[center][img]https://images.cooltext.com/5076911.png[/img] [hider=Click Me] [b][color=00aeef]Role:[/color][/b] Holy Knight [b][color=00aeef]Time/Date:[/color][/b] Morning, Date...? [b][color=00aeef]Location:[/color][/b] [url=https://img00.deviantart.net/9838/i/2010/244/5/8/fantasy_valley_by_leviossa2009-d2xs0oo.jpg]The Valley of Wassen[/url] (the small hut is located behind the stream though, not before) [b][color=00aeef]Mentions:[/color][/b] Evelyn Caroline [b][color=00aeef]Interaction:[/color][/b] Allerion Zephra [@NobodiesHero] [/hider][/center] Riding out in front of the small squad of soldiers, Arminel slouched slightly in his saddle, tuning out the constant background noise of hooves thumping dully on moist earth and fresh grass. Behind, the five soldiers had struck up conversation amongst them in order to stave away the mind-numbing boredom of travelling aimlessly across the land. Their voices were hushed but animated, chuckles unrestrained. Every now and again the Holy Knight would glance over his shoulder to make sure they were still focused on their set tasks, but other than that, he was content to leave them be. The soldiers his superior had allowed him to command over for the task of tracking down one Evelyn Caroline, missing princess of the Caroline Kingdom were fresh-faced youths, the oldest being twenty. They lacked the hardened attitude of veterans, and the aloofness of Holy Knights their age. The five had been wary of Arminel when they had first been introduced, keeping up a stilted silence for the entire day and addressing him with formalities they were clearly forced to learn and remember. It was on the third day the youngest of them - a mere sixteen year old - could stand the silence no more, striking up a whispered conversation with another. The older woman shushed him in turn, tone terse as if anticipating a harsh reprimand from Arminel anytime soon. When the Holy Knight showed no sign of having heard them, the tension eased slightly and whispers started up once more. Arminel simply smiled to himself and allowed them to talk. The Knight they were previously under seemed to be a rather strict person, from Arminel's observations. The five were able to multi-task quite well, remaining focused and attentive even two weeks into eventless riding and camping. For normal soldiers of the Church, they were well-disciplined. That thought sent amusement coursing through Arminel as he recalled the time [i]he[/i] was sixteen. Granted, he had been training for this since he was a child, but it didn't mean he had been as efficient and skilled as he was now. A handful of dumb mistakes had been made, from not watching where he placed his feet to unknowingly sleeping on an anthill. His best friend Rion had always been the more careful of the two. The one who mercilessly prodded him to work when Arminel wanted to snooze in a corner. The one who caught minute-details Arminel overlooked. The one he could always trust to have his back. [i][color=00aeef]Well, not anymore. He's not here now, is he?[/color][/i] Any mirth he felt instantly vanished, replaced by hurt, slight anger and deep confusion. Ten years they served together, fought together. They were all but blood brothers. And what did Rion do? Leave without saying a word. Without bothering to look for Arminel and inform him. A part of him understood and sympathised with Rion. The younger Knight had just lost the very person he gave his heart to. Had failed in fulfilling his vow of protecting her and their unborn child. Holy Knight or not, they were all mortals in the end, only human. Arminel didn't fault Rion for being mad from grief, after all, he himself had no room to talk regarding one's mental health. But he was furious at Rion for seeking to do everything alone. Why didn't he ask for help? Ever since Mana died, Rion was rarely around, refusing to talk to Arminel and share more than a curt sentence whenever they conversed. He hated that feeling of not being able to help, of being reduced to no more than a bystander. At times like this, he had no idea if the anger he felt was more directed towards himself or his best friend. A few days after Rion was suspended did Arminel's raging emotions finally calmed. Seeing he was relatively back to normal, the Great Holy Knight had sent him off with the task of searching for the princess. He had accepted it immediately, grateful to have something to do. In addition, this also essentially gave him free reign to roam the lands beyond. White God willing, there will be a chance of stumbling upon his friend. That was two weeks ago, and Arminel had plotted a path diverging from normal routes search parties typically took. Instead of heading through towns to probe for information and distribute wanted posters, he decided to head into the wilderness. After all, there were already more than enough soldiers within each city keeping an eye out for the princess. There was no need for his presence there. However, the wilderness...wide lands, lots of places to hide, fewer chances of bumping into ordinary citizens. Arminel didn't know if a sheltered princess like Evelyn would have the courage to trek through harsher environments, but if towns and cities didn't yield any results, where else could she be? [b]"Er...Sir?"[/b] A hesitant voice called out, followed by a light whinny as the mount's rider pulled it to a halt. A light wrinkle between his brows forming even as he nudged his horse to wheel around, Arminel eyed the soldier who spoke. [color=00aeef][b]"What is it, Pangel?"[/b][/color] The soldier's gaze darted from him to the valley they were venturing into, then back again, sweat breaking out on his forehead. The stream they had halted a few meters away from gurgled merrily for a second or two before Pangel gathered up enough guts to speak again. [b]"A-are we really going to be heading into...into the Valley of Wassen, Sir?"[/b] Blinking at the slight quiver in the boy's tone, Arminel cocked his head to the side in puzzlement before comprehension dawned on his face. Right, wasn't there some stories about a witch or a demon living in these parts? He sighed, the corner of his lips pulling up in good humour. [color=00aeef][b]"Mere rumours wouldn't harm you, lad. The White God protects His servants."[/b][/color] Maneuvering his mount so it drew level with the other, he clapped a hand twice against the soldier's back, sweeping a glance over the other four, two of whom were wearing the same superstitious look. [color=00aeef][b]"Stories to keep people away, like the Beast of Mt. Shirac. Its existence has been proven false. Now come, let's not linger and waste daylight. If a witch or demon truly lives here, then we'd best get out of the Valley before dusk, eh?"[/b][/color] Not waiting for further comments, he turned and cantered away, crossing the small bridge and towards the small wooden hut sitting forlornly to the right. No visible smoke rose from the chimney, no sounds could be heard from within. It appeared abandoned, but Arminel would bet his entire month's pay it wasn't, judging from the lack of weeds and vines surrounding the hut. Dismounting, he approached the residence cautiously, making sure his steps were as light as possible in order not to startle the inhabitants - if there were any. The windows were closed and curtains were drawn but a tap of his fingers against the door caused it to swing open slightly with a faint creak. A glance over his shoulder and a gesture of his fingers signalled for the other five to surround the hut and block any possible escape routes. Alone, he pushed the door in a little more until it was wide enough for him to slip through. Ansgar in his hand, he held it loosely, blade pointed diagonally at the ground, but ready to strike if anything came at him. The interior was two rooms separated by sticks bounded together in a makeshift wall. The hall-slash-kitchen wasn't fully furnished, with a few fruits and vegetables in woven baskets sitting in a corner, a heap of straw in another, a low table sitting in the middle with two stools on either side. As he drew closer to the next room, faint shufflings and munching sounds could be heard. Tensing, he aligned his body to the flimsy wall and peered around the corner. The scene he was met with made his eyes widen. [i][color=00aeef]What in the world are these doing here?[/color][/i] What happened next could only be attributed to his bad luck. One of the two infant Junchas - still pinkish but with tufts of fur littering its body - turned its head. There was no doubt it caught sight of Arminel. Man and beast froze, then the baby beast started crying out, a series of loud half-squeal half-snort erupting from its comparatively small body. It took only a second before the second Juncha joined in. By that time, Arminel had already hightailed it out of the house, yelling for his men to ride for the other end of the valley even as he leapt on his horse and forced it into a full speed gallop. The two beasts were calling for its parents, and Arminel's squad of six weren't ready to face two fully grown Junchas. One would manageable, especially if he manages to wound it with his Arc, but not two. Here's to hoping one parent's dead. The dreaded answering call echoed through the valley, and the stomps of a heavy beast running full-tilt drew closer and closer. Junchas were relatively big, but they weren't large enough to cause minute vibrations in the earth with each step, so the Knight could only rely on his hearing to pinpoint their location. Unfortunately, he didn't take into account the road in the left side of the valley, half hidden by trees and rock. [i][color=00aeef]Oh shit,[/color][/i] was his only thought as two mature Junchas pounced out of the side-road, missing an ashen-faced soldier to his left by an inch. Claws dug into soft earth as the Junchas landed, leaving deep furrows behind as momentum continued pushing it forward. They skidded to a halt, before bunching their muscles and leaping forth again. From what Arminel managed to glimpse, the one on the left was steel grey, the other a sandy brown. Even if he had no eyes on the back of his head, he could clearly hear the growls and thuds slowly gaining on the squad. All but one of his men was ahead, but Arminel wasn't too worried about Reid. The soldier was level with him, meaning he was still out of the beasts' reach. Then Arminel's horse stumbled. He hit the ground in a forward roll, coming up to a crouch, spear slashing out just in time to deter the brown male Juncha ready to pounce on him. [b]"Sir Blavier!"[/b] Reid's yell attracted the attention of the grey one, but no matter how worried Arminel was for his men - they were normal soldiers without Arcs, how would he not fear for their lives - he cannot afford to be distracted, not even for a second. Eyes locked onto the Juncha circling warily around, he thrust his spear in a forward jab with a mid-strength razor wind. The beast agilely dodged both, but its new position allowed him to get another upwards slash in. This time, he managed to score a hit in the beast's right flank, a cut running diagonally from a little behind its foreleg to its back. Blood oozed from the wound, but it mustn't have been a deep or crippling one. Instead, the Juncha roared in rage and charged towards Arminel, head lowered in preparation to skewer the Knight through with its tusks.