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[center][color=lightgray][h3]*   *   *[/h3][/color][/center]
[center][sub]Interacting with: [@c3p-0h][/sub][/center]

[color=lightgray][color=A54343]“Of course it’s unacceptable, but fuck, I’m trying my best here!”[/color] Charlotte almost shouted, her glare ever present on the man before her, [color=A54343]“I’ve been a good student to every partner they gave me, but I’ve yet to have anyone [i]actually teach me the job.[/i] The only fuck ups I’ve made here are this, just now, and not standing up for myself more.”[/color]

She paced over to her tower shield and hefted it with a practiced motion, taking a moment to tighten the leather straps snugly around her forearm. The shield's face was divided into four painted quarters, alternating blue and white. At their convergence in the center, an ornate depiction of a dragon coiled around a thorny white rose stood proudly—a symbol of resilience and grace. It had been a gift from her parents when she first began her combat training as a teenager, their way of showing their support and encouragement. Over the years, the shield had collected the marks of countless sparring sessions, its paint chipped in places but no less cherished for its wear.

She let the man ramble for a moment as he commented on how new she appeared, rolling her eyes while her back was still turned. However, he caught her attention in its entirety as he began to offer up some information on the current goings-on of the goddess-forsaken town. 

Her breath caught in her throat as the man spoke. An attack. The princess missing. Sir Abel...[i] dead?[/i] The name echoed in her mind, and her chest tightened as though her armor had suddenly shrunk. Her gaze flickered downward and her eyes closed for a moment, offering the late-guardsmen a moment of her silence and respect. Sir Abel had been a steady presence since she’d arrived. Never assigned as her partner but had offered some guidance in her first hours on duty. [i]Gone?[/i] Just like that? Her knuckles turned white against the leather-wrapped hilt of her sword.

Charlotte shook the thought from her head as quickly as it had arrived. This was a time for focus and discipline, two things she was seemingly going to be teaching herself today. The man before her had also probably just saved her at least one chewing out from her superiors. She made a mental note to buy him a drink after this mess blew over.

[color=A54343]“Trust me, if I find Hale and he’s not dead, I’ll do it for you. And for me.”[/color] she retorted, only half-joking.

She stood unmoving as the man descended the spiraling stairs of the guard tower, his footsteps echoing faintly. When he disappeared from view, she turned to the narrow window overlooking the town. The streets below, bathed in pale moonlight, seemed more alive than before, people rushing to get back to their homes before being taken by an unknown enemy.
Her fingers tightened against the stone windowsill as she let out a shaky breath. Before she could gather herself, movement below caught her eye. One of her superiors, clad in full armor and carrying the weight of authority in every step, strode purposefully towards the tower. Her stomach dropped. Straightening instinctively, she forced her posture rigid, tugging at her armor to ensure everything was in place. The last thing she needed now was to draw attention—or worse, scrutiny—from someone who wouldn’t hesitate to question why she looked so shaken.[/color]