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... not that there are any.

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Sadon's itching feeling came true, sounds surreptitiously emanated around both him and Vitius. He noticed the fair-haired vampire dropping into a guarded stance, pale eyes swimming around the treeline. Sadon unsheathed his sword and dagger, watching the vampire's blindspots while also looking around for the potential enemy. "What the-" Sadon muttered as the earth beneath him shook, almost making him lose his footing. Fortunately he caught himself at the last second and kept his balance.

"What was that."

The ride was uneventful, though he tried to stay awake he slipped in and out of consciousness despite not wanting to. Though Sadon's dreams kept him tossing and turning during the night, he soon learned to live with it. Choosing to avoid sleep with an 'occupation' like his was a fool's errand. This meant a restless night, at best, and a sleepless one at worst. He was jostled to wake by the stop of the carriage, rubbing the exhaustion and sleepiness from his eyes, he peered outside. The place looked as eerie as it felt- dilapidated wood hugged the wall loosely with the smell carrying some sort of unidentifiable odour.

Sadon arched his neck left and right, letting his bones crack. He, too, pulled his scarf up and his faded hood down. With a short hop he got off the carriage, the muddied earth sunk into his once clandestine metal grieves. Before looking around he mentally noted to polish them when he had the time. He had thought that the cold and unwelcoming atmosphere would subside, instead they made his hair stand on end. With the rain pelting on his hood, his lips cracked and he opened his mouth;

"Shall we?"

Sadon followed a few bodies distance away from Vitius, keeping his guard up for some unbeknownst reason.
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Contrary to his thoughts, it seemed like the red hoods didn't get along too well. The glue that held them together and kept them subservient was likely Commander Rouge and her two 'Captains'. It would be prudent to get, at the very least, amiable working relationship with his fellow hoods so that they come back alive from the impossible missions they were to be assigned.

The off-handed mention of the dead initiate made Sadon's stomach stir, this was how he they were to be treated. It wasn't too far off from his days in the Fendrel household. Atleast he was used to something- the fact that they were clearly expendable.

Sadon draped the cloak around his shoulders. Still, he had managed to survive thanks to some level of teamwork. It was a start. His thoughts were interrupted by a few teammates petering off and Brighid offering to heal the injured, she was ever the altruist. The injury on his ear was itched and stung but, luckily, had dried up- he didn't want Brighid to waste her mana. His eyes danced up and down each surviving initiate, each looking not worse for wear than when they had entered. A Hood, that had not given his name, being surprised at their apparent survival rate was noteworthy. All of the initiates exuded an air of competence, so that was slightly reassuring.

"I'll introduce myself again, I am Sadon Fendrel." He bowed lightly, referring to the other initiates. "If you need anything, feel free to approach me. With that, excuse me."

He turned on his heels, sauntering over to his assigned room to wash the caked up blood on his ear. He would likely visit the library or the armory next, maybe the 'sparring' area before going to dinner.

@c3p-0h Just for notification's sake.

An ear-piercing stomp roared throughout the hall- echoing a few times before dissipating. The low whispers and murmurs becoming pin-drop silence. Well, as silent as a bunch of rogues can muster. The speech that followed had a similar vibe to speeches made by his grandfather, the current patriarch of the Fendrel family. Needless to say it was a grandiose speech that leaned more on intimidation with a dash of inspiration. Soon they were quickly herded into clusters. Sadon's ears perked up when his last name was called. A few eyes were on him, likely from being referred to as 'Fendrel'.


Sadon was about to step into his room before he caught a familiar face; an acquaintance, O'Shay, Brighid O'Shay. She was the last person he expected here, sentenced no less. He had hoped that her reason for being here was not as bad as his. Before he could greet her but then she began releasing the chains of the sentenced with a spell. He raised a curious eye at this and tried to scuttle away, however she had already grasped his arms, the locks clicked and his hands were freed.

"Well, that's not good." Sadon mumbled, massaging his newly freed wrists. He had wanted to avoid trouble and recognition, but Brighid had already outed him by his last name so there was little point in hiding it. After she had introduced herself some had followed suit. He would keep these names in mind, making a special note to those who weren't human. While he had somewhat agreed with Brighid, her method came across as too heavy handed, even for someone as dense as him. Especially for those sentenced, whom he felt was likely to be punished more harshly. Sadon desired to just to blend in and be ignored, but this particular group had now stood out amongst the other initiates. He felt a pang of pity for the other girl- Eliza, who tried to reason with Brighid, though she seemed to stumble on herself. Others introduced themselves and left, some looked worried while some had a pleased look about them.

Sadon sighed. Raising both hands to the sides of his faded hood, he tugged it back a little. His grey, ashen hair pushed through- a trademark of his family, their grey hair being a dominant gene in with all the males and most females. The fabric went slithering down his hair like a living creature, coming to rest at his neck. There was a silent pause after the vampire Vitius had traded his 'life story'.

"I am Sadon, Sadon Fendrel." he said, finding his voice too stiff. "Listen, I am no one special... Maybe you have heard of my family, maybe you have heard the rumours about my brother. They, the- the rumours is just-" He stopped himself, something in him almost pushed him to tell someone, anyone. He recomposed himself. "They're all true, atleast as true as rumours begin with."

With an uncomfortable cough he changed the subject. "I mainly fancy the use of blades in combat. A shield on my right if I find it necessary, otherwise it's two blades. Let's get along."

Sadon stepped up to Finlay with his wrists together, "Chain me up. It matters little to me if I am chained or not. My life, in particular, belong to the Red Hoods- again, chained or otherwise."

He worried a little about what the others might think of him because of this, but he saw little reason to disobey those who held his life in his hands and that such actions would likely just bring them trouble.

"Brother... wh- why have you done this?" Sadon said on one knee, his voice breaking. The figure turned with a familiar yet uncharacteristic grin, animalistic yet the most genuine smile his sibling has had for the past handful of weeks. The ever-present figure in his life stood, almost as a foreigner, infront of him, a stranger whom he had no ties with. He clutched his side, blood slowly seeping out, he begged and pleaded again but to no avail,

"Y- You leave me little choice... brother."

Sadon was jostled awake by the abrupt lurch of the carriage. The dream kept replaying in his mind. Though showing little of it, he was in a sullen mood as he has been plagued by these 'dreams' for a few months now. He rubbed the sleepiness out of his eyes before deciding to just not sleep. A little fatigue sounded preferable than the perpetual reminders of his past. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he sat there watching the carriage sway back and forth. His thoughts moved to his life servitude with the 'Red Hoods' before being interrupted by a figure beside him speaking up, seeming to make idle chatter to pass the time,

"You, I reckon I've seen you before. Ferres- Fedndrel... Fendrel was it?" he said after a hacking cough, "What is a shitty miser from the noble families doing 'ere? Sentenced like an animal to these mad jailers like meself."

"... Reason is similar to most." Sadon managed to articulate loosely after the initial surprise of recognition, he pulled his washed out yellow hood further down, "Atonement for a crime committed."

The rest of the ride was uneventful. The stranger shrugged, seeming satisfied by the response and turned over to catch some sleep. Sadon sat there, rocked only by the oscillations of the carriage.

The carriage came to a complete stop. People were practically being thrown out of the carriage, 'ushered out' as they called it. One of the guard clasped his arm in a vice-like grip and yanked him out of the carriage. The sudden shift of imbalance made him lose his footing, causing him to flip frontwards. Sadon was nothing if not nimble, he caught himself mid-air, landing on his two feet instead of his face. The guards chuckled and cooed amongst themselves, 'Wow, ain't a Fendrel for nothing eh?'

"Alright, 'ser Aristocrat', all yous is to do is follow Finlay." his sentry instructed, pointing out a figure, "Tha' one with the displeased look about him."

Sadon nodded, letting them chain him before following the herd of yellow hoods. His tried to glue his eyes to the path ahead but was betrayed by a cursory glance towards the imposing castle. It felt more like a well-guarded fortress to him- nigh impenetrable in its design. Functionality over form was a succinct way to describe the castle. A quick glance-over made him consider the practicality of the design, situated over tall hills with walls too high to scale, coupled with a hefty drawbridge it looked almost impossible to attack.

It was a few more minutes of walking before they had reached the castle. It was as grandiose as he envisioned- Banners of velvet red adorned the walls, the stone looked nearly immaculate, as if they were tended to every week. The carpet, being the same colour as the banners, draped seamlessly across the stone floor. The ocean of red hoods made it seem like the yellow hoods were nothing more than a drop in the bucket.

Sadon's eyes finally landed on the three oppressive figures on the stage. The Red Hoods were secretive, but even he has heard of Blanchette Rouge. She was a nigh-legendary historical figure. It wasn't exaggeration to say that most persons ever attacked by Monsters were beholden to her in one way or another. It's how her connections were wide and varied and how the 'Red Hoods' could operate under no particular banner.

Sadon tried to cross his arms but couldn't because of the chains. He eyed the figures, waiting to be addressed.

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* Edited some stuff into Need-To-Know.
Yup this sounds like my kinda thing, interest!
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