[color=A0A0A0][h2]Fleuri Jodeau[/h2][/color]

Following the knights' victory in the tomb, Fleuri departed the tomb, one last task to complete, but not before thanking Gerard for putting Armand's morningstar to good use.  He returned to his family mausoleum and returned the weapons to the hidden compartment.  Here, they would rest, until the next time that House Jodeau was called upon to bring release to the desecrated dead.

He himself had not done much in terms of fighting the undead aside from the shambling corpses in the antechamber, but from the look of the battle downstairs, Sir Gerard had gotten good use out of Dawn's Break in his scuffle with the reanimated corpse of the Demonbreaker.  Remarkably, the weapon looked entirely unscathed from whatever combat it had endured in the former mercenary's hands.  His own use of Candlestick appeared to have been a bit more minimal, but it did at least see some use against Alfrid.  The last to be returned to the plinth would be any unexpended holy water vials.  His family's contingency had proved its worth, and he would need to remember to inform them how helpful these tools had been.

Fleuri slept soundly that night, although he could not stop thinking about the fight against Alfrid.  The warrior's moves, his deft and masterful swinging of that heavy axe, occupied his mind both during the night and even after awakening.  It in fact inspired him to spend his precious downtime sparring and practicing his swordsmanship, trying to make sense of what he had experienced fighting that warrior.  Other times, he sought out the knights that clashed with Jeremiah and Erich, desiring to see what they could teach him of those fights.  He enjoyed sparring with Gerard in particular.  The man's commoner, mercenary background meant that the two had plenty to teach one other, and despite their differences, Gerard held no disdain for Fleuri.  Swordplay was not the only skill that he sought to hone in this time, however.  He also spent some time riding, seeking to refine the dismount he had performed on the griffin.  By the end of the week he was even beginning to combine dismounting and attacking, riding past an imaginary foe only to jump off and attempting to strike them with the momentum of his descent.

After about a week, Fleuri had been feeling quite pleased with the progress he was making in sharpening his skills.  Then came that turbulent, humbling night.


[hider=A Dream]
Fleuri gripped his neck, disoriented and dizzy at the outcome of his last duel of this strange arena.  As his bearings returned, the knight recalled what had just happened.  His last foe in this otherworldly arena had been a Vos Korvungand warrior, some hero from the glory days of Taleria, far removed from the craven raiders that the first Iron Roses had had famously crushed.

The northerner's style reminded him of Alfrid, but with much greater finesse, swinging a heavy axe as deftly as most knights could swing an arming sword.  He had battered aside Fleuri's blocks, pushed through his attempts to parry, and in the final act of the duel, grabbed the blade of the knight's greatsword with an uncovered hand, utterly unfazed at the blood drawn.  Fleuri had only a moment to realize that the warrior's other hand was bringing the axe towards the knight's neck with incredible speed, then everything started spinning.

[color=A0A0A0][i]Ah, that's what that was...[/i][/color] he mused as the realization of what happened dawned on him.  [color=A0A0A0][i]I was too slow that time...much too slow...[/i][/color]

This experience had not been wholly unfamiliar to him- he was, after all, a veteran of tournament combat.  However, there was no audience, save a strange, silent dark-haired woman.  There was no holding back- for all foes came at him to kill.  And there was no death- those he had struck down vanished, and when he was slain, he reappeared where he started, fully healed and restored.

Whatever this was, it was more real than any tourney he had ever fought in.

There was little hope of actually achieving a victory, now.  Each foe was deadlier than the last, and they had already crossed the point of solidly surpassing him some time ago.  The most that he could do was take note of his defeats- who defeat him- the skill and techniques with which they struck him down, and how he blundered into it.  All while this happened, the black-haired woman watched.  Fleuri was no stranger to being defeated in front of massive crowds, and in front of prominent figures- it was just part of tournament combat- but this felt like he was being [i]judged[/i].

The ideal knight would relish this opportunity to fight such a myriad menagerie of foes without holding back, to be able to battle unrestrained and unburdened by the permanence of death or injury.  They've be unfazed by both the pain and the defeats, and continue to face even hopeless odds unfazed.  However, Fleuri was not that ideal knight.  The shame of the cumulative defeats and the pain of the deaths had been fraying his resolve and weakening his spirit.  If the goal was for the mysterious black-haired spectator find the knight's limit, he was sure that it had been solidly established many fights ago.  At this point, his losses were feeling more like each a cruel reminder of how weak he really was.

Fleuri readied his greatsword for the next challenge, for the next foe that would no doubt remind him once again of his inadequacy as a knight.  He knew that his next foe would be even greater than the last one, but he wasn't prepared for what emerged.  It was a knight whose shining armor and youthful, androgynous face were well-known to him from paintings in Candaeln.

[color=A0A0A0]"Mirror Knight Florian..."[/color] Fleuri managed to speak, lowering his sword.  He wasn't sure if he'd get an answer- it could just be a phantom.

"And you must be the one called the Flower of the North." Florian replied as he came closer.  Fleuri was a bit surprised to hear the knight speak- could he be speaking to the spirit of the real Mirror Knight?

Fleuri found himself freezing up, his spirit suddenly too overburdened to move or reply.  The shame of weakness, the feelings of unworthiness to stand before a founding Iron Rose all came rushing though him.  He didn't even deserve to show his face to Florian.

"You were a tournament fighter before joining the Iron Roses," Florian cordially spoke.  "How about it, Flower?  Perhaps you would like to grant a duel to a fellow Iron Rose?"

Fleuri didn't know how to respond.  All the foes that had triumphed over him so far, they were beneath Florian, and it helped drive the point home just how vast the gap in skill was between the two Iron Rose Knights.  All this time, the mysterious woman watched, observing firsthand the weakness and inferiority of the present-day knight compared to one of its founders

Nevertheless, he couldn't say no to someone like the Mirror Knight.  Consequently, he forced himself to raise his sword and inelegantly assume a crude combat stance.

Fleuri didn't deserve to stand before Florian, not in his pitiful, weak state.  He didn't deserve to call himself an Iron Rose.  His presence in the order tarnished the radiant glory of it and its heroes.  Best to just let get it over with and let the Mirror Knight cut him down.

"Come now, I know you are better than this," Florian assured him.  "Let me show you."  Florian produced a greatsword almost identical to Fleuri's and assumed his foe's own stance, mimicking his foe's own movements in the manner that he was famous for.  However, this was not the reflection of the broken, frozen man before him- through the tears that had distorted his vision, Fleuri beheld the graceful movements from when was at his very best.  Not as Fleuri was currently, but at what he could be- what he should be.

[color=A0A0A0][i]Is this how the Mirror Knight sees me?[/i][/color]

[color=A0A0A0]"...I see..."[/color] Fleuri managed to speak.  If this was what he believed, if the Mirror Knight had faith in him, then he couldn't allow that faith to be misplaced.  He stabbed his sword into the ground and moved his hands to his head to remove his helmet.  He was still a little apprehensive about showing his face, but Florian deserved this courtesy, and besides, Fleuri didn't want anything to restrict his ability to see the Mirror Knight in action.  He wiped his eyes and took his sword, assuming a proper stance with the graceful movements that Florian expected of him.

The duel that resulted was an enlightening experience.  Florian was legendary for his ability to copy a foe's moves and techniques, and consequently, it gave Fleuri a unique opportunity to assess the flaws and weaknesses in his own technique.  Every time he attempted to exploit those perceived weaknesses, though, Florian had a trick readied to counter it.  Fleuri even attempted to employ one or two of the tricks that his previous opponents in this dreamscape had successfully used against him, but the Mirror Knight had an answer for them too- even when they fought using the same style, Fleuri's weaknesses were not Florian's.

The duel ultimately concluded with a sword thrust cleanly through Fleuri's neck, despite a clumsy attempt to parry it using one of the very tricks that Florian had employed previously.  There was never question what the outcome of the duel would be.  In truth, the only reason it lasted as long as it had was because Mirror Knight Florian had allowed it to.  As with the previous duels, Fleuri vanished from his spot upon Florian's sword and found himself back where he started.

"Now [i]there's[/i] the Flower of the North that I was looking to face," Florian complimented him despite the sheer lopsidedness of their scuffle.  "It has been a long time since I've had someone use one of my own techniques against me."

There was much that Fleuri learned from this fight.  About himself, about his combat style, and about moving forward.  He might not be able to mimic foes like the Mirror Knight could, but if he applied what he learned from being so masterfully beaten at his own game, he'd surely be able to greatly refine his swordsmanship skills.
[/hider]

Upon awakening, it took a few moments for Fleuri to be sure that he was truly awake and back in his bed in Candaeln.  The first thing he did was climb out and make his way to his desk.  Still groggy and not fully awake, he lit a candle, fetched writing implements, and began to recount the dream in an almost trance-like state.  He had to write it all down before the details faded from his memory like dreams often do.  It was clear that the normal rules of dreaming had not applied to this dream- it was far longer, more painful, and more enlightening than any ordinary dream, but he wasn't going to take the risk.

He recounted the foes he fought, the defeats he suffered, and the mistakes he made in each one.  By far the largest section was dedicated to his duel and interactions with the spirit of Sir Florian.  He painstakingly recorded his duel down to the most minute details- he did not want to forget anything about that fight, for both practical and sentimental reasons.

There were also two other sections that merited extra attention- the duel with the Demonbreaker and the showdown with the dreadful dragon Volkstraad.  Having missed the chance to do battle with Erich's animated husk in the tomb, and having just gotten his fire back thanks to the Mirror Knight, Fleuri had been quite willing to face such a legendary figure in a duel.  The appearance of Volkstraad carried a much different tone.  It was a malevolent, honor-devoid monster that took a saint to kill, and even then she did not face it alone.  Even in the dreamscape, with its assurance of revival if killed, the terrible dragon's arrival had struck fear into his heart.

By the time he had written all he could, the sun had risen.  Now fully awake, Fleuri dressed himself and exited his room.  Perhaps he could seek out Dame Tyaethe- as a paladin and a founding Iron Rose, she'd be able to cast some light on this dream, and in the very least confirm or debunk the things he saw and heard within it.

Fleuri found Tyaethe sitting in the main entrance room, looking like either she was gearing up to go outside, or had just come from outside.

[color=A0A0A0]"Dame Tyaethe?"[/color] he asked, approaching.  [color=A0A0A0]"I had a very strange dream last night, one that seemed to break every rule of dreaming.  I don't suppose you could help me figure out whether or not it was just a creation of my imagination, or if it might be more than that?"[/color]

[@Raineh Daze]