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fifthfang:
lucius-of-cornwell:
@askdemons | @lucius-of-cornwell | @fifthfang
“Legault!” he gasped, relaxing visibly. Not the boys. The boys hadn’t followed. Thank goodness. “Oh, Legault, thank heaven you’re all right. Yes, by the grace of God, I’m still in one piece. Karel came to my rescue in the nick of time.”
There were so many other questions on the tip of his tongue. How did you find us? Have you checked in on the boys? Are they all right? Are you all right? But the words just didn’t form that way. Instead, the words that formed were,
“Sit down and have some water. You must have had quite a journey.”
The look he gave Karel read much the same, but without the words. That made two of his good friends who were safe, and here. One more piece of proof that the whole world hadn’t gone to hell overnight. Thank heaven, and again, thank heaven.
@askdemons | @lucius-of-cornwell | @fifthfang
The second, of course. But Legault had nodded quietly at the first, as well. Though his visits to the orphanage had grown spare as he’d ventured farther and farther afield to lend aid to the remains of the Fang, he still returned when he could. He and Lucius had always talked – but more to the point, he and his nephews had also talked. The story of the swordsman learning the staff was one neither Lugh nor, more truculently, Raigh, could leave alone. They regaled him with tales of how the swordmaster had gone from closing scratches to mending Lugh’s sprained ankle, nestled among the memories of mock-fights and bedtime stories. Truly, the boys had loved him.
“I’m glad of that. On all counts.” Both Karel’s and Lucius’s. He shook his head lightly, laughing. “After all that, you’re still worried about hosting me?” He waved a hand at the stable that surrounded them, but settled in as invited, taking water for himself before passing it to Karel.
“Colin is exactly where you told me he should be,” he said, forestalling Lucius’s immediate need to ask. “And thriving, from what it sounds. I owe him an apology for not staying, and asking his guardians to avoid mentioning me. I hadn’t a doubt he’d have wanted to come along, had he known. Lugh and Chad are with Roy’s army.”
He held there, gauging both of their reactions, the next statement weighing more than he wanted to admit. “I haven’t seen Raigh. I was hoping you knew what had happened to him.”
@askdemons | @lucius-of-cornwell | @fifthfang
Karel chuckled a bit, taking the water. Truly unstoppable. Near death experience, and Lucius wouldn’t be stopped from trying to cater to a guest.
“With Roy’s army.. Roy. The young lord?” Karel asked, raising an eyebrow. He wasn’t surprised, that of course Eliwood’s son would have a hand in all of this. But he couldn’t get the idea of Roy being but a child from his head. It really had been a long time.
He leaned against a post there nearby. He wasn’t faint, or worn out, but there was that hazy cloud of exertion floating around his head, it felt.
“Raigh..” Karel’s eyes drifted to meet Lucius’s. He’d always felt that Right might feel drawn to leave. It was a different source, but the same feeling Karel had always contended with, being pulled adrift, a longing to go. Their surroundings were testament to how that had ended. Karel only could hope for a better ending for Raigh.
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fifthfang:
lucius-of-cornwell:
@askdemons | @lucius-of-cornwell | @fifthfang
Logically, he knew it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes that he was alone. But it felt like hours that he sat stock-still, straining his ears for any sound that would indicate trouble. The lack of such sounds was troubling on its own. He tried to tell himself he was making it worse, making mountains out of molehills, why worry? You’ll just suffer twice, but it didn’t work.
He’d always been a chronic worrier. It was a difficult habit to break on the best of days. And this was certainly not the best of days.
He’d been waiting so tensely for a sound that it scared him half to death when he heard one. He held his tome with a white-knuckle grip. Please, please be good news–
“Thank heaven,” he breathed, the tension melting away when Karel reappeared. But the respite was short-lived–visitors? He wasn’t sure if he should pray that the boys had followed, or that they had stayed back. This road was a dangerous and uncertain one–he’d not want to burden Karel with protecting them to. But yet, to know that they were safe….
@askdemons | @lucius-of-cornwell | @fifthfang
“So it does. Would there were better circumstances, but I get the feeling those circumstances chase people like us.” Lucius, too, Legault thought. Too strong of a soul to back down and save himself when he was needed by others.
These were not the visitors Lucius was looking for, precisely. Legault stepped in behind Karel, with a crooked grin and a wave, stolen Bernese horse in tow. There was little masking the relief that flooded his face at seeing his friend. “Lucius. And still in one piece. I admit when I saw what was left of the orphanage, I had some doubts despite the message.”
@askdemons | @lucius-of-cornwell | @fifthfang
Karel’s grin was a bit wry as he stepped aside to allow Legault and his horse in. Hopefully this would be the balm to soothe Lucius’s worries. Karel’s own interactions with Legault had never been more than brief, terse paths crossing, at best, when he was younger, but he had a healthy respect for the man. Now? He felt as though after so much time, they must have more common ground, or at least, more of a shared interest.
“I believe he may be glad for starting me on a different path, and at the same time.. glad I still knew the old way well enough.”
Karel wasn’t sure Legault would take his first meaning, but the second? Well, he was known for one thing most prominently, though rumors had quieted in the years since. Perhaps if their guest stayed around for longer than a brief check-in, they could get to it.
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fifthfang:
lucius-of-cornwell:
@fifthfang | @askdemons | @lucius-of-cornwell
Just a look. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask–plead, if he had to–that Karel not go, just stay, wait. But he did not form the words. Karel will be fine, he told himself firmly as the door slid quietly closed. Even if there was trouble, how many soldiers could there be? Famous last words.
He wobbled to his feet, taking one aching step at a time towards their nest in the hay. He brushed a few stray pieces from the cover of his tome. A ray of sunlight streamed through a gap in the wall, glinting off the battered bronze corners. This tome had seen him through so much…he clasped it to his chest.
Oh St. Elimine, please watch over them. Over Karel, over my children–Helga and Ruth, Cillian and Sibeal…
He would just have to watch out for himself for a few minutes. One good spell. I have one good spell left in my blood yet.
At that, though, it didn’t seem wise to waste his strength standing. It wasn’t as if he’d be able to run, with his leg still aching as it did. He sank down into the hay–he could pretend to be asleep, if it came to that. For now, he would sit as if keeping a vigil. Listening, waiting, and praying.
@askdemons @lucius-of-cornwell @fifthfang
Legault took his leave with a smile to the lady of the house, and a wave at her daughter. He’d heard the crunch of footsteps outside, light and swift. They’d paused nearby, although he hadn’t been able to tell precisely where.
He left as nonchalantly as he could, on alert and aiming for the outer wall where he’d hitched the stolen horse. Someone was waiting there that hadn’t been before, tucked into a shadow and far enough away that Legault had little worry about being caught flat-footed. Still, he never was one for a straight-up fight if he could avoid it.
He changed tacks, skirting a bit closer to catch a glimpse of his potential adversary. The figure was not entirely familiar, but there was a sheathed, deadly feeling about it – one that Legault knew well.
“You cut your hair,” he said, closing the gap to Karel, and offering him a heartfelt handclasp. “It’s good to see you alive. Where’s Lucius?”
@askdemons @lucius-of-cornwell @fifthfang
It was what he felt to be a tense moment as Legault rounded the corner. He’d been taking a chance, true, but he also knew that if former allies had turned, there were larger problems.
Karel returned the clasp, chuckled. “And then some,” he said. It was a grim sort of laugh.
“Follow me, I’m sure he’d be glad to see you,” he said. “Bring the horse.. there’s room to rest.”
Even had it not been better to get out of the open, the barn would be a welcome respite from travel, and good to catch up away from prying eyes.
Karel let his eyes slide over to take in Legault. He wouldn’t have expected that sort of kindness from time, yet, here the man was, looking well as ever, if perhaps a bit of tiredness from the road lingering.
“Seems war brings us together again,” he remarked. He still was scanning their surroundings. A good turn didn’t mean that they were in the clear from any misfortune. Upon reaching the barn, he peered in to assure Lucius first of his own safety.
“No trouble.. only visitors.”
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fifthfang:
lucius-of-cornwell:
(possibly @fifthfang, because of Reasons)
There was no arguing that, he supposed. He often told the children to be careful what they wished for. “It would’ve come either way,” he said softly. “I hardly think that Bern came crashing into Araphen in search of the Sword Demon of legend.”
Lucius’s hands were tired by the time he finally pulled the coat out of the water and gave it a grudging nod. Then he laughed, when he realized that Karel had gotten through everything else in the time it took him to return the one coat to a more reasonable color.
He had half a mind to follow Karel outside, like a lost duckling. But though the spirit may have been willing, the flesh was weary. He made a move as if to get up, but his back protested. With a sigh and a grimace that was more like a pout, he instead remained still. He could wait. It was highly unlikely that danger would befall Karel between here and wherever he saw fit to hang their clothes to dry. And even if it did, he had to remind himself that he was quite useless as it was.
He used the moment alone to test the mana reserves again. Still hot, too low to use. One good spell in him, if it came to it–two if he wished to knock on death’s door again. He hoped it wouldn’t come to it. It was a relief when Karel returned unharmed. Because hanging laundry is such a dangerous task, he chided himself.
“So it would–” he never finished saying seem, which was oddly appropriate. He was certain he heard a small voice in the distance call “moooooooooom?”
Sleepiness, soreness forgotten, he reached reflexively for a tome that wasn’t there. Of course it wasn’t–it was with the rest of their belongings. Not that you can use it anyways. He didn’t think that the voice had sounded frightened, but it couldn’t hurt to be wary.
@askdemons | @lucius-of-cornwell | @fifthfang
There was a small clatter of little feet as the youngest member of the household raced off, and then a larger, less-urgent clatter as she returned, her mother in tow. Legault waited patiently, listening to the sounds of the house and surrounding farm. It tugged him back to memories of his youth. How long had that been … ?
“I’m Legault,” he introduced himself to the lady of the house, with a smile and his hands where she could see them. “I think some friends of mine have passed this way, and I was wondering if they might have stopped here or nearby.”
She eyed him dubiously. That was to be expected, given Legault’s usual state of carefully nondescript, paired with the condition he assumed Lucius and Karel were in. She wasn’t helped by the little girl tugging at her skirt, who wondered aloud, “Do you mean – ?”
Her mother promptly hushed her. “I don’t know,” she said carefully. “Maybe you could describe them to me.”
This was a game Legault knew. If they were not here now, they had been. He gave her their names and descriptions by heart, barring whatever had happened to them recently. Her expression wavered, but eventually frowned.
“If I see them, I’ll tell you,” she told him. That was also, unfortunately, what Legault had expected.
“Thanks,” he said lightly. “If you do, let Lucius know I’ve handled his grocery list to the letter, although it seemed to me he had plenty of lemons and salt on hand already.”
@askdemons | @lucius-of-cornwell | @fifthfang
Karel heard it too. No, it wasn’t a distressed sort of call, or at least, not yet, but that someone else was arriving so soon put a grip of apprehension to his heart. One of two things.
“I’ll see what sort of company we have,” he said. His voice a bit lower than he imagined it strictly needed to be. Caution wouldn’t hurt. A shame he wasn’t so blessed as to be able to yet carry something so discreet as a tome. That sort of intangible magic, he wasn’t sure he’d ever learn, especially not now, at his age. Healing may have only taken due to how tied in to his quite intimate knowledge of the body it was.
“Just a look,” he reassured, though.
He slid on out the barn door, sword fastened at his hip, but sheathed. He’d debated leaving it until he’d investigated, but if there were soldiers, he’d fear for their host in the time it may take to return, retrieve it, and then join the action.
It was a ways of open ground between the barn and the house, but as Karel watched a moment from a shaded wall, he couldn’t see evidence for a group. And with the child trumpeting the arrival, it would make little sense to him to just now be taking cover.
The front of the house wasn’t visible. It was a quickly calculated decision to approach - there was one person whom he’d sorely hate to miss. He crossed the distance quickly enough that he was able to catch words.
Coming around the side of the house, he could hear that some shopping had been handled. He leaned back against the worn wood of the outer wall - not so close to the the corner as to be taken for preparing an ambush, but enough that he was out of view until either he wanted to be seen, or their tail noticed his presence. Whichever. Karel was sure that his own skill at avoiding detection was far below par when compared with any of the Black Fang. It wasn’t his way. And furthermore, he somewhat was counting on it to not have this encounter be lethal. Truly surprising someone in these times? He wasn’t a fool.
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MAKE YOUR OWN MUSE BADGE
tagged by @lightning-of-kharlan
do if you like (:
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Chinook
The smell of death coated the orphanage in a harrowing miasma. Legault thought dryly that it was one of the better ways to keep his presence undetected. No one but grave robbers would bother to enter, and any that did would stand little chance against the Hurricane. It made a decent base of operations, for the short time he would be present.
The first order of business was to pick through what had actually happened. Legault was not the tracker Uhai was, but he’d taken his mentor’s training to heart. Most of the orphanage was a brutal, trampled mess, but in the slurry of mud and blood, he found escaping hoofprints to the east. One set, of an average horse size, heavily loaded. He pursed his lips. Given the message left in the kitchen, and the state of the orphanage at its final rest, he could venture a guess that that might be Karel and Lucius.
Tricky. He did not want to leave that lead for long, but there were more pressing matters at hand.
The second order of business was a quick sally down to the riverside, to an old fisherman and his wife. Legault knew them passingly, and Lucius better. He’d told Legault years ago that he’d instructed the boys to go straight there should any trouble befall them at home. Whether or not that plan had changed, Legault didn’t know, but apparently it hadn’t. A startled eye peeped through the side window, and there was a quick scrabble at the door to let Legault in. The fisherman’s wife told him in no uncertain terms that she was well relieved to see that it was him, and not another round of Bernese soldiers hunting for provisions.
The boys had been there, but only briefly – and only Lugh and Chad, with Colin in tow. Colin was out with the master, fishing. The other boys had taken up with the ragtag force that the young Lord of Pharae had brought, nearly immediately. Raigh, she informed him with a frown full of slivers, had run off with one of the dear priest’s tomes two months ago, with no sign of him since.
Legault weighed his options. He’d no genuine proof that Lucius still lived, save the message. Even if he did, it was better that he stay in hiding. He would not put it past Bern to chase down a man they perceived as dangerous to their cause. It would be better if –
“Will you be taking Colin with you?” the fishwife asked, interrupting his train of thought. He met her sharp look gravely, and saw the worry underneath it.
“No. He’s safer with you than with me. I’ve things to do that that young soul should never have to face.” Colin was sweet, gentle – much like Lucius, if Legault were to make the comparison. “In fact, it’s probably better if he doesn’t know I was here. I’d rather he didn’t go chasing after his Uncle Legault straight into the mess I’m about to wade into. I’ll be back when things are resolved.”
The fishwife gave him a thin, brittle look. There had been some discussion about his profession, albeit discreet, when Lucius had introduced them. She had put two and two together long ago, though if she’d ever wondered why a priest had an assassin as a close friend, she’d never put that question to Legault.
“And the other boys?” she asked, warily.
“With Roy, you said? That’s likely the best place for them right now. Neither of them would tolerate hiding from Bern, so the safest spot for them is in a crowd of other people of the same mindset. They’ve learned well; I expect they can handle themselves.”
Something on his face must have been a giveaway. She eyed him. “You’re still planning to check on them, aren’t you?”
Legault lifted a hand, open palm outstretched. “We’re not headed in the same direction,” he noted, a soft reminder that he’d already said he had other things to do. “But yes.”
As Legault had thought, the boys were as safe in Roy’s encampment as they might be anywhere else. It had been easy for him to slip in and observe; the camp’s guard was good, but never designed to deal with his honed talents. And Bern did not employ his kind, not any more. He lingered only long enough to make a careful evaluation on all counts, then stole one of the Bernese horses the ragtag army had captured in their last foray, and slipped off into the night.
It was a day and a half before Legault was fairly certain that he was on the trail of two living men. The horse he was following stuck carefully to the road, at a slow pace that he picked out time and again in the mud and later in the dust, but it did not stop often, and when it did, he had to spend time hunting for where it had been.
The matted areas in the grass and leaves, though – they were too large for one man, his instincts told him. The remains of tiny, smokeless fires – the kind Uhai would build – served as a silent punctuation. He trailed them until the trees opened up and the road wound its way into a farming village, silhouetted against the sky.
What was left of the trail disappeared here, lost in the crush of carts and horses and oxen. It was a calculated risk to stop and scout for them here, but it would be a long while before he would find them at the far end, if they had continued on. He chose the first pathway marked with a tiny positive sign, hitched the horse at their post, and knocked politely.
He was met by a small child who yelled, “MOM!” over her shoulder, followed by, “It’s another one!” Legault managed not to laugh, barely. He must have come to the right place.
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kidlightnings:
relationship and nsfw karel/tactician headcanons - some specific to a cis!female tactician - if you want a minific/scene about any of them, message me and I’ll make it happen, and yes, you can specify specific stuff for your personal tactician/summoner
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Karel took to drying. He’d at least been present enough outside of his internal workings to note where everything had come from, so that it could go back.
A quiet life. Even when traveling from place to place, even in the desolation of what one could call nowhere, his life was anything but quiet. A tangle of impulses, drive and need snarled together pushing him ever on to an destination that shifted like the sands of the Nabata.
A new step in his training - to exist in silence.
“Something to get used to,” he said, setting the last plate into place.
Even with the banter and racket from the boys, it was a different type of noise than he was used to clouding his head. There was a dull anxiety, a longing for his blade, but apart from it, also an openness. It terrified him, but he wanted more.
“A comb.. would help,” he said, quite belatedly.
askdemons:
Karel had let his eyes wander some as he finished off the rest of his plate, but had a faint smile at the excitement over these cinnamon rolls. It sounded, dare he say, delightful.
He wasn’t sure why, but the idea of Lucius’s birthday being close to when he presumed his own to be felt warm, familiar. Perhaps it was the culmination of feeling less lonely.
Just taking in the energy present in the room had him feeling lighter than he had in quite some time, which made him think only of training. Something best, he supposed, not indulged in for a while. He’d hate to get rusty, but, he pushed that feeling down. A day, an entire day, would not ruin him.
“Assign me as you see fit,” he said. Just joining the household, he had so little idea of what was to be done at any given time.
He glanced at those carrots. Likely to not be eaten, if Chad had his way about it. Once everyone was done, though, he would at least see to the plates, show some initiative.
Lucius sighed fondly and leaned back in his seat, listening to the clattering as Chad climbed on something he probably wasn’t supposed to to reach the churn. Lugh and Raigh each snitched a carrot off Chad’s plate when they thought the adults weren’t looking–they did that routinely, to the point that Lucius wasn’t sure if they were fond of carrots, or just trying to make Chad’s disappear quickly so they could all go and play. Or, in this case, all go and churn butter in hopes of expediting the cinnamon roll process.
“Dishes next, I suppose,” said Lucius. “Then I’ll see if I can find something that will fit you. And a comb, perhaps.”
He didn’t push the carrots issue, though Raymond might have tried. He smiled when Karel gathered up the plates. Washing them would be a simple task.
“It’s a quiet life,” he said as he rinsed off the last of the dishes. “But it’s home.”
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Water dripped from his forearms as Karel pulled the clerical robes out once again to check. Better. Probably as good as it would get. With better supplies, he could do more, but for now, it would be wearable, and without drawing attention. Repairs would be needed, but once dried he could get to it. Or, perhaps it would suit Lucius to have something to occupy his hands?
It was the same process as he worked on the other pieces - Lucius’s sash, his own clothes, and finally the blanket. He’d worry about his horse blankets later.
Karel mulled over the words, was quiet a while before answering.
“At that time.. I had hoped for it, in a way. Somehow to be justified in continuing as I did. Any excuse.”
He settled items folded on the rim of the tub - he’d take them to hang shortly.
“One should always be careful what they may wish into existence..”
It was a bit longer before finally, he took both his and Lucius’s work out into the daylight and began to flip them over the line. No pins, but the day was calm. If the wind kicked up, he’d attend to it.
The sun warmed his bare shoulders, and as he walked back in, he moved to finally pull on the borrowed shirt.
“Seems we have some time,” he said, eyes regarding Lucius in a much more relaxed, content manner now.
askdemons:
Lucius, though, at least limited himself to doing less strenous things than leaping from bed and attempting to go on with his training, or trying to leave the very next day pursuing some phantom foe he’d heard a rumor of. Lucius at least stayed nearby enough that he could be tended to if he overexerted himself.
Karel chuckled. “None of it, though perhaps some sweat.. perhaps tears.” He added the last bit with a grim smile. It may have been an exaggeration, but only in that Karel was not one to cry at the sight of someone he ought have been there to protect bleeding out into the dirt.
His hands worked idly, watching as the water tinted, and yet, as he lifted pale robes from the water, he could see that it was better. Not perfect, but better. He’d try a bit more.
“I heard rumors.. What one can hear in a remote village, it surprised me, but then, one is not so careful of what is said to those close to the heart, perhaps. Your closeness to the border, though, perhaps it would be nothing.. but I’d have seen nothing happen with my own eyes, before I’d have lost you.”
Scrub, swish, check to see if the stains had lessened, repeat. It was a good thing that Karel never cut corners on his clothes–for as long as Lucius had been washing them, Karel’s coats had been expert pieces of work and made from sturdy materials. This one, while less ornate than the old ones, was no exception. It could take the aggressive scrubbing it would take to completely remove the blood–especially without the aid of something like vinegar or lemon juice.
“You were right, all those years ago,” he sighed. “About another war…humans are such ambitious creatures. And to what end?” He’d never understood the concept of conquest, of taking land and people by force. How could anyone ever think it would end well? “Force” was not a reliable way to earn loyal subjects, he was sure. Quite the opposite, he suspected.
It did little good, at this point, to wish that it had been nothing, and they were safe at home with a cup of tea and lighter conversation. Though I should doubt… he let the thought trail, smiling more than someone doing such messy laundry ought to be expected to.
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@askdemons | @lucius-of-cornwell | @fifthfang
Karel looked after them all, then back to the group.
“Perhaps better to let the mongrels flee, than to put them down. Their blood, it isn’t enough.”
He knew himself well enough that to escalate might lure him too heavily into the sort of state that would go poorly for all involved, and the draw he felt from Raven, from Legault, was plenty temptation for now.
It was with a bit of a flourish that he swept up a chair that had been knocked back and settled into it. Now. Perhaps he could get back to his original plans. His eyes dimmed a bit, drifting to the other three, then back to the table. A drink together? Karel was solitary by nature, but a shared encounter had burned out some energy and left him a bit hollow. He wouldn’t reject the company.
lucius-of-cornwell:
askdemons:
@lucius-of-cornwell | @askdemons | @fifthfang
Karel had dealt with the foes he could see closest to him. At the fool who knocked Raven forward, well, he wouldn’t consider it as rescue, so much as that for now, they were on the same side. He lunged with a fast uppercut into the vandal’s chin. Turn for turn, wasn’t it?
He gave the table Lucius’s book had landed under a hard shove. No need to flip more, but to make the tome accessible without anyone having to go back onto the ground?
Eyes scanned for more. Legault seemed to have his side under control. Watching some slink off, it seemed that some had lost their mettle. Well. Unless he was lucky. “Inclined to handle your portion?” he asked, eyes nearly dancing as he faced Raven, then scooped up the tome and slid it into Lucius’s hands.
@lucius-of-cornwell | @askdemons | @fifthfang
“Inclined,” Raven growled in reply, scarcely sparing a glance at Karel as he whipped around and brought a fist into the side of his assailant’s head while he was still reeling from Karel’s blow. “Yeah, that’s a good word for it.”
Lucius’s hands closed reflexively around whatever it was Karel was pressing into his hands. His tome, he realized quickly. Thank heaven it hadn’t been damaged. The breathless “thank you” was probably drowned out by the sickening crack and roar of pain off to his left. Raymond was not pulling punches, apparently.
Lucius was torn on what he should do–part of him wanted to duck under the table and pray it would end soon. Part of him wanted to call for a ceasefire. And part of him wanted to send a spark of light magic at the lout swinging a broken chair-leg at Raymond. That was the part that won.
He was careful not to make it a full spell–just enough power to stun. He winced as his target toppled to the floor, taking a shaky table and its contents with him. Perhaps he hadn’t pulled that punch nearly enough.
@askdemons | @lucius-of-cornwell | @fifthfang
The tavern went suddenly, deathly quiet at the golden spark of light, broken only by one sharp, guttural whisper of “mage!”
One last standing ruffian took a final potshot at Raven’s stomach in the silence that followed. The remaining handful stared at him in disbelief, and as if on cue, they turned and fled for the door.
“Get back ‘ere!” roared the tavernkeep at their retreating backs. “Y’ain’t settled yer tab yet!”
Legault tipped the overturned table back onto its feet, with a small, hidden smile. “My, do you think the watch can handle those ne’er-do-wells, or should we be offering our gracious host our services?”
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lucius-of-cornwell:
“July,” Raigh said, matter-of-factly. “Almost another month.”
“Mine’s in September,” said Chad. “Raven’s is April, and Father’s is Midwinter.”
“Did I say that I wasn’t going to make them?” Raven asked, reaching for an apple slice. “But I expect there to be no complaining about churning butter before we leave.”
“It’s so hot though,” Raigh groaned.
“Shhh!” Chad and Lugh chorused.
Lucius chuckled. “Well, I guess I know what you three are doing after lunch.”
“And you?” Raven asked.
“I haven’t decided yet,” he said. “We’ve taken care of the laundry, the moving…I suppose I could start sorting out the pile of boxes in the main room. Or I have some sewing to do. You know what they say, Raymond.”
“Yeah, yeah, that the work of a monk with lying hips is never done.”
“I’ll have to find you something, too,” Lucius said. He bit back the offer to comb out Karel’s tangled hair–that was a question better asked without Raymond scowling over it.
“I’ll get the butter churn!” Chad volunteered, already halfway across the kitchen.
“Sit down, you still have carrots,” Raven called after him.
Karel had let his eyes wander some as he finished off the rest of his plate, but had a faint smile at the excitement over these cinnamon rolls. It sounded, dare he say, delightful.
He wasn’t sure why, but the idea of Lucius’s birthday being close to when he presumed his own to be felt warm, familiar. Perhaps it was the culmination of feeling less lonely.
Just taking in the energy present in the room had him feeling lighter than he had in quite some time, which made him think only of training. Something best, he supposed, not indulged in for a while. He’d hate to get rusty, but, he pushed that feeling down. A day, an entire day, would not ruin him.
“Assign me as you see fit,” he said. Just joining the household, he had so little idea of what was to be done at any given time.
He glanced at those carrots. Likely to not be eaten, if Chad had his way about it. Once everyone was done, though, he would at least see to the plates, show some initiative.
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lucius-of-cornwell:
“I guess I’m thankful that most of the blood in it isn’t yours, this time,” he said. He wasn’t sure, really, if it always had been–certainly frequently, though. This coat wasn’t as worn as the others had gotten, not patched here and darned there.
Though the stains were certainly no less stubborn. That was fine. He felt much better working on something than he did just sitting and waiting for the wounds to heal. He smiled–he wasn’t really any better of a patient than his usual suspects were, was he? Heaven knew if it had been Karel bleeding out in the garden, Lucius would still be trying to keep him at rest.
Of course, he wouldn’t have had the strength to move Karel, to flee, if he’d been hurt. They would’ve had to hole up and hope for the best–and the orphanage, however well it had been built and maintained, was no fortress.
Thank heaven again, then, that things had happened the way they did. If only the boys were with them…but perhaps they were needed elsewhere, Lucius thought. Perhaps they would be able to send word to the other Lycian territories, before Bern’s conquest could continue westward.
“…how did you know?” he asked at length. “How did you know to come when you did?”
Lucius, though, at least limited himself to doing less strenous things than leaping from bed and attempting to go on with his training, or trying to leave the very next day pursuing some phantom foe he'd heard a rumor of. Lucius at least stayed nearby enough that he could be tended to if he overexerted himself.
Karel chuckled. "None of it, though perhaps some sweat.. perhaps tears." He added the last bit with a grim smile. It may have been an exaggeration, but only in that Karel was not one to cry at the sight of someone he ought have been there to protect bleeding out into the dirt.
His hands worked idly, watching as the water tinted, and yet, as he lifted pale robes from the water, he could see that it was better. Not perfect, but better. He'd try a bit more.
"I heard rumors.. What one can hear in a remote village, it surprised me, but then, one is not so careful of what is said to those close to the heart, perhaps. Your closeness to the border, though, perhaps it would be nothing.. but I'd have seen nothing happen with my own eyes, before I'd have lost you."
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lucius-of-cornwell:
It took so much willpower to not lean his head against Karel’s hand and “rest his eyes.” That was a trap he’d fallen into several times, in recent years–intend it to only be a moment, wake up to find an hour gone. Besides, tired as he was, they did feel better–
Oh, that might have been why. He smiled. “You really did learn every trick of the trade, didn’t you?”
Well, at least most of the tricks related to actual healing. The trade of a healer included a myriad of others, from sewing to scrubbing. And though Lucius considered himself fortunate to know them, most of those involved things the didn’t have. Lemon juice, vinegar, salt…oh well. At least they had cold water and soap. And while he wasn’t eager to be in cold water up to his elbows, he was also not eager to let Karel do all of this work too.
He did carefully fold his sleeves up, braced himself against the chill of the water, and grabbed the first piece of fabric he came in contact with. It was Karel’s coat, and he couldn’t help but laugh.
“I guess some things really don’t ever change,” he said.
“I may have applied myself a bit more to what seemed quietly useful,” he said, giving Lucius a bit of a wry smile. Karel wasn’t one to flaunt except when the situation demanded he make use of the very depths of his skills. He preferred smaller, more subtle displays here and there, things that made his own life easier, and a gentle cool pushing back a headache, or a mild numbing to let his body do its own work with less complaining? Especially as he found himself with aches these days? It wasn’t terribly frugal of him with regards to staves, but allowed him to practice here and there.
At the sight of his coat in Lucius’s hands, stained with blood that had turned to a muddy brown, Karel felt himself taken back. “I suppose not. You’ll be getting my stains out forever,” he said. “Though here.. we’ll just have to do our best,” he said.
In his hands, before even Lucius’s robes, was the blanket. It had fared better than some of the others, having been used after the worst was drying, but Karel hadn’t missed his close it was at hand many times. He scrubbed at the fabric to loosen the soiling as well as possible, then would be moving to the robes, which would be in sore need of repair. Perhaps that would be something to attend to while recovering.
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lucius-of-cornwell:
“I hope so,” the monk sighed, rubbing his eyes for the hundredth time since waking. They were still sore–and he doubted, really, that rubbing them was a help in the long-term–but he at least felt more alert, now. And much more comfortable, not covered in blood and dust and hay.
…and with the knowledge that his clinginess was not unwelcomed. He’d worried about that, briefly, when he’d curled up so close in hopes of fending off the nightmares. Did Karel want any part of that? It was a relief to know the answer was yes.
He was already looking forward to more sleep, tonight–more sleep, perhaps with fewer nightmares–but there was plenty of daylight between now and then. He followed Karel’s gaze to the washing.
“Well, we might as well get started,” he said, stretching his arms as much as he dared. “I ought to be able to manage some scrubbing, at least.” Provided that he could sit. He didn’t trust his injured leg to support him for very long.
“Mmmn-” Karel intoned, taking Lucius’s hands in his own to draw it away from his face, and then covering his eyes with his other. He released Lucius’s hand to once more grasp the smooth wood of the staff and hopefully push back, at least briefly, that tired ache. Let it release its grip for long enough that Lucius might feel he could accomplish something. While letting him help was against Karel’s better judgement, he knew a thing or two about being a stubborn patient. Though certainly Lucius’s was ways were borne more of an ineffable desire to be useful, versus Karel’s damnable ego.
Once that was out of the way, he was offering Lucius his hand to stand, then arm to walk, guide them both to the side of the washtub. Lucius to the stool, and Karel on his knees - perhaps a fitting position, Karel thought to himself, a bit of a wry smile.
Once the clothes were done, while he was certain the monk- bishop, was he now? He was certain Lucius would want to offer what gratitude he could to their hosts, but Karel wondered if his interests might be better served by rest before anything else, and more energetic help after. It wouldn’t do to deplete himself back into needing recovery.
He then nearly went to push up sleeves he wasn’t wearing, and plunged his hands into the cold water, beginning to work up a bit of a froth from what soap was there. He added more generously, and got to scrubbing.
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K/Cah-Rel - I used to do the super weeby thing and just be all “well if you romanize the katakana it’s ka-re-ru” but
exhibit A: twitter, when searching the katakana:
oh, what’s this? steve carell? how curious! we know how that name is said (:
but really, its being a real name from eastern europe, lu nailed it, it’s not “carol” it’s “ca(h)-rel”
and yes, there is a llamas with hats edit, but I can’t find it right now ):
Heroes Double Take
Do we actually have any record of how Karel is pronounced? Because I’ve pronounced it more like Kah-rel than Carol, and that makes me wonder if there’s a Llamas with Hats edit. (But Karel, that kills people!)
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lucius-of-cornwell:
Something to stand out less apparently? Lucius pondered this. True, Karel certainly didn’t dress like the rest of the men in Araphen–or any of the rest of Lycia, he supposed. He glanced thoughtfully toward the hall, as if that would help him picture the contents of the ‘spare clothes’ chest. He was fairly sure there was a vest or two, and certainly they had plenty of shirts…
He looked back, though, when Chad nearly lit up.
“You’ve never had a cinnamon roll? Oh, now you have to make some, Raven, please?”
Raven heaved a sigh, but Lucius knew that particular sigh. It wasn’t so much an exasperated one as a proud one. Rightly so, the monk supposed–they really were good.
“Yeah, a confection. Soft dough, rolled up with butter and cinnamon inside, and baked. Sometimes I make them for breakfast on holidays.”
“We can make it a holiday!” Lugh supplied helpfully.
“Oh?” the mercenary asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah!” He bounced in his chair. “When’s your birthday?” he asked, suddenly regarding Karel very seriously.
Lucius smiled into his cup. He, too, was quite curious to know that–though less for cinnamon-roll-related reasons, and more for convenient excuse to give reasons.
“Hmm.” His birthday. Karel considered a moment. He’d never been asked, he realized, but then, while he was aware that it was somewhat momentous to most people, his family hadn’t been the type of put emphasis on such a passive achievement.
And yet, the idea of cinnamon, dough, butter, all rolled together in such a way? It made him want one, if that was the sort of thing he could have on one.
It wasn’t in him though to speak anything but the truth.
“Sometime in mid-winter,” he finally said. If anyone had known the actual day, Karla would have been the most likely, but such knowledge was likely to be lost to the ages. Especially since while Karel had some idea, now, of the more common calendar, time was of little importance when traveling the land and training - one simply needed to know the seasons as the sun tilted across the sky, to be sure to have left Ilia before being snowed in, and the like.
“When winter is at its coldest,” he added, perhaps helpfully.
His eyes slipped closed a moment though, drifting to the idea of what Raven had described. It sounded.. perfect.
“When are yours?” he asked, tone a bit too distant to be conversational, yet not upset.
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lucius-of-cornwell:
The faces that Lucius and Raven made were very different ones. Raven raised his eyebrows, a sort of what do you mean, ‘take care of?’ look. Lucius’s was, of course, more concerned.
“What does that entail?” Raven asked, before Lucius could make any offers.
“Whichever suits you,” Lucius said quickly. He would argue the ‘going into town’ decree, if Karel wanted to stay here and rest. The fear that he might have overdrawn his mana–or might get that far, left alone with this new knowledge–lingered.
“‘ill you ‘ake ‘ose–” Chad began through a mouthful. A single look from Lucius made him swallow hastily and start again. “Will you make those cinnamon rolls again, Raven? Please?”
“Cinnamon rolls?” Raven repeated. “Where did that come from?”
“Well if we’re going into town…” the boy said hopefully.
The mercenary sighed. “I’ll think about it. Basics first.”
Lucius chuckled. He knew that face. That face meant that Raymond had already made up his mind.
“Have you ever had a cinnamon roll?” Chad asked through another hastily-swallowed bite. “Raven makes the best ones in all of Aaraphen–n-not that I’ve tried…others…” he added sheepishly.
Karel considered, certainly, a lot could be made of simply tucking his hair back into a more orderly style. When one was accustomed to being seen with only half of their face visible, even that could change a lot. And then perhaps, if there were any less dramatic clothes to be borrowed?
Far be it from him to suggest he needed a disguise, but perhaps just something to make him less memorable.
“Something to stand out less apparently,” he said after swallowing a good bite of ham.
At the mention of cinnamon rolls, though, Karel regarded Chad with a nearly perplexed expression. “I’m not familiar,” he said, then inclining his head towards Raven.
“A confection?”
He didn’t lean much towards sweets, but if that was preference or in fact just lack of exposure, well, if he had a chance to try this, he could find out.
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