The journey back to Caldaeln was done in silence. Nero Sunfield clung to the cape that had been ceded by her followers, as she bitterly remembered with each jolt of the horse her otherwise lack of clothing. She was dirty, tired, and her longstanding armor was gone. Not too far beyond, the trio of siblings followed her in silence. Even Mariah was too tired to talk.
It was supposed to be a public image move, and yet the entire order was reeling from the blow. Nothing good had come from the association with the Roses, she thought bitterly. And a duel awaited in Caldaeln. From her own sister, who was escorting them, side by side. The image of the front gate made her frown?
Now a giant wolf beast? Really? Nero cursed under her breath, she was getting too tired of everything. Raising her hand, she indicated her men to return.
"You are to return to our base. Inform Sir Rinaldo to take command as he sees fit. I've got a couple of things pending with the Roses."
"But I wanna see the doggy!" was Mariah's weak reply, but she eventually conceded, as her two brothers carted her away.
Sult snorted, as she looked at the ragged figure of her sister, dismounting as she did. She then scoffed, and went ahead, following the footsteps of the captain.
"Well?" was Nero's answer. "You don't expect me to go to said duel naked and dirty, do you?" She taunted as she stood there, battered and naked, but still defiant.
"Okay. Come with me. We'll use the back entrance. And I'll lend you one pair of clothes. But no more." She quipped back, as she took the hand of her own sister and led her away from the prying eyes of people. Despite everything, and every strife, she could only feel the hand of her own sister as warm and gentle to the touch.
Maybe this... could've been avoided. Maybe she should've done many other things she was regretting. This whole thing seemed to be rather pointless. But it had to be done. She led her own elder sister through a side entrance, away from prying eyes. Right into the baths. Both could use one. Even despite the hostilities.
When was the last time they had one together? She couldn't remember. But there they were. Even though, the atmosphere was so tense it could snap. There was no turning back. Both sisters stared eachother as they took opposing sides of the facility. Rest now. Strife tomorrow.
Merilia...? For a few moments, in her exhaustion, Fanilly didn't quite comprehend what was being told to her. But then, memory came flooding back to her. That portrait, displaying the youthful-looking girl. The Archmage-Knight, her origins in witchcraft... of the founding knights, Fanilly knew that Merilia was one of the ones who was still alive. She also knew that the knight had left the order and now dwelt in distant Akitsushima... once, when she was quite young, Fanilly recalled that her parents had attended a party for the rare appearance of an Akitsushiman Ambassador, who would be there for three months before returning to her distant country. Such an elegant woman, with long, black hair, and with her... was a rabbit-eared girl, extraordinarily beautiful, in such a flowing outfit, even longer hair then the ambassador... It was a vivid memory in the blonde girl's mind.
And so, faced with this rabbit-eared... individual, Fanilly couldn't help but recall those events.
Fanilly had to snap herself out of such thoughts, however. There were matters to attend to.
"You can speak freely, Ito," Fanilly said with a nod. Tyaethe's reassurance had helped, but Fanilly had no reason to assume that one of the founding knights would be here to cause trouble.
Jarde followed all the commotion and saw a group of knights enter Candaeln. He knew they were part of the Iron Rose Knights, probably the main contingent even, because he saw Fanilly Danbalion. He paused for a moment to confirm what he saw but there was no mistaking it. It was her, the noble girl from his childhood, all grown up and in charge of an esteemed order of knights. He knew that they both had gotten far in their lives. But their positions didn't change. He was beneath her and probably does not know he exists.
As the knights conversed with one another, Jarde just stood by and watched with a smile. He may be unnoticed but that was fine with him. Helping out Fanilly and the Iron Rose Knights was enough for him.
The rabbit stands straight, clearing their throat slightly. “As I said before, there is some concern over the state of things in Thaln and I was asked to check in on things. Additionally, there are some...personal problems of my own in my home country, and the mistress thought it prudent that I live elsewhere for the time being. If the mistress has other intentions, she did not reveal them to me.” There is a short rasping breath. Poor rabbit seems not used to speaking this much. “I’ve heard many good things of the Captains of the Iron Roses, so provided you are comfortable with my companionship, I look forward to serving you as a temporary member of your order.”
Fanilly inclined her head, slightly, as the rabbit-eared girl spoke. But... she didn't know if she was worthy of that kind of praise, at all. After all, she had allowed Sir Garret to become injured in battle... And it wasn't her actions that had removed the demonic armor from Marianne. But... she wouldn't mention such things, not now.
"I welcome you, Ito," she said, with a nod. She wasn't certain that there was particularly anything... bad happening in Thaln at the moment, beyond the usual hazards that could arise, but at the very least there was no way she would say no to assistance offered in good faith, especially when it was offered by one of the founding Iron Rose Knights.
"If there are no further matters, I would like to bathe and retire for the night."
It was abrupt, but Fanilly could feel her eyes drooping. The Captain of the Iron Roses falling asleep in the middle of speaking to her knights would be impossibly embarrassing.
She wanted a bath, and then some sleep.
And so, the next morning, Fanilly awoke. Her blonde hair pooling around her head, she blinked her eyes blearily before slowly sitting up and yawning. Ah... She hadn't slept in late, had she? Glancing upwards, and seeing the morning light filtering through the curtains, she decided it was unlikely that she had. With another yawn, she slid out of her bed. Her morning routine was carried out with little incident. Her maids came in while she was in the middle of trying to change herself, undressed her, brought her to the bath, cleaned her, and dressed her.
The outfit was one commonly worn by the Knight-Captains of the Iron Roses. A frilled skirt, a fine jacket, and golden epaulets. All of it was blue and white, reflective of the Order's Mayonite origins.
Fanilly proceeded downstairs.
Today, it seemed, would go without incident. They would have to sort out what to do with the prisoners, and the Nem, but... certainly it wouldn't be like anything yesterday. As she understood, the Princess was now under heavy watch, but there had been no further attempts on her life.
Pholus was out in the main hall, aiming down his gauntlet crossbow at a few wooden targets he set up. The youthful inventor seemed to not have that great of accuracy as an archer or one who specialized in shooting, but his shots weren't half-bad. Bolt after bolt was sent as he needed to eventually reload after a good three shots. He retrieves the bolts and starts pulling another switch to take out a few mini capsules that served as bombs. He was about to throw them at the wooden targets he put up once more, but looks at Fanily with a curious look on his face.
"Hey captain...sorry, just testing out some new weapons and such inside. Less chances of missing and such if I use them inside in comparison to outside...that and I'd rather not alarm everyone outside with some loud noises. If it's inside, people will just think it's cooking or something similar of the sorts. You want to try out some of these? Mini-bombs, quite useful in a pinch...some with a few other functions but this one is set to make a small explosion to cause some damage. Just give it a lob then boom!"
The morning after the party. Where people have all sorts of pains and regrets. Sometimes even for a noble cause. The day seemed to dawn with nice weather, as the rays of sun filtered through the windows in the kitchen.
The night before had been too intense. The demonic armor. Her twin... So many things had happened. Words were spoken. Bitterness had grown amidst strife. A conspiracy had been unveiled, but at what price? Petty fights were yet to happen once again.
Sult was never an early riser. But this time, it was different. The blue haired young woman had set aside a jug of milk and some bread with cheese. She was having breakfast meticulously, her stare empty into the walls.
A good breakfast, for before the duel. Too many unknowns awaited. Could she beat her this time? She didn't know. She had become so strong, and she herself seemed to have squandered her talents. She took another bite of cheese. Remorse wasn't a good counselor.
Gillian trodden silently into the dinning hall. Sleep last night had come slowly, and his habit of rising before the sun helped noone. He was still reeling that the first substansive clue he'd obtained in years of searching had come from that leech of an assassin. Still, a lead was better than the nothing he'd had for seven years strong.
He squinted agaisnt the intruding sunlight. Always perfered the hall at his darkest, but he seemed alone in that thought. He walked over to food cart, snagging a loaf of bread, eyes scanning over the small crowd that had collected, spying a familiar head of blue hair.
Not wishing to waste time he heads over to the girl, feet heavy with purpose as they thud softly against the wood floor. "Ser Sunfield. I'm sorry to bother you so early in the morn, but I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions." He said, though it sounded more akin to a command than a request.
"Mmm?" The priestess tilted her head, eyeing the newcomer. Gulping a little of milk, she actually found herself staring at the knight. However, no other sound came from her lips, only a long awkward paused. It was then when she sighed.
"Okay? " She raised her voice, as she answered. "Go on, but I warn you, it might be too early for a date, my dear sir." She finished, her grin present.
Gillian flushed for a moment, forgetting the girls rather...impish nature. "Yes yes, very funny Sult." He said, dropping the formal names. He straightened up in his seat, composure seemingly recollected. "It concerns your brother, Nero I think it was? I've heard tell that he is in possession of, or atleast was exposure to, a set of armor manufactured by demons. Did you know of this?"
The blue haired woman rolled her eyes, as she sighed. "Soulscale. I see. Yes, I knew of this." Her smile seemed to disappear. "It is a major point of contention, you know..." She sighed, as she leant forward towards Gillian.
"I've got a duel over that with that odious sibling of mine... I'd love to tell you more details, but..." She added, as she chewed on more cheese delicatedly, licking her lips afterwards."I'm afraid I have knightly stuff to do, my dear sir." She giggled. "A duel is no joke."
"I assure you, I wont keep you from your duel and wish you best of luck." He said, voice flat as iron as he struggled to maintain eye contact. This is why he perfered to spend his days with trees and brush. They did not flirt back. Or at all, most of the time "But I am afraid I will have to be rather insistant on you being able to tell me what you can."
"Oh? That's really boring, my dear sir. It really is..." The woman tilted her head. "However, there's no way to end this in a sour taste, my dear sir? See... since everyone's up and with their business, they hardly have any time for poor me anymore." She said feigning weakness."Maybe, if some charitative soul would be a judge in the duel, I could actually answer all the questions."
Gillian did not looked phased by the theatrics. This was more or less the sort of behavior he expected from his brother (er, sister?) in arms. "Extorsion my dear? You've the air of a much gentler soul than that. But fair enough, if that is what I must do to gain your trust on this matter, I will judge your duel." He crossed his arms, face still sour with determination (though the slightest grin of bemusement was beging to sneak its way onto him). "But I warn you, you'll gain no special favor from me because of our brotherhood. It would insult your and his honor if I judged you unfairly."
"You bitch." Sult exclaimed, in a low hissing voice. Except her lips didn't move. And the voice was coming from the door of the kitchen,rather than the female in front of him. Sult Sunfield, or rather, another Sult was standing in the door ajar. "There is a limit on how much of a flirt one can be, NERO! With that stupidface of Sir Gillian nonetheless!". She spat her name as an invective, nails digging on the doorframe.
"Oh, but it was really fun impersonating you. Everyone seems to have this kind of opinion about you, my dear sister. You've brought it upon yourself." Nero grinned as she drank the remaining of her milk.
Gillian could hear the name shouted by the true Sult ring in his skull as the twins argued. Had...he just been flirted at by the brother he intended to question. His face burned red, though he was not sure if it was embarassment or mild anger from the ruse. "....wait." He said, finally able to pull himself back to reality. "Stupidface?...also, why is your brother wearing your clothing Sult." He said, deciding now that maybe he should have gone with the captain last night. Dying in a crypt was likely to make his head hurt less than the last four seconds.
"She's my sister, Gillian, my fifteen minutes older sister. We're identical twins... and she took my clothes without permission!" Sult fumed as she leapt towards Nero, her swift hands quickly invading her personal space and grabbing the familiar curves as she lifted Nero's bosom in her hands."She just passed herself as my brother to not draw comparison to the Iron Roses! Does this look a man's chest to you?"
And it was Nero's turn to become furious, her cheeks reddening as a result. "Unhand me you sow! This is unacceptable!" She added, as she struggled herself out of Sult's grasp quickly.
"C...calm down, both of you!" Gillian said as he stood, trying (and to a degree failing) not to watch the inappropriate display before him. "Look, you both have nice chests." He added, somehow thinking that would help. "Please lets just try to de-escalate the issue. I dont want either of you hurt before you can resolve your duel proper. And it isn't befitting of either of you. Sult's a grand companion and Nero in her own right commands her own order."
"He's right, you know." Nero said. "That's why he's going to be the judge." The eldest of the twins smirked as she eyed Sult, who hastedly removed her hands from the inappropiate places.
"Fine." Sult added. "Gillian, you had better be a good witness to this. Because if Nero loses, she'll have to apologize for being a idiot, and join the Iron Roses."
Gillian nodded to Sult. "Though its no business of mine what the wager is, I just gave her my own word. Both of you will recieve fair judgement in my eyes. I wont insult your ability by giving you favor, even as my companion."
"Haaa?" Nero snarled. "Do you want to raise the stakes, baby? Fine then. I shall do it. If I lose, I'll become one of your odious Fanilly admirers. I'll even don a maid suit and cater to the wishes of that midget if need be. But in exchange, if you lose you'll have to quit the order and become princess Eliabelle's maid!" She added, as she looked at Gillian.
"We have a deal good sir Gillian. I do...appreciate men with integrity. Unlike others present." Nero said, before heading towards the exit. "I'll meet you in the training room."
Gillian sighed, turning to the true Sult. "I...suppose I shall also meet you there..." He shoved the remaining loaf into his waiting maw. Appetite spoiled someewhat. As he began to walk to the training room he addressed the woman again. "...and while its none of my business, perhaps you shouldnt antagonize your sibling so. There are few brothers I've met that would truely tear at each others throat. Family is rare in this day and age after all."
"Heh. If only you knew... maybe i'll tell you someday. But first I've got an idiot sister to beat. She manhandled Fanilly, you know." Sult said..."but perhaps, maybe... hm. Nevermind."
Gillian luaghed slightly. As he thought, the Sunfield was too kind a soul to hold a hate that deep. "Right right. Well, when you do I will tell you my story of how I accidentally flashed the captain. It'll be fun. And horrifically embarassing. So I suppose standard fair for our order."
"Well, Roses are always a little naughty, aren't they?" Sult added as she headed to change near the training room. She did so in silence. The hour had come.
Sult cradled her stomach in one hand, as she breathed deeply. Her mind displaying vivid images and possibilities of the outcome that might happen. She took a look at her clothes. Simple and slightly padded, white in color. She fidgetted with her gauntlets. Her mind was throbbing. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if trying to reign herself in. Her sword arm stretched, and with a deft movement, checked the blade in her hands. It wasn't bent.
How had she come to this situation? It seemed as if time had passed by in an instant. She still remembered the days before her training, huddling herself against the sheets in a cold and drafty room, with only the solemn, but rather disheartening luxury of her dwellings. Time after time, she'd whisper in the dark, calling for her sister. And her voice, an exact reflection would answer.
"Nero?"
"What, Sult?"
"Are you asleep?"
"...Not now. What do you want?"
"I'm cold."
"It is cold."
"Can I go in your bed?"
"... sure. But Mr Dragon is mine to keep."
She inhaled deeply, and took the first steps into the arena. The wide space greeted her with silence, as her eyes quickly signaled her opponent. An exact image of herself, clad in blue clothes. With a similar sword. Her face was likewise scrunched, and tense. The body of Nero was poised to strike. One part of Sult desperatedly struggled to tell herself that this was a mistake.
But on the other side, Nero had crossed many lines. And she had to be admonished. However, a great deal of Nero's attitude had been Sult's doing. Instead of trying to reconcile, she just had been always the selfish little sister of the duo. And now her own sister had donned a demonic armor, and had manhandled the captain she had sworn to protect.
Gillian stood between the two, one armed raised with a white handerchief held between his fingers. "The standard rules of a duel apply here. You both begin when I lower my arm. The fight does not end until one or both of you is incapable of continuing. Killing your opponent, while not wanted, is permitted. Beyond that, you may do as you wish." With the formalities done, he slowly lowers his arm, taking a step back from ground zero as he watched the two girls with keen interest.
"En garde." The words came out from Sult's lips with no emotion, as she whipped up to a combat stance, her opponent doing the same. But that was about it. How would she assail Nero, which had more experience and motivation? The answer dawned on her like lightning. She couldn't. She had hesitated for an split second, and Nero had initiated the attack. Running towards her, Sword extended. It was going to be a thrust. Sult gripped her blade as she shifted her weight, closing the distance as well. Her legs twisted at the last second, her neck tilted sideways.
Only to strike air. The figure of Nero ducked and shot her attack, very much like she had done. A mutual feint, whose targets had just mutually evaded themselves. Wisely, both decided to push for several steps ahead, their backs turned on eachother. As if a synchronized dance, both women turned at the same time.
"Same thrusting feint." Sult snarled.
"We seem to read eachother, don't we? How annoying." It was the quip that came from the blue-clad sister.
Sult held her sword in front of her, as she began to focus her mana. "Your blade is duller than I remember. Was losing the armor that much of a deal?"
"You're learning quickly how to make that hapzard technique land blows. I'm impressed." Nero quipped back, as she imitated her gesture. "But this only means..."
"...all out." Sult finished her own sister's sentence, as the holy mana engulfed her. If the sword technique would not do, she would use mana. She began to chant her holy verses, her whispered words reverberating throughout the room. The white light engulfed her, the holy flames wreathed her sword. It was then when she realized that such a reverberation had never been an echo of the room.
Holy flames also covered her sibling's sword too. A wicked grin plastered in her face, examining the brief stupor that had fallen upon Sult. She swung her sword wildly, as she closed the distance for a powerful blow, full of the fury of the Sun Goddess. Blade met blade. Holy fire met Holy fire. A normal sword could be empowered to cut another sword with holy fire. But if both swords were empowered...
Both swords were cut, the shards scattering in opposite directions as both sisters looked at the ravaged remains of their blades.
"You can quit while you're ahead, you know." Nero taunted, as he threw her blade. And so did Sult.
"...and forsake the joy of making you eat your own smug ego? I think not, sister of mine." Sult added, raising her fists in a classical guard. If she could not use a sword, she would use her own hands. She had learned enough medicine to know the weak points of her opponent's body...
A sharp pain brought her to reality, as the air was knocked out of her lungs by a high-powered kick, who not only staggered the Sunfield knight, it managed to make her squid along the floor a couple of meters. "GH!" She hacked, her eyes staring at the now raised leg of Nero, standing on her remaining leg like a crane.
"Too bad the old lech taught me a couple of things you don't know, hm?" Nero giggled as she spun around herself and adopted a strange martial arts stance. "This duel is over for you, Sult."
Sult eyed her oponent warily. Shakily, she staggered back to her feet, still adopting a crude fistfighting stance. "No." She said. "Not yet." She gritted her teeth, as she charged against her own sister, trying to deliver a left hook.
Before her eyes could react, Nero's open palm had struck against her chin, rattling her entire cranium and robbing her little sister of any momentum she could have. "USELESS!" And then Nero's counterattack came in full. Dozens of punches landed on the vulnerable body of sult which jolted like a tree in a windstorm. And she fell like a log, a sweeping kick from the elder sibling tripping her precarious stance. As a finisher, Nero put a foot in her own sister's chest.
"Do you yield, bad knockoff?" Nero spat. Sult whispered something. Her hands reached for her own face as if on grief. But it wasn't a lament. Nor a surrender. Blue healing magic bathed her own face, as the bruises and damages began to wear away.
"Wha!?" Nero was caught off guard by the situation, losing her balance for a second as a surge of strength invaded Sult, who got to her feet, her many bruises receeding.
"Good thing I can heal, Nero." She said, spitting a glob of saliva and blood. Her stance resumed.
"Really? That's your plan? Resist my attacks by healing until i get tired?" Nero snorted, as she readied another volley. "LAME, SULT. SO LAME. YOU'RE IN FOR PAIN!" The blue-clad sister screamed, hysterical as she unleashed another savage volley which send Sult tumbling down. But Sult didn't budge. As soon as she fell, she rose again.
And again, Nero pumelled Sult. And yet, her own sister, empowered by the healing, refused to stay down. More punches came in disarray. Nero was starting to feel the fatigue of continual attacking, and her opponent wasn't going down.
It was then when something happened. Nero's fist swerved somewhat. Her legs failed for a second. Even so, the fist landed on Sult's visage. But with one difference.
Nero had a fist on her own visage.
The room went silent. Both punches had reached their goals, and as such, the tense atmosphere dissipate. Both sisters fell limp, collapsing in a heap at the same time. And the result of the duel had been the least common result of such a gruesome practice.
A tie.
Nero was the first to awake, groggily looking around, as she regained her counsciousness. "Sult...hey Sult!"
"Mrrmrmg." The answer came from the heap behind her. "...I suppose you're here to gloat."
"We both lost consciousness."
"What." It was Sult's flat answer, all her anger and frustration disipating all of a sudden. "We ...tied? How in Reon's name is that even possible?"
Nero knelt besides her sister, sighing. It was then when it surged from the depths of her soul. First it was a smile. Then a chuckle. Then a full blown laughter. "This is so stupid! Why are we doing this in first place?"
"I don't know!" It was Sult's answer, who despite the beating was still chuckling a great deal. "Maybe if you hadn't sold me out to the princess, none of this would've happened!"
"Oh yeah, by the goddesses, Sult, why did you eat that cake It was her birthday. The damn princess birthday!"
"...I... guess, I just wanted to feel special and loved." Sult's laughter stopped, all of a sudden. "And you, you were the only one that made me feel like that as family."
"...we were so immature back then. We didn't realize. Until now. And now look at this...mess." It was Nero's answer, as she tended her hand to the battered Sult to get up. "We ought to fix it somehow."
"Maybe you can start fixing my face... I can, um, teach you the spells." Sult added, rubbing the amount of bruises she had sustained.
"Yeah." Nero said. "And then the maid suits."
"...yeah. Maid suits, it is." Sult said solemnly as she whispered into Nero's ear what she needed to know on how to perform healing.
The captain descended downstairs. It was time. An elegant blue-haired woman dressed in the same outfits as the servants of Fanilly greeted her with haste. Her curtsy was elegant and corteous.
And she had Sult's face.
"Good morning, mistress. How may this humble maid serve you?"
Well, at the very least, she didn't have to go to the palace like Sult, Nero thought.
After Marianne's reunion with Ricard, she and her maids led the giant Direwolf on a tour around Candeln. After he was properly acquainted, Marianne retired for the night after a bath. To which Sir Ricard insisted on joining her, much to the countless attempts at arguing against such an action from Marianne's maids. To which, the large wolf ignored. Staving off any other protests with a vicious glare and threatening growl. Needless to say, it caused a bit of a scene at the female's bathhouse. Even worse, Marianne saw no issue joining her old friend in the waters. Besides, his large stature was more effective at concealing her naked form and his presence alone dared anyone else to lay eyes on her.
At least, it gave the maids time to prep Marianne's quarters to accommodate their honored guest.
The following morning, Marianne's senior maid entered her quarters to wake her at her usual time. She was not, however, prepared for the sight she came upon. It appeared that some time during the night, Marianne had decided her bed was not adequate enough and pulled all of the bedding and sheets off to curl up against the much fluffier 'bed' that was Sir Ricard's massive body. Cocooned and wrapped up with her pillows piled against his curled and sleeping frame, it was quite a sight to witness. Lady Marianne's smiling sleeping face was almost too much to bare. The senior maid had to place a hand against her lips to prevent herself from smiling, her cheeks tinging pink as she stifled a giggle. She had half a mind to invite the other maids in to come see, but Sir Ricard stirred. An ear twitched and he opened an eye to glare at the senior maid, startling her.
"Oh! Ah...I-I am here to wake Lady Marianne at her usual time, Sir Ricard. Please, pardon my intrusion." The senior maid bowed deeply, hoping not to anger the giant wolf. Closing his eye, Ricard let out a soft huff, resuming his slumber for a little while longer. Heels quietly clacking as she approached the bundled up Iron Rose Knight and Heiress, the senior maid reached out with white-gloved hand to gently rouse and shake the sleeping woman's shoulder. "Lady Marianne...Lady Marianne, wake up. It is time to start your day, my lady." The senior maid spoke in a hushed tone of voice, nearly whispering. Lest she provoke Sir Ricard's wrath. She knew all too well his temper and overprotective nature of her Lady. Marianne groaned and turned away from the senior maid, frowning in her sleep. "Encore cinq minutes, s'il te plait..." Marianne mumbled. The senior maid bit her lip and went to try once more, but noticing a sharp glare from Sir Ricard and hearing that rumbling growl, she quickly backed off. Standing there ,watching the two of them snooze so peaceably, she could only wait. She didn't dare test or try Sir Ricard. Sighing, her shoulders sagged. "Ma deesse..." The senior maid bowed her head low and 'crossed' herself.
Praying that Marianne would wake of her own accord, and soon. If she missed breakfast, then not only will she have Sir Ricard to handle but a grumpy and hungry Marianne. Neither was desirable.
Thankfully, Marianne eventually woke and with her awakening, she carried on with the usual schedule of her average day. At this point in time, Marianne stood dressed in her usual white dress with her sword in hand in one of the cloisters/courtyards of Candeln. As she assumed her stance, her seven maids stood around her in a large circle with baskets of tomatoes in their arms. Sir Ricard was not far off, curled under the shade of a tree as he watched Marianne dutifully and attentively. Right now, was one of the peculiar and odd training sessions Marianne typically underwent, the courtyard mostly empty at the time being. Without a word, each of the seven maids suddenly grabbed at the tomatoes in front of them and threw them at Marianne. Each staggering their timing, strength of their throws, and arcs of their throws in an attempt to hit Marianne with them.
True to her moniker, Marianne was swift and graceful with her movements. Expertly slicing clean through each tomato with such precision so that the halves safely evaded her body with nary a drop of juice dotting her white dress. It was almost as if the strange and queer practice was rehearsed and choreographed beforehand, however that was not the case. Moving as if she were dancing, Marianne was simply keeping her skills with her blade sharp and well honed in the ways of the Delacroix. Watching with slight movements of his head, Sir Ricard couldn't voice his opinions. But, one could see the gargantuan wolf was impressed and pleased with his Lady. Truly, she was well-deserved of the Delacroix Duchy when her time came. To any onlooker, it would seem like a rather curious and wasteful method of training. However, Marianne provided for the fruits from her own purse. With her own coin.
So, it was hardly a concern. The maids did not mind the cleanup after. They were well used to this by now. In fact, they even played a game. Whomever is able to actually hit Marianne or speckle her dress with crimson liquid, they were relieved of their duties for the day unbeknownst to Marianne and treated to a round of drinks and other treats by the other maids. Needless to say, to this day, none of them had their unofficial 'off day'.
The night went by without incident for Tiral as he continued to sift through the Court Mage's notes, marking up his own as he scanned through them to note anything that could be improved on or adjusted or whatever else was necessary. A rudimentary design for a circle meant for redirecting electricity rather than just negating it had already been written up, and though it was still just a prototype the mage had just enough confidence to think it would work.
Deciding that much was enough for the night, Tiral soon moved to take a bath before going to sleep. There was nothing pressing to attend to tomorrow, at least, so he could experiment well enough then. The next morning went by quickly for the ice mage as he began to draw up a few variations of the spell, each on a separate piece of paper. His supply had by no means run low as he continued drawing one after the other, but his stomach had certainly grown empty. Only the growling thereof would give him any reason to leave.
It just so happened, though, that his stomach growling was exactly what happened.
"...Oh, what perfect timing..." he complained to himself as he piled up the papers into a single stack. If he was to pick up any food now, he'd probably have to change, right? ... Yeah, probably. If he was lucky, maybe he'd have a chance to set up the circles and test each one; they weren't all-purpose, but maybe something he could do could mimic it well enough, like a miniature thunderstorm.
Changing into something more presentable in public, Tiral tucked the stack of papers under his arm as he left his room, making a beeline towards the kitchen to try and make himself something to eat. Or just grab some leftovers, like a piece of bread, to sate himself until dinner came.
With just that in hand, the ice mage ate the food in his hand as he walked through the ground of Candaeln, not paying much attention to much else until he came by the training grounds. The sound of tomatoes splattering against the ground could only mean one thing, though: Marianne was practicing, as usual.
Though he had planned to go test on his own, the possibility popped into his head to simply ask the knight for whom this countermeasure had been devised towards in the first place. Still munching on the piece of bread, Tiral instead changed course towards the training grounds.
Deciding against interrupting the training as it was, the ice mage simply stood off to the side, waiting for the barrage of tomatoes to cease and for an opportunity to speak to come.
For a few moments, Fanilly stared in mute confusion. Bombs? She supposed she'd heard of containing fire in a container so it could explode, at least. She wasn't exactly sure how well she would be able to use something like that, though. She wasn't, after all, very capable of anything like alchemy, and that seemed like something you would need to know alchemy to be able to use well. She frowned after a few moments, at the idea of testing the weaponry inside.
"I can hardly say testing anything involving fire indoors seems like a good idea," she said, simply. In fact, it seemed like a really, truly terrible idea that could potentially cause serious damage to the building. Really, where would anyone get the idea of that sort of thing? But... well, hopefully that admonishment would be the end of it.
However, Fanilly was quickly pulled away from her serious thoughts on the dangers of inexplicably tossing bombs around indoors when she noticed a... new maid?
For a few moments she stared in blank incomprehension. Why was...
The maid in question did not look at Fanilly in the eye, much like a servant would have done in the same situation. Instead, she kept her head down, as she kept her hands to her chest. We are supposed to look this demure? This is difficult. Nero bitterly thought to herself.
"Mistress, If I may be so bold... I have to correct that statement. Sult is not here. I am actually... Nero." She answered in a clear voice, although her cheeks reddened somewhat. "I must honor what was fought in our duel. Should I lose, I would become your maidservant. And Sult would apologize to the princess and become her maidservant." She drabbled.
"I never thought she'd be able to manage to fight me to a tie... but then again, we were born from the same belly at the same time." Nero added, a hint of humour and pride despite her actually humilliating predicament.
The paladin, once armoured, actually looked less intimidating than normal. It wasn't like being seen out of armour had ruined her height or the eerie colour of her eyes any, but the armour itself had undergone a change in the few hours: a servant had been contacted to take time to clean it up. It was impossible to reveal the details in full within such a timespan but a valiant effort had turned it from tarnished black to an unassuming grey.
Her night had been spent the same as ever: guarding over the Saint's sword until just before dawn, then going through drills whilst the other knights rose. As she came in, there was a distinct unexpected sight: why was one of those knights a maid? Even the answer just raised more questions about what was wrong with these two: who put those conditions on a fight... and who actually put conditions without checking the third party would honour them?
Did the Captain really need more maids?
Merilia, Ignorer of Privacy
After keeping watch over the foreign bunny whilst she sleep, Merilia decided to have her projection do some exploring after people had risen and see what had changed in Candaeln over time--and check on some long-lasting spells, like the one that preserved all the library's books. All of Candaeln, rooms and all. Almost nobody should notice it right now, and anyone both awake and looking--a magical projection of this type made no sound in moving--would have to think twice just to be certain that they'd seen something real.
Fortunately for the knights, nobody seemed to have anything blatantly illegal--though some people had rather interesting material for teasing or blackmail, should it come to that. A few caught her attention: one had a nem sleeping in it despite the time, which was just odd, and rather a lot of magical information was spread out in another. The owner of that room might be able to hold a semi-interesting conversation later on. Tyaethe's room, as expected, seemed to be in an advanced state of barely changing: dust covered almost every surface aside from a rack covered in scarves and a path traced out in the past day or so.
Eventually, every room examined, she took to more public areas. The archmage supposed she should check with Nori and see how she was settling in after breakfast, but first... various facilities, then examining the library closely.
Gillian suppressed his urge to chuckle as he skulked behind Nero, falling into her shadow as he approached. “Well, I would be a liar if I said that I thought you a more handsome sight in armor, but this is by no means unflattering.” He said in a teasing tone to the Sunfield. He bows slightly to the captain, bemused grin still on his face. “Good morning Captain. Hope you'll forgive me for not reporting to you last night. Everyone seemed exhausted. Hopefully it reached your ears that no other incidents took place that night.” He says, stopping midway to suppress yet another small laugh. He then regards the undead paladin, their argument from the night before still fresh in his mind. “Radistirin.” he adds, nodding curtly.
“But yes, it seems the two young women had some dispute and needed a duel to work it out. Thankfully it was mostly harmless for the both.” He turns back to Nero. “...and if I remember rightly, there was more to the bargain between you two than being our captains servant. Shall I sponsor your induction to the roses or does Sult have that honor?” Part of him knew he was perhaps pushing his luck with Nero, but it was a chance at small revenge for her deception earlier in the day. Additionally, he had no intentions of letting the woman out of his sight until he got the answers he was looking for. Discussing that in front of the captain was out of the question, for now at least, so he'd just have to shadow the would be maid until he could catch her alone.
Nori
The young Ito woman sat in the garden, gently chewing on a beet she'd pilfered from the kitchen not a few minutes ago. She'd need to begin her daily practice soon, provided whatever task her new mistress allowed her the time. She sighed, the first sign of resignation the girl had shown since arriving in this land. She wished she were home, but for the moment that seemed unlikely to happen. Her hand rested on the curved shaft of the sheath seated on the grass beside her, familiar and with the warmth of the blade within radiating slightly. Waiting for her chance was growing tiresome, and her patience was beginning to wear thin. Not helped that her mistress seemed to have passed her along, like Ronin did before her. A small pang of betrayal pierce the rabbits chest, her ears dropping, before straightening ferociously in a sudden display. “Enough of that.” she rasps to herself, shaking the doubts from her mind away as she took another bite of her pilfered beet.
The next day had come and Jarde had woke early. After all, he did not do anything yesterday and so had little reason to be tired.
He found himself in Candaeln's Library and sifting through its books. There were a couple that he took an interest in. And by 'couple', there were several books strewn about in the table Jarde was using. He himself was sitting on a chair with his feet on the table and a book on his hands. A book of short stories and fairy tales that are regularly told to children. Fortunate children to be exact.
He had a more proper posture earlier but as he became more immersed in the literature found inside Candaeln, his body unconsciously shifted to a more comfortable position. He was probably lucky that no one was in the library to spot and/or correct him.
"Aw, it really wasn't that bad of an idea. Plus they barely make that large of an explosion nor that much damage...well at least these ones that I made. Prefer easy to have and easy to use over the effects. Guess I'll test them again some other time. That and I'm surprised you have another maid now Captain...you should really start limiting it. Not that it's bad to have too many, but it's kinda hectic to manage or at least even remember all their names and such. Keep things simple makes less headaches...anything else or important happening today? Got a bunch of stuff just sitting in my room, waiting to be tested out in the field."
Pholus sighs contently at the idea of testing out the other bombs and his other gadgets he's been working on. Sure most of them were ammunition over a real device, but small details come first before long term projects. After all, no one has really asked of him for anything to be made, nor did he have any new or clever ideas to think of and to make the tools. That and he would need a LOT more materials to make whatever people wanted him to make. Sitting down on the ground to carefully put the bomb back into the compartment in his gauntlet, he just watches the two converse carefully...making sure to notice any important details that could be useful later.
Fanilly's jaw almost dropped. It was only last night that she had learned Nero was, in fact, female. And now... well, now the Raven Knight was standing there in a maid outfit. This was hardly what she had expected her next day to be like. Of all the possibilities this really wasn't one of them that had crossed her mind.
"I... I didn't call for another maid..." Fanilly said, trailing off in confusion. Was this really what had happened? That one of her Knight's sisters was now serving as one of her maids? And now Sult was serving as Princess Eliabelle's maid? And... and... this was an absolutely baffling scenario to awaken to. Gillian's explanation helped... a little bit, at least. But what kind of duel had this as the outcome? Maids? At the very least she couldn't imagine it was permanent...
"Er... I... see," Fanilly said, finally. "So... I guess... how long, exactly, are you going to be serving as my maid...?"
The small blonde laughed awkwardly. Really, this was too strange...
Sir Ricard's ears swiveled, drawing in huffs of air as he picked up a scent with his snout. Turning his head away from Marianne, Ricard got to his feet as he eyed the onlooker. Or rather to him, an unwelcome observer and intruder. Though Marianne did not explicitly explain or say that her session was a private matter, Sir Ricard was going to treat it as such. Ever since arriving at Candeln, he refused to leave her side and was never far from her. During Marianne's childhood and into her years growing and maturing as a young woman, he was always overly protective of her for reasons not many understood or knew. Regrettable really, as it drove off nearly any other person to near her. But, it served him just fine. Especially whenever a suitor attempted to charm and win her affection, to no avail. His roles were many and varied, with 'guardian' being his most basic and simple one.
He trusted no one that did not carry the scent and name of 'Delacroix'. Ears pinning back against his head, Sir Ricard began to growl and snarl. The timbre of the sound resonating and vibrating the ground slightly. A sound that sent chills through the spines of most. With a sudden snap, Ricard barked viciously at Sir Tiral. Taking action swifter than thought possible for his size, Ricard bounded until he broke Sir Tiral's direct line of sight to Marianne and began to menacingly stalk towards him.
The sound startled the women, some gasping, squeaking, and jumping from the barks. An errant tomato thrown by a maid skewed off course and flew in an arcing path towards the other Iron Rose. Marianne's concentration broke and she was nearly pelted by the remaining flying fruit from the distraction. But, she still managed to evade most of them. Striking down the rest with her blade as her training session came to a halt and she turned towards Ricard. Unable to see past his hulking frame, she stuck her blade into the ground and walked after him.
"Sir Ricard? Qu'est-ce que c'est mon ami?" She picked up her pace after him. Sir Ricard was practically on top of the poor man at this point, his height towering over him as he bared his fangs. The maids all looked at one another with dread and set down their baskets of tomatoes to trail after them in a group.
Tiral didn't even have a moment to react before he was knocked to the ground, bread flying off to the side and all of his various versions of the anti-lightning ward circles scattered over the ground. Luckily enough, there was a lack of wind that day, else all of his work might as well have gone flying out of the training ground and into the sky, but there were more important things to worry about at the moment.
Like the giant wolf that looked like it was about to maul his face off. Who even let this beast in here?! And a better question: how could he have failed to notice it in the first place?!
"Whoa! Whoawhoawhoawhoawhoa! What the heck is going on here?!" Tiral shouted, frantically squirming under the weight of the wolf as it bore down on him. Was this really how he was going to go down? There hadn't even been any evidence that he'd done anything to cause such an event! "Hello?! Anyone? Please?!"
Rounding the large wolf and hearing the cries for help from a familiar voice, Marianne placed a hand over her lips as she gasped, seeing who it was under Ricard's giant paw.
"Sir Ricard! Get off of him! That is Sir Tiral, an Iron Rose and a comrade-in-arms! Allez, là! Tout suite!"
It was quite a sight, seeing Marianne nearly disappear into Ricard's thick fur as she futilely attempted to push the wolf away and off. Of course, she was nowhere near strong enough to do so. There was hardly a man alive that could grapple toe-to-toe with the wolf purely from a weight standpoint alone. Sir Ricard opened his maw to growl directly in the young man's face. A pungent and acrid stench would waft around Tiral's head. The scent of blood and rotted flesh ripped from their owners, consumed and digested long ago. The question was, was that the scent of human remains or something else? Doubtful anyone would care to ever find out. But, when Sir Ricard felt Marianne's laughably small body (*in comparison) pressed against his own, Sir Ricard shut his maw and looked at his beloved human. Realizing he had possibly made some mistake and committed offense, Sir Ricard turned to shoot the Iron Rose Knight a final glare and snarl before removing his paw from the young man's chest and stepping back a distance. Possibly, a rather uncomfortably short distance but at least the canine detached himself.
Marianne was not amused. Placing her hands on her hips, she didn't have the same fear that was instilled in the others. With a sharp and pointed finger she stood in front of the canine and actually reprimanded the creature in her native language. Whatever she said, it was rapid-fire and dizzying to listen to. Though, it was clear it was angry speech. Sir Ricard lowered his head and eyed the ground, taking the ass-chewing with a certain humility. What it took to have such command and power to humble such a beast spoke untold volumes as to Marianne's standing over him. After the short tongue-lashing, Marianne turned back to Sir Tiral and tucked a long lock of hair behind her ear as she helped him stand. Marianne's maids approached when they determined the line of fire to be safe and dusted off the poor boy, some of them beginning to gather his dropped belongings along with Marianne.
"Oh, my deepest and sincerest apologies, Sir Tiral! Sir Ricard is rather quick to hostilities against strangers." What she meant to say, was everyone. "Are you quite alright? He had not harmed you, had he? Here, let me help you with your items." With the maids and Marianne's back turned, Sir Ricard continued to angrily glare at Sir Tiral. He was not happy that the man was there, let alone Marianne being so physically close to him at the moment. It was a good thing Ricard had already eaten and wasn't hungry. Not only would he be extra ornery, but it was possible that Ricard was a man-eater. And everyone not Marianne or a Delacroix was on that menu.
Oddly, the Captain seemed perfectly happy to accept a member of the nobility as just another servant... though that didn't mean the princess would. This called for at least some clarification from Nero: "Did you even ask the princess before doing this? What if she doesn't want your sister to be another maid?"
It wouldn't surprise her if neither of them had given any thought to what should happen in the event one of them wasn't able to comply with the conditions attached to their defeat. It would be such an easy way to get out of any trouble, since there was nothing to fall back on.
