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

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[color=goldenrod]"You hunting something, Captain?"[/color] called a low voice that, to its meager credit, was only [i]just[/i] too loud for a library, rather than the trumpeting horn one would expect from its owner's prior profession. If Fanilly deigned to turn, she would find a rare sight for the many tomes of history, literature, and myth ensconced within the vast, eerily still hall deep within Candaeln— a man of coal-colored hair and clothing, right arm limply hanging in a sling of white cloth and bereft of the sword it seemed incomplete without. [color=goldenrod]"Four eyes are better than two."[/color]

In the end, Gerard's better sense finally won out. The simple fact of the matter was that he ran too much risk aggravating the pile of injuries— and more to the point, working in the open air of the training fields meant he would run far too much risk of being spotted and hauled off back to his bed in chains.

[color=goldenrod][i]Metaphorically, anyway. I hope they wouldn't do that for real.[/i][/color]

So, his thirst for betterment took him instead here, to a rare haunt. While the Library was impressive in the size and scope of the knowledge contained within, Gerard admittedly felt far too simple to be trying to wrap his head around most of the esoterism— and as such, his ventures here usually manifested in poring over [i]Fechtbucher[/i], old manuals for training and swordsmanship that he'd doubtlessly spend the rest of the day putting into practice on the fields. If he was laid up, his thinking was simply that he may as well frontload his bored skull with new things to try once he was back to full strength.

His golden eyes slid over the many shelves as they left the form of his small blonde commander for a moment, squinting to pick out names of authors and titles upon each carefully-bound spine. Owing to the sporadic frequency of his visits, he wasn't entirely sure which section he'd wandered into upon coming across Fanilly— only that it probably wasn't the one he'd personally been looking for.

But that was fine. There was satisfaction in a hunt even if it wasn't prey you necessarily chased, and moreover, the erstwhile soldier for hire could count on one hand the times he'd had a conversation with his leader. He had to wonder what went through the mind of one taking up the mantle of command at such a young age, preordained for her by the threads of fate woven by the Goddesses. Helping her'd... Be an interesting way to spend the forced rest. He'd spoken before on the importance of getting to know the man or woman you were faithfully raising your sword for— might as well follow up on that idea here.

[color=goldenrod]"Not like I'm up to much."[/color]

The banner of the Roses was one thing. But it'd pay dividends to demystify the Knight-Captain.