[center][h2][color=92278f]Elian Valent[/color][/h2][/center]
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In the tales, when a knight rides through the gates of the city, it's usually after some glorious quest to slay a dragon or save a noble girl. He (or she) returns victorious, armour shining, straight-backed and proud, on his grand white stallion, greeted by the cheers of the people.

Sadly, that's just in the tales.

The reality, Elian reflected, isn't at all like that. He might have the armour, but that was about it. His horse, Nyx, was certainly neither white nor a stallion. And he was too weary from his journey to actually sit taller on the saddle. And victory? Well... he had no idea. The stories are just Faerie tales after all. He'd only gone to deliver a message. No dragons were slain, that was for sure.

His gaze wandered down to his wrist, where his glove hid the Mark. Despite royal decree, he didn't use it as a ticket for free passage throughout his journey home. He couldn't, not in good conscience, exploit something that he'd been given over others simply by chance or by fate. So he'd used his own coin where it was needed, and more often than not, slept on the road instead of in a bed.

"Sir Knight! Sir!"

Snapping out of his thoughts, Elian looked around for the speaker - admittedly, at his own eye level at first, before looking down at the woman who'd caught his attention. Her cheekbones were visible, and her clothes were worn.

[color=92278f]"Yes? What is it?"[/color]

"Please, sir, your assistance. Over here."

Dismounting his horse and following the woman over to the alleyway, he was met with the sight of three young men, roughly his age, clutching at their heads, dazed. Blood was dripping from their ears, had been for a few minutes at least.

[color=92278f]"What happened here?"[/color]

"They... these boys are my son and his friends. I saw them follow after some layman or traveller, and I don't doubt what they were intending, but this is the result. Whoever that man was, he left quickly as come."

[color=92278f]"It was magic, if you're asking me to figure out what happened."[/color] Elian told her. [color=92278f]"This man you speak of is one of the Marked."[/color]

"So what am I supposed to do now? I can't well take them to the temple without losing my spot in the market, and I'll have a hard time finding a Lightsman what with all the tricksters out there."

Elian shook his head. [color=92278f]"The injuries aren't all bad as that..."[/color] he dropped into a crouch in front of one of the youths. [color=92278f]"Could you fetch me my waterskin, please?"[/color]

"Ah... yes, sir."

Tilting the boy's head sideways with a gentle hand, he tried to take a look at the wound... but had no idea how to treat it. He wasn't a doctor... yet, he could at least try to help. The woman returned with the skin, and then looked on. Elian tugged off his glove, revealing his Mark. Then, unstopping the cork, he held his hand over it.

Sighing, Elian closed his eyes, and called for the magic. He didn't use it often, and he wasn't the best, but he'd gone through training for it. And, when the power flowed out of him and to the drink, he made a silent prayer of thanks to Dolme. Holding the skin out to the young man, he spoke, taking care to make his lips as readable as possible.

[color=92278f]"Drink."[/color]

The boy took the water almost apprehensively, before taking a tentative sip. With Elian's prompting, he then took a few more gulps. Elian then passed it onto the other two boys, before replacing the stop and turning to the woman once more.

[color=92278f]"That might hold them for a few hours, though truly I can't be sure. You should take them to the Temple whenever you can so that someone better versed might check them. Until then, I don't think you should let them out of your sight."[/color] He cast a glance at the youths. [color=92278f]"Just to make sure they don't 'follow' after anybody else."[/color]

With the woman's thanks, Elian then emerged back into the street and took Nyx by the reins. He might as well make the rest of the journey by foot. It would wake him up a little, at least.