[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/zQXUPoA.png[/img]
[sub][@Psyker Landshark][@The Otter][/sub][/center]
[b]"Our roles end when our foes drop their swords,"[/b] Serenity remarked. [b]"I rather believe, Sir Fionn, that Sir Renar holds a vendetta towards executioners and judges. Why else would he be taking their roles into his own hands?"[/b]

She pressed her thumb against the edge of her sharpened sword, stopping just at the verge of her flesh being cut. Just need some oil now, to keep the rust away.

[b]"After all, the less bandits arrive to trial, the less judges needed to sentence them, and the less executioners needed to execute them. And from there? The plot unfolds, as the kingdom no longer sees it fit to employ so many of them, and Sir Renar dines well that night, in knowledge that yet more men have been forced to seek other trades."[/b] A cloth ran up and down the length of the mirror-polished sword, removing excess oil. Serenity flourished her blade for one fanciful moment, before sliding it into the scabbard with a definitive click. [b]"A revenge cold mayhaps, but undoubtedly sweet."[/b]

Better to imagine what dark machinations Renar had than to dwell upon how far the Iron Rose Knights have fallen, to accept those such as Lucas as full-fledged members of the same rank as the late Sir Rickert. What value was there indeed, when the only one who possessed the mythological capability that made the Iron Rose Knights subject to so many epics was an unaging vampire? Her expression didn't darken though, not this time. [b]"Alas, the boy won't accept becoming an archer. I've doubt he would even handle a spear, except for a joust. Or self-pleasure."[/b]

...

Serenity coughed.

[b]"Regardless, Lucas idolizes Sir Gerard, no? He's more liable to listen to one he respects than a girl his own age, if we speak of someone to instill sense in him."[/b] From a rack, Serenity pulled out a length of wood, a good deal taller than herself. Its heft was fine, its length could be better. It was wood though, disposable all the same, so she didn't think too much of it as she prepared to mount her spearhead upon it. [b]"Or perhaps the Flower's taken him under his wing. Reckon he's the lucky sort?"[/b]

Or would their individual idiocies become magnified, until the fools leapt skywards to skewer themselves upon pike formations?