[center][h2]A Chance Meeting[/h2] [i]A collaboration between [@Aerandir] and [@CaptainBritton][/i][/center] [hr] [color=red][b]"Well I think she deserves to pay you men back for your service!”[/b][/color] Cheers erupted in the hall as the words reverberated out of the King's mouth. Officers, some still in plate having been pulled off patrol, but most in their everyday clothes of fabric and leathers, laughed and toasted mugs of ale and other spirits at another successful operation, and even moreso at the reward to look forward to. Arvel, however, was tucked quietly into a corner of the hall, disconnected from any one group of men, simply using a load-bearing post to support himself. He'd gotten a few good hours of sleep, but had been stirred by a visit from the King himself. A rare enough sight, something he was sure not to miss. But with the content, somehow he wished he'd stayed in his bed. He grimaced internally, glancing about the boisterous crowd of soldiers and men-at-arms which now carried on with glee as the King made his departure. Was this the reality of it? The Princess hungry for power, willing to go at length to order the death of her own father? It wasn't his place to reason why, he rationalized, but yet he had something gnawing away at him internally. Was this punishment really befitting? Was it the place of a disgraced Royal to be used and abused by this, a rabble? His rabble, fair enough, but a rabble nonetheless, men which had no care or regard for the young Princess. He whiffed the mug of ale clutched in his hand, sickened at its odor, or maybe something else. Perhaps he was not drunk enough.. No, he needed air. Downing the remainder of the mug's contents, he placed the empty vessel on a nearby table, turning for the door which led to the city streets. As he reached the exit, he was stopped. A young squire looked up at him with a youthful and bright face. “Cap’n, sir, there’s a man n’ his retinue claiming to be the Duke of Yhore’s at the south gate. Sarn’t Humphreys wishes advice.” The squire talked in a thick rural accent, but by some miracle Arvel made out the words. [color=steelblue]”Mrh. Tell Humphreys to deny entry until first light, I want them escorted through the city by the Household Mounted, a squadron of them.”[/color] The squire nodded in acknowledgement, scurrying off and out of the path of the Captain. [hr] Arvel walked the castle grounds solemnly, deep in thought as he gazed at the faint lamplight illuminating the courtyards. He avoided each sentry whenever possible, regarding each sharp salute with a tired and half-hearted response, attempting to conceal the bags grouped under his eyes. Soon enough he cleared the thick groupings of sentries. Arvel continued to walk, feeling at the clothing he wore. It was his normal garb, albeit some slight changes to reflect the season. He wore at base a pair of cotton trousers blackish-brown in color, and a crimson tunic-shirt embroidered with detailings of linen. Thrown over was a cloak of black-dyed silk and satin, albeit without a hood. Strapped upon his hip was his longsword, freshly cleaned of the peasant’s blood, a paired dagger of similar make lashed to his belt on the opposing hip. He stopped suddenly, taking a deep breath. Fenros kept to the shadows, slowing down as much as he dared when he came close to some guards. He was weak from the torture still, and despite his desire to kill anyone who stood in his way to protect El and he knew stealth was probably better at this point. So far he had come a crossed one guard he had to knock out. Taking his shield and strapping it tightly to his right forearm. While his hand couldn’t grip it, it was still lashed on there pretty good. A little more confident now he knew he had to cut a crossed some open ground to make it to where the princess was being held. However when he rounded the corner he came face to face with Arvel. He knew of him In passing and mission plannings. But he wasn’t particularly friends with him. For some reason he tried to talk his way out of this. [color=0054a6]“Sir Arvel, let me pass, the Princess is in grave danger I need to protect her.”[/color] He said with a voice filled with determination. He gripped his sword tightly and raised it slightly. Arvel’s eyes narrowed as a figure’s silhouette cut the darkness, and a voice broke through. Fenros the Undaunted. [color=steelblue]“You-”[/color] His gloved hand snapped in an instant to his dagger’s grip, tightening around it audibly. He did not draw, not yet. [color=steelblue]“Explain yourself, traitor.”[/color] He spoke quietly, albeit not sparing the venom in his voice. For one reason or another, he wasn’t giving up Fenros instantly. Good will, perhaps, or something else entirely. Fenros sighed, what he was going to fight him with a dagger? He shook his head, it didn’t matter. [color=0054a6]“I am not a traitor, the king is mad and now the princess honor and life is in peril. There’s no time to explain more let me through and you won’t be harmed.“[/color] he said quickly taking a step towards him. Arvel paused for a second, eyeing Fenros up and down in the moonlight. He opened his mouth to speak, no words being produced at first, before grunting, defeated. [color=steelblue]“The King intends to let every man in the barracks have his way with her. Get her, take her far away.”[/color] He thrust a pointer finger past his person, ushering Fenros on. [color=steelblue]“Do not stay in this city, else I will hunt you mercilessly. Go!”[/color] He whisper-yelled his final reply, stepping aside as he gripped his dagger all the more tightly. He hesitated, while grateful he would let him pass, he didn’t like how he ended with him hunting them. [color=0054a6]“Arvel, you let me pass and that proves you know what the king is doing is wrong. After all the princess has done for our men, you will not join me and fight?”[/color] He started to move past him, turning as he did as he waited a reply. Arvel grimaced, releasing the grip of his dagger finally. [color=steelblue]“I have my own duties.”[/color] He trailed solemnly. [color=steelblue]“Now fulfill yours, Sir Fenros. Go, before the sentries come upon us!”[/color] He quietly urged. It was now his life and career on the line as well. In Arvel’s eyes was unmistakable, pure fear, and perhaps some hope. His eyes narrowed at his answer. A lady, his princess’s honor was at stake, he knew it was wrong and here he stood too afraid for his own life. He remembered why he never liked the man. Despite being a knight, he acted like a mere coward. He growled [color=0054a6]“You may have other duties, but a knight's honor is above that, to protect the innocent…”[/color] he stopped himself with an irritated growl. He took his advice and turned and left him there. He had no time to try and convince him to do the right thing.