[color=goldenrod][i][h2][center]Gerard Segremors[/center][/h2][/i][/color]
[center][@jdh97][/center]

[color=goldenrod]"I need both,"[/color] Gerard replied, a chuckle escaping his lips as he registered the jab. [color=goldenrod]"The order doesn't matter, so long as you can stomach my company."[/color]

Holding the friendly smile, the younger knight swept his hand outward in a clear gesture of "lead on". It wasn't a lie— mercenary life often entailed sharing meals in full gear at the encampments. He was far from unused to eating directly after even pitched combat, let alone training. Perhaps that would be one of those oddities of his life that he could "entertain" the nobility with recounting, but in truth such concerns had simply already drifted from his mind.

He had very consciously decided to hold his tongue as Sir Jerel spoke of men only wishing their swords to drink deep.

While it was true that he'd wrested command over himself long enough to commit to the safety of that young farm girl he'd all but stumbled upon, and it was true that he was proud of such a deed... How far off the mark was that assessment from the trance of combat that had lead him to her? Even now, he was speaking of being far better suited to simply diving headfirst into the fray rather than take any position of responsibility, wasn't he?

[color=goldenrod][i]I wanted to scatter them to the four winds.[/i][/color]

In seeing the blood on their blades, wasn't he ready to find their blood on his? The heat that had risen from his chest was one that overtook his thoughts, time and again. Descending upon evil like a starved wolf was, if not all he wanted, then certainly all that he had made to do. Tear through those brigands. Cut down the slaver and slavedriver. Drag he who would tear freedoms away into the light by their ankles, no matter how much they kick and scream, so they could be judged rightly.

How far removed was his righteous fury?

...If one thing was clear, it was paradoxically that he could find no clear answer. He was certain that men far wiser, far more intelligent, and far longer-lived than he had grappled with such a question for ages already. They had come before him and would doubtless come after. To mire himself, so simple as he was, in that debate seemed foolhardy. It would consume him.

He needed to discipline his impetuous impulses, nothing more and nothing less.

He doubted he could rid himself completely of them, but he could certainly ensure that he would always be able to do what he had done that night again.

He started forward as his senior lead him on, casting those troubles off in the wake of their passing.