Fleuri Jodeau

Judging by Merilia's response, it would appear that she still had some lingering trust issues from Edwin's betrayal. It was evident that there'd be no convincing her. Thus there would be only three possible choices- submit to the geas, refuse and risk it being forced upon him, or request to remain in this world.

Of those three choices, the one to make was obvious. But was it his to make?

"Very well, I will submit to your geas- the only other choices I'm afforded are clearly far worse. Assuming, of course, that the captain- our captain- approves of this course of action and permits us to do so." Fleuri looked to Fanilly, awaiting her decision, and ready to follow it.

Specifying Fanilly as the knights' captain, as opposed to Merilia's unseen duplicate of Elionne, made Fleuri wonder- did Merilia recognize Fanilly's authority as the current leader of the Iron Roses? If not, would that make her a rogue Iron Roses? He was tempted to ask, but it was not his position to do so- that would be Fanilly's prerogative.

@Raineh Daze@VitaVitaAR

"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."

"Sun and Moon know I would." Renar groused slightly, though his head tilted with amusement in Gerard and Fionn's direction. They'd finally figured out that they could have a full-tilt match in here. He'd leave them to it, then. Were he ever so slightly more focused on the process itself rather than the results, perhaps he'd also be chomping at the bit to have another match. But as it stood, Renar only wished to be done with the whole thing.

But, if they were going to be stuck here for a while longer regardless...

"Since it seems we won't be going that route for now...give me Edwin." Renar said to Merilla, his eyes flinty. "I've some frustrations to take out on him."

"And frankly, your trust issues are rather overblown if you're still kind enough to give us any sort of choice in the matter. Were I in your position, I would have afflicted us all with an involuntary binding and washed my hands of the matter. Words are as wind, after all."

---

”Hmm…” Vier gave the geas some genuine thought. He hated the general idea of having someone messing with his mind, and promises were not something he enjoyed making. But it wasn’t as if he was going to shout the founders’ names and secrets from the rooftops. Beyond all that, he was far too tired to put up much of an objection.

”As much as I dislike promises, I’ll accept it. I understand why, better safe than sorry and all that. But I’m not cheerful about it.” He sheathed his longsword, putting his shield on his back. The nap he’d have once they returned home would be perfect. But, Gerard and Fionn’s antics caught his attention. It had been a while since Vier had a proper, honest duel, and the thought of letting the chance pass was too much to bear.

He walked up to Gerard and Fionn, a small grin on his face. ”If we’re to stay a bit longer, I’d like a duel with both of you before we leave. As a bit of good fun.” While his voice was still rather calm, a soft excitement filled his eyes. It was a rare chance to have a real fight with his fellow knights, and ignore any consequences. Throwing away the opportunity simply wasn’t an option.

With that, the binding circle flared once, twice--and then it was gone, save for a few lingering rings around the knights' feet. The same blue as the magic, if they had in truth agreed to be bound, and a surly red if they hadn't.

The ensuing geas binding those was considerably less flashy, a brief flare of red before all the circles winked out entirely, and the witch gave a brief shrug as the night gave way once more to a sunny day. "There you have it; you'll all know the signal when the magic no longer binds you."

She turned to Thrinax, "You had best be off before the dragonslayer gets over here. Or at least go fight somewhere else."

The dragon gave a dismissive snort, but took the advice, rising into the air sure enough and wheeling round--once, twice--before gliding off away from the knights and Talderia both.

The witch gave them one more glance, lingering on Renar as if she was about to speak, then shrugged, "I'll be back for you at dawn, have fun."

Then she was gone too, leaving just the Iron Roses, an amused looking fairy... and an absolutely massive cake.

---

Sure enough, as dawn rose over the not quite real Talderia, the knights once again found themselves returned to their own rooms, and their own beds, still in the depth of night where they had left and with sunrise hours away.

No headaches, though, whatever the witch might have said. Aside from, perhaps, a hangover from any celebrations.

Rolan had nothing further to comment as further discussion was had between the knights. He had made his decision, honestly, and the blue of the magic fading as the Witch mentioned they would know when the compulsion was lifted. He didn't feel much different, but odds were he wouldn't unless he tried to speak on the matter to anyone else. Thrinax was sent off before the Dragonslayer arrived, noting that they should at least fight elsewhere. For his part, he had no interest in any further fighting and wasn't feeling particularly festive either. Settling down, he set out his kit and began reviewing what he had on hand, what he would need to reacquire once they returned to the world they knew far better, and what needed improved upon. His knife, old friend that it was, looked significantly worse for wear after just a few glancing blows from the daemoness. If he was going to not be afforded the luxury of being able to ensure a standoff distance, he had to have something more effective than a hunting knife. Once they returned he would have to discuss matters with those more seasoned in a melee to find a suitable blade to carry and begin learning. He understood the basics of swordplay, mind, but the basics would only protect him so far when pressed. Basics would not prevent a skilled opponent from overpowering him in short order, so he would have to add practice to his daily routine.

"It's a shame the supplies don't come with us, I'm going to have to spend a fair amount of time replenishing and adding to what I carry."

---

After the celebrations and fights concluded, sure enough, Rolan found himself back in his quarters. Despite the creeping dawn seemingly moments before, it was now dark and quiet. He sat up, checking himself over and confirming that, yes, all he had one him currently was what he had gone to bed wearing. Ensuring he was alone, he groaned quietly and buried his head in his hands, fingers running through his hair. For every advancement earned in alchemy and how much further he could have pressed his abilities with his crossbow, resting on a desk with the tools needed to maintain and upkeep the weapon, he had been reminded of his flaws as a member of the Roses. The Captain and Ser Renar had to abandon the assault on the mage to come to his aid, an effort that would have been better spent advancing on the summoner. He had nothing to even comment on Thrinax, the rest showing far more effective efforts overall, and was by and far thoroughly disappointed in his performance. He had much to learn and improve upon, condensed training time be damned, and he was on his feet and dressing himself. He wouldn't be able to sleep right now, even if he wanted to, so he might as well put these hours before the day began again to good use.

Much of the alchemical supplies he needed would not be readily available until he could make requisitions and inquiries, at least he suspected so, meaning Rolan was heading to the armory. He was going to see what was on hand, ideally pick out something that would suit his strengths and start getting in practice before his duties for the day called. Making his way to the armory he would begin browsing through the various weapons that would be available. Most likely a one handed sword, it was as close to what he was already familiar with, though if something else could be suitably rationalized he might consider it. He would have to pretty much go off feel alone, spending some time reviewing what his options were and what would feel right in his hand. Keeping a sharp ear listening for movement, Rolan would not be too surprised to hear others who had returned starting to move about early on their own, but for the time being kept to his task of finding a more suitable backup weapon than a knife. From there he could begin worrying about how to improve his ability to wield such a weapon beyond rudimentary basics, and maybe let the others focus on their tasks during a pitched combat.

Edwin struck him down, and Renar awoke in the middle of the night, a glower plastered on his face. He hadn't expected victory, of course. Renar had improved significantly since his first try against the fool, but the gap between the two was still wide enough that he'd lost handily. Still, he'd gotten what he wanted out of it. That being a useful measuring stick against which he could note his rate of improvement.

He rose from his bed, thoughts buzzing through his mind. It would be pointless to try to sleep right now. Especially after it felt he'd been slumbering for hours. Renar dressed himself in a simple tunic and breeches, belting his sword to his side before leaving his chambers. He mused as he walked, emerging out on the castle ramparts.

"Now what?" Renar murmured to himself. It was true that he'd grown much in strength and skill. But those were only one part of the equation. How would he leverage this into achieving his goals? Unless a war or some other crisis broke out, being ever so slightly better at killing wouldn't amount to much on its own. Especially when everyone around him had grown at the same rate. The thought crossed through his mind that surely, with the amount he'd improved, he could get away with killing his own father at last. But he pushed the inane musing down. Renar could have accomplished that with poison years ago. It would have availed him of nothing. Even should his father die, that just meant his elder brother would get everything.

And besides, Renar wanted Lord Brias alive so that the old man could choke on the ash in his mouth when he saw his bastard son achieve everything he deserved. He wouldn't assassinate his father until then. But that still left the question of how to go about it.

He folded his arms, staring up into the stars as he continued to plot.

Gerard Segremors

The cool wind from on high carried the touch of a wry smirk, maybe a chuckle, as it shifted his ever-growing locks of coal and rolled on through the moonlit night. Up here, the eddies that danced around Candaeln did so much more freely than on the well-trod soil— and in that respect, they mirrored the swirl within wolfish knight's mind, once sleep had relinquished him from it's clutches, from the Demonbreaker and Cyrus's last words of guidance, from the stern reminders that were Agrahn's sword and axe.

Still so far to go, even knowing what he could do now when pushed to his very limit.

He gazed into the depths of the bright disk of silver that hung in midnight blue, as though searching for the palace of the Goddess Mayon. If there was one thing he knew already... It was that the world rarely waited for you. That Merilia had seen fit to cram their training into a single dream's time was more than enough reaffirmation of the idea. Knowing that, and knowing what they'd uncovered in only the last week or two, was enough to shift wakefulness to restlessness, and drive him up to the chapel's rooftop.

"Well, now I've met..."

True to the contract, the sentence had died in his mind to kill it on his tongue.

... Vexing, even knowing what he was in for.

Aside him, he reached out and shifted the statue minutely, so its front faced the west a little more. This was the flattest point in the tiling. It had to have been what Paladin Tyaethe had met, maybe only a month back. For his patron Goddess, this was an act of veneration, a gift to greet her as she rose from the east to bring strength to the world.

For her beloved, who was on high to protect and nurture, this act was perhaps, in some small, inconsequential way, his petty rebellion. The type with no fangs to bear beyond a grumble of begrudging acceptance— her part in it only in lending her authority. He had bigger things to worry about, like the resurgence of the Boars.

And more importantly than them... the shards of the void that they'd been employed to collect. How it may or may not have tied into the attempt on Princess Elisandre's life, too. He did not believe that even for a moment their road was going to get any easier, spikes in personal power or not.

He continued to sit there for a time, contemplating, reflecting, watching the moon and stars as unspoken prayer, a silent request for a silent audience. To be seated with the other half for once, while he sorted through his thoughts.

Tonight, out of any of them, he believed Lady Mayon would oblige.

Fleuri Jodeau

As Fleuri awakened, he looked around in the darkened, room, looking for a sign that he had indeed returned to the real Candaeln. Without illuminating the room, he climbed out of bed and opened the curtains of his room's window, beholding not the sun rising on the ancient city of Talderia, but rather night over the city of Aimlenn.

Fleuri lit a candle and made his way to his desk, looking upon the papers which he had written on after the first dream. The geas would prevent him from telling anyone about the ancient knights, and he wasn't foolish enough to try and test its effects in writing, but it wouldn't affect what he had already written, of a different dream...right?

After looking over his writings of the previous dream, Fleuri pulled a journal from the desk and began to write down some of his thoughts and musings. He couldn't speak or write of the knights, but there were many other things on his mind that carried no such restrictions.

The past few weeks had given him a lot of opportunity to think about his goals and aspirations, and exactly what path he sought to walk. Even after joining the Roses, Fleuri still had some doubts as to whether it was the best way for him to serve Reon, or whether he should have gone into the priesthood and aspired to become a Paladin of Reon instead. However, between being picked by Fanilly to be in her personal retinue for these past few missions, and being picked by Merilia to be subjected to a most wondrous form of training, joining the Roses was very quickly proving to be the right choice.

Merilia's interventions hadn't just provided assurances that the path he had thus far traveled was the right one- it had also helped him to find the path forward. The first dream, the arrival and presence of Rui, and the second dream had all helped to ignite (or perhaps re-ignite) aspirations of mastery of swordplay. He would not worry about such petty, insignificant matters of rank, social standing, or prestige- for one of Fleuri's circumstances of birth, none of those things offered the potential for greatness. But to become a more skilled knight, to aspire to the mastery of swordsmanship that people like Florian and Rui commanded (regardless of whether he could actually get near that level), that was a journey that would have no true limit or end.

All in the service of Reon.

---

It was strange to think that there had been such a major improvement in the order’s combat strength in such a startlingly brief period of time. Oh, sure, part of it was simply being handed another pure mage when they’d been having to manage without any sort of heavy magical presence for so long… but more importantly, a small but significant number of their members had immediately been provided sufficient training to hold equal to most of their senior peers.

It was something that Tyaethe could tell was going to cause a bit of a divide going forward. What criteria had Merilia used to pick who would or would not benefit from the opportunity? Why didn’t she pick everyone? Oh, and of course, there was a risk that one or two of the seniors might be offended that their skills earned over the years had been equalled almost overnight.

The complainers could deal with it, in her opinion. Lilianna was probably the only prodigy amongst the current active knights… if this opportunity would let some of them really hit their potential in the near future, that was great. They were mostly younger than her or her peers had been back when the Iron Roses were new, there was time.

And if you’d missed that chance, maybe you should reflect on your own performance.

Still, it seemed that they remained mostly grounded… that was a shame, in her opinion. Maybe it was just the bias from being always so exposed to magic; the notion that the body had no real limit came quite easily.

Or maybe Merilia just hadn’t let such things truly develop? Hard to say.

Speaking of… riiiight, she could see one of them now. Which was, given the time of night, somewhat less than ideal as she was looking outside. Maybe she could take the glasses off and pretend she hadn’t noticed… no, she should probably go do something, it might be warm out there, but trees weren’t the best things to sleep on.

Which was why Fionn was woken by a tiny finger poking him in the cheek. “Oi. Get up, this isn’t a bed.”

Fionn stirred slightly at the poking. His eyes cracked open slightly, catching the dark sky up above through the limbs of the tree that he’d fallen asleep in, stars twinkling between the leaves. He closed his eyes again, despite the small hand insistently poking at his face.

”Why are you poking me for help? It’s not a hard climb, like,” he muttered, not yet fully awake. Certainly, for anyone capable of getting up and walking on their own two feet, he was correct; the tree he was in had long since forked and split very low to the ground, growing out almost more like a large woody shrub than whatever tree it was meant to be.

Of course, over the last few days, two of its limbs had altered their course somewhat, not to mention that fresh branches from it and vines from some other plant in the garden had woven themselves together between the limbs to make a little cot a short ways over the ground.

Fionn reached over with one hand, grabbing at the wrist of the small hand that was trying to awaken him. ”Honestly, Fiadh, this is a new level of laziness...” And he lifted the girl it belonged to, flinging her up and over the edge of the branches and himself, planting Tyaethe right in the middle of the raised mat with one arm draped over her...

Right between himself and the Niyar he’d just named, whereupon he promptly settled down to try and get back fully to sleep.

”Oh, hello! Fionn has been so insistent that the knights aren’t like this, but it seems he was wrong. Or lying. I hope he wasn’t lying, that’s very naughty.” It seemed that the fairy was awake. Or had never fallen asleep in the first place? Tyaethe wasn’t sure, the habits of fairies were hardly her specialty.

“No! I was trying to wake this one up because people don’t normally sleep in the garden!”

For instance, if it started raining, that was still a good way to get a cold or something,

”How odd, it’s a very nice little garden. The tree needed barely any work at all.”

“People are generally more comfortable in beds.” Although, she had to admit this little bower thing wasn’t the worst. It was actually quite an enjoyable place to sleep… although she’d never admit to Fionn that he made for a relatively comfortable pillow too.

Speaking of, she’d really like to get back inside even if he was happy sleeping out here with the fairy… which would probably protect him against getting wet or the like anyway.

So she elbowed him. As hard as she could without magically boosting her strength, at least—so, not that hard.

”Bloody—”

He’d been moments away from slipping away completely, only to be rudely brought back to the edge of wakefulness by an even more forceful attempt to wake him up. He opened his eyes to glare over at the one he was sharing the woven bed with, wondering just what her issue was on such a comfortable night—

Saw the green-tinged face of the Niyar, smiling at him briefly before looking back down at whoever was between them.

Wait. Between? That’s not supposed to happen.

He glanced down further, taking in the bright white hair gleaming in the moonlight, the small form—smaller even than Fiadh’s—nestled between himself and the fairy girl.

Fionn blinked twice, trying to catch up with whatever must have happened to lead to this scenario...and noticed the elbow, cocked and ready to dig into his ribs again, that meant he had to think fast. ”Tyaethe?”

She seemed irritated about something.

He rolled over onto his back, pushing himself up into a seating position on the springy nest-bed he’d been, up until very recently, so comfortably resting in. She wasn’t the only one who got to be a little irritated at the whole situation, he decided. ”It’s a bit late to go raiding the kitchens, don’t you think, Shorty?”

“Don’t go calling me that!” the vampire shot back, crawling up to a seated position of her own. “You aren’t even that big anyway!”

No matter how accurate it was.

Pouting, she seemed to have forgotten why she had come out for a minute, just sitting there glowering at Fionn until she noticed a tugging at her hair and gave a confused look at the fairy instead.

”It’s so long and pretty! I want to braid it. Can I? Pleaaaaaase?”

“Um… sure…”

”You realise you’ve just agreed to sit there for...probably the next hour or so while she plays with your hair.”

“It’s not like I have anything else to do tonight.” Sure enough, the fairy was already starting to comb her fingers through the white strands, an eager gleam in her eyes. “I only came out because I thought you were going to get sore or something sleeping on a tree trunk…”

”...Then why’d you climb into this yourself?” Fionn asked, brow furrowed in confusion. ”I don’t see how that keeps me from getting sore, like.”

“I poked you and you pulled me up here!” The offended pout was back.

Fionn blinked again. ”That was you?” That at least made more sense than Fiadh being exceptionally lazy, he had to admit. ”Well, I appreciate the concern, at least. Even if it does leave me a bit curious wondering what’s got you actually looking around enough to notice rather than reading a book or...whatever else you do when you’re still awake in the middle of the night.”

“I… just looked out the window?” Well, she had been thinking about maybe practising the written form of the rabbit-swordsman’s language, hence the glasses that she was wearing and how she had seen, but it wasn’t as if it was a particularly challenging thing to spot. “I was going to practise Akitsushiman when I noticed.”

”That’s beside the point.” Fionn’s eyes narrowed down at Tyaethe, as Fiadh continued happily...combing through the girl’s hair. It seemed like she hadn’t even gotten it all separated out enough to start braiding yet. ”Normally I’d expect, if someone got sore or sick, you’d tell them to either get over it if it was minor or to quit complaining if it was their fault it happened, not proactively try to make them not. Something on your mind that me being out here was more interesting than learning a new language?”

“What do you take me for? I’m not going to be mean about things like that…” Tyaethe actually seemed a bit hurt about the accusation. Well… it wasn’t Fionn’s fault that illness was still a bit of a sore point for her, even after two hundred years and change of vampirism. “I do care about my comrades’ well-being.”

Fionn placed his head in one hand, rubbing at his still-bleary eyes with a long-suffering sigh. ”Not mean, just blunt. There’s a difference, especially if you’re rightfully pointing out when it’s the person’s own fault, something I doubt you’d have too much trouble doing, especially if they managed to annoy you enough about it.”

She certainly hadn’t ever shown too much trouble being blunt about nearly any other topic with the rest of the knights, after all.

”Careful when you pout and whine like that, the accent gets even more noticeable than usual.” Or at least it seemed so to him. Had any of the others ever noticed, they’d never mentioned it where he could hear, but she didn’t seem to hide it near as much as Cyrus had implied.

One disadvantage of being so pale was that it was impossible to hide a blush, and even in the dim light of the moon, Tyaethe had lit up amazingly. “I d-do not have an accent!”

Of course, now she had overcorrected in the exact opposite direction, the enunciation too precise, as if she was preparing to give a speech.

”You don’t? But how are you speaking, then?” The fairy added unhelpfully, having finally started on separating the hair out into the necessary strands.

”You stutter?”

Fionn had latched onto an entirely different part of that exchange than Fiadh had, apparently. ”See, when you do that voice it starts sounding fake. ‘We’re teaching you to talk like this so that you don’t embarrass us’ like.” Although, if he thought about it a bit more...that exact outlook internalised so young would probably be the exact explanation why she didn’t like to let people notice her normal accent.

”Is that why you have to get drunk before you’ll sing?”

Honestly, if Tyaethe grew any redder, she’d be in danger of combusting. Possibly literally, given the abundance of mana that she had at any time. A strangled noise also wasn’t much of a comeback… nor was the stuttered denial that she’d sing at any time thank you very much, she just didn’t feel like it and it would be rude to sing at night so don’t you dare ask for proof otherwise they might wake somebody up.

With Fionn continuing to stare, Tyaethe squirmed, pinned in place by the fairy happily starting to braid behind her. “A-anyway, how would you even think that? I know I haven’t sung the entire time you’ve been here!”

Well, he knew he couldn’t answer this one entirely accurately; to do so would fly completely in the face of the geas that Merilia had put on him, and given how she had described things, would probably be a source of distress for Tyaethe more than it could be anything positive. But there weren’t many ways around a question like that either, given that none of the living knights with more tenure than him had said anything to the effect of Tyaethe’s singing...if they even knew.

Fionn shrugged. ”Oh, someone in the know told me.” Truthful enough, and over the last few days she’d already heard enough ‘blame Merilia’ justifications for all sorts of things that she may manage to add that phrase in herself. ”Also helped out with a bit more explanation of why you’re so abnormally short. Was your mother actually on the taller side?”

“Uh…” the question left a flummoxed expression on the vampire’s face, which was at least a step up from the blushing. “I… think so? I remember she was taller than daddy was, and I guess she seemed huge, but I don’t know how much of that was because I was even smaller. That was… a long time ago, though.”

Quite why the topic had changed from—presumably—Merilia spreading all the embarrassing stories that she could to the height of her mother was lost on her. It wasn’t even like that seemed connected, why would the height of her mother matter for… anything? How did that possibly come up under any situation…

Fionn raised an eyebrow at Tyaethe’s particular diction, slipping back towards her natural accent...and sounding like the little girl she always looked like even more than usual.

And rapidly, he decided it was probably best not to comment on that. ”Well, I knew you’d already taken a liking to me, but I didn’t realize it would be this easy to keep you talking,” he observed after a moment. ”Of course, it’s not like you’re busy tasting my blood for magic or worrying that I’ll get myself killed by a giant boar right now, I’m sure that helps.” He looked up, catching the top of Fiadh’s head just over Tyaethe’s own.

There were a few other questions that would need settled, somewhat rapidly.

”Fiadh, you ever know another Niyar named Aisling? Back in the days when it was still all one big forest up north. Think she mostly hangs around with the elves and Hundi, though, so probably further east than where we’re from.” He looked back to Tyaethe. ”That question goes for you, too, although I imagine the answer there is just ‘no.’ Think this garden could hold two of them for a few days?”

Tyaethe’s muttered “I don’t mind talking to people I like” was instead drowned out by Fiadh’s answer: ”Oh, no, that’s not a name that I recognise. You aren’t cheating on me, are you, darling? I don’t mind if you ask first, you know~”

“Why would I know any fairies…? Or know how much space they need? As long as the garden doesn’t turn into a forest in the courtyard…”

”But it would be so pretty.”

”...Right. Bit unfortunate that she’s a complete unknown, I suppose, but that’s fine.” Distinctly not fine was Fiadh’s initial thought. ”No, I’m not cheating on you, she tried to make me fall off a cliff to my death. Ended up fairly friendly after that, though, which is why I invited her over.”

He glanced back at Tyaethe, who seemed very intent on him backing up what she said, judging by the look she was giving him.

”And yes, let’s not try to turn the garden into a forest. Better to keep it as a more normal garden...at least for now.”

“... How do you befriend someone sending you falling down a cliff? Wait, don’t answer that,” Tyaethe said, backtracking immediately. It promised to be completely absurd no matter how you sliced it. “And not for now, this is the courtyard of a knightly order, it is not a suitable place for a forest!”

She could almost feel the pouting coming from the fairy behind her. Although, Fionn would see that disappear almost immediately as she happily continued her braiding work.

”A miniature orchard, maybe. Fiadh’s very good with trees, after all, she could keep all sorts of fruit trees alive in here...or maybe cinnamon!”

“I like the trees as they are, don’t go changing them! We don’t need to make our own spices too. Maybe stick to something easier replaced, like the flowers. Something pleasant-smelling.”

”Fruit trees have pleasant-smelling flowers, and you could keep them fairly small while still producing, couldn’t you, Fiadh?” The continued line of inquiry may end up getting him in a bit of trouble, but it was too fun to keep prodding at Tyaethe, especially after she’d woken him up. ”What about...one time you were telling me how you could make one tree make different fruits, aye?”

He’d never much been able to follow the explanation Fiadh had given him. Something about grafting, which he did understand, but instead of grafting the same plant to a different root, it was about grafting closely-related plants to each other. Somehow she’d figured out how to make it work. Had one tree in her own personal garden that made forty different sorts of stone fruits...

”Think you could do that with, like, citruses and such too?”

“One tree. And ask the captain first, it’s not like I’m in charge here…” Even if she did have a copy of the keys by dint of being the one who’d gotten all the locks installed in the first place, especially on the display cases.

Given how easily she could be swayed, that was probably for the best.

”Just citrus? That sounds so dull... but it is nice and warm down here… maybe if someone could bring me the fruit as samples? I can find the trees myself after~”

“There’s a pretty nice variety of orange they grow in Etrial.I wonder if I could make a trip and bring one back… it’s amazingly sweet. And red, that’s odd.”

Tyaethe seemed interested enough in the idea that Fionn was growing a bit more confident about pushing the limits just a bit further. ”Three trees,” he countered. ”One for citrus, one for stone fruits, one for...apples, pears, quinces, medlar, those sorts of things. What do they call all of them in Ithillin? Pomes? One for all the pomes.”

He held up a hand almost instantly to forestall any complaints from Tyaethe, completely prepared to keep talking over her if she started up anyways. ”Should be able to keep them from getting too large, aye? And if you plant them in the right space, we could make another big hammock between the three of them. Nice amount of shade from the sun, should give Tyaethe a good spot to come and sit other than always being in the window, aye?”

“Pommes is just apple, I think that usage was borrowed by Velt…” Tyaethe answered, “Anyway, while all the fruit sounds nice... it’s up to the captain, not me.”

”That shouldn’t be too difficult. She’s pretty easy to get to agree to things like this, even if I might need to get Gertrude to help throw her off her game enough that she’ll agree...”

He looked back down at Tyaethe, with her half-braided hair. ”Are you absolutely sure you didn’t have something you wanted to talk about other than making sure I wasn’t going to freeze? I’d hate for you to have to come wake me up again once you remember.”

“Why would I have to have some ulterior motive? If I had anything to say about training or the order, it could wait until morning, and you’re all doing well enough on your own,” the small vampire was back to ‘grumpy’, “I’m quite used to being awake when everyone else is sleeping—”

”I’m not!”

“Yes, well, as I said, I am, and I know how to not wake people up and when not to. I only came out because I was concerned… and that seems to be fine. It’s not like I’m demanding you stay awake now.”

Although, sleeping when the fairy was now humming away as she continued to braid might be difficult. Also when there was a vampire sat in your bed.

Fionn nodded, and, utterly heedless of Tyaethe’s presence or Fiadh’s humming, slid forward so that he had the space to lay down fully again. ”If you’re satisfied, I suppose,” he replied. Before thinking for a moment, trying to work out how best to phrase something in his head...

”Ah, but I do need to say, most everybody’s glad to know you’re doing well and that you’ve managed to make at least one friend. Told me to tell you hi if I could. Oh, and we’ve got to go hunting again, there’s a record to beat. About two more feet at the shoulder, I reckon...”

“Right…” Well, that was… cryptic. She was pretty sure that most people didn’t care about her personal life in any regard, or often recognise that she might in fact have one. It came with the territory of being both undead and a famous figure that spent most of her time doing a furniture impression.

She was absolutely sure that nobody would have instructed Fionn to say hi to her. After all, they could just do it themselves. And she wouldn’t bite without asking.

Nor did she have any idea why Fionn was going on about some record for hunting boar, although he wasn’t entirely wrong—she had hunted one about that size, right?

Well, it would give her something to think about while her hair was braided. Even if she didn’t think her odds were looking particularly good, there.

”Wonder if the two of you know any of the same songs,” Fionn mused as Tyaethe fell silent, before a fresh grin came across his face. ”Sing me to sleep, repayment for waking me so meanly?”

Once again, Tyaethe’s face lit up, and there was a strangled noise of protest. Eugh… maybe she could still remember a lullaby? They would all be in Ithillane, so that ought to avoid any accusations on the accent front.

It still took her a good few minutes to work up to starting.

Gertrude, to some dismay, found herself at the top of a tree when she next opened her eyes. If this was to be her quarters going forth, she might have just stayed in the other place. She had magic to make herself more comfortable sleeping outside, but privacy was even nicer. She yawned as she picked a spider off her blouse, and placed it instead on a nearby branch. Whatever. It was still dark, and she was still tired. Gertrude closed her eyes, and then...

Voices. One she recognized, and two she didn't. How many people were in this damn tree? Merilia liked to have her fun, that was for certain. The lout and two unknowns... maybe if she just ignored them? She didn't want to deal with anyone.

...But goddesses they went on. They were nipping at each other and whining and braiding each other's hair like a damn slumber party. She'd done such things with the other maids as a girl, but there was a time and a place, and it wasn't in this tree while she was trying to sleep.

"Hey, quiet down there," she growled bitterly after one began singing, "some of us are trying to sleep!"

She grabbed up another insect, and tossed it down at whoever was making noise.

---

Well, it had been a little while since he'd heard that irate voice. He'd almost begun to wonder if he would again, though just as he was about to fall asleep, she managed to answer that wonder and start dragging him back to wakefulness again. It was a shame; Tyaethe did have a nice singing voice...not that she was likely to sing again after that.

Fiadh seemed to be pouting about it too.

"Gertrude," he called up towards the top of the tree. She wasn't very much higher than them, with how low to the ground the trunk had split 'top' was a bit of an arbitrary distinction anyways, but he could see the silhouette of her body against the moonlight as he reopened his eyes. "Why don't you come on down? It's bound to be more comfortable and we can help you find an actual room if you'd like."

Abruptly, the singing cut off, the vampire's mouth snapping shut with an audible click as she did her best to physically sink through the greenery, with no luck as she didn't have any sort of fairy magic. And even if she did, it would lose to the actual Niyar, who was continuing to happily braid away.

The insect bouncing off barely registered.

Why was there someone else in the tree, did she need to start locking the doors at night so people would stay in their damn beds

"More comfortable? The further away I am from you, the better," Gertrude replied haughtily, "but sure, I'll take a room if the Iron Roses can afford it."

Gertrude would, of course, be perfectly comfortable just bunking with Gretchen (who Merilia had sent back first), but she liked the prospect of having two rooms to herself. Gertrude couldn't for the life of her figure out why she came later and appeared in a tree, but assumed it was simply to the fancy of the old bat. Had she been forgotten? Was she being punished? Gertrude would get revenge later, either way. She floated down on her broom, and came eye to eye with the lout. And a Niyar? And...

"Tyaethe?" Gertrude questioned, tilting her head at the Vampire who was even now attempting to disappear into the foliage as her hair was being braided.

"You bunk with the lout in a tree? I suppose my conception of you was a bit off," she continued in an obviously mocking manner, "I'd imagined pride and nobility. But my, look how you've grown."

There was no chance Tyaethe would recognize the current form of the little girl who had thrown a rock at her so many years ago, but it was still a bit novel meeting again like this. Gertrude reached out to pat her head, as was her normal behavior for short ladies that she wanted to tease.

---Normally, this was not something the Iron Rose Knights would have been contacted for.

Normally, such a situation would be better handled by the assistance of the Mage's college, or perhaps the Court Mage himself.

In fact, it was purely by coincidence that the Knight-Captain even learned about it.

The loss of the Lord of Brennan's wits.

Brennan was situated on the edge of the forest bearing its name. It was considered positioned in an excellent location to serve as one of the Capital's chief lines of defense in case of attack. But on top of that, it was thrived on supplying wood and game to the rest of Thaln.

The Lord who commanded Brennan was one of the King's cousins. Fanilly knew little of him, though she had once been at a party where he was present. She remembered a tall, boisterous, friendly man, who nevertheless did not have much time to interact with children. Still, he'd seemed kind.

And yet, reportedly, a strange and unnatural madness had suddenly afflicted him. The utter loss of his wits.

Both clergy and mages had already been sent. Logically, it was their duty to handle such matters. If it was the work of a demon, or some sort of spell, then they were best equipped to deal with it.

---However.

A strange and sudden madness could not be ignored by the Knight-Captain any longer.

If there was any possibility it was related to a shard of Angroron, if there was even the slimmest possibility that it could lead them closer to discovering the culprit, then they had to take it.

It's for this reason that Fanilly volunteered the services of the Iron Rose Knights. If nothing else, they could bolster Brennan against potential attack during this period of odd, supernatural madness that afflicted its lord.

Confused as he was, in their correspondence, the Lord of Brennan's son had gladly accepted their assistance.

It was two days' ride from Aimlenn.

By now, Fanilly could see the stone-and-wood walls of Brennan looming, flanked on either side by the sea of green that was Brennan Forest.

"Sir Aglan will receive us when we arrive," called Fanilly, to her knights, "From there, it's our duty to assist in any way we can, but also to try and learn more about the Lord's loss of his wits."

She couldn't be certain if this truly had any connection to the Angroron shards. But at the same time, a sudden loss of all sanity that seemed to stem from a supernatural cause---

She simply couldn't ignore it, either.

Rolan had spent the past five days in a, in retrospect, blur of preparation and training. If anything, the time spent in the Witch's realm had shown him he had a great deal to learn to even begin serving in a capacity suitable for the Captain's retinue, a crossbow and sharp eye alone would no longer suffice. He had selected a backsword from the armory, a lighter pattern of blade that suited his preferences towards a blade much more than the heavier options he had to him. Thus had begun his routine, early mornings seeing drilling himself with the sword in the training yard, mostly getting accustomed to the weapon as well as working out what worked and what didn't compared to knife fighting. After that he would spend available time between his regular duties regathering the alchemical tools and supplies he had used in the trials, mixing and preparing a broad variety of useful concoctions. A mix of the alchemist fire, caustic smoke vials, as well as more natural remedies for ailments and injuries. Without knowing what was coming, he had to pack a fairly utilitarian blend of concoctions ahead of time. Evenings saw him going through the library, studying various topics that had come up during the day that he was not as well learned on. Spending his time as such, when the order came down for the Roses to gather and mount up, Rolan was reminded of one singular fact.

---

Rolan detested riding long distances. He knew how to ride, barely, but if the moment for combat came he would dismount as soon as he could. When he travelled alone he often went on foot, maintaining a brisk march wherever he went unless it was absolutely paramount he make all due haste that horseback provided. Still, the ride gave him time to consider what was going on. The Lord of Brennan, struck suddenly mad. The realm of healers, sages, and the like, but they were still departing to investigate. Ideally to help, but investigation into the matter would occur all the same. He had to wonder what remedies had been attempted so far, thinking back to the evening he spent immersed in healer's tomes, reviewing and improving upon natural remedies that he already knew how to prepare. One had to wonder if faith and magic were not working, if something more simple might undercut the source of the madness. It might be worth looking into what was attempted so far, and from there puzzle out a solution that had not been attempted yet. With a bit of luck they might find something that, if not a cure, could at least stave off the worst of the madness.

The Captain's call snapped him out of his meandering thoughts, alerting Rolan that they were nearing their destination. Finally he could get off this horse and actually move about on his own two feet again. The sight of the walls of Brennan looming in the distance spoke of the importance of the location, and its guard, as it sat on a relatively clear path through Brennan Forest. A key defensive position, and a supplier of a great deal of timber to the rest of the kingdom. There was a very likely possibility his bolts, at minimum, were at least partially composed of wood harvested from this very forest. All the more reason to restore stability to the area, if for no other reason than the lord's mind should be his own. He had no dealings nor knowledge of the man at all, far above his station even as a knight, so he would have to reserve judgement until the man's mind was returned to him. "I'll be glad to be off the horse. Hopefully Ser Aglan will be able to tell us what has been tried so far, and see what we can do to help from there."

Off to Brennan, then, to see if some lesser member of royalty was mad for mundane reasons or... was it the work of something nefarious? A connection to the missing shards? The reports hadn't suggested violence, so that seemed unlikely to her, but it was the captain's prerogative to go looking in the first place.

For the vampire, after getting away from the embarrassment that was the previous night, the journey mostly seemed like an excuse to go on a trip to the forest, and to let one of the horses stretch its legs.

But which one? That was a pretty big question. It wasn't like her vhoice was among the steeds provided for those knights that hadn't the means or inclination to provide their own before this point; it was one of those few things Tyaethe had much cause or desire to spent money on.

If it was just to be a trip up to Brennan and back, then really, she should've just brought Mira, she was such a gentle one and the best actual riding horse to boot, but a palfrey wasn't for combat. It would be a pain to take two along just in case, and as a rider she was such a slight burden that maybe she should consider one of the all-rounders...

But the true war horses were sadly neglected; Tyaethe didn't think much to use them, or anything more than ponies for short journeys. Daisy especially, he never got as much exercise as one of his breeding deserved. Hmm, she'd have to warn anyone who might have to work with him to be careful, he was quite temperamental for anybody else...

Right, Daisy it would be. And really, what was the point of having a white destrier if it never saw the light of day?

---

Hmm.

Maybe this had been a bad choice? Well, she'd been more uncomfortable before, and even after two days she wasn't regretting the choice. She just hoped Brennan's stablehands were up to the task ahead; Tyaethe didn't think she could get out of the reason for their journey claiming that she needed to look after her horse, no matter how true it was.

Gerard Segremors

@Eisenhorn@The Otter

"I'm not a fan either, horse. Easy."

From below, there was the shake of a dark mane, a snort, and a discouraged nicker, prompting the rider above to respond in kind, his own tone low even as the Knight-Captain at the fore called back to her formation in a barebones briefing. Looking at the dark overhang their path took them through was already enough to set off certain alarm bells in his head, after Jeremiah's goons had literally gotten the drop on them what seemed like ages ago now—

But just as much, he knew the beast was smart enough to remember they'd ridden right into a maelstrom here not a week prior. The fucking Brennan Woods again. Cae Mayl itself was barely more than a stone's throw away. He had half a mind to believe this downwind of the Shard being brought here by the Boars to begin with, their business never having truly felt finished. All they'd ever had to show for it was the image of a white mask— not even the Shard they were originally hunting down in that dispatch.

Still, though, it's likely not in terribly close proximity, even if it is revealed to be the root cause— he's mad, not murderous.

"We should hope." the erstwhile merc agreed with Rolan, before glancing down the cut to a man from far further North, his own displeasure evident. "Fionn may need us to get some pointers."

Brennan. Again. For the third time in as many months. Second time in two weeks. Evidently, this was some sort of cosmic joke. The mission objective was vague, as well. The lord of Brennan went mad? As much as Renar would like to have a man of such influence in their, well, his pocket should they manage to cure him, that still necessitated success in the first place. The Iron Rose were knights, not investigators or healers.

Regardless, it was either follow along or openly defy orders. So following along it was. Unlike some of his compatriots, Renar had no problems riding. He pulled his mount up to where Sirs Rolan and Gerard were conversing, nodding to both.

"Sir Rolan. You know something of alchemical concoctions, yes?" Renar began in a low tone, not wanting to be overheard. "I daresay both of us know there's very few untraceable poisons. Worrying if it is one, but we can likely rule that avenue out, yes?"

Really, the fact that Renar knew something of poison specifically was cause for concern when one was aware of his background.

@Eisenhorn @The Otter @HereComesTheSnow

Fleuri Jodeau

Despite having returned to the real world, Fleuri's daily schedule hadn't change too much compared to how he had spent it in Merilia's world. He continued to seek instruction from Rui and sought to spar with older and more experienced knights, and now that he had his horse back, he was able to practice with a lance as well. It would not please Reon to allow the skills he had picked up in Merilia's realm to stagnate, not to mention it'd be an insult to both Merilia and all the knights that had been passed over. Furthermore, and much more pragmatically, he wished to be as strong as possible for when the knights inevitably came face-to-face with whatever Merilia's friend had originally foreseen would bring them a "painful and unfortunate end".

Sure, passing Merilia's tests and being released implied that they, but you could never be too prepared when it came to averting one's own death.

---

It was a bit odd, Fleuri thought as he rode along, that the knights were being called to Brennan. This mission wasn't on direct behest of the crown, rather it was the initiative of the captain to come here. Evidently the Lord of Brennan had quite suddenly lost his mind, and Fanilly suspected that it could potentially be the work of the shard of Angoron. Considering their proximity to where they had fought the Golden Boars not long ago, Fleuri couldn't see it as being outside the realm of possibility that these events were connected.

By the time they saw the city's walls in the distance, the journey had been nothing but smooth. Fleuri was well-accustomed to spending time on the road in the saddle from his tournament days, and was quite used to traveling along this route. From the sound of what Fanilly had spoken, this mission probably wouldn't involve any fighting, and instead would entail investigation akin to what they did at the fort. Still, he knew better than to assume such a thing.

For all he knew, they could be riding straight towards what Merilia had been preparing them to face.

---

"I like forests," Fionn was grumbling to himself further back in the line, heedless of Gerard speaking about him just ahead. "But things just keep going wrong in this forest. Losing Rickert, Golden Boars all around Cae Mayl, and now this? The Duke of Brennan goes mad out of nowhere? I don't like it, Echaid." The grey-coated hobby gave a small shake of the head in response, not even bothering to give anything more. As far as Echaid was concerned, a forest was likely the same as any other forest—though he knew that his master was somewhat bothered.

"I mean, really, they named it Sorrow forest," he continued to grumble.

Echaid snorted. "Oh, I know, I know, probably named after somebody with that name, but still. You know what it's like back home, you know how things like to congregate to places with inauspicious names like that. Should we have brought Fiadh? That might have been a good idea."

Echaid whinnied agreeably at that thought; sometimes, Fionn thought his horse liked Fiadh even more than him. "Bastard. You just want to play with her more." Done griping to his horse for the moment, Fionn kicked at Echaid's flanks, riding up to where Rolan, Renar, and Gerard had all convened as the duke's keep loomed. He had to hope for the moment that Renar wouldn't decide to comment on the lack of stirrups, given the efforts that he kept putting in to get Fionn to ride more like the other knights.

"Any ideas on what we're going to be doing here, lads?"