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[img]https://i.imgur.com/d18QHyE.png[/img]
[h2][color=#fcba03]Callum Prosser[/color][/h2][/center]
[hr][center][@Estylwen][/center][hr]

For anyone who meant to make [i]combat[/i] part of their occupation, fear was a common feeling. Even to the level of terror—a fully trained knight bearing down on their young squire, even in a mere training bout, was often shock enough to make the squire rethink whether or not they actually intended to be a knight themselves. Armed with little more than a desire to be more than the family banker, Callum had already faced down that fear, the fear of having to choose his own path without his father's express approval, and more besides.

The mightmares that the masked man before him sought to call upon might attempt to prey upon the anxiety he had on seeing the duke's entire household exterminated, but that particular anxiety had been ameliorated twice over within the day. However, to attempt something so irrational as to plant the thought in his mind that it had been [i]his[/i] fault, somehow...

The man's chuckle was met with a scornful laugh of Callum's own, a single step to the left taken to block his path once again.

[color=#fcba03]"Is [i]that[/i] your way of looking at the world?"[/color] he asked quietly, the mocking grin that had settled on his face after his own laughter not dropping. [color=#fcba03]"How immature. You may get along well with her friend I met earlier today—tall, dark hair, riding on a wolf. Maybe you should ask [i]him[/i] your questions?"[/color] In any other circumstance, even after the poor impression that Raiden had made, the young noble may have felt some shame at selling the man out so quickly...but Raiden Asher at least seemed like the sort that could travel and fight more effectively than the baroness, and would have more of a chance at evading this pursuer.

He glanced to the winded baroness on the taller man's shoulders, before meeting his eyes once more. One thing he'd been taught by his prior master was that few things were as effective against fear as [i]scorn,[/i] and he had plenty of that to spare for this man. [color=#fcba03]"Either way,"[/color] he continued, not giving the man a moment to respond—continuing on over him even if he [i]tried[/i] to give some reply, [color=#fcba03]"I'm afraid that wasn't a [i]request."[/i][/color]

Punctuating the statement, his ringed finger twitched slightly; the dagger in the floor, ignored as the masked man attempted to make his exit, yanked itself out of the board it had stuck in—reversed its pitch and flew point first for the small of the masked man's back, well below where Anabel hung, heedless of the fact that there was a man's body between it and the hand of its master.