly tensed his bearing for battle, more or less expecting the collective to be worth starting with those Talderian Auxilia, or something to that effect. Maybe another of the founders. Even as they began to descend through the ring of clouds, leaving behind the scenery that had seen him trade a limp headbutt for Sir Agrahn's fist through his abdomen, he was still a little on-edge.

Instead, he simply spared a glance towards Sir Fleuri within the twenty-something throng of Knights that had been selected for these latest trials within the realm that layered above the waking world— seemed their previous conversation had indeed touched upon the truth of the prior affair. There wasn't any way the first dream could have ever been coincidence, coming right after they'd faced down the shadow of the Demonbreaker. It was benchmarking for the threats to come.

The first of many, by the sounds of it. Guess Paladin Tyaethe really insisted— or I really don't understand the scope of Dame Merilia's abilities.

A gleaming mass of spires in all white from afar as their plateau floated down burst forth from the rolling fields of green like a great crystal, each point a tower that he could tell, even from here, dwarfed the Spikes in the waking world. The city was colossal beyond his experience in four countries and counting—

And as far as I could tell, creating this place or projecting it or taking us here— whatever she did hardly broke her a sweat. he noted, sideyeing the way they'd come over his shoulder for a moment as he stepped forth. Witches are scary.

But enough on that. by the same token, there was no choice but to work with the situation they'd gotten. Close to him, seemingly haphazardly tossed into their ranks, one of a pair of unfamiliar maids was nursing a broomhandle to the dome after an unceremonious landing. Twins, Blonde with a splash of a few other colors... yeah, these weren't anybody that had been working a post in Candaeln as far as he knew.

"Sorry you and your sister got dragged into this with us. You alright?"

They had a set of true-blue outsiders on their hands. Best keep them taken care of— at least until more facts than "this is one of my little sister's apprentices" came to light. Why a maid would be a mage or vice-versa, he couldn't say, but...

"We... we need to get moving."

"Right. Name's Gerard. We'd best keep you both in the middle." He spoke quickly, his offered hand suddenly a grip and a pull around the crook of the elbow, hoisting the nearer girl to her feet as some order and direction returned once the Captain had taken the reins anew. At this point, he knew well enough it was impolite to cut her off before there was a word to get in edgewise, but the situation wasn't one they could really dawdle in. Once it was clear that the pair were good to go, the wolfish knight fell back into "rank" with his peers, quietly scanning the southern flank as they walked.

He didn't know what to think of Candaeln's gate, impossible to miss as it was, being entombed within a great wall— but he definitely knew that it was only his violent, visceral encounter with Agrahn that tempered his awe as the knights were met with a man that could only be The Hammer. Everything about him larger than life, Gerard was fairly certain he felt that first boom of laughter hit his chest as Fionn struck up conversation.

He's got both arms. Whatever image of him we're talking to's probably the man in his prime— definitely before his death, at the very least.

---

Some time

Today, the Ingvarr’s office was bustling with activities. Not the serious kind though.

An intense battle raged between two warriors, one a senior of the Iron Roses, Red Flag grizzly veteran, well-versed in many battle tactics and strategies, while the other a fearsome warrior of the north in a rather conservative Thaln outfit. Both were unrelenting, fighting for every bit and piece of the other, before a grand audience of nobody. For a while, they didn’t feel the need to speak, the chess speaks for itself.

“Can’t believe you’re getting away playing like this.” The older knight, Katte, finally broke the silence, after realizing he couldn’t play for a win. He brushed his white hairs back over his forehead, a long sigh relieved the tension of the match, reminding himself that the person on the other end was still his friend.

”It only worked with me a time or two, old man.” Steffen laughed, extended a handshake and was received.

“Just you wait, Steffy-boy, I’ll get my repertoire sorted out and I’ll get back at you.”

”Always keep your mind sharp old man.” Smirked the Ingvarr, as they both assembled their pieces back to its starting setup.

It was at this time that a knock on his office door brought about his attention that he was still in the middle of a work day. People still wanted his expertise.

”Come in.”

The handle turned steadily, normally— not flying through it’s threshold for load at the end of a boot as it had oftentimes seen prior, by the looks of things. Who the hell did they keep around who’d do that?

“Hey, you got a minute? I was gonna bug Renar, but he’s ou—”

Amber eyes blinked as they registered the unexpected scene before them, connected to a certain nonplussed ex-mercenary that the room had never hosted before now. A beat hung in the air for a moment, as Gerard seemed to weigh his options…

“My bad. Afternoon, Sir Steffen, Sir Katte.”

And went with an inclined head, nodding to each man in turn as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him, burying his urge to glance back at the squeak of the hinges. He’d been about to turn on his heel and leave them to their business, following his first instincts, but if the Ingvarr would humor the interruption he’d take him at his word.

“Game of kings, huh?” he noted, scanning the pieces and remembering little of how they moved. Symmetrical as they were, he hazarded a guess that he’d either caught the end or the start of a match. “Who’s winning?”

“Oh?” Katte turned around and gave Gerard a classy bow. “It is indeed. Our scores are still neck and neck. Somehow…” The old knight shot a sharp glance at Steffen, who smirked in return. “This guy keeps pulling hogwash out of thin air and survives.”

”Hey, if you can’t exploit your advantages, it means nothing.” The Ingvarr gave a rare gloat, but from the tone of it, he was on the playful side. ”Anyway, same time this weekend, I presume? Also tell Frederick to come as well. I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“I sure will.” Katte stood up slowly, looking at Gerard like any kind old grandparent and bowed again. “I apologize for impeding your visit. If you need me, I will be in my quarter.”

”Sorry about that, some old folks around here wanted company.” Mostly through entertainment like board games, but sometimes through some heart-to-heart chat. Especially Katte himself. ”Anyway, what’s up? What wind brings you to this boring little corner over here?”

Gerard stepped aside for a moment to let the senior knight pass, giving him a deferential inclination of the head and a word of apology before bringing his full attention back to bear on his larger comrade.

To business.

“Financials. I’ve gathered yourself and Sir Renar are the ones that have been shouldering most of the Order knuckleheads’ bookkeeping, pro-bono or otherwise.” the blunt affect did nothing to hide the implication of Gerard being one of the aforementioned. He had his delusions, as all young men did, but he knew himself. “Since I haven’t been devoting much attention to my pay lately, I figured I’d stop by and get a handle on where things stand— before I go putting in any special orders from the Armory.”

It had been like a vacation, in one sense, letting someone else (presumably) handle the micromanaging after over half a decade of budgeting regiment pay.

But he hated owing money, hated interest, and hated anything remotely close to the treacherous realm of “installments”. If he could help it, he’d make whatever expenditures his near future held in store singular and concrete.

“I know Fionn’s been shoving most of that onto Renar rather than you— like I’d been about to say, I’d have sooner bugged him on this, but couldn’t pin him down today.”

”Haha, good choice. You can say a lot about Renar’s integrity, but when it comes to paperwork and finance, I’d always put my trust in him. At least for us lower knights.” Steffen also understood that it was also a tight-knit circle that even he had issues getting close to that might influence why they’d rely on him more than the bookworm Ingvarr, but at least from the latter’s perspective, he didn’t see any incentives for Renar to do anything less than a stellar job.

”Anyway, the latest audit came through, I should have the latest copies of your pay. In the meantime, help yourself. Tea, snacks, anything.” Steffen pointed at the tin teapot and a few rather large mugs before heading to the bookshelf behind him.

Being a bookkeeper might seem like a hard task to many people, but it was not as monumental of an achievement. Once again, all you needed was some literacy and proper organization. Going through the shelf lined with notebooks and papers, small pieces of wood wedged a map of names. Steffen’s fingers tapped each of the wood a specific number of times, then seemingly dug out a random notebook, opened it, closed it and returned it back to where he got it from. He repeated one more time before he found the correct book, turning back with a satisfied look.

”Alrighty!” He flashed a casual smile as he sat back down looking at Gerard, gently putting the notebook opened in front of the lad. ”Here’s what you have right now. What exactly are you intending to purchase?”

“Just a little short.”

Gerard didn’t return the grin, eyes instead narrowing into a pensive frown as he rolled the numeral over in his head against what he understood to be “market value”— there was some allowance for shifts in economy trend going from Velt to Thaln, but whatever he may have had as inroad being a member of the order was doubtless counterweighed by the upmarking that came with quality, with pedigree.

He folded his arms as everything came up around the same no matter how he could reasonably twist it, pinning the page with a glare usually reserved for wartime. “Dammit, I’ll have to do installments.”

A moment later, his shoulders went slack and he sighed through the nose, and Sir Steffen would hear his question answered in a grumble, frustrated but fangless.

“Armor, mainly. Fighting more mindfully or otherwise, I’ve got to bring my protection up to par by our next sortie.” he explained, pointing to the fresh scar on his jaw before pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fionn’s already sourced a good quantity of material from that Commander he didn’t get to duel, but Ardor’s not going to cut labor cost just because he likes us, let alone accounting for whatever steel he can’t repurpose…”

A groan.

“Reon roast it all, I trust him, but I hate owing money. I’ll have to eat this.”

”So I assume you won’t prefer letting me loan you some.”

Not a very sophisticated guy, but Steffen respected it. After all, owing money was never just the amount, it’s the worries and guilt too of when to repay and constant threat of when that number would spiral out of control. While limiting, he could imagine a much more carefree mindset.

If it were normal, he could simply let Gerard figure it out for himself, but considering it’s one of his active comrades, the Ingvarr was down for lending a helping hand.

”Hmm, let me think.” His fingers tapped on the table repeatedly until, ”You said you’re going to do installments. I may need some help doing that too…well…” He quickly realized how ludicrous that sounded. An Ingvarr needing physical help, pfft. ”A friend of mine needed it. She’s a veteran of the Red Flag war, and long story short, she’s roped in and now trying her damnest to help her kin in Aimlenn. What she’s up to is a communal house for them.”

He shrugged his shoulders. ”Both me and Sir Katte are invested, but it’s not enough labor, so…” His wrist rotated before angling towards Gerard in a suggestive manner that shouldn’t escape the lad. And if that wasn’t clear enough. ”What do you think?”

“You’re right. I’m leery of loans too.” he readily admitted, leveling an even, unflinching gaze onto the northerner. Somewhere within him, he did understand that this was largely idiosyncrasy talking— but that was buried deep beneath a resolutely fostered suspicion of anything that could be less than cut and dry, money leaving his hands for a service or product guaranteed to take its place.

He didn’t need it, being so less surrounded by spendthrifts, scammers, and scoundrels as his mercenary days, but crystallized habits never wore down in a day. So although the resolve was welling up within him to grit his teeth and bear multiple charges coming in over the next few months… When Sir Steffen made his offer, the gears shifted all too smoothly in his head. Trading labor for coin was always preferable to a favor— and to be totally fair, he’d been up to much the same with Fionn’s mill for far less.

“I’m game. What’s she need, then? Just a workhorse to split the load generally, woodworking, someone to get foundations hammered in?”

On and on. Erecting a building had all number of moving parts that needed tight, effective work to be managed properly— his family home had stood for far longer than any Sagramore that lived, but he and his brother had done their time with refurbishing sheds around their hometown. Carpenters had a guild for a reason.

“Additionally, who’ll I be working with? I take it this isn’t someone from the Order.”

He hadn’t dropped a name, after all.

”Excellent. I don’t know specifically, but she doesn’t need actual construction, as she’s trying to reuse the building she lives in, so I would say it’s refurbishment. You should ask her directly when you get there.”

He was more than satisfied that Gerard was fine with the offer so quickly. It’s naturally easier to trust someone you know rather than some bozo out there ready to scam you out of payment. Perhaps a little too professional too. Steffen was trying to be light-hearted about the deal, but it seemed like the young lad took it more as a business deal, nothing more and nothing less. It’s ultimately harmless, but still, a little bit deep down, the Ingvarr wanted to get to know him beyond the cold blades of the battlefield.

”Her name is May. May Delisle. She’s not from the Order, but don’t worry, she’s a sweet woman. But uhh…” He felt somewhat obliged to let Gerard in on the details. ”She’s a social butterfly, so if she comes off as overly friendly or chatty, even more than this piece of work here, pay her no mind.”

Especially if she knew about Gerard being his colleague knights, which she will, she probably won’t ever shut up about it.

”But on the bright side, I would not mind if you become friends with her. You might be there for business, but nothing hurts coming out of it with that, right?” He covertly sneaked an advice in. ”As for payment, I can always give that money sooner for Ardor to work on, or if you’d not prefer owing anyone, just complete the work then I’ll imburse you. Any extra work, just let me know I’ll pay extra.”

“I can’t imagine why you would. May Delisle, then.” he replied with a light shrug of the shoulders, affable enough to mask a growing sprout of confusion as he worked the name over into his memory. Reon bless him, Sir Steffen was quite evidently a man with a keen head for numbers, taking on the thankless task of juggling extra budgetary concerns for others, but…

I’m pretty sure I’m giving him more questions than answers, if he feels like he needs to nudge me like this. That, or Fionn’s more right about how stiff I come off than I gave him credit for.

“I’m from a farming town, so a little normal friendliness can go a long way compared to all the etiquette I’m trying to properly observe these days— but I’ll have to meet her to find out either way. You said she’s based here in the city. Where about?”

His mental map of the capitol was slowly growing in scope and fidelity as the days passed by into weeks, but all in all it was still far from complete, major points of interest aside. He knew the Spikes, the Palace, Candaeln. The Brass Panther. The Wisp And Wander.

He was getting there. He had a while to go yet.

He folded his arms, and allowed himself a breath. Let this be another step, then.

“And regarding pay… I’d rather take the librans into my own hands. Nothing against the generosity, don’t get me wrong, but Fionn’d already gotten Ardor half the steel before we even broached the idea.”

He cracked a wry smirk.

“Can’t be leaning on everyone. I’d fall over. You can swing by and see the work with your own eyes when I’m finished, if that’d suit you. If not, just go by Miss Delisle’s word.”

”Hmm. I guess I’ll do whatever suits the moment. I trust her.” Steffen shrugged his shoulders. ”She’s in the slums. Or rather the guys she wanted to help are themselves from there.”

She didn’t need to do it, but one thing led to another and she’s now stuck with them. But at the very least, there are still attempts to bloom flowers in the barren soil.

”I’ll be writing a letter to her anyway to let her know about your employment. I will include proper directions too. Maybe check in with me in a few hours or later this afternoon, that sounds good for you?” The Ingvarr said, his hands laid out on the table. ”Other than that, anything else you need me for?”

”No complaints.” came the easy reply, followed by a shake of the head from the shorter man. He blinked for a moment, his eyes lingering on the board that Sir Katte and the Ingvarr had abandoned upon his unceremonious arrival, the pieces in paired rank like so many soldiers on the field.

”Actually, if you’ve got a minute...” he ventured, indicating the chessboard with a pointed finger. ”I never had the chance to learn. Run me through the basics?”

”Oh, if you say so…” Steffen clasped his hands together. It’s been a while since anyone asked for a lesson in the art of the board. This is going to be fun.

Before she knew it, Gertrude was dropped from one of the old hag's loops right into another. Or at least, something like it. The hard mahogany haft of her broom smacked into her head while she was caught unawares, and Gertrude let out a barrage of curses under her breath as the Witch casually continued explaining... something... to some people? These were probably the order of knights that they had chatted about. Right? They didn't look too impressive. Gertrude grumbled as she massaged her head.

That broom was a present, dammit.

And just as quick as Gertrude had been thrown into this situation, Merilia disappeared in a puff of unquestionability. Gertrude silently took note of her treatment here, and determined to get Merilia back one day too.

All those old bags were gonna get it... eventually.

Remarkably, it was the least knightly-looking one of the bunch that approached her and helped her to her feet. If she didn't know he was a knight, she would have guessed he was a peasant. Call it pauper's intuition. That, and he was at least humble enough to help some random maid up, which was apparently beneath most of the so-called knights. Gertrude clicked her tongue as she dusted herself off.

"I'm Gertrude, and I'm fine," she practically growled, helping the homunculus to her feet as well, "I don't need any help, and I didn't ask for it."

Though she said this, it would have been obvious by grabbing her arm that she was incredibly weak. Though she magically reinforced her body, it didn't make her any more muscular than the sickly girl she always was.

Gertrude practically shoved her broom at the homunculus, knowing that the creature didn't have Florian's pendant or a lot of mana to spare. The homunculus was largely something she used to continue researching while she was focusing on other things, and not a combat tool. Depending on the length of the trek, the homunculus might have some physical difficulties. If those arose, she could hover on the broom without having to use too much of her own mana.

She willfully pushed past Gerard, immediately taking him up on his offer in the middle rank despite her otherwise unhelpful attitude. She didn't think she would have any trouble defending herself, but that Witch might have put a lot of unfair bullshit in the way and it would be safest to let the front and back take all the abuse. Even if they couldn't die, it would still be a pain.

When they finally made their way into the castle, some big guy Gertrude didn't know greeted them all. As her homunculus, exhausted, took the nice seat with all the cushions, Gertrude crossed her arms. With the power of context clues, she was soon on... almost the same page as everyone else. To her own dismay, she snorted when the knight with the well-groomed facial hair started talking about dalliances and boars as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Cyrus. That Cyrus? It seemed so. In the context of the Iron Rose Knights, that name meant only one thing, after all. But wasn't he...

"Aren't you supposed to be dead, gramps?" Gertrude asked with all the decorum of a raccoon at a royal banquet, "might wanna crawl back in the ground before one of these knights freaks out and smites you."

"Ah, if she starts taking hunting too seriously, just pick on her accent. I bet she's still putting on that nice capital-born noble voice, right? If you get her drunk, she always goes straight back to the Stalvan one. She always gets flustered if you remind her how she sounds in either language." Cyrus said brightly. Although, if anyone really wanted to remind the vampire she sounded so much like a farmer's daughter... "Good singing voice, though."

Gertrude's outburst drew a curious look, though that might be because of the identical twin. Or maybe it was because a gaggle of knights wasn't expected to bring a single pair of maids along with them. Or a maid at all. "I don't really get it myself. Lilette's the one who spoke to the court mages enough to explain how it all works. I know I died, but..." he flexed both arms as a demonstration, "I'm here, and I've got both arms, so that's got to count for something!"

@Octo@The Otter

Oh no, this again.

Rolan would have started quite vocally complaining, despite his usual airs of confidence and collected self, if it wasn't for the fact his whole hearted griping quite literally caught in his throat as the young, icy eyed girl began to speak. Things started making some semblance of sense as she elaborated on recent events. Handpicked Roses, cast into a dream sequence of training that condensed what could not be done in real life over the span of a night's sleep. He begrudgingly had to concede it made good sense to take advantage of a period of time that most times could not be used, even if, personally speaking, spending what was assumed to be a nightmare sequence fighting increasingly impossible foes alone. Apparently they had all passed her initial evaluation, though some tidbits of information given away lingered in his head as he glossed over the less important babbling.

Tyaethe was already skilled enough to not be dragged into this, a fair statement on its own, but what was more notable was not subjecting her to this, not being so cruel as to do so. That gave this place more reality, a more grounded understanding, of the past most likely, warped as it no doubt was for this contest. He'd have to prod the more learned of them, the Captain maybe, about the past, might give them an edge to look into what had happened before. Second, a blonde set of twins were quite literally tossed in their general direction, with a broom, and mention of a 'little sister' thinking her apprentice needed some more experience, and they needed more magic. That...Rolan would not comment on, even if he could mouth off like he wanted to right now. Magic was foreign to him, anything he did alchemically was firmly grounded in nature, but there were far too many questions about the....blondes dumped into their metaphorical laps to really muse on that any further.

What he most certainly did not appreciate was being dropped rather unceremoniously through the clouds and downwards. While his gut and sense of balance screamed bloody murder at him, Rolan focused the reasonable part of his brain on what he could see as they descended. Brilliant marble white city, empty green plains in every other direction, and of course the city was squarely in the way of their escape. Escaping was far too simple, and it would be pointless to assume he could just range ahead and slip out unscathed. More problematically, there was no promises that if one of them made it out, that it meant all of them made it out. That meant someone had to stay behind to make sure no one got stuck before being last to leave, and knowing how the last dream sequence of a training session went? No way there was a golden archway, complimentary snacks, and a fond pat on the back before shuffling back to what was real. Or, well, he assumed was real. For all he knew this was multiple layers deep and they had been blatantly lied to. Not like any of them was given the luxury of asking questions.

"Well, this answers what I was going to do, asking around about a certain dream that is. Leaves far too much unanswered, mind you..." The Knight-Captain looked unsteady, making a general statement about needing to move out. Well, yes, Rolan supposed that they had no other luxury besides moving forward. Not like wandering off in any of the other vaguely defined directions would do them any good at this point in time. He didn't know how long they had before hunger and exhaustion set in, assuming they did at all beyond combat exertions, which meant he would be keeping a sharp eye out for supplies. Game, fresh water, the sort of things a war party living off the land might need. It kept his mind grounded and not wandering too much, since there was little time allowed for any sort of questioning or gathering of thoughts as they marched, a most peculiar sight arose.

Candaeln, the Iron Rose base of operations, technically his home too. Not the same one mind, lacked a lot of what one expected to see laying around, and he had to hazard a guess that this was a past, simpler version of the place. The comment on cruelty towards a long lived vampire rang in his head again, and he began running the geography of the kingdom through his head again, working off memory right now. If this was Candaeln, of a sorts, then they could look at the current, modern age to guess at what this place held. Rolan was utterly convinced this was an amalgamation of the past right now, though his train of thought was interrupted by the sight of another legendary figure. Another dead one, mind, but here stood Cyrus the Hammer, as if he hadn't been dead many generations over by now. Right, he was kind of getting tired of legends walking out of the past to 'train' the present, but he didn't exactly get a say in the matter did he?

"Right, living legends all over again. Anyone got a map, I have a theory that I need to check. There have been too many tidbits of information that I think are going to add up to something peculiar. Or I am a completely wrong, who knows." Rolan wanted to compare what they had seen coming down, coupled with being in Candaeln, with the current state of things. That might just give them an inkling of what they were dealing with, or at least could hazard a safe guess. Even a slight bit of planning ahead meant a damn sight more than gawking at a man who could probably carry the assembled Roses without breaking a sweat, and break any number of them nearly as easily, and he would save that gawking for when he wasn't in the middle of trying to escape another damn dream. He didn't even remember going to sleep this time, which was what would have really annoyed him if he dwelled on it for too long.

---

@Raineh Daze

---

Fionn furrowed his brow at Cyrus's suggestion on how to deal with Tyaethe if she ever got too serious at a hunt. Grabbing him and firmly stating that he wasn't allowed to get gored by a boar hardly seemed too serious, just a bit misplaced. It was just as easy to nod and acquiesce to the easiest demand to follow. Beyond that, the proof that she would and could show some genuine concern every so often had just lent itself to his faith in her ability to make new friends rather than just watch generations of knights go by.

Of course, the more he thought about Cyrus's suggestion, the more he could see other applications for it. "I had wondered if that wasn't an affectation," he mused, scratching at his chin. "I didn't know the Stalva bit until we were out on the hunt a week ago. Her accent never seemed quite right, like, but I'd reckoned that was something to do with her holding onto how the accent was years ago. Vampires can be odd like that. Little girls even more so."

He spoke with a surety that belied his his lack of experience dealing with the intelligent undead.

"I'll have to keep that in mind," he decided, as Rolan got to theorizing off to the side. "It's only fair payback after the grief she gave me when I told her how Flori kept serious the whole time we fought. He'll be around too, aye, since Merilia brought you in? Can't imagine she'd only bring back part of the old group."

What a fine mess this all was. The entire Edwin debacle still had Renar at least moderately put out with Merillia, but he'd be a fool to turn down training from a living legend over wounded pride. The apparent mages being literally dumped on top of them was hardly his problem: they'd either hopefully prove to be useful or be left behind. If they couldn't die in here, there was little point in covering for dead weight.

He dutifully fell in line as Fanilly gave her orders, shouldering his poleaxe. The girl could have stood to be more decisive, but even he wasn't completely unfazed by what was going on here. So the captain deserved that much of an allowance, at least. The use of Candaeln's appearance was hardly surprising. Familiar ground for both Merillia and the current Iron Rose. Cyrus the Hammer was at least somewhat more of a surprise.

Renar frowned. He'd been hoping for Edwin. Not out of some sense of justice for condemning a man for a crime where the sentence had been executed, but simply because the miserable, foolish prick, or at least his fascimile, had utterly humiliated him while having the gall to espouse utter nonsense. As a good friend, he let Fionn have his little moment of byplay with Cyrus before there was an opening in the conversation for him.

"This is all very well and good, but shall we get to the point?" Renar slammed the butt of his poleaxe into the ground. "Are you to be our first trial, or simply observing?" There was little point in being polite to a dead man. Even less so if his theory was correct and this wasn't the real Cyrus. Renar may not have known too much of magical theory, but if the Knight-Witch could actually conjure the spirits of the dead, even in dreams, Tyaethe would have far fewer emotional burdens than the ones she was ever so determined to have drag her down.

"Aye? Sounds like she's getting lazy, if you can tell there's something off with it. She always used to sound like some sort of fancy noble tutor around strangers. Met more than enough of those," Cyrus said, before grinning brightly, "Or someone made a friend with the sulky idiot again! She's terrible at that."

"Maps are in the library, same place as ever. They should be right, now that big cliff is gone," the blond man said, jerking his thumb at the appropriate door. "The big things don't change often."

Renar's outburst got the man to rub at his forehead, breaking the pleasant expression for a slightly miffed one at the interruption. And maybe the poleaxe. "Neither! You're all going to be passing through here for a while, so we might as well help you out. It makes a nice change. Everyone agreed in the end."

He paused awkwardly.

"Well, the captain and shorty are off hunting dragons. But everyone else agreed. Eventually. She even got Old Man Erich to visit, and some one-armed little thing..."

Fleuri Jodeau

Fleuri didn't expect to find himself back in this place again. Up until now he had been going on the assumption that Merilia's dream would be a once-in-a-lifetime event. Clearly, however, his assumption was incorrect, and Merilia wasn't done with them yet.

This time it was different, however. Instead of being alone, he was accompanied by a number of other knights, including Gerard, Renar, Fionn, and Sergio. He noticed two sets of horns poking out of the crowd, belonging to Steffen (the towering Ingvarr being quite easy to spot) and Amy, the half-demon empath. And perhaps most importantly, he spotted the Captain.

He was wondering if they were they his fellow knights, brought to one place in the dreamscape, or if they were just phantoms, but when Merilia appeared and began to address the group, he became confident that it was the former.

He wasn't surprised when Merilia mentioned that she was testing them, nor was he surprised at her unknown contact's assessment that they needed to get better if they wanted to survive. The first dream made it rather clear that they had a long way to go. What did surprise him a bit was when Merilia announced that they had all passed her test. More than that, the fact that she had narrowed them down for this next test was even a bit flattering. He wasn't sure what to make of this Witch apprentice that Merilia had handed over to them, but there was definitely some merit in having someone with magical talents on their side.

For now, he should probably focus on the more immediate matter. He wasn't sure if this Cyrus was a phantom from Merilia's memories, or if it was the real knight, pulled from the afterlife to play a role in the Witch's dreamscape.

It was somewhat amusing that upon meeting this long-departed hero, the first question uttered was Fionn inquiring about their encounter with the twin Hundi knights Raya and Randon. As far as he knew, it was perhaps the first time the Iron Roses had learned of the Hundi marriage customs.

If anything, Fionn and Cyrus seemed to be hitting it off quite well, as the topic delved into the topic of Tyaethe. It was somewhat amusing to hear one of the vampire knight's old friends speaking so candidly of her. Renar, however, didn't care for this jovial conversation, and turned the topic towards the matter at hand. Figures that a killjoy like him wouldn't appreciate the appeal of engaging in casual banter with a long-departed legendary knight.

If Fleuri wasn't already hanging on every word that Cyrus spoke, what he said next would've caught his attention- his mention of the others. If he was interpreting Cyrus' words correctly, Elionne and Tyaethe weren't here, but the other knights- and Erich- were around here. As for the "little one-armed thing", that description could refer to multiple people he knew of in Candaeln. It was probably Rui, since she was already associated with Merilia.

"So aside from those two, the other Iron Roses...and Erich...are they here in the castle?" he asked.

@Raineh Daze@VitaVitaAR

"Right, good to see some things remain constant. You know where to find me when we are ready to march."

Rolan was quick to make for the library once it was pointed out that there were indeed plenty of maps to be found there. He hadn't considered that, frankly, given he wasn't certain anything beyond what they could see existed, let alone was detailed enough for inspection. But finding the library was not hard, heading through the appropriate door and making his way there in relatively short order. He didn't know for how long they would be at this particular Candaeln before marching on the brilliant marble city. That was the most confusing landmark of all, quite frankly, nothing of the sort existed in the real world. Not anymore, at any rate, but that was neither here nor there. Gods willing he would find a map that would help clarify matters. Sure enough, once he was in the library it did not take much digging to turn up several maps, laying them all out on a clear table and starting to go over them, locating Candaeln relatively easily. Of course, that was the only thing that was going to be easy about any of this as it was about to turn out.

"...Right, so if this is Candaeln, this direction should be.... No, wait, hang on that doesn't quite align right. Not that it should, this isn't the real world, but significant landmarks don't just up and warp like that..."

Rolan's voice quietly trailed off, already muttering under his breath as he paused, and started aligning the maps to compare side by side instead of simply referencing back and forth. None of of this made any damn sense. Besides a landmark or two, none of the maps agreed at all on the broader scope of the land at all. There was also the fact that, according to every single one of these maps, that gleaming citadel city of white marble was Talderia?! Nonsense, that place wasn't a grand edifice of architecture, it was a blasted hole in the ground that spewed abominations and swallowed fools. Someone had tried to hire him to go look for someone who had been fool enough to go into that wretched hole, and he couldn't have left town much faster if he had tried. The talk of that sinkhole was never good, even when discussing what could be found there, and that was leaving out every problem that ever spawned from that place. One could dedicate an entire knightly order to containing and cordoning the place off, and it still wouldn't be enough on its own. That hole of a ruin couldn't possibly have been a towering edifice of architectural wonder, could it?

Even ignoring all that, if Rolan was a betting man, his coin would be on one simple fact. The ruination of Talderia would be waiting for them in that splendid view that they had seen returning to ground, and they had no other options in where to go, or even to attempt to go around it. The maps couldn't agree on where anything was except their destination, some of them even scrawling an entire region vaguely as 'Akitsushima?'. He had been hoping the maps would provide, well, something of an answer. He was left with a hell of a lot of questions and the unfortunate fact he had confidently identified their destination. He couldn't just go wandering back quite yet, and begun digging through the library for any information he could find that would prove useful, routinely returning to the table full of maps and other documents, his constant confidence even more of a mask than usual. The more information he had on how this particular space worked, the better, and when the time came he was sure someone would come looking for him. Or he would hear violence, and know it was time to get moving. Not like they had a particular rush to get into right now or anything, by the Witch-Knight's own words, they would return but a few minutes at worst past when they had been pulled here.

Gertrude snorted in the vaguely unpleasant way she tended to exhibit her humor as the old man affirmed his existence through flexing.

"Yeah, old guy, that pretty much proves it. Definitely convinced me. Nobody smite this guy, he's the real deal," Gertrude announced as she took a seat near her homunculus. Though she made it out to be sarcasm, she could already imagine a few ways it could be within that Witch's power to do this. She didn't doubt that his being alive was a real possibility. At least, in here, wherever here was.

...Gertrude wondered, briefly, if she could lift his soul. If she could transport him from this place. It was a worthwhile experiment, but she wasn't sure what would happen if one Witch's rule-breaking BS was combined with another's. Complete spatial collapse? Maybe. Could be funny. The humor probably wouldn't last, though. Much as she hated that she was still a novice, Gertrude would probably have to consult with the old bag.

Quickly settling into an epic lethargy, Gertrude picked Fanilly out of the crowd and snapped at her.

"Hey, squire," she rudely assumed based on the girl's height and general uncertain demeanor, "go bring us some food. We're getting hungry. We like meats and sweets."

"But we hate carrots and bell peppers, so we don't want anything with that garbage in it," the homunculus added in a commanding, if bratty, sort of tone.

It was hard to wrap her mind around what she was seeing. When she thought it to be a dream, it was one thing, but the person standing behind her was undeniably Sir Cyrus.

Perhaps not the original Sir Cyrus, but how was some sort of magical recording or some other manner of strange occult construction. Perhaps something only a Witch could manage to create.

She took a deep breath, trying to clear her thoughts.

They had an objective here. As surreal as it was, there was a goal that they had to fulfill. Thus, they had to pursue it as soon as possible. If they were supposed to prove their skills, then---

Could she really stack up to the expectations of one of the Order's founding knights?

Could she truly manage such a thing?

Could she-

Fanilly's train of thought was swiftly interrupted when she was approached by one of the maid twins, who proceeded to call her a squire and ask for food.

The Knight-Captain stared in blank incomprehension for a moment. Certainly, she was not always confident in herself, but being mistaken for a squire and addressed as such took her by total surprise.

"I..." she trailed off for a moment as she attempted to collect her thoughts, trying to compose herself.

She cleared her throat.

"... I may not stand at the same level as my predecessors," she said, finally, managing to gather herself enough to speak with a firm tone, "But I am not a squire. I am Knight-Captain of the Iron Roses, and while I won't judge you for your mistake I will ask that you do not make it again."

@Raineh Daze@Octo

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@Raineh Daze@Psyker Landshark@Octo@VitaVitaAR

---

Fionn turned and glared at Renar for a moment after the interruption, before Cyrus's continuing on drew him back in. "Wait, Tyaethe is here somewhere? And..." That statement seemed incongruous with what Merilia had said at the start of it all, unless she'd been referring to something other than the presence of the other founding knights in this dreamscape. "You have to be yanki-"

"Hey, squire, go bring us some food."

Fionn's head snapped back faster than when he'd turned to glare at Renar.

"Hey, Cyrus, how would you have dealt with anybody who spoke to Elionne that way?"

"Everyone's here, or down in the city," Cyrus answered, "Even Edwin, although he might be reluctant to show his face around anyone brought in like you have."

The legendary knight stood aside while Gertrude's dismissal of Fanilly played out. It wasn't his captain and he didn't have any reason to intrude on how this maid had so badly mistaken the Iron Roses' new captain for a squire. How would a squire even get armour that elaborate? It even looked a bit like... oh, right, captain. Pretty obvious. But why was a maid asking someone else to get her food?

"Yeah, the shorty is here... not the same, but also mostly the same? I told you, ask Lilette if you want the fancy explanation," Cyrus continued, as if that little interruption hadn't happened. "If someone spoke to Elionne like that? The captain could deal with it herself. I'd be more worried about keeping Tyaethe from doing something."

Gertrude frowned, and stood up from her chair. At her full stature, the young apparent Knight-Captain only came up to her chest. She walked closer, and leaned in so that she'd be eye-level with Fanilly, plastering her face with a mockingly cloying smile. She heard Fionn in the background, complaining about her to the big guy like she couldn't hear him. She wouldn't acknowledge cowardice. She had thought that maybe he'd find it funny, because he obviously didn't respect Cyrus' prestige anyways, but whatever.

"So sorry, Knight-Captain. See, I didn't know. I might have expected, after all, for the Captain to introduce herself, given that I've just been dropped right into your midst. All scared and alone-"

"With me," the homunculus chimed in.

"With only my... sister. But you just ran off without even checking on me. That had me confused, I suppose, but I guess I get it. Why should someone of your station even bother with a maid? I suppose that's the knightly thing, even though Merilia requested that I be taken care of."

Then, something terribly funny occurred to Gertrude in her twisted head.

"After all, I'm sure I'm not part of the test in any way."

Gerard Segremors

@VitaVitaAR@Raineh Daze@The Otter@Octo

"Real piece of work we've picked up here, huh?" a familiar voice noted from somewhere behind the ornery blonde, conscious in its flatness of tone, clipped in delivery. Fionn was already building up a head of steam similar to the one he'd gotten for Clarice not far away, openly asking Cyrus for "insight" dealing with Gertrude's disrespect— Gerard knew his friend well enough to see through the veil. It was closer to asking for permission than anything else.

He wasn't too happy with her attitude this whole time either, far from it, but seeing her throwing Fionn and the Captain off their games a step removed gave him ample room to cool things before they boiled over on the interior, summoning the image of annoying bastards past. He wasn't going to turn furor over onto a spoiled brat, not yet, but he needed to kill the situation quick. She had a point, in spite of her bile— maybe she was part of the test. Working as a cohesive unit meant keeping lines of command clear and unmuddied, unquestioned. If they got stuck on this issue, they'd be bogged down and waste time. On the field, that was trampling. Death. They needed to reestablish direction. Get wheels spinning again.

"I take it if we've got a stocked library here for Sir Rolan to dig through, we've got fully stocked kitchens as well, Sir Cyrus?" he called to the larger knight, as conversationally as he could beneath his reverence for a central figure of his childhood legends.

A steady, insistent tug at the scruff of her collar pulled the taller blonde up and away from the impromptu staredown like she was an ornery cat. Not enough to start garroting her with her frilly getup, that'd take a different, sharper kind of pressure, but enough to more or less force the issue.

"Because Gertrude's bringing up a fair concern here, Captain, even if she's a gadfly about it—" he spoke again, golden eyes catching the smaller knight's as he held his face in neutral cast. She was likely getting a decent read upon him by now, after they'd shared the battlefield and their talks— enough to tell that he was keeping a fair amount under a tight lid in his own right. He glanced over to the "maid" before continuing, throwing a thumb over his opposite shoulder. "If she's getting hungry, it stands to reason the rest of us would as well. Armies march on their stomachs— and we still don't know what exactly we'll be getting into as we head through the city. We might be here a while."

He hadn't really paid it much mind when she sharply shrugged off his assistance at the start. Better he just bear with a little more vitriol by taking her ire off the people that needed their heads focused correctly.

The part of him that still tried to be generous found itself noting that this was probably damn stressful, to be totally fair...

"Unless we hear otherwise about how this all works, I think going source some rations makes sense, Ma'am. We may need the strength. Can get these two some grub while I'm at it. Your call."

"The maps aren't what you expected, are they?" Whilst Rolan had been comparing maps, someone else had found their way into the library; or had maybe been otherwise occupied behind one of the shelves. From the long pink hair to the immaculate clothing--not only expensive, but surprisingly not even out of fashion for modern Thaln--to the androgynous beauty of his efatures, it was undoubtedly another of the order's long-dead legends: Mirror Knight Florian. Hanging off one arm was an even more androgynous hundi, their wavy lime hair tied back.

Given they were wearing a dress, it might be Raya, but that was hard to say.

"Most of the central geography and a lot of the Akitsushiman regions are a lot more stable, if you're looking for some place in particular," he continued, getting closer and leaning down to inspect the maps, "Or are you just getting the lay of the land? I could show you around, if you like."

---

Cyrus shifted slightly at Fionn's words, although he relaxed again when Gerard stepped in. "The kitchens are fully stocked and staffed; don't worry about rations or holding back. I even think there's been rooms prepared for you."

The blond man inclined his head to Fanilly, "Sorry, but Elionne does still live here, so you'll have to make do with a normal room, little captain."

Rolan glanced when someone he didn't immediately recognize asked him about his confusion over the maps. Once he registered the....outfit that the individual was wearing, he quickly was able to put two and two together. Florian, the Mirror Knight, with a Hundi hanging off his arm that was probably Raya? He wasn't going to ask, frankly, it was all too vague for his liking already. Guessing after notoriously androgynous individuals wouldn't get him anywhere, not that it mattered to him frankly, he nodded after a moment's thought. "Putting it nicely, yes. I was hoping to spot something that would make sense for a destination other than Talderia, but that doesn't seem to be the case."

Sure, Cyrus had mentioned the other legend knights of old were around, but if Rolan had to admit, he wouldn't have expected one to simply waltz in and start talking shop like they were old allies. Rolan would never admit it, but he knew when he was out of his league, and no matter what the Witch-Knight went on about, he knew when he was out of his element. But no point in admitting that, none at all, and he was questioned on whether he was looking for specifics or general layouts, before being given an offer to be shown around. "Initially, I was looking to see what could be exploited, but given the maps are, well, useless beyond a few consistent details, general lay of the land was the second plan. I need to do some scouting before reporting back to the knight-captain, so I won't turn down someone more familiar with the way this place is laid out offering a tour."

Rolan hadn't missed the slight change in the phrasing of being shown around, but if Cyrus had been truthful, the legend knights had all agreed to help out. He didn't know how long they were supposed to take for getting out of this place, and from the sound of it time didn't progress the same here as it did elsewhere. While pondering the realm, a thought crossed his mind. Had the legend knights used the exact same training to prepare themselves when they didn't have the luxury of time to train. It wasn't like he ever had the time to dig through Candaeln's library back in the modern Thaln, then again, he never had the reason to. Now he did, once they were out of here, to use as much time as he could there to educate himself on, well, quite a few topics now. "Correct me if I am wrong, but the Witch-Knight seemed to be familiar enough with this whole arrangement, enough so that one might even think she's done this before."

@Raineh Daze