[h3]Sir Yanin Glade[/h3]

	The seemingly ever-permeating scent of blood and smoke of this day diminished once he stepped outside. Much nicer this way. Back to wall, observing, listening. 
	It wouldn't be a [i]good[/i] day, though with skill and favourable arrangement of circumstances, it could still be a [i]successful[/i] one. The Viper might have been a fighter par few if any, but he didn't fancy himself an executioner. The foes he had eliminated earlier were either already dead or could not be killed - or both, depending on your perception. 
	The others seemed to be taking their time, pouring out one by one. As he had implied earlier, Freagon took his page to the side (followed by a somewhat concerned glance by Jordan, who stopped to somewhat awkwardly stand next to his master; other observers might note he only started to look more awkward, occasionally sending sideways glances at Sir Yanin as they, somewhat incidentally, listened to the 'conversation' between 'the boy' and the nightwalker knight, as it might have been). 
	As far as Yanin was concerned, Freagon probably intended to interrogate his student on his knowledge, and he wasn't getting the reply he wanted. Bit odd time to do so, but as long as the others were still scrambling about, he was content enough to humour them. It wasn't like they had anything better they should be doing as they, in effect, waited. 

	Only once the conversation shifted and the recitals began that Yanin seemed to start paying more than cursory attention to it, ever so slightly tilting his head towards the commotion (he had not misremembered; there [i]was[/i] 'dishonor before evil'). 
	[i]So much for, 'I prefer him not to'. [/i]Freagon seemed to adhere strictly to the tenets of his knighthood. Perhaps to a fault. Did not bode well for Jaelnec, from what he had read of the Knighthood of the Will, presumed extinct centuries ago. 

	Once they were done, Deo'Irah went to hand her potion to Jaelnec before disappearing back into the depths of the station, presumably having the two nightwalkers return to their midst - finding the impassionate armored statue of Sir Yanin Glade and nearly as amoured, but contrastingly somewhat uncomfortable-looking Jordan Forthey. 
	[color=00aeef]"Well. Congratualations on your promotion?"[/color] the human squire offered with a faint smile, still slightly awkwardly as he wasn't entirely sure it was his place to have overheard the ceremony, switching his spear to his left hand and holding out a gauntlet if Jaelnec actually appeared like he might take it.
	Yanin was much more practical, only noting, seemingly more to Freagon than Jaelnec himself, [color=f7976a]"I guess he fights now."[/color]