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Roland pinched his forehead just above his nose and mentally sighed as Parthenia spoke, watching the situation unfold "I do not have to worry about unemployment, it seems." The delivery was dry but it was Roland's attempt at humor. Parthenia was undoubtedly going to be an attributing factor for the increased workload. Brief visits between her and Sherry were manageable but this was practically living together. It was enough to send a shiver down his spine.

Before he could see the small wyvern crawl out of Alphonse's coat, he was approached by an unfamiliar noble. Odd. He maintained a straight posture as she introduced herself that confirmed his initial assumption. The daughters of the nobility must have been fed well so have grown so tall. His expression softened slightly but didn't match the smile she put on display. Pernachis. He didn't recall ever meeting one in person but he knew to step carefully. Amethyst eyes flashed to her extended hand, processing the proper response, before he quickly gave Elevinthia his hand to complete the greeting.

"Roland Vaughann, guard to her royal highness." He spoke cleanly, gestured with a tilt of his head over to the red-headed princess. "I'm afraid I do not recall meeting, my lady." However, there was something familiar about her that Roland couldn't quite put his finger on. Frankly, he was glad that there was one person that hadn't immediately jumped to harass the princess.

Roland had been keeping his eyes on the princess the entire time. He was grateful for the Arch-bishop's presence. It was too soon to be having an incident. The princess's scolding brought his attention just in time to spot the young wyvern.Goddess Above. Roland raised a hand to stop her but he quickly lowered it back down. It was already too late for him to intervene, though he doubt anyone would have been capable of stopping her in that moment. Luckily, her highness seemed to realize her mistake and return to a proper sense of decorum. This was going to be happening all year long...

He turned his attention back to Elventhia, whom he had been walking alongside on the way to the mess hall "Her highness has a...fondness...for wvyerns. Please excuse her passion." Roland wasn't sure what use damage-control was at this point, but he had to at least try.

&




Arton felt a weight off his shoulders hearing the king speak and the high-strung tension slowly relaxed. His majesty’s words only strengthened Arton’s opinion on Galahad as a person to put his faith in. Between him and Ranbu, there was much he gained to learn from them. The viera, in particular, had shown him that in order to protect the others he would need to get not only stronger but faster. He lowered his eyes and took a slow, deep breath letting the events of the night settle in his mind. This quest had already shredded what preconceptions he had and they had barely taken the first step

“Of course, I’m looking forward to seeing you work.”

The peace lasted only for a moment as he heard Ranbu inviting the Skaelian woman to the group, turning his head to them. Her appearance and fighting style was too refined not to be a student at the Academy. He supposed that any of the Skaelians here would be seeing that the Academy produced the best of the best of Skael. As Ranbu approached them, Arton tried to find a place to avert his gaze after realizing he had been staring a little. Neve had been the one addressed so he held his tongue for her to reply first.

At the very least, these otherwise hot-headed individuals were quick to apologize to her. Neve’s smile returned to her lips as she gave Izayoi a nod of understanding, then did the same to Eliane. They appeared to be approachable, after all. Before she could give them a reply, however, Izayoi wandered off and began to speak about a chain of command. That was something that Neve knew that she shouldn’t be part of.

”No worries, friend. With so many people here, misunderstandings are bound to happen.” she told the red-haired woman in turn. Then, she glanced back up at Arton, silently suggesting that they be on their way.

Arton nodded and had begun to walk away from the group alongside Neve when Zeidgram dropped his name for leadership. The notion was not one he had harbored in his mind for a moment. Whoever was in charge wouldn’t change how he would act nor affect his goals, though he supported Ranbu’s nomination. The Skaelian warrior had practically frozen in place with a bit of color washing from his tanned skin. What had he done that warranted the red mage’s confidence?

Arton turned to face the group with uncertainty in his eyes. The words of Galahad and Leifur stung slightly but he was in agreement. He worked fine and well as a lone mercenary solving issues of petty bandits and invasive monsters, but he had never once led others on something as dangerous as this quest. He shook his head to dissuade Galahad’s worry “I admit that there is much I have to learn. I will do my best to be of help, but Neve and I must get going if we are going to help the injured.” With that, he turned to Zeidgram “I may not be ready for such a mantle, but I will earn it. You can be sure of it.” He spoke almost like a promise. Arton took another deep breath as he regrouped with Neve, gesturing with a nod that he was ready and eager to get moving.

The two made their way into a large chamber inside the castle that had been converted into a makeshift field hospital for the injured. Arton followed Neve’s lead as they treated the most severe injuries first. His job was mainly to stabilize and prepare the next patient while Neve used her white magic to quickly heal the wounds. While she focused on the patient, Arton did his best to raise the spirits of those next in line. He exchanged warm words and laughter with many of them, taking their mind off their pain. Despite Ranbu’s advice, one could say the two of them may have overdid it. Arton walked closely behind Neve as they returned to their quarters, wary she might faint or lose her balance. Arton stripped the bare minimum of armor to be comfortable and practically collapsed on his bed.



Roland always enjoyed the stillness and calm before a rainstorm. The muted sky and gentle winds a prelude to a force of nature impossible to precisely predict. A number of his most memorable hikes occurred during a downpour, drenched to the bone and winds cracking trees around him. He hoped, however, they would enter shelter before the first drops fell. It would not do for the Princess's first introduction to the other students and staff to be soaked like a wet dog. Roland had gotten so used to the typical company the Princess carried, that the thought of assessing new individuals and potential threats was almost exciting.

His father had tried to instill in him a faith as strong as his loyalty, but failed frustratingly close to success. Roland was a firm believer in the teachings of the church, but he was far from what one would called a zealot. Goddess or not, he was devout to the Princess first and foremost. That said, the Archbishop was a striking presence that incited a polite, head bow from him in reverence. His authority could match a king so it was no surprise he would have such a direct influence on the future of the land. Roland did his best to stand tall and straight, maintaining a strict bearing as he stood by the Princess's side.

He listened attentively to every word the Archbishop spoke, even if the Princess didn't. It was important he get a grasp of his new surroundings and acclimate to their new lifestyle. Roland had gone through the trouble of parsing through records of the monastery and its academy. There was no guarantee that House Grimdall's enemies wouldn't try anything while the Princess was here. He would not be caught complacent when the worst came to fruition. The announcement of the leader of the rival house drew little reaction from him. Far as he was concerned, Francette was already an adversary for being from a different nation.

Roland was quick to applaud and offer a small smirk to the princess at being assigned leader of their house "Congratulations, your highness." Being in public, he chose to avoid speaking her name in a more friendly manner. One more gift upon the mountains life had already bestowed her. Roland would ensure no one would dethrone her from the position and ensure that all opposition would be crushed. Success as house leader would bring further prestige to the Princess and such it was his mission to make it happen. The absence of their professor did not bring hope that it would be an easy endeavor.

Rather than take in its beauty, Roland observed which windows had a vantage point into the garden. It was bound to be a popular resting and gathering spot, so he would need to analyze every corner for exploitations. Gardening? He would have far more pressing matters like training and protecting the princess. Roland was not sure that the garden would even benefit from the Princess's guardianship. Judging by her whispers to Parthenia, it was not something he would need to consider further.

"I am sure you would like to know, Lord Elias." Roland stated coldly before turning his attention to the other two commoners. He did not know these two and it irritated him that they had addressed the princess so casually without a proper introduction. "Besides, it sounds to me that the Archbishop is more to the liking of you two with such open statements of admiration." Roland spoke more casually this time. It was not often he found himself in the company of commoners being by the Princess's side, thus he did not wish to burn a bridge before it was built.


Alright, he's done...I think.

Location: Balmung Castle | Castle Grounds
Mentions: N/A



Arton quickly turned to Neve while Galahad spoke, desperately trying to maintain his composure in the face of the growing chaos "Neve, let's see if anyone could you use your help. I'll make sure you don't get..." His gaze briefly flicked to the stand-off "...interrupted.". He placed a hand on her shoulder from behind with a gentle push in case the situation had made her freeze up. If a brawl was to break out, it'd be bad if the healer of their group got caught up in it. At this point, he doubt throwing his own voice and weight around would do any good.

It had astonished him how quickly Ranbu had jumped to the aid of Neve. Her methods might have been questionable but there was no denying her instincts and reactions were beyond words. Truth be told, if she hadn't moved first then Arton would have placed himself between Neve and the aggressive man. He didn't agree taking it to the degree she did, but he also respected the quick decision to defend a comrade. It was more of surprise that Zeidgram decided to join her in escalation, going so far as to strike one of the Skaellans and confirmed one of his theories about the man.

"I'm sure Galahad can smooth things over...I mean, I hope so." Arton tried to reassure Neve, but he was quite uncertain himself what was about to unfold. It was a chance, perhaps subconsciously, to distance himself from his countrymen. He never felt at ease with them "So, I'm not too bad at first-aid if you need me to help." Arton tried to offer. He was hesitant to help Galahad mediate the situation, not due to his incapability to do so but for the backlash it might incite. He was the humble, stalwart swordsman Arton and that was he had to be.
I should be able to write up a character tomorrow.

Location: Balmung Castle | Hallway
Mentions: N/A



Arton, now properly equipped in layers of armor, took position on the party's flank. His eyes flicked from corner to corner, door to door, anticipating an enemy to appear at any moment. The focus kept him distracted from anything else...save for the conversation the Valheimian's yelling brought to his attention. The tone of Ranbu's voice were enough of a hint as to what was coming. The thud of her boot across his face hit his ears before he had turned around. Virulent hatred laced every one of her words. It was not ignorant, mindless rage but a directed, powerful anger earned from trauma. His brows furrowed and lips curled as the man's life was ended, executed like an animal. It was one matter to take down an opponent in combat, but to end someone you had disarmed and taken prisoner?

"That's the plan? Slaughter to the last man without exception?" No attempt to hide his irritation was made. Zeidgram, expectedly, was quick to chime in and put his own thoughts into words better than Arton could. He gritted his teeth, grip tightening on his shield. Valheim was still the enemy in this situation. Nothing would come of getting into an struggle with his own ally. Arton, however, would remember this "Leifur's right, there are others who need our help." Arton glanced over at Galahad trying to gauge his reaction, before deciding to follow Leifur wherever he was going.

Peace. Was it such a distant reality? How much more did he have to lose before he could grasp a sliver of it? Proof that it could even be possible. Arton was determined to fight for it and save as many as he could along the way "Furi...." He spoke under his breath. Wherever she was, maybe just maybe this journey would be enough to pay her back.

Location: Balmung Castle | Hallway



Arton retrieved his sword from the Valheimian's now lifeless body, crimson blood splattered along his forearm. He turned his head to side as he felt a warmth suddenly get closer. The Sollan nearly jumped at the creature that was busy pummeling a soldier with fists of flame and fury. The screams uttered by its victim was enough to be glad it was on their side and a reminder not to anger his Vieran roommate. Foolishly, he had let the goblin-creature distract him and didn't catch one of the last attackers aiming their weapon towards them. Adrenaline shot through his veins as he hastily tried to raise his shield in time, but the shots rang out first. He blinked and in that time Neve had cast a barrier over them. He looked back at Neve for a brief moment after she expelled the rest from the room, giving a small, curt nod of thanks "Thanks to you.. After fully rising to his feet, Arton took a look at the rest of their attackers and then his comrades "Right. I'm sure they're fine but we group together.". They were victorious in this instance but it was going to be a long, long night.

Arton entered the Hallway alongside Galahad, ready to cover his flank if the hall were flooded with more foes. A bright smile flashed on his face followed soon by an strained laugh as they ran into the boisterous red-mage from earlier "I, uh, take it the rest of them with you are alright?" This was certainly going to be an on-going thing between them, wasn't it? He was hard-pressed to call it a 'battle' of wits but he couldn't find more accurate words at the moment "You're right, I'll be right back." Arton replied to Galahad before heading back into the room. He had most of the under-layers of his armor equipped already so it was a quick and simple task to put the rest on. This was the first time Arton had to fight with proper soldiers and he wondered if training and ability would be enough in lieu of real experience.

The Sollan emerged from their room once more, fully equipped in armor boasting a mixture of hard and soft plating "Well, I know at least ONE person that is enjoying themselves right now." He wasn't exactly sure if Ranbu could have 'fun', but judging by her earlier tone towards Valheim this was probably close. His head turned to gaze down one end of the hall and then the other "What do we do now? Gather our forces and then?" He was out of his element completely. The last time he was in this kind of situation...well he figured Galahad would understand what to do.

Location: Balmung Castle | Guest Bedrooom 1



Arton sat back after his own introduction, eager to to put names to the faces around the table. The first to speak up definitely made his eyes go wide as even he had heard rumors about the two from the villages he helped. Ranbu's temper seemed to wax and wane with every so-called wasted moment she was here, while Galahad appeared to have a more level-headed approach to all of this. The only feature that seemed to connect the two was their prowess for battle. Arton sincerely hoped that the presence of a common goal would deter hostilities between the two long enough to figure out what was going on. The Faye would was making a scene also introduced himself, perhaps as a way to deflect his failure. They seemed to be a fine person, if not easily spooked and twitchy.

Next to speak was a Viera that had caught his eye earlier amidst the table. Her speech was refined like Galahad's but in a more technical sense, which he supposed was evident by the tablet that she kept by her side. Arton would be the first to admit he was far from tech-savvy so he was relieved there was someone on the team who could handle that. A second Viera by the name of Leifur, the victim of the butter-blunder, spoke after Arbora. It would seem they would have a considerable front-line of fighters looking around the table. The rest of the able soon followed, a party from parts all across the continent.

Arton had rushed towards the corner with his weapons the moment they entered the room. He wasted no time examining his sword for any nicks or scratches that may have come from mishandling it. The same, meticulous process was conducted with his shield as well with relief washing over him that they lacked damage. His arms were designed for heavy use but having them anything less than polished and pristine felt like a disservice to his master. He retrieved the rest of his gear and situated it next to one of the beds closest to the door. Arton rooted through his pack while Neve looked over the city and gritted his teeth as he pulled out two empty potion bottles. He had forgotten to get them refilled on his way here.

Realization struck his features as Neve came back into the room. He and Galahad had been set up in the same room as Arbora and Neve, two girls. His eyes quickly darted over to Galahad for his reaction, a small pressure rising in his chest. A loud noise interrupted the rising anxiety within him. What had been a look of discomfort quickly turned into expression of readiness. Arton returned the nod to Galahad and quickly picked up his sword and shield he'd left by the bedside. This was exactly why he always had some kind of armor on. As the sounds of footsteps drew closer to their room, Arton glanced first to Neve and then Arbora. Neither were close-ranger fighters so it would be up to him and Galahad to keep whatever it was back.

His muscles tightened the moment Neve opened the door and the smell burst into the room. Arton kept his gaze trained on the door as he reached off to his side and gripped the staff with his free hand. He moved up closer to the door, handing Neve her weapon while he placed himself in front of her. Arton slid his sword from its scabbard and placed the sword just over the top brim of the shield, lowering his stance ready for a burst of moment. His eyes caught the enemy just after Galahad "Right behind you!" The young Sollan exclaimed, pushing forward as Galahad made the opening move. Arton slammed into an attacker on the far right that had been unbalanced by the dragoon's swing, shield-first. Most of his experience was against bandits and monsters, not trained soldiers, but that wouldn't deter him. He pulled his sword back behind the shield and thrusted it underneath into a gap in the armor. Whoever they were, they would regret every choice that had brought them here.
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