Theobald hung onto the Commander's every word, pleased to hear that the old war hero perceived the situation in a similar manner as himself. The former soldier knew better than anyone else that he was born in a relatively peaceful world, the conflicts and suffering he faced on the battlefield all his own doing. Were he born but a decade or two ago, when the world was filled with strife and when might truly did make right, perhaps he would never had struggled with the emptiness he felt in the present.
"How unfortunate. I request you keep me informed should there be any updates on the situation." But as expected, Commander Fyodor would not allow him to act without the full approval of the powers above, and as long as there was no evidence of foul play the kingdom would not send anyone out to pursue their vengeance. With a slow nod, the Scion glanced towards the double doors, noticing the approaching party as the war hero had and sent the man off with a salute. "Until we meet again, sir."
Following the instructions of the senior Templar, Theobald obediently joined the others in the procession to the main chapel, feeling Sara's gaze upon his back as the Templars had been ordered to follow behind their Scions. If he were to be honest with himself, the former soldier envied the armors gifted to the Templars, existing as yet another reminder of his confinement and the coddling of the church. Although, compared to the familiarity of his military uniform, perhaps he was better off without it. He was used to the feeling of polyester and army-grade body armor, and was certain that attempting to fight in anything aside from it would feel like walking in a different person's skin.
He shed his thoughts as they reached their destination, another set of double doors opening to reveal the audience of influential figures and various nobles, the flash of paparazzi and the whispers of gossip familiar yet tiresome. Knowing that they were here for the new Time Scion and not himself, and even further understanding that if they were it would be for the Fire Scion, their presence seemed more irritating than usual. His features pulled into a frown, the warhawk observed the sight of the noble Tsar among the world leaders in attendance. Feeling ashamed that such a person would bow even tangentially to a mere solder such as himself, Theobald would have no doubt bowed deeper in return if the ceremony wouldn't have been disrupted by his actions.
The ceremony, not unlike the conferment of the titles of Time Scion and Templar, went about as expected. A formal affair, completely devoid of any personal attachment. Having a complicated relationship with religion, born believing in the goddess but spurred by her followers' decisions, the former soldier didn't know what expression to make as the crowd praised the goddess and all of her creations.
When the congregation dispersed briefly as they moved locations for the after party, Theobald spent most of his time during traversal staring silently out at the scenery rushing past his car window, watching as the sun dipped below the horizon and the city lights flickered on to greet the night. Though he had the power to light his cigar on his own, the familiarity of a lighter's metallic click was cathartic in of itself, the smoke trailing out the open window as he did his best to ignore his company. The Fire Scion could never be trusted alone, after all, and so his Templar sitting beside him during the car ride was nothing more than a drain on his patience.
"Leave me." As soon as he arrived at Gile Manor, the former soldier sent his perpetual shadow away. Not even attempting to be subtle with his disdain as he left her behind, his mood soured by the armor she donned during the ceremony, the large man wasn't certain what he expected to feel when he joined the festivities. Relaxed? Relieved? No, just more of the same, completely out of his element among the higher caste of society.
The name of the Time Scion was on everyone's lips, both the current and former, the conversations freely spoken for anyone to hear unlike at the ceremonies before. But even with the significantly less formal atmosphere, it was still a noble's environment, and so Theobald expected to relegate himself to the sidelines. Or, perhaps, speak with one of the few people he knew at the party. Their hunting trip was on the horizon after all, he would need to straighten out the details with the Templar of Gravity to iron out the details.
And then he saw her.
He wasn't certain if they just happened to meet gazes, or if the woman had been staring at him for a longer period of time. Her approach was immediate, beelining for him through the crowd without a single complaint from the nobility despite the armor she refused to doff, the former soldier's impression of the woman increased slightly by the sight as strolled up to him and spoke her greeting with a great, big smile. Her name continued to escape him, but the Fire Scion recognized the face of the one who gave out cookies to her fellow Templars and the other Scions. A strange one to be sure.
Perhaps the Templar of Metal realized that offering her prosthetic hand would draw attention to it and offered her real one, yet the towering figure's gaze still drifted towards it. He wondered what the story was behind her replacement limb, the large hand that clasped around hers squeezing with a strength that tested the limits of what a human hand could endure. It was customary, at least for the former soldier, to test how strong of a grip a fighter had whenever he met one.
"Likewise." Not making it clear if he meant he was just as honored to work with a fellow soldier, or if he knew of the Templar as much as she knew of him, Theobald shook their connected hands once before letting go. Despite having observed him from a distance, the redhead seemed to feign interest in his thoughts on the afterparty, and so the former soldier played along if only to break the monotony of standing around awkwardly. "It feels restrictive. I am not used to spending time around the nobility. I feel more comfortable in a barracks than a ballroom."
While the circumstances of her arm were up for debate, it was a nice change of pace that there seemed to be at least one person who recognized him for his reputation rather than position. Meeting her grin with his usual, stern expression, the warhawk stared down at his impromptu companion as he attempted to grumble somewhat amicably, "What are you so happy about? Was your attempt at currying favor with that box of pastries of yours successful?"