Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Crimson Paladin
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Fleuri Jodeau


"Truth be told, I was following Lucas' lead," Fleuri said, firmly patting Lucas on the back. "As exhilarating as it was, I think I'm content on doing it only one time, however. Better to retire from riding wild griffins while I'm ahead and undefeated, right?" Following behind Lucas after having saved him twice before was perhaps not the smartest move, but it certainly ended up being spectacular.

"I like to think that when someone does something very showy and very ill-advised and yet get away with it unscathed," he continued, taking a drink from his mug, "It's the goddess' way of telling you that they're amused enough to give you a second chance, and it'd be disrespectful to the higher powers to squander it, right?" Sure, it was a stupid decision on his part, one that he'd try not to repeat, but he saw it as something to be laughed and joked about in hindsight, not held onto as a mark of shame.

"As for your question, Lucas," Fleuri shifted his topic of conversation, "No, I have no family in the city. Most of them live up in northern Thaln. I've met people from all over the country, but not too many of them here this time of year." Fleuri took another drink, feeling a bit homesick as he reminisced. He hadn't visited his family in a while, after all. Still, it could be worse...at least he still had his family, unlike some of the others at this table.

If he were a more uptight knight, Fleuri would be tempted to strike the Hundi for his uncouth words...but even during the most irresponsible part of his life there were some valuable life lessons to be learned, such as knowing when to loosen up.

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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by VitaVitaAR
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"Er, yes..."

Certainly, she didn't want to end up as Dame Cecilia had. The Knight Archer looked like quite a mess. It made Fanilly drink her glass of whine all the more slowly and carefully.

"I think that's very good advice..."

Especially in the face of such a display.

Thankfully for Fanilly, a single glass of wine was no enough to entirely rob of of her faculties, as she had feared. Instead, while she felt something, certainly, this warm, somewhat light and tingly sensation she couldn't quite describe in more detailed words, that was the end of it.

A second glass was pushing it on the Knight-Captain's mind, and she declined it.

After all, she still had her duties to fulfill, and later her prayer for Sir Rickert. It wouldn't do to end up like Dame Cecilia.

After leaving the wine cellar(though she did her best to assist with carrying Dame Cecilia out first), Fanilly's first duty to fulfill was dispatching a messenger to Sir Rickert's family. While nothing could compensate for his death, she had to offer them something.

Then, to change out of her armor and bathe, at last. While Candaeln boasted two communal bathes, one for men and one for women, composed of blessed water that could repair minor injury and always remained warm, the Knight-Captain's quarters had a private bath.

It was there she went to clean herself, and change into something more suitable for her duties at Candaeln. The blue and white of the Knight-Captain's garb was unmistakable, and just as recognizable as the dwarven-forged armor these days.

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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Raineh Daze
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Tyaethe


... well, she had no idea what he could be planning with apples, nor did she particularly care to find out. Leaning back into her cushion pile, the vampire closed her eyes and gestured vaguely towards the front door. "I don't see a problem then. Why not see what that messenger wants? Poor man has been standing there since we got back, too scared to just come over here and talk to me. I'll take the plates back to the kitchen later."

If someone wasn't going to approach her despite being simply the other side of the room, the vampire wasn't planning to try and get a message out of him. Whether awestruck or terrified, the odds that he would explain whatever it was incorrectly were far too high.

Besides, she'd rather get some rest after the journey, and between Gerard's earlier exercise and this conversation, that had been quite delayed. At least some good had come of this one, on both sides--Fionn learned about his own magical potential, and she got to eat. Twice, even.

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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Saiyan
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"My blood-kin all bit it while I was still on The Keening, so I'm stuck here with nothing to do but sit in this taudis and spit it with a bunch of these whoresons, heh."

It wasn't a very nice feeling to hear that Lein had lost his family too, but his nonchalant tone when speaking on it - together with the feeling of not being alone in having such tragedy in his past - helped Lucas to mask his pity and keep up a fairly up-beat expression on his face. Not to mention, the foul mouthed archer-knight's array of language. Lucas knocked his tankard against Lein's in salute, not at all noticing that what spilled on the table was definitely not ale.

"The Iron Roses are your family now, old buddy, and don't you forget it," he said to Lein. Sergio's response was short and sweet. Fleuri's a little longer. But both essentially gave off the same sentiment. Family was far away. It must've been lonely for them all too, at times. Lucas sure had felt the feeling creep in some nights, when he was alone in his quarters. He had a sudden urge to try and cheer them all up, but suppressed it, for it wasn't very manly to get all mushy. This was a time for drinking and merriment, after all. Still though, he would be mindful of their moods in future, and perhaps (like a bull in a china shop) try and lift their spirits in a time of need. "Stay out of my pockets, eh," he warned mirthfully to Lein, who Lucas had just realised, had scooched up to him moments earlier. He made a show of sliding his chair a few inches away as a joke. But it also wasn't exactly a joke. Growing up in the circus, Lucas had known a few pickpockets.

At the remark about learning from Fleuri, Lucas piped up also. "Fleuri's a great teacher. He knows everything about everything when it comes to swordplay. And he's good at wording it so it goes in the thick skulls of folks like myself." He grinned at Fleuri. "Still, I hope I can continue to amuse the goddesses, cuz I've got a better chance of that than learning how to fight fast enough to keep myself alive on the battlefield. I almost got skinned a few times, if it weren't for good luck. Fleuri saved my life in that first ambush too."

Lucas downed the rest of his ale, standing up and offering to buy a second drink for all before going and grabbing himself another. At the bar, the bartender asked, "What's this about 'griffin riders?'"

"Oh it's just Sir Lein being silly, really..." and Lucas proceeded to tell him about the battle to take down Jeremiah's bandit camp, giving the details also about Lucas and Fleuri's wild decision to mount the griffin and nearly get themselves killed. He decided to leave out the part where they garnered minimal advantage from the situation, and simply ended with the fact that Dame Serenity delivered the final killing blow.

"Reon," the bartender was aghast. "Well, Sir Lucas, that's quite... mounting wild griffins...?" he was flabbergasted. "You Iron Roses sure are something."

"Sounds a lot better than it actually was, probably," Lucas replied, laughing nervously and running a hand through his hair. "Main thing is; the rebels are finally done and dealt with."

As he left the bar, he heard the bartender start relaying the story on to another newly arrived patron and Lucas gritted his teeth as he chuckled.

"I. Will. Sleep. Tonight." He whistled a sigh as dropped back into his chair. "Took it outta me, that mission did. I feel like I'm already tired tomorrow!"
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Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by DELETED08740
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Lein



Location: The Lonely Frame
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"Feh, family? The Roses? I'll drink to that." Lein returned the toast.

Lein watched Lucas as he blundered through the recounting of the battle, an amused smile etched on his face. He gave a small wave as Lucas retired from the bar. He had a mind to have a quiet night too - after all, Lein had a long day too. That was, until a pale-faced man scoffed at Lucas's retreating figure. "Griffins! Bollocks, I say. He couldn't strangle a gnat."

The Hundi swung around and stood up on the crossbar of his stool, making him barely tall enough to lean over and shove a tankard in the man's face. His speech was slightly slurred, but not enough to convey the smug taunt. "Oh really? You couldn't tell a peach from Mayon's ass if it was shoved in your face, Rovich."

Lein's voice ran up again, turning heads of the tables nearest to the countertop. "And unlike you ale-sodden bastards, I actually have something to prove it!"

From the folds of Lein's tunic, he pulled one of the feathers - the largest one he had plucked from the griffin. A pristine trophy with none of its plume scrunched up, its brilliant glossiness broken only by the splatters of blood from the battle. He had planned to sell it, but hey, if he could show this putain wrong, then it sure belonged on the walls of this establishment. Its introduction send a wave of utterance through the crowd that now gathered before it.

"That's just an eagle's plume, Hundi blaggard!" Another dissenting voice, but this time decidedly unsure.

Lein laughed, handing the plume to the bartender. His eyes shone, recognizing the chance that had landed on his lap, he jumped from stool to stool, making sure that essentially the entire bar could hear what he was yelling. "An eagle? An eagle this big, ah? You ever seen an eagle snap off a man's neck with one peck? You ever seen an eagle with paws bigger than a damn barrel lid?"

"Why, its wings must've been bigger than this bar!" The bartender remarked, carefully stroking the length of the plume and nodding in approval. Thanks for the assist, old man. Lein thought, as he turned up the boisterousness of his claims.

"If anything's 'bollocks' about this story, it's good Sir Lucas out there being humbler than a lamb! Ten men couldn't hold this monster down and I damn well would've had my head down its beak if it wasn't for our heroes tonight!"

By this point, Lein's feet was planted on the bar countertop, commanding the audience's attention as he recounted a heavily embellished version of Lucas' story - how the griffin towered over the entire camp like a dragon, how it could freeze men stiff by the sheer power of its gaze, and how two knights had heroically leapt from a tower three buildings high to catch the griffin in flight and pull its wings off with their blades. Perhaps if it wasn't for the heavy ale that had been passed through the audience, such a story wouldn't come to pass. Still, the braggart Hundi charged on through his story, crafting every intonation carefully to give just the right fantasy, the right exaggeration to string people people along right up to the moment Lucas (the version who single-handedly beat five armored bandits) plunged a blade into its eye and save the day.

Lein had nearly spilled all of his 'drink' as he had so fragrantly flailed his arms about as he told the story. "So how about it! Three cheers for the craziest bastards around! To the Griffin Riders!" Lein almost threw his cup up in his salute, and the rest of the bar roared their response, drunken both in ale and the momentum of the legend told in front of them.

Lein bathed in the sight of the bar patrons cheerily getting all the notes on the Aimlenn city song wrong, and downed the rest of his mug. Heh, family.
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Saiyan
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Lucas stayed in The Lonely Frame for one more quick drink, sharing banter, conversation and goodwill with his comrades. The bartender continued to tell the story of Jeremiah and the griffin to everyone who bought a drink. However, once the alcohol was lightly buzzing the knight's brain - mixed with the tiredness he'd accumulated - Lucas decided he'd had enough, put both hands on the table and rose to his feet.

"Alright, lads," he began. "I think I'm done. Some fresh air on the walk back to the castle should do me some good. I thank you, Sirs, for a fantastic evening."

He patted the knights adjacent to him on the shoulder and gave a nod the man across the table before excusing himself. After winding through the tables, chairs and tavern patrons to the door, he left the building. Before the door even shut, he was laughing as he vaguely heard Lein's voice shouting something 'a peach and Mayon's ass.' When the fresh air hit him, it was like he'd consumed another tankard right then and there. However his gait wasn't too out of whack and he walked back the short road to the western gate of Candaeln.

He should have just gone to bed.

Instead, in the late hours of the evening, he stopped and looked on the moonlit courtyard, then got one of his dumb ideas. Next he was wandering around the castle until he found the wine cellar and pilfered a bottle from the rack, then snuck back outside and managed to find his way up to the top of the castle walls. There he sat and mulled over good memories, fun memories and embarrassing memories of his life before. Even a few recent memories of his time as a knight snuck in there. He sat precariously over the edge of battlements, one leg handing off, leaning back on a hand as he took occasional swigs from the bottle.

He remembered his mother's caring eyes and smile as she stroked his head, one time he'd gotten really ill as a child. She sang 'You Are My Sunshine' - as she was want to do - while he stared at her, knowing that in spite of his pain, everything would be just fine. He was safe.

He remembered a time when he and Gorgeous George were making progress with a couple of female fans after a show and ready to take them somewhere where they could have some alone time, before his father grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and gave him the hiding of his life. Smacked him around in front of everyone - punishment for defying him, shirking his duties and sneaking out with George for the umpteenth time.

He remembered Biff and Kate's daughter, Sally, taking him to bed for the first time. Boy, did the older girl show him what he was missing the first fifteen years of his life!

He remembered being dragged into a mess, in a town in Velt, by Chip and Charlie, two young kleptomaniacs, who - that night - got in way over there head trying to burgle one of the richest houses in town. They couldn't run back to the troupe camp, so they were chased by the militia through rivers and reeds, into the nearby forest and had to camp out, up in the trees, all night to avoid arrest.

He remembered his first training session in Candaeln, after which, he was asked how in the world he'd been accepted into the Iron Roses. In spite of the fear of being thrown out, he was still proud he'd been addressed as 'Sir Lucas' and actually sparred with a real knight.

These memories and more, came and went, the feelings and imagery still strong and palpable in Lucas' heart as they ran through his head. "How did I end up here, eh?" he asked the moon before taking another swig of the bottle. "How does a simple gypsy lad become a knight of the Iron Rose Order? Mayon, you're too kind to me. I didn't deserve this."

...Midnight...


He returned to the ground level, back to a courtyard covered in moonlight. Lucas swayed as he looked around, blinking stupidly. It was deathly quiet, the air cold and crispy. At first he thought about what he should do with the empty bottle. Then he got yet another one of his bad ideas. Inhibitions completely gone, he stumbled towards his new goal.

Ten minutes later...

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" he announced in the courtyard, not too loud and hopefully not waking anyone up.

He'd dragged one of the combat dummies over to the archery targets and leaned the dummy against it. And he'd procured a few throwing knives.

"Introducing to you... The Storms!"

He made his own imitation of a crowd going wild, (which was basically just breathing really loudly, and pumping a fist in the air.)

"Here comes Harold Storm!"

More crowd reaction and then Lucas changed characters to his father and walked over to a point in front of the archery target, then juggled three throwing knives for a few seconds. It was amazing that in his drunken state, he managed to pull it off. More crowd reaction.

"And his beautiful wife and accomplice... Penny Storm!"

He gestured to the combat dummy leaning against the target, then did more crowd reaction.

"Watch in amazement as they frolic and flirt on the edge of death and danger!"

Lucas juggled the knives once over and then launched one, spinning toward the target, burying itself in it, right next to the head of the combat dummy. More crowd reaction. The second of the three knives, he tossed into the air, caught it by the blade and went to throw it in similar fashion, only he caught it wrong and couldn't adjust properly as he wound back to launch it. The knife span rapidly toward the target and slammed... right into the head of the dummy.

"!!!"

Lucas was horrified. Mouth open. Frozen. Staring at the dummy.

All this time, he'd not really had any chance to go through the grieving process properly. The moments after his parents were killed, he was being kidnapped by slavers. Then he was terrified in a cage for three days and nights. Then he was saved. Then he joined the merc unit that saved him and trained to be a soldier. Weeks later he was in the military arm of the church and transferring to the Iron Roses. Then he was training his hardest to make sure he wasn't thrown out. There'd been no time to stop and think.

And now, as he stared at the knife sticking out of the combat dummy, it was like the dam that was holding the grief back suddenly burst.

His eyes started watering and he fell to his knees. Moments later there were tears streaming down his cheeks. "Ma," he called quietly in a croaky voice. "Pa." And then he broke down into full-fledged crying. "Why...? I miss you so much."

There in the middle of the courtyard, head in his hands, sobbing his heart out in the moonlight, Lucas knelt. And there he stayed for some time.
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Hidden 1 yr ago Post by The Otter
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Fionn MacKerracher


@Raineh Daze@VitaVitaAR


Probably for the best she wasn't asking after his idea, Fionn decided after a moment; for all he could guess at or knew, Tyaethe might object to his setting up a mill and press out in the training yard, whether the assemblage served a second purpose beyond just extracting juice or or not. Certainly, he could imagine a few of the non-undead higher ranking knights in the order objecting; hopefully he might be able to get by with asking forgiveness after the fact rather than permission.

Besides, it would be a very simple and effective way to get some of the scrawnier members of the order to start putting on some muscle. The normal knightly exercises were all well and good, but the motivation of getting to enjoy the fruits of their labour was likely to be more compelling to at least a few he was thinking of.

"As you wish," he replied, pushing up from the floor with a grunt. A quick glance off towards the entrance proper revealed the presence of the anxiously-waiting courier, pacing by one of the other windows while waiting for, evidently, someone with some minor level of authority to come and take his message, rather than one of the various servants within Candaeln. "Enjoy your nap, madam."

With the hope that he wouldn't find one of the many cushions adorning Tyaethe's claimed window seat (or worse yet, one of the plates) thrown at the back of his head, he made his way across the hall to the courier, giving a friendly wave once the messenger specifically noticed his approach. Either he was a bit too used to getting ignored like this, or he'd been averting his eyes from Fionn and Tyaethe, though whether from the outset, the moment that Tyaethe sunk her teeth into Fionn's wrist, or when she'd run the risk of blinding any observers, the Veltian knight really couldn't guess. "Good afternoon, lad. Take it you've got a message for one of us?"

Hopefully he wouldn't be too surprised by the Veltian knight's extremely informal address, although it wasn't as though the presence of beknighted commoners in the order was an unknown thing, no matter how much certain benighted nobles would always be surprised at the fact.
Hidden 1 yr ago Post by VitaVitaAR
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The young man, a royal courier dressed in fine gold and purple, practically jumped with delight at someone finally approaching him.

"I was expecting the Knight-Captain," he began, "but I'm sure a loyal knight can pass this message on to her!"

It seemed he was overjoyed to finally be able to do his job. Clearing his throat, he took a deep breath and pulled a short scroll from within his bag.

"The Presence of Knight-Captain Fanilly Danbalion and her Iron Rose Knights is cordially requested tomorrow at Princess Elisandre Tanetha Falisse's Royal Ball," he began, "The Princess understands that you may not be able to bring every knight, and as such you may choose whomever you desire from your order to accompany you. Please come in your finest attire, though the Princess desires to see Knight-Captain Danbalion in official wear, and eagerly desires to see an assortment of weaponry used by knights."

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Hidden 1 yr ago 1 yr ago Post by HereComesTheSnow
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Fionn MacKerracher


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An invitation to the royal ball was the message that couldn't just be delivered to one of the servants? No doubt the man had been given some sort of specific instruction and he was loathe to contravene it for convenience's sake. Not much else would make sense. "Aye, is that right?" he responded after a moment, with a quick glance back at the rest of the castle behind him. "I'll make sure to get the message to the Knight-Captain as soon as possible. Before dinner even, assuming that she isn't too busy to see me. Can I take the scroll with so that I don't mix anything up?"

An utterly practical question to ask, as far as he was concerned, although a better one came to mind within the first span of breath after he asked it.

"Actually, to that point, if one of the Knight-Captain's loyal knights is acceptable to deliver the message to, I think I've got a better use. Nobody should stop you or keep you waiting if you've got a knight escorting you, after all. Care to follow?"
Hidden 1 yr ago Post by Richard Horthy
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Eventually, the message reached the Knight-Captain, who apologized profusely for making the courier wait.

A ball thrown by the princess...

Anxiety clutched at Fanilly's heart. But she couldn't disappoint her highness. If she was invited, then she would have to present herself as properly as she could.




The next day, however, was quite a different one. The sun was once again sinking low, this time casting the sky in a vast array of oranges and reds, purples and yellows. Light played off the low-hanging clouds in a dazzling display of colors.

Fanilly's maids had braided her hair. Her armor and weapons had been cleaned to their most perfect condition. Now, there was only one thing that remained for her to do. She had to proceed to the party. She'd picked a fair variety of knights to accompany her, focusing on both new knights and a few veterans as well. They had been permitted to wear any formal attire they so chose, and Fanilly had decided to request that any armor must be suited to this if it is brought along.

Fanilly felt her nerves acting up. In spite of what she had said, her training had always left her somewhat awkward at parties. She hadn't spent very much time socializing as a child, and as a result she had rarely talked very much when she was at a party. Certainly, when it was smaller affairs with members of her family she felt more at ease, but she was anxious about behaving properly as the Captain of the Iron Rose Knights.

This was no small affair. The Royal Castle loomed ahead, a throng of guests milling both in the castle gardens and visibly within. Fanilly had been to the castle before, but... never when it was this crowded. Still, while she had not socialized very much when she was younger, she had at least been instructed in etiquette.

The castle itself was an impressive structure. Known as the Crown of Thaln, or the Spikes of Aimlenn, it was a rectangular building, four larger towers arranged at each corner with a much larger one in the center. It was made of a dark grey stone, decorated with white. The gardens around the castle were verdant and thriving, filled with small trees, a wide array of flowers, and small ponds. Even here, however, there were clear signs of spots where soldiers would hold their ground, in case of an attack.

But at the moment, there were no such soldiers.

Fanilly led her knights through the crowd, to the castle itself. The interior hall was wide and spacious, and a herald declared each knight's status as they entered the room. Tables of food lined the walls, men, women, and children were everywhere, adorned in finery, and guards were posted evenly about the hall.

Fanilly couldn't help but feel somewhat nervous about such a large event.

But, this was it. The princess was no where to be seen, for the moment, but Fanilly was certain that would change quite soon.

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Tyaethe


If anyone was less enthused about the ball than Tyaethe, it would be hard to tell--the vampire's response to finding out had been a stream of grumbled profanity in half a dozen languages, and then setting out to make sure her outfit was ready as soon as possible. After all, it wouldn't be done to not go given her position (except if she went and got herself banned from all formal events again), no matter how intolerable such things were. Perhaps fortunate for Lucas, as it meant she was quite preoccupied on that first night, and any involvement in his grief amounted to a slice of cake oddly left by the door.

As could be expected, Tyaethe opted to attend as an adult, both to avoid the irritating comments on her default age... and probably to avoid awkward questions when she got to the drinks. What was perhaps not expected was the ornate black and silver dress she wore instead of anything more military, the only indication of her knighthood the heraldry pinned to a sash across the gown, bearing both the colours of the order and of the crown knights, as well as flowers emblematic of the goddesses. The glasses also helped with not glaring at everyone throughout the entirety of the event... although that seemed likely anyway.

Continuing the unexpected behaviour, the vampire took one look at the guests, and then promptly made her way to one of the tables without a word and started perusing the wine on offer. It seemed she was content to leave everyone to fend for themselves.

Despite the princess having yet to arrive, there was a wide variety of interesting characters on display. Obviously, the Iron Roses themselves contributed a lot, and like any major function of this type smatterings of the upper echelons had showed up along with their scions. As usual, on top of the guards there were numerous knights of the crown in their purple-trimmed gold in attendance, no less deadly for their lack of armour. There were also a few who weren't there for any clear purpose, or necessarily recognisable. Particularly noteworthy was a pair of elves, their hair a matching pale green, off towards one corner, respectively wearing a resplendent gown and a uniform that had more than a passing resemblance to the captain's, if in darker colours. And stood next to them was the most obvious guest of all: a delicate blonde with a similar-dress like garment and arm-covering gloves. It wasn't her outfit that made her stand out, or the fluffiness of her hair. No, it was the part where, from the waist down, there was a massive white-and-gold arachnoid body, taking up rather a lot of space.
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Lein



Location: The Royal Ball
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Lein despised balls. Pretentious one-up-man ship, ridiculous clothes, loud in all the wrong ways - everything Lein loved about the Lonely Frame, those damned dance halls did the opposite.

Yet as Lein marched alongside the knights into the castle, onlookers cheering the Knights on, he felt anticipation. Excitement. Lein beamed at the adoring crowd and made sure to acknowledge them with a flourish. For no other reason other than the fact that he paraded wearing a giant white ball gown. The outfit was complete with a jeweled fan, those fancy white gloves Lein could never quite figure out, and deftly crafted make up that made the usually boisterous Hundi unrecognizable. Apart from his terrible impression of a north Ithillin accent, Lein very convincingly passed for some exotic northerner just having a look around the Crown.

It was quite the impressive effort. Lein had spent the entire night after espousing the legend of the Griffin Riders helping the bartender clean up after the rowdy guests (forced to, actually, since Lein had been the primary spur into everyone's alcohol consumption that night), and had almost missed the news that the Knights were invited to a royal ball. A royal ball! The very first reaction Lein had was to simply blow it off. But no matter how hard he tried to convince the seniority - and no matter how hard they agreed, the decision was final. Pretentious or not, it was of royal request. All must attend, period.

Thus came another scheme. Sure, he'd play the royal game, but why not make it a tad more entertaining? In fact, he had just the person in mind to make it all work. Lein turned up in front of Cecil a few nights before and one recitation of his plan later, Lein came away with a large pack of clothes for all sorts of purposes and an overly detailed instructions list on how to don them. Lein had questions on how she could source all these so quickly - but considering Lein already owed the other archer, probably best not to pry.

Lein tugged at the corset bands, uncomfortably trying to ration his breaths. It wasn't the perfect plan. First, the gown was far heavier than Lein had anticipated, and every step in the gown felt like he was carrying full armor. Sure, he had the endurance for it - but certainly it would get grating when he would inevitably have to blow off some pompous noble. Second was that Lein was suffering from success. Whether by miracle of the makeup or Lein's naturally androgynous looks and voice, he fit a little too perfectly into the image of a haughty noble's daughter. He had been stopped on multiple occasions from joining the Knight's cohort and though it was funny the first time explaining everything to a firmly confused guard, the subsequent times got a little complicated. Perhaps Lein succeeded a bit too much in perfecting 'the honorable Dame Cteline, Heiress to the Chateau les Roseaux'.

Either way, Lein kept his head high, grooming his tail as any self-absorbed Hundi noble would and taking a good stake of the ballroom. Two things. First was the kitchen. A ball this fancy was sure to have a storage of fancy hor d'oeuvres. Second, a secluded location. A space where he could stash some clothes safely. The dress was step one. Steps two to seven was tucked discretely into the folds of the dress, and Lein needed a place to tuck them somewhere.

Lein spied the Knight-Captain from across the hall, looking not quite out of place, but not quite in her element either. He glided across the hall and approached her, a glass of fruit punch held delicately in between his fingers. "Knight-Captain Danbalion, it is quite the pleasure to meet you again. Quite the dazzling ball, wouldn't you say?" He said, a smile mixed with both gentleness and coyness.
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@Raineh Daze



A ball, huh.

Well, it wasn't her first one, though she had thought she'd seen her last years ago. She had first thought she was still drunk when she got word of it, but the aggressive hangover she had certainly meant she was awake. Cecil remained mostly quiet as they approached the castle. She didn't mind balls like this, though she didn't quite like the stuffiness or the games the nobles played. It was a good thing at least, that she was looking forward to whatever it was Lein was up to.

She glanced over towards the Hundi, stifling a chuckle at his dress as they entered the main hallway. The lady that was the previous owner of that dress hopefully wouldn't show up and accuse him of theft. Well, actually, maybe she was hoping she would if only because she'd get a kick out of it.

Pulling her gaze away from the sight of Lein approaching the knight captain, Cecil adjusted her own jacket, having opted for a suit rather than a dress. A black and dark green suit jacket, with long pants and stylish boots. Simple, but stylish. Nothing to stand out, but acceptable enough to not earn any derision either. The only complaint, it was tighter in the chest area then she remembered it being.

"Might as well enjoy ourselves." Cecil said quietly.

"Try not to get us thrown out, hm? I do so like parties like this. Oh, do they have any fancy cheeses? Perhaps some exotic fish to choose from?" Fancy cheeses and fish, huh? Well, she wasn't a fan of cheese but Fish? Well, she did enjoy a good, savory cooked one, though she doubted there would be any such thing here. She'd scan the food tables, eyes soon falling on two elves and a-

"Hmm...well, I dunno about fancy cheeses or fish, but..."

"...Cecil? Hey Cecil! I agree she's pretty but-come on! The...food..." Well, Shael wasn't wrong. She probably should just behave herself, but something about one of these elves was...funny. Like, they were familiar or something. Almost as if she had seen one of them before. More than just a passing sense of Dejavu, too. Well, her curiosity had thoroughly been peaked at least. Grabbing a nearby glass of wine, Cecil approached the two elves and the spider woman with a friendly smile.

"Well, its not easy to be more eye-catching then the entire ball or the knights in attendance," Cecil offered the glass of wine to the spider lady along with a dashing, roguish smile. "Cecilia, if you didn't hear the Herald, though I think they should have announced your name instead."
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Considering how many times Lucas had witnessed people on the morning after a late night of drinking - all haggard and depressed in their hangovers - the young man was pleasantly surprised to wake up feeling refreshed and full of vigour. He was up at the crack of dawn and down on the training yard, stretching and exercising, then practising the stances and strikes that Sir Fleuri had taught him. As he ran through his drills, his eyes glanced over at the combat dummy with the head wound.

Last night had ended strangely for sure, but he felt better for it. His mother had once said that women live longer than men because they let their emotions out - cry once in a while, talk about their feelings. Maybe his session of sobbing had done him some good. What irked him though, was that someone might well have witnessed his palaver last night. He'd never had guessed, but for a conspicuously placed slice of cake left at the door that he'd discovered after cleaning himself and the training yard up. It could've been coincidence, but the castle was usually a tidy place, the servants always on top of things. So it stood to reason that someone had left the cake for him, probably to out of pity. But who?

In the mess hall, later on, Lucas was interrupted by a messenger. The man looked disconcertingly at the knight's obnoxiously large breakfast, then gathered himself and informed Lucas that he'd been selected to join Knight-Captain Fanilly at the Princess' Ball. Lucas stared at the messenger stupidly with his mouth full.

"Me?" he muffled out, some bread falling out of his mouth. The messenger replied affirmatively.

Why him? He was surprised any of the higher ups had even noticed him (at least, not for good reasons anyway.) However this happened, it had now filled him with a sense of urgency and he got up to go get ready, but halfway out from the benches, he looked back mournfully at the rest of his breakfast, then couldn't resist the urge to finish it. I'll be quick.

After taking his dishes back to the kitchen himself, he asked who was working in the kitchen last night, and managed to speak to the woman in question, who informed him, upon inquiry, that Paladin Tyaethe had stopped by around midnight and took a slice of cake of the same variety he'd found at the doorway. Luas was equal parts horrified and confused. Of all the people. Although it made sense that the vampire was up late. They were obviously the nocturnal type. Well that settles, he thought. It's no coincidence, after all.

A short time later, he was with Sir Enrich; a knight he'd shared a few conversations, who was a warm and friendly sort. The veteran was rummaging through some old clothes, looking for something that would be fitting for a ball and also fit Lucas, who didn't really have many clothes at all.

"Here, take this," Enrich said, draping some fancy threads over Lucas' arms. "And this. This should fit."

"You're a life-saver, mate. Much appreciated."

Bailed out again. As always. Just in time.

***


Following the knight-captain through the crowds, along with all of the chosen Knights of the Iron Rose Order, Lucas looked around, taking it all in. The place was beautiful, colourful and vibrant gardens decorated with flowers and decoration. The people were beautiful, Aimlenn's richest, dressed in the finest clothes and jewellry that money can buy. Inside the hall, Lucas' eyes went wide at tables full of food. It hadn't been long since he'd eaten, but by Reon, did the stuff on display look inviting.

Upon entering, the knights began to disperse and Lucas stood as people passed him by, looking around some more. Other party guests had looked over to spy the Iron Rose procession and Lucas' gaze washed over them, for the moment forgetting how 'out of place' he should be feeling. Perhaps he just didn't care. He'd spent months being out of place in a knightly order. Being out of place at a fancy ball was nothing.

Speaking of 'out of place,' Lucas' eyebrows shot up at the spider lady amongst the guests, then quickly turned his gaze away to the tables, lest he offend someone. As if on queue, Sir Lein crossed his gaze, dressed in his beautiful gown, walking with purpose. This was too much.

He himself was dressed in Sir Enrich's hand-me-downs; a dark red velveteen tuxedo coat, gothic in design, with carved black buttons and an embroidered black collar. Underneath - shirt, pants and boots - were all black. Way too fancy for Lucas' tastes but when he posed in his mirror, he certainly felt rather nice about what he saw. His sword was at his hip too, as he was instructed. The longest part of getting ready was gelling his hair, slick back. No matter how many times went over it, one thin spike of hair would pop out and hang down in front of his forehead. It was annoying but he decided to leave it be. After all, it looked tidier than the usually messy mop it was.

He spotted Paladin Tyaethe perusing the wines and let out a breath before heading over. She hadn't said anything, or made any indication to Lucas about what happened last night, (and Lucas was glad of her discretion,) but he felt gratitude for her efforts to cheer him up. Cake could always do that.

As he crossed the room, he realised that he also felt a little guilty for judging the vampire too harshly. He'd always seen her as an unapproachable, rather moody sort, displaying very little in the way of emotion of any kind. And she was certainly a mythical power, beyond any knight in the order - something she'd displayed seemingly effortlessly in the battle against Jeremiah. She was otherworldly. Aloof. Disconnected from simple mortal problems. But even if that assessment was correct, she'd didn't have to do anything to console Lucas. But she did. And that counted for something.

"Any orders for me, Paladin Tyaethe?" he asked jokingly as he joined her, his tone bright, but the volume low enough that only she would hear. "Perhaps slay the spider-lady? Watch the captain's flanks?"

He grinned at her, then looked out on the hall and it's guests. "How long do these things last for, then? I'm already thinking about bed."

Then, after a while of it lingering on the edge of his tongue, he finally said, "Thanks, Paladin."

Awkward. It was hard to be anything else when expressing gratitude to a legendary undead woman. If he'd told his parents that one day he'd be stood chatting to such a person, (at a Princess' ball, no less!) they'd be checking his temperature for fear of fever. Life simply doesn't prepare a man for perpetually-bored vampire paladins.
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Renar Hagen


Finally. His membership in the Iron Rose Knights had at last paid dividends beyond belief. An invitation to a royal ball? This was something he'd never have managed without the order's connections for at least several more years. It seemed Renar's efforts were finally receiving some recognition, especially considering he'd been chosen as part of the delegation. The likely reason due to his own part in the battle, but Renar didn't doubt that his little conversation with Fanilly the previous day kept him in consideration for the moment. That chance encounter in the chapel was proving serendipitous.

He strode proudly into the great hall at the side of his fellow knights, clad in the same sort of official uniform the Knight-Captain was, albeit with less adornments depicting rank. Instead, to complement his blue-and white formal tunic, Renar wore a blue cape with gold trim, his own personal arms woven into the back. He wore his usual arming sword at his hip, along with a dagger. Ah, the benefits of being requested by the princess to bear real arms. Carrying real steel at a royal ball? A luxury.

While his fellows began to disperse among the party and mingle, Renar did the same, walking through the room while trailing his gaze across it. The spider woman was a surprise, but not too large of one. He did raise an eyebrow at Dame Cecilia immediately making a beeline for her, though. Well. Seemed she had a type. Renar wished her luck, really. That was at least entertaining.

Eventually, Renar found himself by the wines, somewhat close to Paladin Tyaethe and the nuisance as he finally laid eyes on his quarry. Blonde hair, about half a decade his senior, a similar swordsman's build to his, and a smug, punchable face all in the uniform of a Crown Knight. It seemed the man noticed him as well, his eyes narrowing in recognition and dislike. Hah. He hadn't changed. Renar picked up his wine goblet and deliberately walked past the man, dropping him a nod and a casual smile that didn't quite meet his eyes.

"Hello, big brother. Lovely evening we're having, isn't it?" Renar murmured aside to his half brother, Sir Felix Brias, letting a brief, taunting smirk slide across his face before he made his way over towards the closest Iron Rose that was familiar to him. Both fortunately and unfortunately for him, it was Sir Fleuri.

"I'll need to borrow you for a good few minutes." He murmured in Fleuri's ear. "Play along for a short while, and I'll be in your debt."

Renar's official uniform, along with the sword at his hip, drew enough attention that he and his companion had a good few interested nobles around them. The fact that he was with the Flower of the North certainly didn't hurt.

"...Yes, yes, of course." Renar smiled brightly at a noble's words after a few minutes of mingling as others began to ask questions about the battle against the Bandit King's forces. "You all wish to hear of the battle. Well, our Flower here mounted a griffin in live combat. But of course, he could tell that tale himself, yes?"

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Fleuri Jodeau


The development following Fleuri's return from the tavern were unexpected, but not unwelcome. He was informed that Fanilly had selected him as one of the knights to accompany her to the royal ball, and thus the remainder of the day, and the next one, were spent preparing. He bathed and groomed, then spent a few hours touching up on his formal attire. It was likely an odd sight for the Flower of the North to be seen using a needle and thread, but given his family's relative lack of wealth, being able to maintain his own attire had been an important skill to develop. By the late afternoon when the ball drew close, Fleuri was ready..

For the ball, Fleuri's attire consisted of a white mantle over a white long sleeved tunic, accompanied with black pants, boots, and gloves. Both the mantle and tunic proudly the black fleur-de-lis symbol. This archaic-looking ensemble was was his family's traditional formal wear, nearly unchanged in over a century. While Fleuri was no longer relegated to wearing ancestral hand-me-downs, he still honored his family's traditions (even if, admittedly, the only reason the tradition existed was to not waste money chasing fashion developments) by donning formal wear crafted in the same style. The only oddity was the sheathed greatsword poking from beneath his mantle and his dagger hanging from his belt, both having been brought at the request of the princess.

As he and the other knights followed Fanilly to the ball, Fleuri looked up at the castle. He wasn't unfamiliar with these sorts of events, but he had never attended one as an Iron Rose knight. House Jodeau wasn't completely removed from Thaln's high society, still commanding some prestige from their history of service to the crown and to the Church of Reon. This time, however, he was representing an organization far more prestigious than a noble family- he represented the Iron Roses, making it all the more important that he not make any missteps.

As expected of a ball hosted by the royal family, there was no shortage of prestigious guests in attendance. Among them, Fleuri noticed a pair of elves, likely relatives given their matching hair color. If they were human, Fleuri would guess them to be siblings, but given how long elves live, they could potential be a parent-child pair, grandparent and grandchild, or potentially something even further removed. Even more curious was the spider-woman in attendance.

I wonder how deft of a dancer she is, with those eight legs, he pondered as he watched Cecilia approach her. He wasn't sure what sort of interest the archer-knight had in the arachnoid woman. Perhaps, like many people, she had a thing for exotic women with monstrous features, or maybe she just wanted some spider silk for a bow string. He hoped that whatever her motivations, Dame Cecilia would remember to be discreet in her interactions.

Fleuri headed for the wines to sample what was available. As much as he wanted to try some of the red wine, past experiences had taught him just how easily they could stain white clothing. Consequently, he chose white wine instead, and was just about to take a sip from his goblet when Renar approached.

"I'll need to borrow you for a good few minutes. Play along for a short while, and I'll be in your debt," the fellow knight spoke before "volunteering" Fleuri for some mingling with the nobles. Fleuri complied, silently playing along, not entirely sure what Renar's game was. Generally, the Jodeau family stayed out of the politicking of the nobility due to their relative irrelevance in Thaln's aristocracy, but ever since Fleuri gained a reputation as a successful tournament fighter, he had to getting dragged into the games on occasion.

Perhaps Renar was just establishing some credentials as a part of Thaln's nobility, having only recently gained the status due to being knighted, or maybe he was leveraging his newly gained station.

"You all wish to hear of the battle. Well, our Flower here mounted a griffin in live combat. But of course, he could tell that tale himself, yes?" So that was Sir Renar's game. Very well, he would play along.

"Yes, Jeremiah and his bandits had captured a griffin. I'm not sure what they wanted it for- it certainly wasn't following their orders. During our attack on the camp, it broke out of its cage and we found ourselves fighting it," he began, taking a drink from his goblet and setting the stage for the tale.

"Sir Lucas- one of the younger knights- and myself climbed the bandit watch tower and jumped onto its back while it was distracted by the other knights. I wasn't keen on giving that beast a chance to take flight. Instead of trying to buck me off like a horse would, it tried to crush me against the ground. I haven't gotten off a mount so quickly since I took that lance to the chest in the Aimlenn Tournament two years ago."

At least some of the nobles here probably remembered seeing that. It wasn't exactly his most glorious moment.

"Of course, the griffin was just a distraction, a spectacle," he turned his head towards his fellow knight. "Our victory that day was thanks to knights like Sir Renar here cutting the bandits down like weeds."

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As she approached the small group, the gazes on Cecilia became almost suffocating, even if it was mostly the pair of elves studying her. Whilst the taller one, wearing the uniform, was openly fascinated by the knight that had come over to talk to them, it was the oddly familiar elf in the gown whose analytical gaze seemed to have an almost physical weight to it. Whatever assessment she was making promptly finished, and she went back to focusing on her own conversation with a noble of some sort with a practised ease.

"My... name...?" the spider lady wondered, tilting her head. There was a lilting, musical tone to her voice, part of a very strong accent, one almost entirely unfamiliar in Thaln--definitely not from any of the surrounding countries, nor the harshness associated with Barukstaed in the far north. "No! I do not... I dress make--I make dresses. I do not need announcement."

The unoccupied elf butted in, with all the obnoxiously regal beauty that the race as a whole seemed to carry. This close, it was still hard to tell their apparent gender, particularly with the sword strapped to their hip drawing attention. Long and slender, the jewel embedded in the pommel seemed oddly plain in cut, covered in small runes that indicated the entire weapon was also some sort of casting focus. "So, you're one of the Iron Roses? What's the order like?"

At least, unlike the spider-bodied lady, this one didn't have anything of the same accent--if anything, they had a touch of Ithillin about the way they spoke.

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Tyaethe


"Avoid attacking the other guests, you can't wait out a decades-long ban," Tyaethe said absent-mindedly, eyes flicking between two glasses of wine and then downing the red in a single shot whilst keeping hold of the rosé, "We are here as attendees, security should be left to the guards unless it can be helped."

She turned around with the glass in hand, giving Lucas a sidelong look, "A few hours at least. You could maybe excuse yourself after one, if the princess doesn't require your attendance any longer. They usually pick up with the dancing, if you can find a partner." She inclined her head at the thanks, but didn't say anything else about the matter.

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@Raineh Daze



Well, that wasn't quite the reply she was expecting. For the most part, Cecil paid no mind to the elf boring holes in her body. Such gazes were not something she wasn't unused too, back in the old nobility circles she ran in really. A gaze of judgement and deciding someones worth and whether or not they'd be an easy target for...hm, messing with, as one might say. All she spared was a quick glance towards the elf, but she had already gone back to another conversation and focused back on the spider lady.

"Cecil."

Hmm, curious. She wasn't from around here, then? She had seen a lot of oddities during her time as a mercenary but this was still a bit unfamiliar to her.

"The Iron Roses?" She turned her head towards the androgynous elf with a chuckle. "Weeeelll, I could tell you how I valiantly helped put down the bandit king, saved our knight captain with a well placed arrow and took down a rampaging beast of great size," Some embellishments were fine. "They only accept the best of the best in the order, after all, and it's hard to pick where to begin." She'd offer the elf a cheeky grin. "Though, I could tell you what it lacks currently - a beautiful woman like the one in front of me."

"...Cecil!"

"So Miss Spider," She'd turn her attention back towards the Arachne with a friendly smile."Am I going to have to ask you for a dance later without knowing your name or will I have the privilege?"

"Cecil I think that elf is one of the ones we've seen in those old paintings or whatever!"

Cecil quietly glanced back over to the elf.

"What was her name? Lil something...Lily? Lillian? Lila-"

"Lilette?" Well, she hadn't intended on saying that aloud, but here she was.
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