no mercy and no quarter.

        many chronicles of the past                          describe the history                           of humankind as one                 of war. given my                   experience, the                        sentiment rings true       to me. but could it be that we     exist solely to fight and kill one     another? i do not believe so. in     their eyes, borders and nations            do not exist. i pray that              peace like this can endure forever.

[chevaleri]

not funny. did NOT laugh. got a little stressed actually........

[ovcrcoat]

blood carries a weight to it, in nohr. a unique one, that cannot ever be overlooked. blood carried, blood spilt, blood offered, blood taken.

all of these are significant.

"any cruelties you might visit upon me will be deemed deserved by your allies. but i assure you that there is always more value to me alive than dead. your mercy is something i am grateful for, my lord. my king." unspoken: mine, mine, mine, the word echoing like the beat-beating of a traitor's heart. to continue to live is a gift, and he does not forget that. to be in the presence of his king is even more so.

why do men wish for vicious things? these wishes bend the statues of dead kings and gods.

living kings, though... those are not statue.

"if you say that nohr is not participating in war, then i shall honor that. do you think me bloodthirsty, king xander?"

he is.

but also: he is not.

he is a brutal necessity, a thing that thrives in wartime, a thing which had positioned itself up against garon's warmongering out of necessity. because if he is a perpetrator, he cannot become a victim.

is that not a mentality that makes some semblance of sense? nohr is something survived, not served. but he would not beg before a nation that would make him a snake and then hate him so readily for it.

is this what iago fought for?

he meets xander's eyes then. "what was going through my head? my lord, i will pledge to you my loyalty, for loyalty is all i know, but even my king does not have a right to my thoughts."

unblinking. unwavering. his lips curl up in a smile. he is not offended by xander's demands. no, in fact he finds them fascinating.

"my body, though? that is yours. my tactics, my magic. direct me, use me. but what i think of what i did under king garon, what i vow to do under you... that is my own business."

[chevaleri]

king garon.

garon.

father.

the words still sting, loathe he is to admit it. and though he may deny, there are fingerprints of his father that riddle iagos body. from the crease of his smile, to the indent of a wrinkle, within it are remnants of what his father did. perhaps not a physical touch , merely figurative , but it is harder to gaze upon statues sculpted within his youth and know of the commissioner behind them.

but is iago right ? does he hold merit in that - the truths of his fathers lineage are that of his to keep ? are retainers not allowed the sweet mercy of secrecy for their liege ? xander recalls what he has told peri and laslow in confidence. xander recalls, his expectations it would never be uttered again.

were xander to die ( to spew his blood , to rip his entrails from his own chest , for what offal remained of him to be disposed of to those wronged by him and him alone ), would he expect laslow and peri to speak candidly of those secrets on the sole merit he was deceased ?

no. no he does not.

face hardens, and shifts - an ever so slight edge of softness to otherwise unchanging features. masked uncertainty, fleeting, and yet compounded with an unspoken i see. lips open so to speak, the whites of his teeth showing, and yet they close themselves once more. he knows peri does not sing his secrets in his absence. he knows laslow does not parade his insecurities to where he has left beyond nohrian walls to.

"then your loyalty is accepted. watched closely by myself," for leo, elise and camilla may not be as gracious. but nohr had to change. xander had to, too, and so did iago. "i cannot protect you from what my siblings may cast unto you. don't ask it of me, but i will advise them of the understanding we've come to."

. . . but he still wants to ask.

xander sits down. it is late. hands open book - any book, one easy to grab, and slide the page to flatness. "then tell me," he meets iagos gaze once more. it is awkward. "did you know of my father before what he became ?"

and if he does, what does he know ? xander collects dying memories like they are rare pennies. they have no value anymore, only in sentimentality at this point, and yet it is a connection he cannot break. he loves his family. he will always love them. garon is a hole in his heart carved out with blunt cleaver and the muscle left to hang from abattoir hook.

"i would like to hear of at least one experience. just so i know."

[chevaleri]

hey so question. if i got a slim sword and strung it up on a bow. nocked it like an arrow and all that. do you think that would be a valid long-range strategy on horseback

i think that you learn better from experience than hearsay. try it out, fogado 👍👍

[chevaleri]

to have the ear of nohr's king for a public occasion ( think not about the fact that it is not a nohrian event, this is only the first step ) is exciting.

iago knows the game he's playing, even if there are enough variables to make a lesser man's head spin.

the point is this: his presence at xander's side is for more than his own amusement, but he keeps that to himself. instead, he places a hand on the king's shoulder and offers him a glass of champagne. "my liege. should i bow?"

hand dismisses the champagne. there was not enough trust to take a drink - not yet. whilst he is well aware that it is a fools errand to do any sorts of atrocities, it was generally not of xanders desires to have champagne.

no, if he were to drink, he liked things warmer. champagne was cooling. though he may be sparse in what he consumed of such a manner, what was champagne in contrast to a nice bourbon ? something classier - something not excessive, but not the equivalent of a side drink on a summers day in the heat.

"at your mark," xander gestures towards the drink, fingers gently touching the rim and pushing it towards iago. "it'd be unruly of me to take it from you."

at the note of his offer, eyebrows raise. "should you?" comes a curt response. "i desire to see what you think."

[chevaleri]

not funny. did NOT laugh. got a little stressed actually........

[ovcrcoat]

"rehabilitation?" he asks, and his head tilts slightly to the side. "i said i was seeking my liege, not that i sought to redeem myself. the actions i committed were for the good of nohr, and for the previous king. perhaps i seek to offer my services to you."

there is an emphasis he places on that adverb. per-haps, two distinct syllables. he is perhaps physically hungry. iago, who has lived the nine lives of pathological compulsion. he has sworn oaths against everything from the hoshidan army to its calendar, and its derivative timemarkers. his word means less than nothing, surely.

still, xander asks for it.

"don't look so concerned. do you not think me loyal still?"

his question is sarcastic. it is bitter, honestly. a lie can be worse than a murder, can it not? but iago knows that xander knows that iago is safest where he can be seen. it disgusts him, the idea of being visible, but if that is what it takes to gain xander's trust...

a lie can be worse than a murder, but iago has never truly died. to feign death at that pivotal moment, well...

iago has walked twice widdershins toward his new king. bitten his own thumb until it bled. spilled three drops of blood and brought forth his own facsimile of shame. called to his king with longing, dreaded his name.

he looks at him again.

"but still, i swear to you, my king, that i am at your command. if you choose to use that command to guide me to my redemption you are welcome to the attempt."

picture: the way one must slaughter those before them to truly escape them. xander will not do this, iago is certain. still, he feels strung up in a strong light and singled out. the next step is to be picked clean.

in dark places, some creatures create their own light, they must be their own illumination. often they feud, often they fuse, like fungi. blood to blood. desire to desire. nohr is a dark, dark place. still: iago exists. he exists! this is his life! here, nohr, the bottom of the earth. but this is not beneath anything. and it is not nohr.

if xander trusts iago too much, xander is surely doomed. but if he does not trust him enough, there is a doom of its own in that, too.

"i swear that i am ever yours. command me like your father did, if you can manage it."

[chevaleri]

iago looks at him, and xander looks back.

his willingness to shed blood - in his name, in garons, in that of his own, was a notable quality of iago. that, in all his oddities and quirks, a fierce loyalty was forever on display. there is a moments wait , eyes diverting themselves to the blood coiling about his finger & smeared an unsightly red in the presence of what else iago donned. nohrians were no foreigner to blood & the sanctity it held.

something so potent , blood is ill-shed in nohrian streets - it was by the hands of one of her tried and true mages that it could spill dire. there is a distinct look xander sees within iago , one he always has , a knowing gaze ? a facade ? he never knows. try as he might, it was by his fathers behest that iago be left to him and the minimal times in which the two interacted were simple : by the end of each others sword & tome, or the pleasantries & safety nets a war council provides.

iago exists ! his blood is warm. it flows. it dries the same as xanders ever would, and at the end of the day, the two bleed the same. "nohr is cruel on the subject of traitors, as you know," he reiterates. "but there are many questions left unanswered. there are numerous things i do not know about the war itself. if you are my key to answering them, then so be it. i'll grant you a shred of lenience in a great deal of mercy. but only a shred, granted your cooperation."

and xander sees what is left of his father in many things. partially, in throne rooms and memories. partially, in iago, albeit the unkinder aspects in part. "nohr has indulged herself in an era free of wartime. iago, if you pledge yourself to me, i desire to know what your intentions are."

xander has let people go before. laslow has departed from nohrian castle walls and exists long beyond her reach. to say he snares those pledged to him is a misnomer. "will you return to nohr, then ? keep my command absent from your memory, from this instance. i never took you as one to teach."

he gazes upon his own hands, and stalls. what could his blood do ? the blood that pulsated faintly of dragons, ever so slightly, enough to coordinate the veins in the earth and birth mountains before his feet. his blood is a vow in of itself. a warm blanket of protection, perhaps, an executive decision - he could not risk the anguish of fodlan towards nohr were his countrymen to try their hand against iago. presumably, he had his connections here. if nohr is to march from their formerly war-torn history, then this was a necessity born from experience. "i have yet to believe your loyalties."

and, in a way, the memory of his father ( sick , decayed , unkind ) ( warm , loving , nurturing ) sits in his mind and tightens in his throat. it isn't like xander to get sentimental, and so he does what he does best - he swallows it down.

"if you are truly as loyal as you claim to be," he finally adds. "then you will explain to me what exactly was going through your mind in our war with hoshido."

numerous questions, and yet, they all have answers. he wants to see if iago can keep his story straight.

[ninisdance]

throwing hands in the monastery parking lot (boel round 1, battle 2)

[profitsabode]

So Ninian has decided to harness her true power now...Anna could only slightly pick up on Ninian's worry of transforming and advice to "not be afraid." Fortunately for the commander, she is already used to fighting with dragonic beings - both with them and against them. (She could have gone with Embla recruiting a little less dragons in their evergoing wars...) Though even if the appearance of a blue dragon does not startle her, she takes a moment to appreciate the volleys of ice breath that completes the job Anna was unable to.

"Good work, Ninian!" Anna cheers her on before turning back to the foe she is still facing down. Linus, however, looks rather...shaken by Ninian's awakening? Were these two not from the same World originally? Oh well, not that it matters.

Besides, who would pass up a simple opening such as this?

"Hey! Hope you didn't forget about me!" just to make her next assault not too cheap, Anna announces her approach before going for once more downwards axe swing.

Anna 2.5/6HP hits Linus 2/5HP with Iron Axe [Roll: 14; -2HP; Linus 0/5HP] Linus has been KO’d!

Her final strike seems to not have been the most unsportsmanlike, as Linus falls down while facing the commander. The battle is not over yet, as Finn remains standing, but she gives the Mad Dog some parting words.

"Now, stay," Anna smiles at the opportunity to command the misbehaving dog. "Your strength with an axe is quite grand...though your technique can use some work."

KOs! @chevaleri @justicefanged

[justicefanged]

Linus was unable to bask in his singular success for very long, as the cold rush of a blizzard erupted after a blinding light enveloped the girl he knew from Elibe.

Well, he knew of her. Had seen her maybe once or twice, but hell if he could recall actually exchanging any words with the lass or her brother. Regardless of all that past trouble, Linus was expecting her to use magic -- not to be replaced by some sort of ice spitting demon dragon!

It threw him off completely. Not that he'd had any sort of rhythm to speak of, but he was about to be caught gaping as the she-dragon spewed ice at the golden haired knight.

Yeah, he was fucked for sure. Good luck shaking the icicles out of your trousers after that.

"Huh--?" Linus has enough time to pull his attention away from the dragon (girl???) to see the redhead rushing him again. She's too close for him to block or dodge, and its with a snarl of molten futility that the Mad Dog goes down.

Linus has been KO'd!

Really, his injuries weren't bad to any degree -- at least, not any of his degrees -- but when he went down, his head connected pretty harshly with the ground. Rude. Insult to injury. Salt on top of his already salty attitude.

The battlefield and the dragon? Fuck, no way that was a dragon...Spun and blurred as he tried to keep himself awake.

"Stay? Stay?! I'll make ya..fuckin'-- would ya quite movin' 'round so I can hit ya...?!" Linus slurred, vision finally fading out to the looming silhouette of the dragon and a flashy smile framed by red hair.

[chevaleri]

the bite of the cold is immediately an indication that he has met his end to this battle. a fight was useless if he pushed himself beyond his limits - all in all, it was a spar, and nothing else.

hands raise themselves into an x motion, and he shakes his head. "forgive me, but i believe it's time i withdraw from this battle for now." he's already pushed himself a bit further than he should have. his horse whinnies, in the tone she does when tired, and xander nods. she's not a lazy steed by any mean, but everyone has their limits.

sliding off of sieglind, he gently pats her face. he won't ride her out of battle when she's exhausted, not in a spar of all things. "it was an honor to fight by your side."

that's xander talk for ' i had a lot of fun! '.

at that, he departs from the battlefield, with a very tired horse in tow.

[ninisdance]

throwing hands in the monastery parking lot (boel round 1, battle 2)

[livingrief]

While the entire event is nothing more than a poor sacrament up to the monastery higher-ups, Finn’s eyes draw to his supposed companions. Supposed. Real comrades were not made this way, through merriment and ease but with sweat and gruel, with wasting away in the midst of battle and shredding through the last vein of hope to find a vestige of something holy.

No, he thinks, not this way. He would never have companions again. Of course, Lachesis had found her way to the monastery and he could not shake her from his mind but that was something different altogether. Now, his thoughts wander to the others on the battlefield. A virtuous lord upon his steed and a more strange .kind of man. 

Is victory something worth achieving? Is it even desirable? Yet all of them seem to move on in their aspirations. Only he is frozen in the past, as if blizzard has claimed his heart and soul. Thoughts flit back to what the strange man had said. Yes, he was very much dead on his feet. Only here to win a mock battle with no blood and no lives at stake…Nothing drives him forward.

“Yes I may very well be dead,” his voice trails on, soft as a drop of snow, “But even so, this is my only path forward.” There was no other path.

Finn 6/6HP hits NInian 6/6HP with Iron Lance [Roll 13 + 2 = 15, -1.5 HP; Ninian 4.5/6HP]

This time he must attack a woman. Either way, it matters little. His lance pierces and retracts. No kindness can be known in battle, albeit a fake one. She hardly looks like a common fighter though. Far from it. But Finn would prefer to keep his hands out of such a situation.

He returns to his space. The idea of camaraderie is sour in his mouth. 

[justicefanged]

Frustration was building up with a speed and steadiness, Linus' performance so far leaving much to be desired -- both in regards to his comrades and himself. Frustration was dry fuel added to his fire, but if that would make the flame blaze steady from here on out, or let it rage into an inferno that burns itself out was still to be determined.

The battlefield shifts once again, and Linus has to set his sights on a new target.

Good, he didn't have to feel bad about hurting this one.

"Hope you're ready to eat dirt, lass! I'm sick'a lettin' you lot get away with shit!" Linus bellowed, not exactly inspired by Xander's words but they hadn't gone completely unnoticed. He didn't know the guy, nor had there been much to determine any respect between them, but they were on a team and he hadn't gotten in Linus' way (hard to do when it felt like he was the biggest thing in his own way).

"Let's see what ya can actually do when ya ain't runnin' around and leanin' on your magic users!" This time, his powerful wind up actually follows through with proper aim; his axe swinging solidly into the redhead's torso.

Linus 2/5HP hits Anna 5/6HP with Iron Axe [Roll: 19; 2 + 0.5 = -2.5HP; Anna 2.5/6HP]

Fucking finally! Felt good to make a clean, solid hit!

[chevaleri]

well, it was now or never. a healer was an issue, and for that reason, he knows to target them once. griss was a peculiar type - he seemed to be having fun. which is good, the battle itself was supposed to be fun. xander himself finds it enjoyable.

but griss seems to like it for opposite reasons. is it the thrill ? the pain ? hes a touch . . . unhinged, from what xander has heard him call, but it was nothing foreign to the nohrian. such people were a dime a dozen from where he was used to, after all.

wordlessly, he picks up the pace with his sword, and slashes towards griss. he feels the umph he puts into it, the certainty in his hold, and he fixates his gaze not on the impact but the expression griss dons as he strikes.

"you're . . . peculiar, aren't you?" he says, as he pulls his horse backwards, blade hung to the side.

Xander 1.5/6HP hits Griss 3/6HP with Steel Sword [Roll: 18 + 2 = 20; -1.5HP; Griss 1.5/6HP]

[ninisdance]

throwing hands in the monastery parking lot (boel round 1, battle 2)

[livingrief]

The roar and cheers of a mock battle are nothing but a testament to a world of peace, to a people who have never known pain and never bleed its suffering. A horrific spectacle in itself; battle should only be something one does out of necessity to live, but these people do it for mere cheer and joy. Finn does not understand and refuses to. He wants no part in it but his role has already been assigned, a simple chess piece amid a large myriad of jest and cardboard fluff.

How egregious. How barbaric.

But he has already lifted his spear, the weight of the weapon shallow in his hand. There is no path to go but forwards. Sullen eyes look ahead at his opponent - the strange man with the green hair - all provocative smiles and such. There is no desire to coordinate with teammates in the first place for their camaraderie is a falsity. Such a thing cannot be bought by monarchs, no. And as so, Finn has no appetite for it.

There is only one answer. Attack, and attack again. He is only a mechanical soldier at this point, whirled together by wood and strings, a puppet of fate. His limbs move forward of their own volition, surging to attack a person he has neither animosity nor malic towards. “.........” 

Finn 6/6HP hits Griss 4.5/6HP with Iron Lance [Roll: 16 + 2 = 18; -1.5HP; Griss 3/6HP]

More damage, more blood, more pain is dealt. It is a little sacrifice in the servitude of another. There is not much to say, is there?

“Will you not fight back?” Finn mutters. He chardly has the desire to debase random individuals. He has no appetite for this battle. 

“Nevermind.” A turn, a return of his spear, and eyes closed. How could he expect anyone at this monastery to understand?

[profitsabode]

The Paragon Knight does not disappoint in terms of power, his steel sword making a clean hit on Anna's golden armor. It isn't enough to unbalance her though, as Anna is already back in the fight to finish what she has started.

"I aim to please, sir!" Anna cheers, only meaning to be honorable to her opponent. "But even if this isn't life or death, I'm the one who's gonna end up on top!"

She tries to back up her claim with her iron, her axe rushing forward once more and hoping for an encore of the previous strike. One final hit should do it!

Anna 4.5/6HP misses Xander 2/6HP with Iron Axe [Roll: 2; -0HP; Xander 2/6HP]

Unfortunately, such an encore is fated to fail when facing an experienced veteran. The warrior simply sidesteps her attack that immaturely expected to land in the same area twice. The commander is so blinded by her predicted victory, that she has to pause for a second after swinging.

"H-huh?"

Counter! @chevaleri / @justicefanged

[justicefanged]

Okay, so that wasn't a great start -- he just had to shake it off! Things were just picking up! He could totally bring this back, and show that he was capable!

Kicking chunks of ice from his boots, Linus hefted his axe almost idly as he narrowed his gaze to the dancer girl. He held no ill will towards her from what came before, and he didn't really now, even if she had made him look like a bit if a fool with that magic of hers. But this was a competition, and she was the enemy right in front of his nose right now.

Grinning wildly at her, he jabs a finger in her direction before shouting, "Ya better watch out, I'm comin' for ya now! Ain't slowin' the Mad Dog down for long!"

Linus misses Ninian with Smash [Roll: 4, 0; Ninian 6/6HP]

He geared up excitedly, putting all his might into the blow--

Only for the girl to gracefully spin out of his attack with ease. His axe bit deep into the soft earth, and Linus swore up and down -- red in the face and teeth bared -- as he yanked it back out again.

@chevaleri

[chevaleri]

perhaps the golden deer could truly come out on top this time? xander was not losing any faith, not yet.

"everyone !" he calls aloud, voice strong and commanding. it was a tone he used often, one he used well. he gives linus a reassuring nod, before continuing. "they've begun to lose their grit. steel yourselves, but do not relent on your guard."

eyes make contact with anna once again, and he speaks anew. "i find myself impressed with your ability," and it was a genuine compliment. "when this battle ends, i intend to speak to you about it."

at that, he steadies his horse towards her and strikes once again.

Xander 2/6HP hits Anna 4.5/6HP with Steel Sword [Roll: 9 + 2 = 11; -1.5HP; Anna 3/6HP]

he wasn't doing as hot as he would have desired - and a tactful retreat is better than a miserable loss. but for now, he could hang on. "hold your ground," and it is words of encouragement that may carry them through. "future combatants and students . . . they will look towards you to see the might of the golden deer long beyond this battle. we will not fail them."

[ninisdance]

throwing hands in the monastery parking lot (boel round 1, battle 2)

[justicefanged]

Linus was ecstatic that the Battle of the Eagle and Lion had come back around again! Even if he'd done poorly last time, it had still been a load of fun for him -- who didn't like the rush of combat, after all? He was just wanting to last longer this time around, maybe get in a few good licks before it all finished up.

And maybe he'd been a little distracted by what might happen, because Linus completely missed that things had finally kicked off!

Swearing to himself, Linus had enough time to catch up to his teammates and get sights on the enemy right in front of him. While he had never directly been involved in hunting down those two siblings, he had been aware of them. He'd had no idea what purpose they played back in Elibe, but kidnapping kids? Never sat right with him.

It was a rare moment of hesitation from the Mad Dog, seeing one of them here and facing off in battle.

The powerful blast of cold that struck him in the following moment reminded him what a mistake that was. Teeth chattering as he stared in bewilderment at the young woman, Linus growled in frustration as he was forced to chip his now frozen feet free in order to do anything else.

"Dirty trick! Watch out, ya won't get another free shot from me!"

Linus is frozen and chooses to skip.

@chevaleri @livingrief

[livingrief]

A glance to the skies offers nothing but sallow pity, for this grandiose devotion to the monastery is nothing more than mutual and self-assured aggrandizement, something Finn has little desire to take part in. Gronder field, in all its radiance, seems to stretch on forever, but who accounts for the prestige and power of its name? 

Finn has no answer. It is not his problem to pay patronage any longer. He no longer kneels in service or pledges his name. Unfortunate for his companions of course, who duly seem involved in affairs of this battle… But Finn has no desire to see an outcome. 

This was an assignment, merely that and nothing more. The weight of his lance was only so deep nowadays. His companions gathered and a curt nod is given. 

Nothing distinct is noticed from others opposite. No desire is taken to fight but the lance must be lifted. Even when the ominous green-haired man aims his fire magic at him, and the knight has little recourse, does he desire to move forwards. What a failure. The dullness cannot escape his eyes. But even an old dog can still carry out a task, knowing his mission all too well. Finn raises his lance, deciding in the last seconds that he will aim for his assailant. It is his smallest care in the world, a fly on the windowsill of eternity.  

“Apologies,” he mutters.

Finn 6/6 HP hits Griss 6/6 HP with Iron Lance [Roll: 18 + 2 = 20; -1.5 HP; Griss 4.5/6 HP] @chevaleri

[chevaleri]

it was still a most foreign experience and an unexpected one to stand by the side of the deer. xander readies his saddle, gently stroking his hand down sieglinds face in gentle and earnest support before the battle truly begun - a mans connection with his steed was unlike anything else.

it does not take long for the first blow to strike him. the familiar cut of the axe, carving itself through reinforced armor and pressing into his breast bone. pain radiates through his torso momentarily before dying into a dull ache - the hit itself was heavy, but years of experience had taught xander but one simple thing. you fight until you can no longer.

"consider me impressed," is what he says, stretching his shoulder blades in passive inspection of the damage. axes were tricky things. they bludgeoned as much as they cut. "i could see within your eyes you would strike as if this were a genuine battle of life and death. good."

he expresses the same sentiment to everyone he spars with, and anna was no exception. "but will withstand a blow as hard as you give them?"

pace picks up & xander darts forward, raising his blade before slashing it against anna in return, making contact with the exact spot in which she had struck him.

he hadn't applied enough force. an unsatisfactory blow in contrast to hers.

well, this looks like it was about to get interesting.

Xander 2/6HP hits Anna 6/6HP with Steel Sword [Roll: 9 + 2 = 11; -1.5HP; Anna 4.5/6HP]

[chevaleri]

not funny. did NOT laugh. got a little stressed actually........

[ovcrcoat]

xander is right, of course. iago does not say it, but xander is right. iago belongs, in whole or in part, to the wearer of nohr's crown. he is, to put it more plainly, xander's responsibility. he shakes his head. "you are correct, my king. i am not a citizen of this land, merely a visitor. and you are still my liege."

still, he will take advantage of what safety being elsewhere provides. in nohr, he could be killed at xander's leisure. here, though? it would be a far more complex task, at least.

he watches as xander sits and approaches him. his motions are slow and languid, and he gets down on one knee, head bowed. like a knight, awaiting a reward. like a knight, swearing fealty. iago is neither, of course, he is mocking the idea, of course. but perhaps, then, he is kneeling with his head bowed like a man awaiting a swing of a headsman's axe.

but as we have established: that is not to come.

"you heard me, my liege. yes, there's no need to repeat yourself, i said mine. you cannot get rid of me with any sort of ease."

this sickly deference is the sort of thing that can only be associated with nohr. with rotting fruit and the pungent-sweet scent of it. his deference has a texture, a weight. the smarmy smile of his weighs heavily on his face like a physical thing as he chances a glance up at xander. to keep his head bowed until ordered otherwise was a gesture he reserved for garon alone. garon's son... is a different matter entirely. a different man, who needs to be handled more carefully.

no, he does not know when the gloves can come off.

so to speak.

iago's eyes meet xander's. snake in the grass. he laughs, low and amused.

"you want me to explain my presence...? and here i was worried i was being too obvious in my intentions. i came here seeking you."

[chevaleri]

his tone is laced with something else. something specifically iago. uniquely him.

it is fronted as a dedication of the self, and yet the enunciation of the words provide a modicum of possessiveness - no, scratch that, something larger, something in which iago has hoisted his ( dirtied ? clean ? manicured ? bloodied ? of sinew and muscle and fat and crusted blood ? nails ) into, a predator . . . not to prey. xander was no prey. and though he presents himself as a polite albeit shady tactician, maybe some ought to see iago as prey.

iago, in xanders eyes, positioned himself to seem like prey but be utterly the opposite.

xander sees iago lower himself, head bowed.

a vulnerable stance, and a vulnerability xander could not touch in the lands of fodlan.

"iago," he knows to be cautious with his words here. the game is afoot already. he leans forward, hand settling itself on his head - pressing itself into the crown of his skull ( lightly , ever so lightly. ). "speak plainly to me. enough of the charades."

he spares no pause between his words. "out of everyone here, you sought me ?" he will handle this. xander will pry iago from fodlans grasp, he will make him his responsibility. for what end, none know. and though iago were to be slain for his actions, the jurisdiction of nohr ends within her walls. "nohrian law is brutal on the subject of traitors. why do you believe me to be any different ?"

xander folds his arms, and looks at him. iago, the grand tactician of nohr. "fodlan protects you to some degree from nohrs reach. it cannot protect you from her citizens," he continues. "if you truly seek rehabilitation, swear it to me, and i will be the one to determine if you speak the rightful truth."

and there was no greater place to keep iago than sworn. than close. hellish actions as he might have done to his father, this was a burden not for fodlan to carry and not for his siblings to torment themselves with. he hadn't attempted himself on garons life - manipulated him to all hell, but xander was no fool. the grip of anankos was dead. all that remained was xanders sensibilities. "an oath. you've sworn them before," there wasn't any way his father would allow him by his side without one, has he? in all fairness, xander hadn't seen it. "play me a fool and you will reap the repercussions of what you sow as soon as your head hits the floor. i am showing you a great deal of laughable mercy as it stands."

of course, it's harder than that. there could be so, so many people who would iago dead, but the mess that would throw the monastery into with nohr itself would be vile. he hopes his siblings have steeped their temper.

xander thinks iago does not believe in redemption ( better yet said , he does not desire it , he presumes ).

xander thinks iago is a schemer.

xander thinks this has become a game of foreign affairs.

xander thinks, iago is playing it decently well in the guise of etiquette and niceties.

xander knows to steady his hand, because he has to.

"go on," he frowns. "iago."

[chevaleri]

"My friend," Duessel starts, and is not sure precisely if that is the correct term. He pauses, wondering if he is being too forward, but then continues onwards.

( duessel is: a general. xander is: a king. they share no country, and he hopes that means they may be friends. )

Regardless, he smiles at Xander and looks over at their horses together. They've become close, and he's pleased with it. "Are you signing up for the battle of the Eagle and Lion? I know you're unaffiliated, so I was wondering if you would perhaps join the Golden Deer House in their efforts? I would like my class to learn from greatness, and perhaps be more competitive in this challenge."

' my friend '. the words are, admittedly, something of a surprise. there is truth in the matter that he is unaffiliated, and there is further to be said on the way in which his hand veered towards the blue lions in his habitual love for noblesse oblige.

but the golden deer . . . duessel has spoken of them with fondness in times past. their eagerness to learn and the bonds in which they maintain, the fact many had a long ways to go in regards to horsetraining ( spoken with enthusiasm , not irritation - there is joy to be found in the yearning to learn. there is similarities found within xander to others who must work for what they desire, rather than handed the ability through sheer divine intervention. )

and though the blue lions were a cut from the same tree xander branched from , maybe the golden deer were a house appealing in their own way.

"general duessel," it is an unspoken ' my friend ' as well. forever one for the formalities. "i hadn't known you were working so very hard on promoting your house."

a pause, and then a nod. what's the harm in aligning himself with the golden deer just this once ? he was a man without a house, waiting for what appeals to him before he aligns himself heart and soul ( and maybe , just maybe , that won't happen. maybe it will. xanders dedications are as weighty as they are an asset. and whilst he is one to provide, he is simultaneously one to expect - to push and pull and exert. may the house that receives his favor , if any , braces themselves for the situation. )

"very well. i will assign myself to the golden deer for the upcoming tournament, then," head turns towards the direction of sign ups. "i had originally thought i would lend my sword to the blue lions, but . . . a friend in need will be provided for. i look forward to what you may teach me, side by side."

[chevaleri]

horse girl mentality does not end in your teenage years

[obsidiendo]

Snapdragon's nose brushes again Xander's fingers, sniffing there as if searching for a hidden treat. While not as strict as her new horse companion Sieglind, she still remains ever-wary; judgmental thing, she likes to sort out who is friend or foe before fully approaching. The quickest way to her heart is with food, of course, and Duessel cannot help but smile as she huffs at finding King Xander's hands lacking.

He reaches into his own pockets and hands King Xander an apple. "The Golden Deer House is filled with many talented and bright students. Many of them are not as well-versed with their melee weapons, especially when riding, but that is something I have no issue working with them on."

He thinks about Altena, with her wariness at Snapdragon. About the other students who would prefer ranged weapons, or to keep their feet on the ground. He considers the reason that he was tasked with this particular group was more than likely because this was something they did not have much experience in; therefore, he was more than happy to assist.

"Sometimes our mounts deserve a nice long rest," he says, and smiles as Snapdragon reaches her head back towards King Xander. She wants to trust him, that much is clear -- but he would need to give her something first. "There are plenty of things that our companions can do while they're here. Would you like to see some of the pastures and corrals?"

[chevaleri]

a fondness for teaching the inexperienced. they shared it well. xander smiles at that, gentle - his smiles were always small. it was simply how his face sat. at the sight of snapdragon, he pats down his pants, before retrieving a carrot. sieglinds, yes, but he had additionals.

hand extends and offers it to the steed, giving distance between the two. xander was a patient man, he knew to wait, that a horses trust was ill-acquired through rushing things. sensitive creatures, prone to reading ones emotions far before they could even realize what they had experienced himself.

it is at that time duessel hands him an apple, and xander takes it with a curt nod. "thank you," he says, before extending the apple towards snapdragon and handing the carrot towards duessel. he would know what to do with it. sieglind was not one for apples. "hm . . . i admittedly found it hard for myself to align with a faculty. i desire to teach those unfamiliar with swordplay and horse riding in particular."

maybe the black eagles. maybe neither. though the blue lions was more inclined with his noblesse oblige, the budding beginnings of golden deer appealed to him personally. "you seem to work well at tempting my hand, general duessel," he nods. "or my faculty change papers. but it's far too early for that."

head nods towards sieglind, who stomps her hooves - ready to ride. "and where would you take me, then?"

[chevaleri]

not funny. did NOT laugh. got a little stressed actually........

[ovcrcoat]

he is not surprised to see xander here, so late at night. iago had left a breadcrumb trail which xander had dutifully followed, step by step. xander was so good at following steps, at chasing what was laid out for him, open-handed offerings that turned to closed-fist traps.

it was one of iago’s favorite things about him, truly. xander was unlike his father in this regard. this, too, was a good thing. iago would grow bored playing the same game with the son of the same unimpressive man ( beloved, but unimpressive ; garon could have been so much more than what he was ) and so the variety of this is entirely different.

now, the man called xander, on the other hand...

shining xander. man-killing xander. xander breaker of horses—it can be difficult to describe xander.

a sharp sword, cleaving forward. sharp-edged at least, a man who believes in things. in institutions. in country, in family, in the army. isn't it funny how difficult it can be to actually describe a good man? xander is a brave man, and he can be called ' good. '

( and the audience asks how does he get himself out of this one? )

this is the reason behind iago's breadcrumb trail.

"am i still of nohr?" he asks, inquisitive and mocking and sincere all at once. nohr is his home, nohr is what he'd have committed any ruthless act of barbarism to serve. still, is he of nohr?

iago is pleased to hear xander declare him his responsibility. this is what he had wanted, and xander plays right into his hands, just as garon had always played into his hands. the similarity between father and son is oh so exploitable, even when it is the differences that make him try.

garon, his face pinched something bitter, must have swallowed the medicine wrong. xander has no such trouble, does he? still, iago wonders if he will keep it down.

( and the chorus cries look how the moon glints off the point of the mask! )

is this what he fought for?

"and to answer your question i... wait, no, actually i don't think i will answer it. not yet. you will need to earn an answer, my liege."

[chevaleri]

"would you abandon your country you so valiantly fought to hold ?" xander remarks. right by his eyes did iago slip his fingers into the sinew of her ( that is to say , nohrs ) muscle, to pull through the fiber and strip the bones clean of it. xander figures - it was a prize, for iago to have his fingerprints on something nohrian that none had ever touched before. to be so maladjusted yet desirable of the morbidities in which his home provided. "show me proof if your immigration to another land and their citizenship of you. i will relent if so. but until you can provide me those very documents, you remain under my hold."

he knows leo would take issue with this. maybe. factually spoken, who knows ? maybe leo wouldn't care. slight frown, but acceptance. maybe he would speak up, in defiance, that iago was indeed his responsibility and to please allow him the mercy killing ( that would not be merciful. ).

maybe leo wouldnt do any of these. iago was a special case, whose sheer presence was nigh unreactable.

but, as it goes, iago is not to be killed. he is to be spared. why ? their place within fodlan aside ( ah ! the safety net of foreign diplomacy ! ), there are secrets only iago knows. and though that boy is dead, xander can still hear his voice - a child, himself, and all his fear and worries and dread at what a monster his father was becoming day by day.

xander owes it to that boy to get answers. he owes it to nohr, his father, and every fallen soldier.

"your liege ?" eyebrows raise, and xander sits down. "yours ?"

xanders expression hardens. "you've not sworn an oath to me, unless you believe your servitude is inherited from father to son," he says. "but if i'm your liege, and you desire to play this game..."

would he be so unwise to add a scheming man as iago to his side, xander would be dead.

"then you would best begin explaining your intentions in fodlan. if i am your king, my reach does not fall simply within nohrian borders to my people."

the last two words are bitter in his mouth.

[chevaleri]

not funny. did NOT laugh. got a little stressed actually........

[chevaleri]

picture : a man, so aligned with tactics, so very smart at all that he does. he who can fell a nation in but a day or cause the war to persist forever. the one who can avoid bloodshed through parley or ' break it in ' by words alone.

now picture : iago.

how hilarious that the two are synonymous with one another. xander ought to be almost amused at the fact that the dead may walk , that iagos restless spirit lurks the monastery with all his grand ( and not so grand ) intentions. ones of a king-slayer, albeit, unbloodied hands with dark intentions ( why would iago ever bloody his hands ? a living vassal and puppet served a far better purpose than a corpse held by strings ).

intentions, intentions - none in which he were privy to if asked - ones in which iago may thin his lips, cheshire smile, so sweetly say sblood, but you will not hear me: if ever i did dream of such a matter, abhor me.

and xander will do the dance iago wants, moves in which xander has seen his father tread. he will say thou didst hold him in thy hate, the bold accusation that the strategist has once more returned to sink his fingers into the unwilling and unaware - he knows iago surely must perceive him with the anger and disgust one may only hold towards a marionette who dare not be strung.

and iago, he presumes, will oh-so-sweetly say, despise me, if i do not.

( but why do the dance that iago wants ? )

( the simple matter of fact is, though he may be dreadfully terrible, iago could pull whomever he wanted into a scheme already planned beforehand. there is not a step unaccounted for, not a move iago has not already set into place. )

xander comes to him, in the dead of night, when the others have slept. spirits were the most active then. a deceased nohrian must feel right at home. a library.

and he spares no time, nor does he wait for niceties as he approaches him at the table. "iago," he speaks, voice heavy with cold. frozen like ice, dripping with caution vested upon him by predecessors slain. "you remain a nohrian. though your death certificate is a trophy on castle walls, you remain nohrian."

it wasn't actually displayed publicly. it was more of a metaphor than anything. "no king nor country will take you, you are my responsibility as it stands," and xander feels now, that he speaks to a ghost. there is the temptation to reach out and touch the pale hands against the book against his own, to see if blood courses through iagos veins and if strum with the warmth of any human being. "how."

how did you live?

"no. forget how," were it the intricacies of dark magic, he will leave it for another time. "why, is a better question. to what pit have you decided to leave, and why have you decided for your legs to take you to fodlan?"

@tacitanis

[chevaleri]

not funny. did NOT laugh. got a little stressed actually........

[rpmemesupreme-blog]

send me a ♡ and i’ll describe what i think our muses’ child would be like

[ can be in terms of appearance, personality, or both! ]

[chevaleri]

The round ends, and Laslow’s again shuffled off to his new partner. He smooths his hair, tugs on the hem of his jacket, brushes invisible lint off his sleeves. Has to make a favorable impression, no?

And indeed he does; Laslow pulls his shoulders back, standing taller. “Milord Xander! What a lucky stroke of Fate!” He sits down with a grin.

“I didn’t expect to see you here. You should have told me you were looking for a lovely lass! We can hit the town next time—I make an excellent wingman.”

' childhood aspirations/goals compared to current ones. '

xander reviews the card once again. admittedly, he was relieved to have achieved at least a handful of those aspirations. swordplay was a rather large one, and needless to say, he was rather adept at handling the sharpest of them or making do with the bluntest.

he is torn from his own thoughts at the sound of laslow, setting it down and sliding it towards him.

"it won't be necessary. i simply thought that participating in monastery events would bode well for getting to understand the school better," there is a tinge of awkwardness to his next statement, concealed, but evident to those who know him well enough. "...unfortunately, i hadn't expected this. i set a goal for myself and i suppose i was determined in finishing it."

"nonetheless," he inches the card further. "at your comfort, laslow."

[chevaleri]

we're single or we'd be too powerful out there goldmary

[chevaleri]

' is it important for a couple to have similar ideals? '

well, this was awfully different to the simplicity of his last question. comical, almost, in how it took such a serious turn.

well, xander clicks his tongue, and says his answer. "to an extent," is how he begins. "mindlessly following your partner seems a match fit for destruction. i would enjoy someone with their differences to keep me on my toes, so to speak."

he places the flashcard down and slides it towards her. "but, then again, there has to be a degree of compatibility," aah, he was discussing preferences with an absolute stranger. . . "it'd be wrong for me to imply that i do not have my ideologies i won't budge on. that much is true."

@flaurum

[flaurum]

This one, too, Goldmary decides, is handsome in his own way, even if there looks to be a sizeable gap in age. Perhaps, she muses to herself, he might have some wisdom - born of experience - to share?

Surely he must have some juicy stories to tell...

"You toe the line of caution," she notices, mischief in half-lidded eyes and teasing smile addressed him. "They often say opposites attract, but I am not so sure this applies to ideals. I would go so far as to offer a resounding 'yes' for my own answer. If my partner's ideal world-" one in which she is their goddess, and as for the rest she hasn't quite gotten that far "-isn't one we see eye to eye on, then that's that, is it not?"

Fingers steeple together, and she tilts her head just so - surely, by now, with this conversation come to an interim, he can think of something to say about her overwhelming radiance? She's confident he can be gentlemanly about it.

...Just a morsel, even?

[chevaleri]

"then, what is your ideal world for your partner? if you have a say in the matter," which is an independent thing, but it was a given that partners would share experiences with one another. "alternatively . . . an unideal world for them is fine, too."

seeing eye to eye is important. baseless following is not. xander disliked the concept of ' yes men ', or their gender neutral equivalents. it was those who said ' yes ' and did everything without apprehension that lead to the downfall of garon in the first place ( bar the otherworldly possession. it happens.).

others, like hans and iago.

it was something he treasured, to say the least, when another was present to caution him on mistakes. such was the merit of war meetings. as long and tedious as they are ( to some. xander liked them. ), they were a necessary time sink for that of a prosperous future.

at this, he notices goldmarys half-lidded eyes and smile. she seemed the playful type.

"caution is necessary for any good relationship in healthy doses," xander leaves out the ' i think. '. it's best not to let his own inexperience seep into this. "would you want a reckless partner that dies prematurely, or one that evaluates risks appropriately and takes what they must take ? i would prefer the second option."