Scribe of Thoth

Pokémon: Feudal Legends

---

Rokuto couldn't help but scowl at the scene before him. It was good to see that he wasn't needed, but these shopkeepers had far too much drama surrounding them for a group of people who were nearly mauled by a giant feline. Nice to see even Saffron was full of idiots hellbent on dying for their pointless principles just like everywhere else. He'd have to give that Cinnabar samurai his gratitude at the castle later when he wasn't in character. Sanctimonious as she was, she salvaged the situation expertly. At least the craftsman's nephew wasn't injured; being skewered on a persian's claw would definitely delay Rokuto's order, and he wasn't so heartless to haggle for a refund with a mortally wounded man or his bereaved uncle.

Though he would've liked to stay around and ensure the gate's security while the guardsmen scrambled around to address the fallout of their alpha Pokemon blunder, with everyone dispersing, it was probably prudent to leave before he caught any eyes. Besides, he had a hungry venonat to attend to. Rokuto shot an unamused glance down to the bug-type at his foot, who had already tilted his body upward to stare expectantly at its master. Spoiled fuck.

"Fine. Let's go," He sighed, beckoning his Pokemon as he turned back toward the inn. Poyo bounced after him dutifully as ever, its mandibles clicking out a happy chitter at the prospect of breakfast at last. Despite the lucky fact that he hadn't needed to engage with the persian, that incident had admittedly still soured Rokuto's appetite. He could probably manage to shove down some rice while Poyo gorged itself.

It was a small comfort that no one involved in the attack had returned to the inn - they'd probably do something stupid like want to talk about it with him - and even more surprisingly, that 'Ikoma' actually did save his meal for him. Poyo leapt for his food once or twice, not making much in the way of altitude but still reaching heights sufficient to catch Rokuto's attention - and annoyance.

"Down. You make a mess, so we're going outside to eat," The boy announced, bowl of rice cupped in one hand and fruit in the other. Once out in front of the inn - and certain no one thought he was stealing bowls or something by walking out - Rokuto gently set the procured fruit on the ground. Poyo wasted no time lifting up his meal with his grubby little paws to rip away the rind and gnaw into the succulent flesh inside, though his master dug his chopsticks into his own breakfast at a languid pace, his eyes drifting about listlessly as if boredly searching for amusement. The reality was quite the opposite; Rokuto could stand to avoid any excitement for at least the next week, but he'd probably have to look into the culprit behind that attack. At least long enough to confirm it really was a freak accident, a mere out of control alpha that strayed too close to the village and got hungry. Though unveiling a puppeteer that manipulated a rampaging Pokemon into breaching Saffron's defenses would doubtlessly ingratiate him to the Shogun, if it was the cover for an infiltration, they could already be inside the walls.

That was the possibility that really bothered him.

---

Pokémon: Feudal Legends

---

Rokuto's gaze turned down toward his lap bashfully as Sanzoku continued her interest in his story, though it slowly raised again after William took his leave. He was in the clear now, unless the brute of a woman next to him decided to strike up another conversation. Still, she was clearly a traveller, and it was much easier to spin lies to someone he'd likely never see again than a shopkeeper who he'd be in proximity to for weeks to come.

It seemed the universe was not quite so kind as to leave him to his vigil, unfortunately, because Rokuto's momentary reprieve from prying eyes was immediately ruined by an apparent Pokemon attack. What was an alpha doing this close to Saffron? And more importantly, how had the garrison not handled it already? Rokuto was right to be wary of this town's security, apparently. Unless the alpha was lured here as part of a targeted attack; all three warring clans obviously had their sights set on Saffron, and it would be easy for someone to slip in during the commotion.

Which unfortunately meant Rokuto would have to throw himself in the way of danger if he wanted to keep a solid eye on everything. It shouldn't be too hard to evade a single Pokemon - powerful as it may be. Even if it engaged, maybe he could embarrass the local defenders enough that the shogun might start to take him seriously.

"Sorry - save that meal for me, I have to go," Rokuto called to Ikoma as he dashed out the door. Poyo was definitely going to end up hungry and annoyed if Rokuto was forced to unleash him before breakfast, but he didn't like his odds handling an alpha with just a tanto. The boy kept his gaze skyward as he traversed the streets toward the southern gate, on the lookout for an easy way to scale the walls and get a quick aerial view of the incident. Every way up he could find seemed blocked by archers as they clambered up to their roosts, and Rokuto clearly didn't have time to explain himself to suspicious guardsmen at the moment.

Filing in behind the assembled warriors at the gate at last, Rokuto kept one hand on Poyo's ball and the other on the handle of the blade tucked in the small of his back. He remained tense as his eyes swept over the area in a quick appraisal of the situation, though he allowed himself to relax a tad once he noted the samurai on scene. That Cinnabar girl probably had the situation in hand, if what he'd heard about her around the castle was true, and despite the carnage in its wake, the persian didn't look like it'd withstand the barrage being thrown at it much longer.

The shinobi foolishly assumed he was in the clear until a lone snowflake landed on his nose. His head tilted upward for a brief moment in confusion before his reflexes took over and he threw himself under a nearby awning with far more deftness than Rintaro the diffident mountain climber seemed like he would be capable of, narrowly avoiding a falling hailstone. Too preoccupied to chide himself for his break in character, Rokuto searched frantically for a second threat, only to scowl as he followed the trail of Powder Snow back to some foreigner with a discolored vulpix. His thumb scraped the latch on his Pokeball, releasing his venonat at his feet.

Poyo looked up at its master curiously, its mandibles clattering in an unspoken inquiry about breakfast.

"Relax, you'll get your food in a minute," Rokuto grumbled quietly, "I want you on standby in case the situation gets out of hand. I don't trust Snowflake over there."

---

Pokémon: Feudal Legends

---

Ugh, so much for not being questioned. Then again, one could afford to be nosy when they were the size of a fucking tree. Rokuto certainly didn't look like someone who regularly ventured into the mountains, but neither did he look like someone that scaled fortifications in his spare time, so at least he had that going for him. Still, that didn't leave him very many excuses that were likely to satisfy her.

Naturally, Rokuto let none of his exasperation with the woman show on his face, and instead lowered his gaze and offered a bashful chuckle at Sanzoku's prying. The nephew came to his defense, at least, but Rokuto doubted it would help. The very idea that there was a secret to be kept typically pushed people over the threshold from curious to suspicious.

"It's- It's fine, really," Rokuto stuttered with his hands raised placatingly in response to William's outburst, "I'm heading north to Mount Moon; I wanna see if those magic sky rocks up there are real or just a silly fairy tale." He'd seen one before, up by Cerulean Bay, but the mechanics of these 'moon stones' actually falling from the sky seemed dubious. If it wasn't just a traveller's story, it was probably the work of some powerful Pokémon and Rokuto had no desire to get anywhere near its domain. They didn't have to know that though.

Turning back to William, Rokuto bowed his head in thanks. "And you don't have to rush if you're busy, I'll be in Saffron for a while anyway." The longer he took, the better, actually; Rokuto was stuck in town at the Shogun's whim, and only Celebi knew when the man would stoop to utilizing a shinobi with questionable allegiances over his own trusted men. It would be ideal to have an excuse keeping him in town than coop himself up in the castle because the townsfolk started recognizing him.

Speaking of suspicious, Rokuto needed some food in front of him if he intended to blend in for much longer. Otherwise he'd have to milk the giant lady for conversation, and that sounded like a recipe for disaster if she got curious on him again. He waved the server over hesitantly and fumbled out an order, tacking on an extra helping of fruit for Poyo's sake. Not that he was particularly keen on letting it out of the Pokéball around his food - or a houndour, for that matter - but with the way he'd seen venomoths chew through fabric, a hungry venonat was the last thing he wanted around his lovely collection of disguises.

Maybe he could be a homeless beggar next time he switched up his persona if it became a problem.

---

@AThousandCurses@DracoLunaris

Pokémon: Feudal Legends

---

Mornings in the city should be calm. No threat of raids or rampaging Pokémon, minimal threat of waking up to a knife at one's throat - granted, Rokuto was tucked away safely in the castle, much to his displeasure, but one could never be too careful. Still, the rapid scuffling noise that he awoke too was far too close to be the antics of an overeager servant. As the boy shot up alertly in his futon, he was greeted not with an intruder but a large puff of purple that fidgeted and vibrated in the corner.

"You better not be chewing holes in my clothes again," Rokuto wearily groaned as he rose to his knees for a better look at what the venonat was doing. While not quite mischief, its claws scraped frantically across its face and antennae in a sort of preening gesture, sending wisps of purple dust descending to the ground beneath it.

Pulling a blanket over his mouth to avoid breathing any of the poisonous refuse in, Rokuto finally stood to shoo his Pokémon away. "Ugh, you're gonna kill someone - do that outside. Back in the ball," He ordered with the bug-type's Pokéball brandished. Poyo offered nothing to defend itself, and it merely tilted curiously and gurgled in response before complying. At least the thing knew how to listen. Unfortunately, Rokuto was left with the challenge of getting poison powder out of a tatami mat.

Ugh, whatever; the servants could handle it. If the Shogun's men were so insistant that he stay in the castle, it was the least they could do. As Rokuto made his way out of his room and into the mazelike corridors of the castle, he immediately scanned the area for one of the castle staff. Petty or not, he didn't want some housekeeper ending up sick because they blundered into his room with a broom unprepared.

"Can you do me a favor? Tell whoever cleans my room to be careful when they're sweeping; there's venonat dust everywhere," Rokuto offhandedly mentioned to the first servant he passed. He lingered just long enough to ensure the man understood, then quickly went on his way. The earlier he could vacate the castle, the better; it was hard to put on a convincing act when half the town had witnessed him leaving the Shogun's palace an hour earlier. Luckily, he could stuff a wig under his haori easily enough.

Rokuto ducked out of the gates at the tail end of a samurai's procession under the veil of a wide-brimmed hat, then made his way immediately to the inn. Not for the food, but to catalogue any new travellers that lingered in Saffron. Anyone he recognized would surely be of interest to the Shogun - and spirits knew, Rokuto needed all the help he could get ingratiating himself to the man - but more importantly, it told him exactly who to avoid when a visitor fumbled in bearing Viridian Clan heraldry.

The inn itself was as it always was; a few merchants already in a rush to attend their business, a passing warrior or two seeking their next client, and of course, that machoke of a woman that Rokuto had seen around town lately. The boy settled on a cushion across from the monster in question, hoping her outlandish stature would draw lingering eyes away from him. It wasn't until he heard a vaguely familiar voice that Rokuto realized he'd miscalculated. The assistant - or nephew, apparently - from that shop where he'd commissioned a new grappling hook was right there. Normally it wouldn't bother Rokuto in the slightest, but that purchase was a bit hard to justify for an ordinary traveller. Then again, this guy didn't seem like the type to ask many questions.

"Oh hey, you're that guy from the shop!" Rokuto enthusiastically pointed out, suddenly wide-eyed and eager in contrast to the sullen expression he'd nursed all morning, "D'you know when your uncle - I think you said - will be finished with that climbing gear? The order was for Rintaro." At least this would save him a trip to the market today to check up on the status of his order.

---

@AThousandCurses

Pokémon: Feudal Legends

All spectres are haunted by their own lack of trust - Kazeyoshi Rokuto

---

Basic Details ► AGE 21 ► HEIGHT 5'7" / 170cm ► WEIGHT 145lbs / 66kg ► HAIR Brown ► EYES Blue ► CLASS Shinobi

APPEARANCE Kazeyoshi Rokuto is a lean, youthful boy that looks barely over the cusp of manhood, with the kind of unremarkable face that could fit in anywhere without drawing undue attention. This unimpressive appearance suits him just fine, of course, since the meek are far less noticed than the imposing and strong. His hair is usually a tousled mess of sandy brown, kept deliberately short so as to not impair visibility or allow an enemy a handhold in a close-quarters scuffle. Rokuto's attire is as varied as the false identities he wears, though he always keeps some variety of shortblade tucked into his obi, either at his hip or hidden in the small of his back under another layer of clothing. As such, he tends to favor baggy civilian wear to veil assorted ninja tools tucked into whatever cranny he can manage.

---

---

_PERSONALITY

Rokuto is a spy through and through, wearing and discarding false identities as one might an outfit. Depending on the person he's talking to - and what he stands to gain from them - he might portray himself as an affable and subdued aristocrat in one conversation, then a ruffian so boisterous and aggressive that he redefines 'hiding in plain sight' in the next. He is whatever his mission demands of him in that moment; the only constant is that he's invariably a liar. His eyes never betray a true spark of life, and his emotional extremes feel hollow under close scrutiny. Nevertheless, he can be quite disarming. He plays himself just pathetic enough to be disregarded as a threat, just friendly enough to seem trustworthy, or just scatterbrained enough to seem stupid. Usually more than one at a time.

Beneath the disguises and subterfuge, Rokuto is none of these things. He's a callous and paranoid boy that lies for the sake of lying, drawing dry amusement out of seeing how far he can push people's trust with mostly harmless falsehoods. Even with those that know his true identity, Rokuto does everything in his power to ensure he's underestimated, that he has at least one trick up his sleeve that no one is prepared for. He's wary of anyone getting close to the 'real' Rokuto - which even he isn't entirely sure how to define - lest they manipulate him the way he manipulates everyone else, or worse; see through his facade should they end up as his target one day. As such, he's hesitant to engage with anyone when he's not donning a persona, and remains aloof and carefully neutral, if not outright standoffish when he doesn't have a mask to hide behind, even if he has to formulate one on the spot.

---

---

_BIOGRAPHY

Rokuto was born to a clan of shinobi deep within the Viridian Forest. In name, the Kazeyoshi clan serves the Shogun, but in truth, their talents were mainly employed to advance the Viridian Clan's interests. In this, Rokuto's life was already decided - he would be a tool for his lord, not as an honorable warrior in the manner of the samurai, but as an unscrupulous weapon in the dark. From when he was old enough to properly hold a sword, Rokuto's family taught him the arts of espionage and assassination; everything from martial arts to the nuances of courtly etiquette to the banalities of commoner professions needed to make a persona believable.

By the time he was fifteen, he was already serving as a child spy on behalf of the Viridian Clan, disguised as a pitiful little orphan in the Gold Prefecture borderlands. By eighteen, he'd taken his first life on exfiltration from a sabotaged Vermillion supply camp. At twenty, he was deeply entrenched in a false flag operation to divert Indigo Clan soldiers from the southern front to deal with unprecedented bandit activity near the Plateau.

Unfortunately, Rokuto made a mistake; he got too into his role. He made a friend within the puppet gang of bandits - a friend he was lax around, comfortable even. The persona of war orphan-turned-bandit melded together with the real Kazeyoshi Rokuto until he genuinely grew to care for the unfortunate reprobates alongside him. He couldn't have known the young brigand he'd befriended was an undercover Indigo shinobi much like himself, sent to investigate the firebrand that the Viridian Clan had installed as the leader of the gang. Nevertheless, his identity was compromised and the enemy shinobi needed to be terminated to protect the operation. Rokuto couldn't bring himself to kill his friend, much to his shame, and the shinobi escaped with valuable intelligence on the bandits' puppet leader.

Rather than return to the Viridian Clan and possibly be ordered to hunt down his friend and correct his mistake, Rokuto turned to Saffron Village. The boy had found a flaw in his convictions and hardened himself to correct it, but for the first time, he wasn't sure where those convictions truly lied. His work gave him purpose - it was all he was raised to know - yet his loyalty had faultered over a rapport with someone that may not have even existed. So, Rokuto offered his services to the Shogunate, to witness whether the Shogun's cause would be any more agreeable to him than the Viridian Clan's peace promised under a mountain of corpses. The Kazeyoshi clan serves the Shogun, after all, and his masters would surely see the benefit of planting an agent for the Viridian Clan in Saffron. Though that doesn't stop him from looking over his shoulder for Viridian assassins who may have gotten the idea that he'd gone rogue.

---

---

For thou art dust, and unto (poison) dust thou shalt return

VENONAT

---

KNOWN MOVES ► MOVE 1 Psybeam ► MOVE 2 Poison Powder ► MOVE 3 Bug Bite ► MOVE 4 Disable	BASIC DETAILS ► HEIGHT 3'2" / 91cm ► WEIGHT 64lbs / 29kg ► MET AT Viridian Forest ► NATURE Calm ► FAVORITE FOOD Watmel Berries

Pokémon: Feudal Legends

All spectres are haunted by their own lack of trust

---

Basic Details ► AGE 21 ► HEIGHT 5'7" / 170cm ► WEIGHT 145lbs / 66kg ► HAIR Brown ► EYES Blue ► CLASS Shinobi

APPEARANCE Kazeyoshi Rokuto is a lean, youthful boy that looks barely over the cusp of manhood, with the kind of unremarkable face that could fit in anywhere without drawing undue attention. This unimpressive appearance suits him just fine, of course, since the meek are far less noticed than the imposing and strong. His hair is usually a tousled mess of sandy brown, kept deliberately short so as to not impair visibility or allow an enemy a handhold in a close-quarters scuffle. Rokuto's attire is as varied as the false identities he wears, though he always keeps some variety of shortblade tucked into his obi, either at his hip or hidden in the small of his back under another layer of clothing. As such, he tends to favor baggy civilian wear to veil assorted ninja tools tucked into whatever cranny he can manage.

---

---

_PERSONALITY

Rokuto is a spy through and through, wearing and discarding false identities as one might an outfit. Depending on the person he's talking to - and what he stands to gain from them - he might portray himself as an affable and subdued aristocrat in one conversation, then a ruffian so boisterous and aggressive that he redefines 'hiding in plain sight' in the next. He is whatever his mission demands of him in that moment; the only constant is that he's invariably a liar. His eyes never betray a true spark of life, and his emotional extremes feel hollow under close scrutiny. Nevertheless, he can be quite disarming. He plays himself just pathetic enough to be disregarded as a threat, just friendly enough to seem trustworthy, or just scatterbrained enough to seem stupid. Usually more than one at a time.

Beneath the disguises and subterfuge, Rokuto is none of these things. He's a callous and paranoid boy that lies for the sake of lying, drawing dry amusement out of seeing how far he can push people's trust with mostly harmless falsehoods. Even with those that know his true identity, Rokuto does everything in his power to ensure he's underestimated, that he has at least one trick up his sleeve that no one is prepared for. He's wary of anyone getting close to the 'real' Rokuto - which even he isn't entirely sure how to define - lest they manipulate him the way he manipulates everyone else, or worse; see through his facade should they end up as his target one day. As such, he's hesitant to engage with anyone when he's not donning a persona, and remains aloof and carefully neutral, if not outright standoffish when he doesn't have a mask to hide behind, even if he has to formulate one on the spot.

---

---

_BIOGRAPHY

Rokuto was born to a clan of shinobi deep within the Viridian Forest. In name, the Kazeyoshi clan serves the Shogun, but in truth, their talents were mainly employed to advance the Viridian Clan's interests. In this, Rokuto's life was already decided - he would be a tool for his lord, not as an honorable warrior in the manner of the samurai, but as an unscrupulous weapon in the dark. From when he was old enough to properly hold a sword, Rokuto's family taught him the arts of espionage and assassination; everything from martial arts to the nuances of courtly etiquette to the banalities of commoner professions needed to make a persona believable.

By the time he was fifteen, he was already serving as a child spy on behalf of the Viridian Clan, disguised as a pitiful little orphan in the Gold Prefecture borderlands. By eighteen, he'd taken his first life on exfiltration from a sabotaged Vermillion supply camp. At twenty, he was deeply entrenched in a false flag operation to divert Indigo Clan soldiers from the southern front to deal with unprecedented bandit activity near the Plateau.

Unfortunately, Rokuto made a mistake; he got too into his role. He made a friend within the puppet gang of bandits - a friend he was lax around, comfortable even. The persona of war orphan-turned-bandit melded together with the real Kazeyoshi Rokuto until he genuinely grew to care for the unfortunate reprobates alongside him. He couldn't have known the young brigand he'd befriended was an undercover Indigo shinobi much like himself, sent to investigate the firebrand that the Viridian Clan had installed as the leader of the gang. Nevertheless, his identity was compromised and the enemy shinobi needed to be terminated to protect the operation. Rokuto couldn't bring himself to kill his friend, much to his shame, and the shinobi escaped with valuable intelligence on the bandits' puppet leader.

Rather than return to the Viridian Clan and possibly be ordered to hunt down his friend and correct his mistake, Rokuto turned to Saffron Village. The boy had found a flaw in his convictions and hardened himself to correct it, but for the first time, he wasn't sure where those convictions truly lied. His work gave him purpose - it was all he was raised to know - yet his loyalty had faultered over a rapport with someone that may not have even existed. So, Rokuto offered his services to the Shogunate, to witness whether the Shogun's cause would be any more agreeable to him than the Viridian Clan's peace promised under a mountain of corpses. The Kazeyoshi clan serves the Shogun, after all, and his masters would surely see the benefit of planting an agent for the Viridian Clan in Saffron. Though that doesn't stop him from looking over his shoulder for Viridian assassins who may have gotten the idea that he'd gone rogue.

---

---

For thou art dust, and unto (poison) dust thou shalt return

VENONAT

---

KNOWN MOVES ► MOVE 1 Psybeam ► MOVE 2 Poison Powder ► MOVE 3 Bug Bite ► MOVE 4 Disable	BASIC DETAILS ► HEIGHT 3'2" / 91cm ► WEIGHT 64lbs / 29kg ► MET AT Viridian Forest ► NATURE Calm ► FAVORITE FOOD Watmel Berries

Pokémon: Feudal Legends

Working on a shinobi that I’m mostly done with, I’ll probably have it up soon.

Pokémon: Feudal Legends

I was expecting one of these RPs but only 4 days after release is pretty impressive. Either way, sounds neat.

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

---

Great Goddess above, what was wrong with the women in this class? Lienna's little episode the other day was understandable, if not justified, but now Clarissa of all people was the one storming out of the room. Over Crests. One would think a pious noble would take an interest in her Goddess-given birthright. Not that his Lions were much better; Derec looked like he'd just witnessed a murder and Kellen was apologizing for... something. At least Lienna seemed composed.

The rest of the lecture did little to hold Auberon's interest. The categorization seemed like a bad attempt at shoving a square peg in a round hole, given how varied Crest abilities were. Granted, the blond found the earlier three classifications to be a pointless bit of scholarship too, but at least they were decisive and held some amount of practicality. Plus, the description of what the rest of the class would entail sounded outright presumptuous. His Crest came when he needed it, there was no need to tempt the ire of the Goddess by borrowing more power than was necessary. Was such folly not the downfall of the Ten Elites themselves? Not to mention the dire straits the unit would have to be put under for such training. How would they even train a Crest like King Aaron's? Lop off a limb and hope for the best? Auberon certainly didn't intend to unleash his Crest on anyone here, training or not.

And of course, it was Derec's turn to freak out after the lecture had ended. Auberon wasn't a fan of this class either, but to opt out entirely seemed a bit far. Either he had some sort of survival-type Crest and arrived at the same conclusion Auberon had about inflicting needless injury for the sake of training, or Lienna wasn't the only peasant with a misguided preacher back home. Probably the latter, since Derec hadn't mentioned his status before and looked sick well before the mention of training. Even Lienna at least made her bloodline known.

The count-to-be briefly considered following along as Derec made his departure, if only to figure out what the issue was, but the memory of Clarissa's stray cat analogy stopped him in his tracks. Right, it wouldn't do him any good to get Derec incensed; he'd have plenty of time to ask later. What they really needed a class on was how the nobility accomplished anything if cutting to the root of the issue was apparently 'overbearing'.

"Of all the things to be up in arms about," Auberon huffed quietly before looking to his remaining Lions. "Honestly, he was the last person in the unit I expected to have a Crest. I don't know if I should commend his humility or be confused by his restraint. Wouldn't noble blood be the first thing you mention in a room full of nobility?" Lienna clearly thought so. Not to mention, Derec was in attendance at Garreg Mach of all places. Even if he bought into the 'status doesn't matter here' spiel the administrators liked to give, that wouldn't explain the outright discomfort.

Honestly, Auberon was a bit annoyed that his one normal housemate turned out to be another basket case more than anything else.

---

@ThatCharacter@Obscene Symphony

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

---

Everyone possessed a Crest? That was news to him. Auberon supposed it explained the commoners' attendance, at least. His gaze veered blankly across the other Lions beside him. Perhaps Clarissa had a point in that he needed to get to know them better.

"You should've said something," The blond whispered innocuously in Derec's direction, careful not to sound accusatory - or worse, actively disrupt the lecture. It was just getting good, anyway. Three hundred men. Even with a wyvern, that seemed an impossible feat. He wasn't one to give the Adrestians credit for anything, but that sounded like a scene straight out of the War of Heroes, and the emperor had to have accomplished it without a relic. Auberon was certain, of course, the greatest among the Galateas could burn a swath through scores of men from the back of a pegasus with Lúin in hand, but with nothing but a blade and that sad excuse Kayden calls a winning smile? Doubtful.

As Professor Malathice continued his classification of the Goddess' blessings, Auberon found his attention drifting back toward himself. His Crest was probably active. Even if it just kind of... happened sometimes. Then again, the nuances of it didn't really matter as long as Daphnel's blood did what it needed to for him. If this entire class was to be scholarly ramblings about theoretics and categorization, he didn't imagine he'd gain much from it. Aside from the bizarre realization that everyone around him was apparently a Crestbearer, anyway.

Professor Michail's prowess made quite a bit of sense once a Crest was brought into the equation, though it was a bit surprising nevertheless. Auberon knew, in theory, that plenty of his classmates were doubtlessly Crestbearing nobles, but he hadn't considered how their Goddess-given gifts had actually manifested. Usually it was everyone else around him asking him about his ability, rather than the other way around.

Kayden could probably do something spectacular that Auberon hadn't even considered with the strength of his lineage. Kellen could, even. It was a sobering prospect that all of his classmates were just as exalted in the grace of the Goddess as he was. Every step the Rose Unit made was under the highest auspices, no wonder they'd happened upon Luin village in its time of crisis. Rather than harrowed the the implications, Auberon was filled with an immense curiosity. A giddy little grin found its way onto his face for a brief moment before the Galatea heir smoothed himself back into practiced neutrality. No one questioned the way he carved through that bandit; he could've missed the supernatural talents of his classmates just as easily. Now he needed to know. At least in his own House - that was an important battlefield consideration, though he'd be lying if he claimed his motives were anything beyond the desire to witness the Goddess' blessings among the chosen elite with his own eyes.

Seriously, how did Professor Malathice manage to turn the splendor of holy blood and the work of the Goddess into something stuffy and boring? Mages. It truly was a pity that the Archbishop couldn't attend.

---

---

Across the room, one Rudolf von Bergliez was far less inspired. His eyes flicked back to the drawing of the Crest of Noa again and again as it loomed over him. Taunting him. It was rare that he saw the Crest actually depicted; only his immediate family and cousins on the Nuvelle side even knew he had it, and neither of them cared to adorn their heraldry with a Crest they held no public claim to. It kind of pissed him off, actually - it should just stay out of everyone's sight like he had to.

Professor Malathice's lecture finally morphed from senseless blabber to coherent words in the diminutive boy's ears the moment he heard the word 'stop'. Rudolf could stop this? Just will himself into being treated like a human being and not a ghost? Easier said than done still meant it could be done. Rudolf's head shot up, crimson eyes now widened and focused raptly on their teacher. Their Crestologist teacher. His lips parted slightly, a question already forming on his lips only to be halted by timidity and Michail's interlude. Tomai would know. He had to know. Whatever asinine meditative exercise Rudolf had to do, he could do. It was just like magic, but with an actual purpose. Was it truly so wrong to put his willpower to use selfishly instead of slaving away over a spellbook to master the tools of petty warfare he wanted no part in?

Sudden dread sent his stomach plummeting when the professor arrived on the last type of Crest ability. Invisible. Without regard for the user. Invisible. No mention of the word 'stop'. Invisible. Invisible. Invisible. It was the only thing he could hear over the pounding of his heart in his ears. It was a small comfort that even his labored breaths of panic likely weren't loud enough to call attention to himself. Or maybe Veronica would stare at him funny. Who cares. She'd forget he existed in an hour anyway.

A shaky hand rose before the even-paler-than-usual Rudolf even realized he'd moved. "What bloodlines did these ungovernable- err, ungoverned Crests appear in? Like the inv-visiblilty one." He didn't wait to be called on before he stammered out his question; he had enough practice with tutors to know no one would notice him if he didn't talk. "Just curious."

He already knew the answer. There would be no clear lines of inheritance that conveniently excluded Rudolf's entire family tree. These were surely freak occurrances with no rhyme or reason to them save the Goddess' whims - or ire - and bestowed only upon the exceedingly blessed and the exceedingly cursed. And, surely, Rudolf von Bergliez was both - an undeserving liar who guiltily reapt the rewards of virtue. Maybe he should finally take his brother's advice and tie a bell around his neck like a fucking cat.

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