Gerard Segremors

A rush of oncoming air, buffeting like hurricane wind. His teeth, gritting, grinding, as his enchanted blade sought purchase.

The self-assured rumble of the massive creature's voice, smirking from on high.

Then pain, blinding, white pain.

It was as though his whole body had been struck to the earth by Cyrus's hammer. He was a castle gate, hammered upon by a siege engine. Breath had left his lungs. Hearing had left his ears. Feeling, vague, beneath a blanket of fuzz, was mainly vertigo. Resistance at his heels had given way to the feeling of rushing through the air. Flying.

And his hand was feverishly, furiously closed around a white horn of bone, a spike upon the redwood log that had all but crushed him. Not flying. Clinging to the tail. To his prey.

His golden eyes burned.

"Empty-headed snake," the lowborn knight spat, the cloud of red that came with each venomous word lost against the sea of ruby in his view, lit by another torrent of that red-white flame. In his other hand, true as ever, was his blade. He squeezed the pommel. Response. The body was subservient to the will. So long as the will persevered... he could still move. He could still act. If he still had enough to hold on?

"Doubt the judgement of the Order again,"

He shoved aside the agony in his torso, replacing it with a familiar burn that had driven him forward so often in the past, before he had forgotten fear, before he had anything else to push it back. It was a part of him. It could not be removed... but he could use it. He could breathe. He could move. It didn't matter if he was a bloody mess.

There was life in him yet!

"And you will rue this day!"

They had earned their places here. To even be in this place, outside time, his companions had proven the all the valor in the world twice over. They had, to a man, been selected for it to even be in the running to join at all.

He had endured much willingly, espousing the newfound virtues of a clear mind, and a tight lid, frosty virtue guiding thoughts clear and true. He had endeavored twice over in his time here to cultivate that within himself. Faultlessly, strategy had subsumed him, and his cohesion with the whole had held against their first two trials—

He wrenched his bones to bear, and drove the point of his blade down into the mass of meat below, a silver fang in obstinate jaws. Solid in scale this dragon may have been, but he had it right in his hands. He could strike, strike, strike with every last drop of his being!

—But every man had his limit. There came a point where Gerard would always find himself, with no other recourse, squaring his stance and accepting a vulgar brawl. It was the hunger, the fury, the desperation of man that lived so close to every one of their still-human hearts. That was what this dragon demanded. That was from where "valor" that had yet to be self-evident was born— That was what they had yet to prove. Where those limits lie. Where they were exceeded.

It wanted valor?

His always came with a dash of recklessness.

A wheezing, rictus grin belied shattered lungs and a bloody gullet, but his gaze did not err, and his arm did not waver.

---

Maybe being careful what one wishes for has some merit. Vier, at one point or another, had wanted to fight a real dragon. A childish notion, but it stuck with him even as he grew older and became an Iron Rose. Should they fare better, he’d ask the knights if they ever had the same thoughts.

But this was far from what he had imagined. Even in full armor, he was still tossed away as Thrinax spun with frankly unfair dexterity. Propping himself up and groaning from the tumble, he was stuck on just hot any of them could get the job done.

The thing’s practically a fortress with wings. Even with my better swords, the result wouldn’t change much. He has brought the longsword and shield his armor came with. While they were lower quality, it was proving to be a good choice to bring some extra protection. He would’ve likely died sometime earlier had he not left his shield, deflecting some of the heat from the dragon’s fire.

He waited for Thrinax to slow down a bit, letting its attention wander to Fionn and Gertrude overhead. Just do damage. Simple enough. He meandered next to the massive dragon, watching it move until it made a step. The moment it lifted a foot, he reinforced his blade as best he could on short notice, wedging the sword beneath the massive creature’s heel.

The dragon spun with Renar clutching onto a scale for dear life. And by some miracle, he held on. As soon as Thrinax stopped, Renar took a moment to center himself and clear the dizziness from his head before resuming his climb. He was nearly atop the beast's back when it spoke.

And oh, was its speech inane. Display valor?! He was climbing a godsdamned dragon! Renar grit his teeth and resisted the ever-so-tempting urge to scream back at Thrinax, instead focusing on keeping his grip on the dragon as he reached its back and it shifted around, swinging its foreleg and tail.

When he came out of his brace, Renar stood and dashed as quickly as he could atop Thrinax's back. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that the dragon would do something to dislodge him, and soon. Which was why as soon as he made it halfway across the beast, he suddenly shifted leftward and leapt. Renar's jump carried him across to the dragon's wing, where he barely managed to catch onto it. One hand came down to unsheathe his sword, and he started slamming it down tip first, aiming to pierce the wing membrane to deal injury.

The air was torn apart by the dragon's slamming claw. Moments later, so was the earth.

Fanilly's life narrowly escaped the same fate, rolling along the ground, plate metal clanking as she tried to recover.

There was no more time to plan. They faced this dragon, all of them together. Whatever plotting she had tried was difficult to maintain in the face of such an opponent.

Display valor?

She pushed herself off of the ground, gripping her glinting sword in both hands, now.

Valor.

Display valor.

She had no time to try and construct a new plan. No time to try and issue detailed orders.

Her knights were already engaged. She faced the dragon at close-range.

Was this a failure? Her failure? Had she left them with nothing but the choice to 'display valor' in hopes of the best?

These sorts of thoughts ran through the Knight-Captain's mind again and again.

They'd passed the other tests. Her plans, even if met with difficulties, had worked.

Was a foe like this the limit? Had she simply been lucky?

Fanilly's grip tightened. Inwardly, she cursed herself. For the failure to think ahead more clearly, for the failure to escape the dragon's assault more quickly without assistance. For her pounding heart, hammering with fear in her chest at the mere sight of such an incredible enemy.

It was pathetic, wasn't it? What kind of captain was she?

To simply break down in the face of any opponent, after trying so hard to keep it together. That wasn't the actions of the Knight-Captain of the Iron Roses. That wasn't the worthy demeanor of any leader. How could she even claim to hold that title if this was all it took for her willpower to shatter?

What could she do now?

How could she help her knights? How could she lead them to victory?

Was there any way?

Show valor. That's what the dragon demanded. That legendary Thrinax wanted from them.

She had to show valor. Was that all she could do now? Was that it? Unless---

That was the very goal of this final challenge all along? Faced with an impossible foe, a true dragon, one of the mightiest beings in the entire world, the friend of Prince Erion himself.

To show valor and succeed against an enemy that was overwhelming.

That was how she could lead her knights to victory now. Even in a situation where all her planning fell apart against an enemy like this, that was the only way.

Perhaps at times like this, all one could do was hold a prayer to the sun and moon in their heart and strike true.

Her heart was still pounding. Despite knowing death's impermanence in this place, she was still frightened.

Fanilly planted one foot forward, raising her blade, the hilt gripped in both her hands.

"Iron Rose Knights, strike! Wound him, and seize victory!"

They already knew this. They were already doing everything they could to grasp that future. But Fanilly had to say this not just for her knights, but for herself.

The enchantment on her blade surely greatly increased its power. But even so, attacking where the dragon's scales were sturdiest was a mistake. There was no denying that.

Ducking low, the Knight-Captain broke into a sprint, towards the dragon. Either she would draw his attention from his other attackers, or they would draw his attention away from her.

All they had to do, in the end, was wound him.

Get beneath him, plant her blade against his scales, and thrust---!

Fleuri Jodeau

The dragon spun around, causing Fleuri's cape to billow and nearly detach from the powerful gust of wind created. Fleuri ducked under the neck and tail as they swung overhead, managing to keep his footing in the momentary but intense gale.

The dragon took a moment to address them. It claimed that they needed to "show valor". In other words, at least as Fleuri could surmise, the dragon was advising them to get aggressive and make some bold moves.

Best that they not disappoint him, then.

As Thrinax repositioned and began to swipe its claw at Fanilly, the matter of footing made Fleuri realize something- with its head raised and one of its front claws being raised to strike at the captain, its other front claw- the one nearest to Fleuri- ought to be firmly planted to maintain the dragon's balance. It'd be but a momentary opportunity, but that was often all it took.

If Renar's stratagem hinged on Fleuri doing what he did with the griffin, now was the time to act on it. As the dragon made its attack at the captain, he sprinted towards the dragon's other front claw, scrambling up its limb much as Renar had done.

Fanilly gave her, ordering them to strike and claim victory. Even more reason to not disappoint.

But first he would need to decide on a spot to strike at the dragon.

Renar was going for the dragon's wing membrane, so Fleuri opted to join in the attack on his wing. There were many ways it could go wrong with just one person attacking, but as many, many of their previous fights had shown, multiple knights working together had much greater chance of success. Crawling into position and holding on with one hand, he took his greatsword and jabbed it at the dragon wing's equivalent of an armpit. The spot ought to be flexible enough that, like with armored knights, it should be less protected than most of its body, and he hoped that it'd disrupt any attempts by Thrinax to disrupt Renar's own strike.

@Psyker Landshark

It might have been expected that the dragon would take drastic action at the number of strikes coming in at vulnerable areas, striking at wings, joints—anywhere and everywhere that might display some vulnerability, even as Renar avoided the flame by the skin of his teeth. Instead, Thrinax regarded them with an air of unmistakeable superiority, unwavering as the magically-enhanced strikes bit in one after the another. Blood gleamed—

But still, on a foe as huge as this, they were naught but scratches. Even the soft-looking patagium, enhanced or not, was like trying to cut cloth with a butterknife.

There was an ominous deep rumbling.

It would take a moment for it to come across that the ancient dragon was laughing. "Excellent! Most excellent. To take such provocation and respond with determination against an impossible foe…

"I am satisfied. You succeed."

There was a pause as the dragon seemed to remember that Renar was still upon his back, before responding in a disturbingly feline way. Only with the advantage of being an enormous, ridiculously strong dragon… and fast enough to somehow catch said knight on the way down, tail more sinuous than it had first seemed.

"I'm back!" an unfamiliar-to-most voice announced, the barren plateau now sporting an enthusiastically waving Niyar. And… was that a cake? It was bigger than Thrinax's head.

"Maybe I should have used Volkstraad after all. He wouldn't have been so accommodating…" Ah, joy, and the witch was back as well.

"That snake would never agree to thy terms, Child of Starlight."

"You are satisfied. How wonderful, we've satisfied a dragon."

Rolan heard the rumbling response as he mentally went over how the events had played out from his vantage point, muttering under his breath as he walked the distance back towards the group. He had already dismissed the massive cake, though it did cause him to briefly take a double take to make sure he hadn't lost his mind. Some faerie, that explained enough of the situation that he didn't consider it further. Ser Fionn and Gertrude had decided to join forces to try and joust Thrinax from the broomstick. If she proved more amenable to teamwork he might have to consider taking advantage of the vantage of aerial maneuvers. Granted, that relied on the mage having a sudden change of character, so he wasn't going to hold his breath there. Still, having the option of vertical control was something most foes would not be able to react immediately to. Useful trick, that.

Ser Fionn, meanwhile, was probably the brains behind the entire trick. Gertrude didn't strike him as one who would casually suggest charging down a dragon when she was in control. Add in the fact he had conjured up a weapon capable and suited to the maneuver, and that practically was all that needed to be considered. Rolan might have to ask him how he managed to goad the mage into not only being useful, but riding headlong into potential death by dragon's fire. If it wasn't for another's actions, he would simply credit them as the ones to land the blow that convinced Thrinax to turn over the victory to the Roses.

Ser Gerard. He had, even over the distance before focusing himself, heard the knight's rebuke of Thrinax's demand for valor. Rather than evade and flee, like Rolan had done, to a safer firing position, or rely on magic or anything else of the sort, the man had simply bore the brunt of the dragon's wrath and struck back. If asked, Rolan would have to credit the blow that succeeded to him, even if it would prove, in any other circumstance, dangerously costly. The mage might be able to heal such wounds, but if that wasn't an option it would be a slow, painful, but victorious death. Still, it was more valorous than any other knight so that would be that. Not that he was going to say it out loud at this point in time, but it was something that would have to alter his mental ordering of the knights. He knelt down, unslinging his pack of supplies, reorganizing and beginning to work on improving his access to all his supplies, not just the 'useful' ones, keeping his hands busy as he mused.

Ser...Vier, that took a second for him to remember, and Ser Renar both acted well enough. Ser Vier had made to wound the dragon's foot, not where Rolan would have considered striking but he could see a logic of sorts there. Wound its foot, and coupled with the other knight's actions, its ability to move would be crippled. Ser Renar had made an effort to climb the dragon and strike at the wing, reinforcing that many of the knights looked at a call for valor as not so much a challenge as an insult, given their immediate approaches to fighting a dragon, let alone Thrinax. Climbing a dragon was brazen, though hard to compare to what some of the others chose to do.

The Captain's decision to advance and meet Thrinax head on was brazen. A damn fool maneuver, but brazen all the same. If he had so desired, no doubt Thrinax could have cost the Roses their Captain, something that a foe not holding back might have done. Ser Fleuri joined Renar in his attacks on the wings, improving the odds of pulling off the attack. Another clambering knight, then, but it seemed to have worked all the same. Most of the knights had performed admirably, even the mage had proven begrudgingly useful, to be expected of the Roses. He finished reorganizing his pack, and turned to focus his attention on the Witch as she mentioned using Volkstraad instead, and a counter that the 'snake' would never agree to any terms.

"Cake aside, what now? The three tests are done, how long before we are sent back to the world proper?" Rolan had a lot to prepare beyond this place, and even more to consider. At this point he was starting to think he had had his fill of this place.

"Oh, yes, you're almost free to leave," Merilia said jovially, alighting on the ground at last, head tilted up to potentially meet any of the assembled knights' gaze.

"You showed strength enough to overcome a more co-ordinated enemy; proved capable enough of standing against most war mages; and were brave enough to charge into a hopeless battle. Good job~" She ticked each of her fingers in return, ending with a celebratory burst of sparkles. "Now…"

Once again the heavens changed, the witch now backlit by a silvery moon low in the sky. "With the moon as my witness, I need you all to agree to a little geas."

A design of vibrant aqua light spread out from her feet, Thrinax looking on with a tilted head as it made to exclude him. But not the fairy.

"Just avoid mentioning most of who taught you. Oh, you can mention that I was responsible, and the challenges set… but not the knights or Ericht. The summoner and the alchemist are fine~

"As for the duration… hmm, you'll know when you can speak of it, can't miss the sign."

Merilia put one finger to her lips. "Now, I hope I don't have to ask again. Mayon wouldn't bear witness if this didn't matter~"

Gerard Segremors

"A geas," Gerard repeated warily, finally returned to the earth after a little insistence from Thrinax and his sinuous, preternaturally flexile tail. The mighty dragon, such as it was, was far from hurt by any of them, but he'd been quite committed and insistent in his own right— real damn determined to get through the ruby scales with something that'd really leave an impression.

But they'd done it, all else aside. Wherever they'd been found wanting, they'd locked in and won the day, shoring up their perceived gulfs in mettle. He still held the thunderhead opinion that holding any such doubts was grounds to be told to go shove it, but it was clear now that it'd only belabor a dead point. His voice was ragged as the aftermath of his little stunt set in, too. No damn way he wanted a cake right now, he wanted a flagon of cider and a long rest.

To say nothing of dealing with a capital-W Witch throwing around words straight out of his childhood superstitions. In one respect, you could say it might be the other end of this chance to meet storied heros you grew up hearing tell of. But mercenary suspicion at offered deals cut under a lot. Much of it more amenable than this, at that.

"Isn't that a bit heavy-handed? I know the tale of the Hound. I don't mind the secrecy around the founders and Demonbreaker, but geasa end worse more often than they end better."

The young wolf planted his sword into the soft Earth and leaned onto it, breath measured and slow. He wasn't in much effective position to refuse, but he knew his wasn't going to be the only dissenting voice. He saw no reason not to at least say something.

Fleuri Jodeau

I should have known that this Witch's aid would come with a catch.

The joy of their third victory- and the slight bewilderment of the giant cake as celebration- dissipated when Merilia revealed that she wasn't going to let them leave without agreeing to a geas to keep the existence of this world's legendary knights a secret.

Fleuri would not have hesitated to give his word to promise never to speak of the knights of this realm. Indeed, if accompanied by a knight's oath, a geas ought to not even seem like it was there at all. However, Fleuri was not comfortable with such magics. He wasn't entirely sure how a geas functioned, but have one's soul and will bound to such a compulsion, it was not something to be done lightly, regardless of whether or not one also bore an oath towards the same goal.

It wasn't like they'd be able to stop her, though. If they could not sway her otherwise, the only options would be to accept the geas or remain trapped here. While he could see the definite appeal in remaining here to continue honing his skills, untainted by the temptation of the world's validation, it would surely displease Reon. He had a duty to his goddess and to the subjects of Thaln, and to stay here would be a breach of the oaths he had already made.

Thus it was quite likely that in order to uphold the obligations they had already made, they would be required to accept this geas, unless they could somehow persuade an immensely powerful thousand-year-old Witch to not put them through it.

I agree with Sir Gerard," Fleuri spoke. "You are an Iron Rose too, Dame Merilia- would the word of your fellow Roses not be sufficient assurance that we would keep the secrets of this realm?"

@Raineh Daze@HereComesTheSnow

In the end, his training had amounted to dodging a single spurt of dragon's fire before trying to tear into Thrinax's wing as best he could. But they won, and he'd made a decent accounting of himself. Perhaps those two brothers weren't idiots, after all. Or at least Parvan. The jury was still out on Edwin. Renar grumbled briefly as Thrinax caught him out of his lethal fall. What was the point? From this height, it would have been but a moment of pain, followed by his return.

...Perhaps he was spending too much time in Merilla's realm, if the thought of imminent death was only met with annoyance and inconvenience now.

Unlike Gerard and Fleuri, Renar didn't quite have much of a problem with the concept of being bound under a geas. After all, he understood the value of secrecy. He lauded it, even. A geas only made sense. There was very little point in advertising what the Knight Witch could do. Plus, Renar himself wasn't exactly inclined to claim that it was Parvan the Shooting Star and Edwin the Traitor behind his sudden improvement.

From what Fionn had mentioned in his mad mountain man ramblings over the past two years, a voluntary geas meant only that the party in question was simply magically compelled to not speak of the subject. If this was the sort with a punishment clause, he'd be taking far more of an issue with the entire matter.

"I see no reason to decline." Renar folded his arms, sounding almost approving of the entire proceeding. "I've no reason to speak of the Founder Knights to begin with, and so long as this is a voluntary geas, the clauses aren't quite so arduous. Quite right of you to hedge your bets, though. I daresay I'd do the same in your place, should I know your reasons for secrecy."

"Ah, yes, the word of an Iron Rose. Never before have I seen one of my illustrious peers bring ruin and calamity by good intentions, regardless of the supposed strength of their word," the witch's words were mocking, but the tone was more one of disappointment, "Tell me, why should I think any of you to be better? Would you not be tempted to tell another knight if they ask after your improvement? Try to ascertain the accuracy of your teachers?

"Ah, you think, but perhaps that's fine; no harm could really come of that. That all the great mysteries of the past, from Talderia's fall to your own order's fame, have their answers in one place. Nobody could possibly exploit that," the witch shook her head, "Some things must come to light on their own."

"Does that mean I can't visit? That one's got funny magic! And I brought him a cake, he owes me."

"… anyway, Hagen is correct. I could simply bind you and allow the goddess to determine whatever punishment is appropriate, or you can be simply bound by contract. Unless you have a better argument? These aren't my secrets to protect, but I would still need more assurance than the mere notion of knighthood."

Rolan crossed his arms, brow furrowing in thought as the Witch first explained herself and the other Knights chimed in. A geas, magical compulsion, to not speak of who trained them here. Notably, he was free to speak about his own trainer, though he had never had any intention to speak on the matter at all. He was not terribly familiar with the magics behind the entire concept, but a compulsion on terrible penalty was certainly a drastic measure. He didn't necessarily disagree with it either, even as dissenting voices spoke up among the Roses. Some of what was learned here could no doubt be turned against the right person, it only made sound sense to ensure that such a thing could not come to pass. Of course, at least two spoke up in disagreement, and not with compelling arguments either.

Ser Gerard and Ser Fleuri were opposed to the enchantment, making arguments about the nobility of knighthood preventing them from violating the agreement. Not much stock in that, it was one of the legendary knights that had turn coated against the others, and if the legends can make mistakes and incorrect decisions, they certainly could. The With seemed to be thinking the same thing, saying about as much in response to their arguments, and making note of a far more drastic alternative. Agree to a mutual contract, or be forced under penalty of severe punishment. Not much of a choice, that, and he had better things to do than worry about accidentally violating the geas and being ruined for it. Ser Renar seemed to be inclined to reinforce that, and given the information that Rolan had available to him, there really wasn't much of a choice to be made here. Lesser of two evils, as one might say, and the lesser evil was simply to accept the geas and move on.

"I agree to the terms of your geas. As Ser Renar stated, I also have little reason to discuss what happened here, and better the less arduous option." Nevermind that the terms were even lighter on him since he really had not dealt with the Knights themselves, having sought out a different teacher who was not bound by the same restrictions. The trials being freely discussed as well could be information plenty for anyone who he needed to talk with, should it come up, but he could also simply not answer anyone pestering him about his improvements. No, he wasn't going to tempt the Witch into using a more forceful measure if he didn't have to. The amount of pitched fighting that had proceeded through the trials didn't need a more forceful spell from the Witch to wrap it all up.

---

"Does it stop us from speaking with each other about it so long as someone who doesn't know isn't around to hear?" Fionn asked as the others fell into a lull with their own questioning. It had taken him a moment to reorient himself—from Thrinax's great head coming down on the front of his makeshift lance, sending him and Gertrude flying end over end, only to be brought back to the center of the conversation by, likely, Merilia's own hand.

Just to find that the witch was thinking to put a geas on all of them to keep them from speaking about it. "For that matter, what of Tyaethe? Surely she knows of this?" It would be more surprising to learn that she didn't, and that Merilia would be so intent on keeping them from speaking of it even to her one remaining fellow knight in the living world. Of course, if she was so intent...

There'd be ways to speak around such prohibitions.

Wait.

Fionn turned back to Aisling, and the abnormally-large cake next to her.

That's all for me?

Turning back away from the gargantuan confection, he faced Merilia once again. "Regardless, I have three remaining stipulations of my own before we're all done here, as you've already answered one. We should have one last proper dinner with the others before we go, a proper rest, and I want to have a rematch with Florian when I haven't just gone through hundreds of other fights' worth of mental fatigue right before him."

"That's an interesting question, isn't it? The easy answer would be to restrict all speech; after all, you never know who might be hiding or how sharp their hearing is," Merilia made another exaggeratedly thoughtful pose, "And of course the vampire doesn't know about this. Would she still have questions? Perhaps, or perhaps I would never have been able to persuade her to leave without costing the Roses a knight~"

Maybe the surprised expression at Fionn's request was genuine, "It makes little difference if you stay longer, _{headaches in the morning aside}, but I would have thought most of you would rather return to your normal lives by now."

It was more than a little disorienting, charging Thrinax from her broom one moment and being patronized by Merilia the next. Gertrude wasn't exactly raring to get under the thumb of yet another Witch, but Merilia had already apprehended her and tossed her in with the Roses and this was her reward for acquiescing thus far (not that Merilia ever really gave her a choice, just like she wasn't really giving anyone a choice now). The expression on Gertrude's face was far less than content, even with their victory over Thrinax.

Gertrude clicked her tongue. It wasn't necessarily the geas that annoyed her, but the detestable reminder that she was now in yet another collar and the only decision to be made was 'which one'. Gertrude leaned towards Merilia in order to get on eye level, and tilted her head slightly.

"I'd appreciate if I didn't have to do this. You can either trust that I really don't care enough about the dead old people here to ever drop any of these names, or if you absolutely need me to accept this geas, I'll do so, but I won't be happy. You're obviously still sore about what's-his-face's betrayal. I get it. But one of these options will breed resentment instead of loyalty."

Gertrude drew herself back up to her full height, and sighed.

"It's up to you to decide if that's worth the cost. You've asked for an argument, and I've provided one."

She glanced over at Fionn.

"And for the record, I don't mind staying a little longer if it means I might get to watch Florian get his ass handed to him. I suppose I'm throwing in with the lout again."

Gerard Segremors

There it was.

"I see it as she does." Gerard bit out, a shrug managing to rise from his haggard shoulders. As he had leaned, settled, and let the others say their pieces, he'd finally gotten a good barometer of the full extent of the damage done to his shattered ribcage. Five at least by his count. He was lucky in excess that one hadn't bit into a lung inadvertently. Even then, the impact itself had rocked him to the bone— he was doing an expert job of hiding it, one that spoke of perhaps too deep a breadth of experience already, but his head was swimming. "I can't say I care for shackles on my will wearing the mask of a deal, but none of us are in any position to refuse to begin with. You're the warden of this place, the choice ends at your insistence. One way or another, I am bound. I'll live. Don't have an argument in me."

Copper had largely left his tongue save for the aftertaste. Looking at the situation on its face, explaining away any newfound ability that carried over would largely be pretty elementary. Just a heightened focus on not dying. Making your own luck. Watching. Waiting. Focus. The like.

In the end, he hadn't done much different than he might have managed before— only drawing from deeper wellsprings of strength, speed, and grit than he had before. The same blade, just exposed to a finer whetstone. Sir Agrahn, should he be made aware of this performance, was likely to be disappointed at how little it seemed (to Gerard at least) he'd learned... But still, Sir Cyrus had drawn those depths out of him. And for that,

"I would stay as well. I've thanks and respects to pay. To Cyrus. To the Demonbreaker. Sir Agrahn, if he's about."

A deep breath, as though steeling himself. A thought had wormed its way into his hard head.

"Plus,"

The tip of the sword drew free from the earth, slowly rising to level itself... onto the frame of Fionn MacKerracher.

"If this 'lout' wants to have his rematches in this deathless land, I know he'll be kicking himself if we don't take at least one chance to have a real fight."

"Oh, everyone's around, be sure of that. Then, are there any more fights you muscleheads want to get out of the way first? Assuming you can get your opponents to agree. Everyone of note since Talderia's youth."

---

Fionn grinned at Gertrude as she spoke up, glancing back at Gerard as he felt the tip of a sword lightly brush his mail. "Well," he breathed, clear delight evident in his face, "It looks like there's all sorts of fun to be had!" Sparring was all well and good, always helping to sharpen one's skills...but could never come close to a true duel, whether that be to first blood or to the death.

Merilia even seemed willing to facilitate. "Everyone, aye? Think you'd be willing to bring me back here if I ask? Let me find someone to fight, or just keep challenging Florian?" His tone aside, everything about the way Fionn was looking at Merilia...contained the exact same madness that Gertrude had seen when he'd suggested charging the dragon, but there was something awfully puppy-like about his insistent desire to see it all happen as well. "On demand, unlimited, like?"

"If you can find a way to get the message conveyed."