Sky Blue
Mae
Snowdrops
Ithradine
4323O2
Plank Sinatra
Izurich
vietmyke
shylarahGerard Segremors
His breath was rough, like claws dragged through gravel, and came through bared teeth as he stared a hole into the obstinately mute Nem's frame. He took in one, two, three of them, gaze unwavering even as The Knight Serpenta gingerly slid her staff, headed by the crushing arcs of a steel mace, between them. She pressed it against the small of the Nem's back, pinning her further, and spoke calmly. While the much younger knight was by no means lost to the world around him, Maritza Verenna did admittedly take his fervor down a notch, when one paired her tone with the relative lull.
It served to chip the edges off the terse grunt that carried his agreement, at least. Like any of his comrades, Gerard held nothing but respect in his heart for the Naga, but not even that could fully erase the ire the young Nem had drawn to herself. She had threatened an innocent life. She had proven herself willing to kill. A great part of him wanted to see retribution delivered. The Reonite, who burned hot as the sun her gilded palace sat upon, saw his enemy before him. He could not just deny that something needed to be done about this.
"Might not be alone, yeah."
...But this pain, clearly shown across her grimacing face, did not bring them any closer to victory than they already were. Even within his iron grip, the Nem held her tongue. To act upon that impulse of anger would tread the thin line between force and cruelty. It was one he did not dare approach without sense.
You're a knight now. If you cannot measure yourself...
"I'll defer to your experience, then." he replied again after the long moment had passed, slowly shifting his weight and loosening his grip upon the would-be assassin's wrist. He wasn't so green as to immediately relinquish her— Segremors instead staged it, only giving enough slack at each point for the Naga to immediately take over in his stead. "Careful, don't let her wriggle out... And I hope you can get her to talk. Get the feeling I can't."
Not unless he felt like straddling that line, as if he had not even considered trying to better embody chivalry. This was the better path, at least for now. Though he hadn't managed to get anything out of her... what would such a young Nem have a vendetta against the Princess of Thaln for? Assassination attempts that ended at the would-be killer weren't so common. If that was the case, she'd also have no compulsion to keep quiet as she was now, right?
Dame Maritza had their quarry in full, now. Inclining his head to her, he rose to his full height, amber eyes sweeping the room yet again. Nothing that jumped out... just a mass of shaken nobility and mobilizing guards. The latter would likely be setting up a fairly secure perimeter— given that this was the Crown of Thaln, he would be shocked had they not proven more than capable of enforcing a lockdown. None entered or left without being strictly identified and vetted, all potential alternate routes of escape monitored, that sort of thing. It was a familiar task; despite not having ever worried about stakes like these, he and his fellows had been extensively drilled on how to earn their keeps.
He turned back towards the gathering that he had left in the dust, assessing the aftermath as he started towards them. It was a longer march than he had realized, now that he wasn't rushing. Nonetheless, the swordsman had very clearly not allowed himself to relax, either, and was still coiled like a spring.
"Thanks, ma'am." he said quickly to the First and Youngest as he drew even with her. Like he'd figured, the vampiric Paladin was more than fine, worried instead about a ruined dress and teasing Jarde than her injury. He didn't doubt that she considered it as little more than an afterthought, but unintentionally so or otherwise, it was thanks to her that the bolt on the floor had not sunk into him instead. He owed her his gratitude all the same. As for the young man...
"Party's really started now, Jarde. You nearly missed it."
He could spare a little cheek to welcome him back, a soldier's irony, but needed to continue on after he threw his erstwhile conversation partner a crooked smile. A few strides further away lay the Princess, the Captain, and the rest of the group— all thankfully unharmed, as Sir Nicomede had just finished reporting. His eyes confirmed it moments later; whatever (if anything) had slipped past he and Tyaethe would have been squarely rebuffed by the arcane shield Sir Gillian had quickly thrown up. As the Knight-Captain rose, Princess having been shielded a second (or third or fourth, depending on how you looked at it) time over by her body, Gerard came to a stop, standing at attention.
"Dame Maritza has the assailant under control. We believe she'd be better suited to coax out a few answers than I." he reported tightly, glancing momentarily to Fleuri and the dagger he held. Had that been what had gone flying from the Nem's grip? He'd barely seen it. "In the meantime, Captain, Orders?"
