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

Soulless, huh?

Well.

A light snort puffed from the ex-mercenary's nostrils, ghost of a smirk playing across his face as he approached the tall, wide archway that lead to the inner gardens of the Crown. The interrogation continued behind him unabated— it seemed as if there was no immediate threat of a retrieval party, or the tying of loose ends and loose lips. That was good— without worrying about more bolts flying at more heads, answers would hopefully be forthright.

[color=goldenrod][i]You tempt fate pointlessly, Gellert. It's already proven willing to bite. It could happen at any point.[/i][/color]

Well, of course.

A half-step before the posted guards, he paused the string of regimented, direct strides that had brought him there, meeting the eyes of each before glancing at their crossed polearms. He didn't expect them to permit his entry, to raise the X-shaped gate of steel that was before him— if they had, the Crown was wasting their resources.

No need to worry about [i]that[/i], at least.

[color=goldenrod]"Some party, huh?"[/color] he huffed sardonically, turning on his heel and unbuckling the leather strap around his chestplate.

He wasn't terribly worried if he never received a response from the pair, either. Instead, he simply planted the tip of his (still sheathed, mind you, these were the royal family's floors) longsword into the carpet, and cast an amber gaze onto the whole scene before him.

Should the soulless come, as Nicomede mentioned, Gerard would know, and [i]act[/i].

The equation with them was really quite simple compared to this, anyway. No point in capture or questioning.

Just simple threat erasure.