[center] [h2][color=c0392b]Rudolf Sagramore[/color][/h2] & [h2][color=lightblue]Galahad Caradoc[/color] The night of the raid...[/h2][/center][hr] Nighttime. Valon’s attack may have ended as he and the airship he rode in on slunk away after his and Siren’s defeat, sure, but the effects carried long into the day thereafter— The [i]Scurvy Fishman’s[/i] crew and passengers alike hard at work licking wounds of all types, with redoubled vigil as they entered unaccosted waters. Neve and Miina in particular had their hands full with Kirin’s injuries alone, let alone those of Bikke’s men. The battle had been swift, sudden, and severe, pushing them all to their limits. Those men in turn, when able-bodied, were every bit as swamped— bailing out water, plugging leaks, trying desperately to save what they could of the rigging the fight had torn through and strewn all over the deck, and nearly tripping over their own injured crewmates to do it. It wasn’t until nighttime that everything had calmed down completely, which was plenty of time for a small-statured, quiet young lad to slip away beneath the noise. That opening thrust hadn’t quite destroyed the mizzen, even with the erstwhile Royal Dragoon’s ill-gotten gains— but it had thoroughly wrecked his usual perch. In the light of the moon and stars, the familiar sounds of the waves below rocked against his ears and mind, drowning out stone against steel. Long repetition guided his hand, allowing for his eyes to wander forward, out into the waves. They were inklike in hue now, as though he beheld a sea of tar, not water. A far cry from the brilliant blues of daytime. Let alone the golds and roses of that very morning, where he had carelessly fed Neve a brand new lie, taking the place of those he’d struggled to dispel. This one worse by half. Just like the last of its’ kind he’d told. Here on the prow, he had no deck to catch him if he fell, despite how much lower it had been. One small mistake, a miscalculated shift in weight or maybe even less, and he’d have spilled over into the cold, churning black. Lost forever, in the dead of night. So easy. So infuriatingly easy, to answer the call of the waves for one final embrace. A fate he had all but accepted. “Keep Struggling”, he’d said? Like hell. He’d [i]felt[/i] that part of him slip behind the veil… He held the edge of his dagger high, catching moonlight, inspecting his handiwork as though it might have changed [i]once[/i], five years deep into perfecting it. He had given up. Forgotten everything. Accepted the easy way out, and only blindly stumbled back from an earned oblivion. Bailed out by his passenger. Soon to pay the piper. Five years deep. Still the damned same. Everything. [color=lightblue]”Rudolf,”[/color] a clear voice called out from behind him, calm, if a bit curt and clipped. [color=lightblue]”What are you doing up there? You'll fall.”[/color] Behind him stood Galahad, his upper torso mostly concealed by the sling that held his right arm still, Valon's recently cleaned and polished spear cradled in the crook of his left. Now outside of his armor, since the fighting had died down, his clothes and hair billowing slightly in the nighttime breeze. The older dragonslayer looked tired, troubled, though perhaps not as much as the hunter standing before him. [color=lightblue]”I'll hope your sea legs are stronger than mine, I don't have the energy, or the hands necessary to jump down and pull you out.”[/color] [color=c0392b]”They’ve managed so far. I’ll be fine unless I suddenly pass out.”[/color] [color=lightblue]“If you want to look into the night and brood, use the railing like the rest of us do. But first, I would speak to you for a moment.”[/color] The dragon slayer said, wincing slightly as he gripped the spear in his arms and took a step or two back. [color=c0392b][i]Not even one night’s respite before this, then.[/i][/color] Galahad would see the young man’s shoulders sag as he sighed through the nose, even as he held the knife aloft. The concerns about falling weren’t quite a pretense, but he could hear the preamble on them before Galahad dropped the other shoe— and sure enough, the man wasn’t letting him off the hook. He rose. The knife swiped through the air, as though slashing the half-hearted concerns thrust before him as they came. Functionally, a sound and feeling check— the type of thing one did for less for empiricism and more for the illogical subconscious, the divine connection between weapon and wielder. Perhaps, then, he was instead testing its ability to cut in his hands, after it had failed to do more than scratch that very same Pseudolon, a false queen of the depths they brooded over. [color=c0392b]“...What about?”[/color] he requested warily, one golden eye peering over his shoulder before he half-turned, bringing the knife hand in front as he clocked the pilfered spear. [color=c0392b]“You should be resting up, more than anybody. Shoulder not letting you sleep?”[/color] The man was wrapped up pretty thoroughly, all told, and his posture was far from aggressive. More than anything, he looked as though the run-in with their mutual old acquaintance had been akin to running the Stormseas leg of their journey on foot all day. Rudolf knew what half that pace felt like, and it was far from any shape to be fighting in. The White Magic that had knit his shoulder— and ribs,if memory served— would need more time to settle. Still, though… [color=c0392b]“I see you’re bringing Valon’s spear to the conversation.”[/color] he noted, gesturing with the tip of his dagger to the jagged, bloodred lance. [color=c0392b]“A bit late in the day to make me into a casualty of his— But in all seriousness, I’d like to ask [i]why[/i]. Worried whatever you’re bringing up will force you to defend yourself from me, after how the last one went?”[/color] It was an odd balance, that which his tone struck— something threading the needle between flippant disdain for the words and earnestly asking the question behind them. [color=lightblue]”Do I have reason to be worried? What would I hope to accomplish in my state? Truthfully, It seems I'm not as original in my thought as I hoped I'd be.”[/color] Galahad admitted, [color=lightblue]”I'd come here to brood. That you'd be here as well is both convenient and inconvenient.”[/color] [color=c0392b]”Well, I’d hate to be a bother.”[/color] [color=lightblue]”Yes well, while this spear [i]is[/i] quite handy as a walking stick… less unwieldy and obtrusive than my own weapon,”[/color] Galahad sighed, shuffling a bit as he begrudgingly removed his weight from the weapon and reversed the spear in his grasp, pointing its butt towards Rudolf. [color=lightblue]”But, I can't help but notice you've been appearing increasingly under-armed as of late, so I figured I'd furnish you with something with a bit more reach than your knife, until we managed to reequip ourselves properly.”[/color] Galahad glanced at Rudolf still standing on the prow and sighed. [color=lightblue]”I'm not coming up there in my current state, so please come take this spear before I fall over. You know how to use it, don't you?”[/color] [color=c0392b]“Appreciated, and… eh, well enough for blightbeasts— won’t call it my forte, obviously.”[/color] he supplied with a shrug after a moment’s thought. Spears were simple, and his training was deeper than he let on. [color=lightblue]”Though perhaps you give yourself away more than you expect,”[/color] Galahad sighed, [color=lightblue]”Though it [i]is[/i] in his nature, I don't believe Valon ever announced himself by name during out battle. Are the two of you acquainted then? Rudolf… Shilage? I believe he called you?”[/color] A deep, deep breath preceded heavy footfalls, as the younger man all but stomped down the prow’s length. His rondel stayed at home, for the most part, but Galahad’s eyes would doubtless catch the other hand unfurling from a tightly balled fist as he used it to grab a hold of the butt end of the spear. His eyes didn’t leave the dragoon’s. Once wary, now they boiled, new life breathed into the dull gold with a froth of emotions locked behind the lid. [color=c0392b]”Awful trusting. He also called your cousin a false king. I admit, I assumed he’d blurted his name out at some point. I was busy with Eve’s sister— wouldn’t have heard it either way. But yes, we’ve met.”[/color] As he pulled the haft in, couched into his armpit as though jousting, though, he thrust his dagger forward, towards Galahad’s nose. The dragoon's eyebrow raised, though he didn't flinch. Hilt first— display, not threat. [color=c0392b]”Even with that said, just the same as him being wrong about [i]Leonhart[/i], he’s wrong about [i]me.[/i] There [i]is[/i] no ‘Rudolf Shilage’ aboard this vessel. I told you who I am when we met, [i]Lord Caradoc[/i]. A warrior of Sagramore village. This blade proves it. You know that.”[/color] This was a far cry from the nerves on display when they first had a confrontation in this manner. Now, the spark of Himstus had been lit. [color=c0392b]”And if you know that, you also know this: If you believe me to have come into possession of this blade illegitimately, it is your duty as a Midgari Dragoon, as a friend to the Village, to run me through with it and return it to the Forgemaster, so he may tell you who [i]really[/i] killed the Sabertooth for the hilt, and to whom it must return, dead or alive.”[/color] However much it likely sounded an ultimatum, the young man did not move a muscle from that first passing of weaponry. He simply spoke instead, in a voice tight enough to burst. [color=c0392b]“Before you arm me, I believe it [i]my[/i] duty to remind you of that.”[/color] Galahad stared at the young hunter for a moment, several long moments, as though he were calculating or weighing the truth or value of his words. The defensiveness of the tone he took, how aggressively he seemed to deny it only made Galahad believe Valon more. It would've been easier to put on a confused face, or dismiss it offhandedly if Valon had been so blatantly wrong. But the traitor dragoon's words seemed to stick with Rudolf almost as much as they did to Galahad. There was something deeper beneath the surface. But it didn't take a genius to see that Rudolf was being backed into a corner and lashing out as a result. Taking the dagger-somewhat awkwardly into his sling-bound hand, Galahad examined the blade for a moment, as though checking its craftsmanship. With a casual flip that may have brought a wince to his eye, Galahad caught the weapon by the blade and offered the hilt back to the young Rudolf. [color=lightblue]”I don't know why people continue to insist on calling me that, other than the fact that it flows off the tongue better than ‘Lord Galahad, Knight of the Crown’. I've not been a Caradoc since before we'd met- if only by a few days, and I dare imagine my father would take none too kindly to you and the other Kirins referring to me as such.”[/color] Galahad remarked, giving a slight push to the spear and releasing it, so he could rest his now free hand– and weight on the railing proper, with a slight grunt of discomfort. [color=c0392b]”…What?”[/color] At that revelation, the younger man stiffened, incapable of completely hiding the icy shock that rushed through him. Both armaments returned to his hands, he needed an extra step to catch himself, staggered less by the push and more by the sudden [i]jam[/i] of the gears of his mind. [color=lightblue]”Well, regardless. My father may have stripped my name from me, but my achievements and titles are granted by the King and mine hand alone.”[/color] His own father. For what? Rudolf had been a disappointment, a coward, and a weakling, but even then it had been his nearly taking Otto’s head off and revealing that blackened, occult flame that earned his exile, and no less— what could [i]Galahad[/i], a prodigy, a war hero, the pride and joy and stalwart defender of his entire city… What could he have done to deserve the same? [color=lightblue]”Allow me to make something abundantly clear, young hunter of Sagramore.”[/color] Galahad sighed, his calm to Rudolf's brimstone not unlike water to fire. [color=lightblue]”I couldn’t care less about your parentage, and I'd be a hypocrite if I did. So long as they're not going to start hunting us down– Etro knows we have enough people doing such as it is– I'll call you by whatever name you prefer.”[/color] [color=c0392b]“… They won’t. If Otto’s still telling people that the middle son is deathly ill, then… I’ve no reason to believe anyone’s mind has changed. You are a Knight of the Crown. I am [i]Sagramori Auxilia[/i]. We claim no more of ourselves.”[/color] [color=lightblue]”You may still call me Caradoc if you wish, I suppose it [i]does[/i] flow much better, after hearing you say it.”[/color] Galahad chuckled, [color=lightblue]”Perhaps it is a bit petty on my part, and maybe just a bit spiteful, but I don’t care much for my father’s opinion these days.”[/color] Galahad was silent for a moment longer, glancing out over the dark seas and the starry skies above them. It was surprisingly peaceful, despite the ordeals they'd been through. If it weren't for the fact that the crew were still putting out problems on the ship, it'd been an otherwise perfect night. Rudolf could offer no counter to that, still reeling from the casualness of it all. Pettiness and spite... was he referring to being cast from his name and family, or just an argument across the dinner table? He followed Galahad's gaze out to sea, a thousand dead questions never making it past his teeth. [color=c0392b]"..."[/color] [color=lightblue]”In truth, Rudolf, perhaps I owe you an apology. I still wonder about that strange shadow that possessed you- or that you possessed, and in truth, I still do not trust it. But you've proven enough to me that I should at least trust your actions. I'm unsure if it would've killed us- especially if that insane mystrel had anything to say about it, but you saved Izayoi and myself earlier today, and I am grateful.”[/color] [color=c0392b]“…I did what I could. That’s all.”[/color] he replied numbly as he found his voice once more, knife returning to its sheath on his hip through muscle memory as much as any conscious thought. The same could be said when he, after what felt like a year, averted his stunned expression to regard the spear in his hands, brandishing it to test heft, dimension, the feeling. [color=c0392b]”If she’d gotten ahold of either of you…”[/color] He winced, then stepped to the side and brought the spear’s head [i]down[/i], a warding slash that cut through the Naga’s shadow in his mind’s eye, no further from Galahad than she’d been to him beneath the waves. [color=c0392b]”We may well have lost then and there, even if you didn’t die. If I didn’t have the second voice inside… You might have been up here alone tonight. I couldn’t let that happen to you, or her.”[/color] [color=lightblue]”Well, now you have more than just a knife.”[/color] Galahad said simply, a faint glimmer in his eye as he watched the way Rudolf swung the weapon. His suspicions had been all but confirmed, but Galahad left well enough alone. He decided to leave the point about the ‘second voice’ alone as well. It more or less fell into the ‘deal with it later’ camp of ideas. A grim point was made on the inside. The faint ghost of a humorless smile cracked upon his face, even as he spun the haft back up to rest upon his shoulder. [color=c0392b]”Though, I suppose this makes all three of us with no family to return ourselves to now. But nevertheless.”[/color] [color=lightblue]”In a way, I like to think it makes us more free. Our families are who we choose them to be now.”[/color] Galahad said softly, a faint smile on his lips. [color=lightblue]”Now, be a good lad and help a crippled man get back inside before the white mage yells at me. My legs haven't finished healing either and I can hardly walk without the spear. See, this is what I meant by inconvenient.”[/color] Rudolf, to his credit, needed little explanation after the ‘Neve yelling’ idea entered the picture. His own encounter with the force of her personality was still fresh in the mind— even though it seemed an eternity ago, after the day’s trials. Dutifully, he took Galahad’s unslung arm over his shoulders and hiked a large portion of his weight onto them, nodding as they began to walk forward. A beat between the two weathered Edreni fighters passed, broken only by the odd tempo of their staggered footfalls, then… [color=c0392b]”Not that you will, but just saying… if you use what you’ve learned here against me, I’m telling Wulf about this.”[/color] he needled. [color=lightblue]”What’ll Wulfric do? Boast at me to death? Ah… Perhaps that would be more effective than I expect.”[/color]