[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/zQXUPoA.png[/img]
[sub][@Psyker Landshark][@The Otter][/sub][/center]

Serenity raised her shield up, rotating it slowly as she inspected the rim, her fingers feeling for imperfections. Fionn's own reflections and ruminations spoke well of his intellect and experience. Indeed, there was a lot worse that a Bandit King could do to be a thorn in the side of the Iron Rose Knights, if he so wished. Her gaze caught Renar briefly, wondering if a less honorable knight would come to the same conclusions as herself. There were stories of orcs who would strap children to their bodies as they charged into battle. Stories of slavers who forced their prisoners into outfits of straw, so if it came down to it, they could threaten immolation. Stories too, of poisoned fumes, of pots of fire powder, of all the dastardly arts in war that the Iron Rose could not answer in kind.

[b]"Jeremiah,"[/b] she replied, [b]"was a man of low birth. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have been a mercenary, and lived his days out as such. But just as some mercenaries find themselves as members of the Iron Rose, others of similar talents find themselves in the employ of noble houses."[/b] An eyebrow raised, and she brought her hammer down on her shield, striking out the dent in it. [b]"You two would remember, of course, how mystified Sir Gerard looked when we first broke bread together at the mess hall? Jeremiah was likely to have experienced something similar, and as the conspiracy of House Cazt began to unfold, he was just as likely to have entertained grander dreams."[/b]

Dreams that never could be, once the horse he bet on turned out to be a loser. The life of a bandit was miserable, a misery forever accentuated by memories of plenty when one served as the lapdog of a lord. And there would be no respite either, not as a traitor. A swift beheading was the most one could ask for, even if they showed remorse.

[b]"A man of such strength could have slain our Knight-Captain on the backswing. A man of such strength would have received his own set of armor, if the traitor nobles had any sense. A man of such strength would be doomed, no matter what path he took."[/b] Little glory to be had in slaying an untested Knight-Captain, after all. May as well have slain a squire. [b]"Your intuition is correct, Sir Fionn. Jeremiah chose to make an impression before he died, and now? He'll live on in your memory, as someone to [i]aspire[/i] to match, someone whom you never even [i]witnessed[/i] at his best."[/b]

There was a sudden venom then, a forcefulness that caused her to stop mid-strike, lest she damage her own armaments.

[b]"That's the trouble with such thoughts, no?"[/b]

She laughed. A short bark of mirth, as if to scare away her own thoughts.

[b]"Compared to that farce though, I suppose the griffin put in effort enough for a beast. Sir Fleuri and Lucas leapt at it from above, the former with his cloak as a hood, the latter with a length of chain as the collar. Both, perhaps, entertaining dreams of becoming a griffin rider. I would have expected that out of the boy who chased after Sir Gerard, but for the Flower of the North too?"[/b] She kept the smile, but a exhalation hissed out from clenched teeth. [b]"A beast, cornered to [i]that[/i] extent, would fight to the last, and so, died. Tis a shame, in truth. Even the bandits' steeds bore more sin than that fowlbeast."[/b]

Serenity set her shield aside, and then brought her longsword to the whetstone, sharpening it in long, controlled strokes.

[b]"That being said, I don't quite recall where Lucas ended up while Sir Fleuri was entangled with the griffin. Wouldn't suppose the lad had joined your efforts in becoming the seven-man-slayer, Sir Renar?"[/b]