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Sergio della Gherardesca


Before Sergio had a chance to respond with a wise remark, Lein had already found more interesting playthings - probably for the best, really, he was beginning to be tempted to actually attempt to down the Boot to show him up.

"Ciao, Sers." The Knight bowed elegantly in kind to Fleuri and Lucas, giving a particular nod to Fleuri - Sergio had related to much of his tale that he'd learned from the archivist (The Knight was a nosy one, and liked keeping tabs on the interesting recruits).

"No." He replied to Lucas, glancing to the Hundi who'd already began bantering. "Ser Lein had an outing planned. I found myself interested, perhaps...mistakenly, hmmhmm."

"As for the Griffin..." The Knight finally looked back to Lucas, continuing. "Indeed you are to be applauded - were I not entangled with making sure you weren't mauled by the backlines I'd have done so at the time, eh?"

Lucas was one he'd yet to be properly acquainted with, he'd seem to have come in through the side door with Gerard, who he was genuinely very impressed by and interested in, but already it seemed stories were piling up.

He'd best be careful with that, lest ego is to fester.

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Although he'd never really spoken with Sergio or Lein, he'd become aware of them, in his short time in The Order. Sergio had become a friend of Gerard and so Lucas - who was prone to hanging around, close by to his idol, like some kind of crazed stalker - had come to notice him by name and face. Lein, however, was simply hard not to notice. The Hundi's colourful personality made him must-see entertainment at times, and Lucas had already decided that he liked the archer....

"Now, if you'd regale me, where'd you learn to move like that?" ....So when Lein completely ignored the question and went on to ask his own, Lucas just found it really, really funny. This was going to be a fun night.... "Did the Flower of the North teach you that one?"

Before Lucas could answer, Sergio decided to actually reply to his question, albeit a little cryptically. "I see," Lucas said to the blazing-red haired knight. Something about that answer suggested there was more to the story.

"As for the Griffin..." The Knight finally looked back to Lucas, continuing. "Indeed you are to be applauded - were I not entangled with making sure you weren't mauled by the backlines I'd have done so at the time, eh?"

Lucas laughed. "That woulda been a right hoot. T'was probably enough room for two or three more knights on the back of that thing," he joked. "Beast was huge. Here's to not being mauled," he toasted as he raised his tankard to Sergio in thanks. "Cheers for that, boss."

After taking a quick swig, he looked to Lein at his side. "Was in the circus, I was. Grew up with a travelling troupe. Turns out I had a talent for trapeze work, so I spent most me childhood as part of 'The Flying Family, The Fergusons.' Not my real family, like. But Silus, the ringmaster, said it had a better ring to it."

Talking about his old life was a kind of bittersweet of the most potent extremes. He would let the others say whatever they wanted about it and seek to change the subject.

"So this outing... You got family in the city? Friends?" he asked. "How about you two?" he offered the question to Fleuri and Segio too, realising that he didn't really know anything about any of them. And he was eager to get to know his comrades better. Fleuri and Sergio had a similar nobleness to their demeanour. Nobles often came from families with interesting histories that went back generations. And Hundi were completely alien to the gypsy lad, so anything they had to offer in the way of their background, Lucas was all ears.

For a second or two, though, he was completely taken out of the conversation when he glanced at Lein's hand, looked away and then did a double-take. The hand was not quite as furry as Lucas had expected. Or rather, it wasn't furry at all. Reon's grace! Lucas quickly stopped staring and got back in the conversation. Although, it wouldn't be long before his curiosity got the better of him. For now, though, he left the matter.

Turned out that Lein's loud proclamations upon their arrival had not gone unnoticed and the table of knights had drawn the attention of others around them. Amongst the mutterings was the hushed words, "Griffin riders?" and "That's the Flower of the North."
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The look Tyaethe gave him was one of complete confusion at the sudden change in topic. Was the apple or pear harvest going to be good...? 'It's been relatively sunny this year' was the closest the vampire could give to input on farming matters, she was a knight who lived in the city. The state of a particular fruit harvest was information rather outside of her area of expertise.

"In case you forgot, I have lived in the same room here for two hundred years," Tyaethe stated after a long, awkward pause, "I do not know how the fruit harvest progresses. I also grew up near the border; the focus there was far more on grapes. The weather has been good for that."

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Fionn shook his head, utterly unperturbed by either the pause or the look that Tyaethe gave him.

Staring out at the opposite wall in thought, he didn't even notice the look, in fact.

"No, that won't do. Grapes are too soft, and I don't want to have to try and divide them out by weight anyways."
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Too soft...? What could grapes possibly be too soft for that would require apples? And in what way could the apple harvest be relevant? Her only thought was that a good harvest would mean a glut of the fruit, which would imply they were all being wasteful, but the number of wasteful options for fruit seemed quite limited. A knight might consider training of some sort, which might mean...

"Please don't throw apples at the other knights."
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The Flying Family! That was it - Lein hadn't quite pinned down where he had seen those acrobatic movements before; where else other than the great Fergusons! A gladiator, a paladin, a trapeze artist and a dog walk into a bar... heh. The goddesses must have a sense of humor, to have collected everyone here. Though as his curiosity floated around his mind, Lein stole a glance at a murky expression on Lucas. "A circus, huh? Must've been quite the sight!" Everyone had a stake they wanted buried. Lein knew better than to pry.

"So this outing... You got family in the city? Friends?"

Family, huh. Lein took a long swig, the reflection of the lone Hundi tilting backwards into the cup. For the briefest of moments, a great loneliness washed over him, a gentle wave rolling over the deck of a distant whaling ship. A shiver up his spine whispered many names, unuttered for years.

They're all going on without you.

But as the cup went down, Lein's expression betrayed nothing but playfulness one would come to expect from him. "Eh, just visiting a bunch of riff-raff I ran into way back when." Lein continued, inconspicuously slapping a warning to Sergio's legs with his tail. No ratting. "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."

Lein rapped his fingers across the countertop, catching Lucas' strange fascination with them. "But this bar has the loosest pockets in Aimlenn, so who am I to complain." With a flurry of both real and ossific fingers Lein produced a couple of coins, juggling them around between the digits. It will be a while before the drunkard he swiped these from woke up anyway. "Besides! If I can learn from the Champion himself, why, it'll be all worth it!" With a flick, Lein shot a coin across the counter-top and towards Fleuri's mug.
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Fionn looked up with sudden surprise at that suggestion.

"Why would I ever do something like that?" he asked incredulously. "Not only would that be a waste of perfectly good apples, how would that do anything useful for any of the rest of us?"
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Sergio della Gherardesca


A blink as the tail slapped his leg, just as he was sipping a freshly ground coffee he'd silently ordered.

The sudden white hot urge to backhand Lein at that moment would probably have been unquenchable for a weaker man.

"No family around these parts for me." Sergio said, as Iaconic as he'd always been about the subject. He smiled and took another long drink to Lucas' gratitude.

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"Oh, I'm sure." Renar smirked back at Cecilia, playing along with her game for now. Unless she was an idiot, she knew he knew that she knew he knew. He casually took one of the aforementioned pastries and popped it into his mouth, chewing. Hm. That was quite spicy. If he hadn't been prepared to taste something like this, no doubt he'd be having the same reaction the captain had when he walked into the chapel. With that said...

"For shame, trying to kill people with your baking in a holy place?" Renar let an exaggerated cough out, if only to cover up the fact that he actually needed to. The spice had been getting to him a bit.

"Anyways, all that said, I think everything went rather well on the previous mission, yes? Minimal casualties, and all targets accounted for."
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Sir Renar hadn't done more then an exaggerated, half-joking cough. The Knight-Captain had to be made of stern stuff. Thus, she couldn't let the spice keep getting to her. Fanilly took another deep breath, attempting to close out the lingering burning sensation as best she could. She hadn't spoken up in time to prevent Sir Renar from falling victim to the prank pastries, but at the same time she didn't seem to have needed to.

Coughing slightly in a bid to clear the spice again, she took a deep breath. By no means could the Knight-Captain go around distributing these spicy pastries. It just wasn't appropriate!

On the note of the prior mission, however, the petite blonde's mood sobered once more. The spice was fading, and even if it hadn't it couldn't serve as an effective distraction from the matter any longer.

"The Bandit King is dead, but none of our number should have fallen," she responded, "Sir Rickert should have been standing among us today."

She had to perform better next time. She had to.

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Cecil inhaled sharply, holding herself back from 'accidentally' having Shael launch an arrow right in Renar's knee, thus, ending his knightly career. The mood had turned somber once more, and Fanilly was clearly still having the weight of everything on her small shoulders. On one hand, she agreed with Sir Renar. It had gone well. Losses like that just happened on the battlefield either due to accidents, being plain unlucky, carelessness, or any of number of factors really. On the other...he had absolutely no tact whatsoever.

"Not wrong," Cecil replied. "I'm used to some missions going much worse. I should tell you about that time my entire squad got wiped and I had to finagle my way out of a forest while being chased by rebels with nothing more than normal archery skills, a pot-lid and five arrows sometime."

The archer approached Fanilly, and without so much as caring for decorum, wrapped an arm around the knight captains shoulders with a friendly smirk.

"I'd say you did really well, captain,." She'd press a finger into her cheek. "So don't overthink things too much captain." Fanilly, if she hadn't objected so far, would find Cecil making an attempt to now drag her from the chapel. "I'm sure Rickert would prefer us having a toast or something in his honor instead of sulking around like this. Want to join us for a drink or ten Sir Renar?"
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Ah. Evidently, Cecilia had been trying to divert the captain from this topic, judging by her reaction when he'd brought up. Still, he couldn't exactly see the past now, could he? How was he supposed to know? Still, Renar supposed he ought to at least join in on cheering Fanilly up, if only to make sure he didn't face an arrow in the back some time soon.

"Captain, with all due respect, that's impossible. Men will die on the battlefield, whether it be to poor fortune or just a moment's distraction. Frankly, the fact that there weren't more casualties with the ambushes the bandits sprung is a small miracle in the first place. I'd say you did far better than anyone could have possibly expected in your position, really. Especially considering it was your first command."

He sighed, not stopping Cecilia as she started dragging their commanding officer from the chapel. Someone more dutiful would have stopped this, but really, the Knight-Captain was a teenager. She'd have to face alcohol eventually, and better to have someone supervise and make sure anything idiotic didn't happen. Renar didn't need the Iron Rose to lose its first captain in five years off of random stupidity or scandal.

"Oh, very well. I could use a drink, and I suppose someone has to chaperone and make sure no one loses their lunch."

Renar walked by Cecilia's side, briefly murmuring in her ear quietly, just out of earshot of Fanilly.

"I can't exactly scry the bloody past the moment I walk in a room, now can I?"
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They thought she did well? Even though one of the Knights had died under her command?

She couldn't believe it. Not really. Even if she was told as much, there was no way the Captain of the Iron Rose Knights should be losing anyone to bandits.

Was there?

Fidgeting slightly on her feet, Fanilly averted her eyes. She was still in her armor. She hadn't even taken it off yet, not when she'd gone right to the shrine.

It was undeniable that they'd prevented many more people from suffering by crushing the Bandit King and his troop. The man would not have stopped, and would have claimed many more lives then that of Sir Rickert. But could she really feel happy about a victory when it cost the life of one of her knights?

She was pulled from her thoughts once more when Dame Cecilia went so far as to put an arm around her, nearly jumping with surprise. The poke to her cheek didn't help, either.

"A-a toast?" Fanilly questioned in surprise as she suddenly found herself being dragged from the shrine before she had quite the presence of mind to put up a resistance, "Ah, but surely there's business to attend to...!"

She'd only ever tasted minimal amounts of alcohol before! Surely the Knight-Captain indulging during the day like this would be unbecoming, wouldn't it?!

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Of course, it wouldn't do for the Knight-Captain to be caught getting sauced when she was ostensibly on the job in the middle of the day, no matter how much the girl probably could actually use a drink to decompress from her first command. So Renar had the decency and tact to at least sneak the three into the wine cellar, where there was a table and stools in a side room for exactly this purpose.

"Apologies for the accomodations, Captain." Renar said conversationally as he strode back out into the actual cellar to pick out a decent wine. Not that Cecillia was helping, given that she just picked a random cask to pour out of for herself and started imbibing liberally. So it fell to him to find something suitable for someone younger. After some searching through the cellar, he managed to find a semi-sweet bottle of red blend. Not too harsh, not too cloying. Easy drinking, especially for someone likely unused to alcohol.

Renar returned to the side room with some cups, pouring Fanilly a moderate measure of the wine and passing it over.

"Pardon the assumption, but I would believe you've not had much opportunity to imbibe?" He asked, casually swirling his cup before taking a brief sniff. If whoever taught her etiquette had any idea what they were doing, she would know this step already, if only to appease the wine snobs among nobility. If not, well, it was a good thing he was demonstrating now.

"In any case, Captain, try not to feel too bad about drinking in the middle of the day. No reasonable person would begrudge you a chance to collect yourself after the stresses of both your first command and your first battle. Which, again, I believe Dame Cecilia and I could both reiterate until we run out of air that you cannot control every casualty on the battlefield. We got off extremely lightly, thanks in part to correct strategy. Please just accept this before I start believing to myself that I'm brown-nosing." He chuckled ruefully, sipping at his wine. Hmm. Not his favorite, if only for the sweetness, but it'd likely be more to her taste than hers anyways. Still, he couldn't find any fault with the actual wine beyond personal preference.
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Ah, they'd ended up here already...

Fanilly was of course aware Candaeln had a wine cellar, but she certainly hadn't expected to be down there so soon. Just drinking alcohol now, was it really okay?

Still having yet to remove her armor, the Knight-Captain shifted awkwardly as she watched Dame Cecilia simply open a cask and begin drinking in a rapid-fire fashion.

At the very least Fanilly knew that definitely wasn't what she should be doing. It was a few moments later that Sir Renar retrieved a bottle and poured some for her as well. It was red, and while Fanilly's knowledge of alcoholic beverages was very limited she at least had a vague idea of what that meant.

And, thankfully, she knew what to do with wine before drinking it, swirling it briefly before taking a sniff. She had absolutely no clue how to interpret the scent, but at least she knew this was what someone was meant to do when drinking wine.

She listened to Sir Renar for a moment, still idly swirling the glass of wine as she did.

Wasn't it her job to keep control of the battle as much as she could?

It wasn't as if she could fully control everything. She'd studied military strategy, been tutored in warfare in preparation for her role. She knew that much was entirely impossible. But at the same time, these were the Iron Rose Knights, weren't they? Against bandits...

The monstrous figure of Jeremiah loomed in her mind. Her neck felt a little sore again, and after a moment's hesitation she took a sip of the wine.

It was sweeter then she expected, easier to drink then the last and only time she'd had wine prior.

"... I know," Fanilly said, quietly, after a pause, "I know it's impossible to control every element of the battlefield. Even Saledrin of Talderia wasn't able to do something like that. But..."

Her gaze drifted downwards.

"... Sir Rickert shouldn't have had to die..."

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Ugh. Had he been this moody at the captain's age? In objective, unbiased terms, probably. But Renar would never actually admit that. So instead, he took a fortifying sip of wine, trying to determine how best to break up Fanilly's little pity session. He'd never interacted with Sir Rickert much, but from what he had, Renar suspected the senior knight had wanted little to do with him. Any...commiseration on his part would be rather insincere.

So he sighed.

"Good men die. Bad men die. There's no way around saying this, but as a leader of men, it's something you'll have to get used to. The goddesses only know I'll probably die in battle before I get what I want out of life." He chuckled grimly, finishing his cup and pouring himself a second one. Probably best to cut himself off after this one, if only to make sure someone in this group stayed relatively sober. "Unfortunately, the realm needs the Iron Rose to accomplish the crown's goals more than it needs every single knight to live long and healthful lives. I've no other advice other than to keep the long-term in mind. Always remember that your knights fight and die in service of duty, so that threats to the realm are eliminated."

Renar had no personal attachment to the concepts of duty or service, but hopefully it was something that would motivate Fanilly. Based on his own personality, any talk of helping others would rightfully come across as a lie, so this was the best he could do. Best to move the conversation on.

"That all said, how has administration been thus far? I've been rather concerned with the state of the Order over the last few years, given how we've had no central leadership thus far. Some matters of bookkeeping have wound up falling to me at times." If only because he'd forcefully taken over from certain idiots who'd had no idea how to balance an account book to save their lives.

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While Sir Renar's blunt attitude wasn't the most reassuring, at the same time at their core his words had managed to get through in some respect.

Sir Rickert shouldn't have died. That much was certain. That much couldn't be forgotten going forward.

But at the same time, at the very least, he died for a cause. He died fighting to defeat ruthless, murdering bandits and protect the people of Thaln.

Fanilly took a deep breath, glancing down towards her wine for a few moments a she did. If a knight had to fall, at least falling for the sake of their homeland was a meaningful death, no matter how brutal. She wasn't sure if she found this entirely comforting or not, but at the same time perhaps Sir Rickert was the sort of person who would have wanted to die for such a purpose, if he had to die.

She couldn't say for certain, but somehow it felt as if it may have been true.

"... If nothing else, the goddesses will look upon him warmly for his deeds," she said, finally, before taking another small sip of her wine. "And the people who may have suffered without him, too..."

Fanilly inhaled deeply, then exhaled, feeling some of the tension in her slim frame dissipate.

She wasn't entirely prepared for the change of topic, but it only took her a moment to collect her thoughts and respond.

"I've had my maids organizing paperwork for me to look through," she answered, "It's tedious, but it hasn't been so bad. I think the senior knights mostly did a fine job of keeping things in order, though I guess there's still a few things they're looking for. I'm thankful to my tutors, I wouldn't have been able to handle any of this without them."

Even with the lessons in administration she'd received, that side of handling the order had seemed just as daunting as the military and symbolic parts of her role. But the paperwork had thankfully been easier to understand then she'd feared, and there were other officials within the order who were there to assist with communicating the necessary information to her, such as the order's Treasurer.

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Well. Renar had been half expecting his attempt at comforting the girl to be in vain. Seemed he was less bad at this than he'd anticipated. That, or Fanilly was just easily influenced. One of these thoughts was more distressing than the other. The thought crossed his mind to bring up a certain...issue he'd been having. But that would be overreaching. Too blatantly greedy. Besides, judging by her demeanor, Fanilly was more likely to take pity on the idiot than anything.

He glanced over to Cecilia for a moment, who was still more focused on getting absolutely sauced than anything. And here he'd thought she wanted to comfort the girl more than he did. Suppose that with someone else here, it was more convenient for the archer to take advantage of all the free alcohol instead. Good thing he wasn't in charge of managing things down here. Pity the poor bastard who'd have to account for the missing wine in the evening. And on that note...

"Speaking of such, you may want to inform whomever is in charge of kitchen inventory of the better part of a cask mysteriously going dry today." Renar said wryly, jerking his head over in Cecilia's direction. "That all said, should an opening ever arise for administration, I'd like to put my name forward. I'm told I've something of a talent for these matters. Understand that this isn't me asking for a favor, of course. Just that I'd simply like to be considered in the running. Test me on this however you wish."
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While the matter of Sir Rickert's death was by no means forgotten, at least for the moment Fanilly had been reminded that he died in the line of duty.

Still, her heart remained burdened, even if it was slightly less burdened thanks to Sir Renar's words. Still, she was most certainly going to pray for him once more before she slept that night, and again the next day. His just soul would surely reach the Sun and Moon, but aiding him on the way was the only way in which she could now assist him.

"... A-ah, Dame Cecilia..."

Just what was she doing? The Archer Knight had managed to drink almost an entire cask of wine in the same amount of time she had taken only two sips of her glass. Was this some kind of secret skill of hers? Fanilly could only hope she was almost done, or else they'd need to start accounting for the disappearance of multiple casks.

"... I'll consider your proposal, Sir Renar," she said, after a few moments of witnessing Dame Cecilia's stunning skills in getting plastered, "A Knight-Captain should use the skills of her knights to the best of their ability, after all."

Fanilly took another small sip of wine. She didn't want to get drunk, so she had to try and pace herself. She had never pushed her alcohol tolerance before, and feared the worst.

"But I will consider any candidates equally."

While her tone was still subdued, at least she had begun talking about other matters now.

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Renar Hagen


"Of course. As I said, I only ask to be considered." Renar inclined his head towards the Knight-Captain, finishing his second cup of wine and not pouring himself another. He knew when to stop, on both accounts. No point in pushing too hard. So long as he was remembered and had his foot in the door, it'd create one opportunity or another for himself somewhere down the line.

He followed Fanilly's gaze towards Dame Cecilia. Sun and Moon, was she really almost through the entire cask? May as well have just been drinking straight from the barrel at this point instead of pouring. Renar looked wearily towards Cecilia, his shoulders slumping slightly.

"Perhaps I should escort her back to somewhere she can't get deeper into her cups." Renar sighed as he stood, not looking forward to dragging the drunken louche out of the wine cellar. Frankly, he ought to just dump her into the courtyard and wash his hands of the matter.

"Some unsolicited advice, Captain: should you not wish to end up like that," He gestured towards Cecilia. "Take a free night and try to determine your limits. Have one of your maids, preferably one not inclined to gossip, watch over you and determine exactly how much wine it takes for you to become drunk. It helps immensely at social functions where you'd prefer not to embarass yourself."
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