Diligence at Dawn | Open
ravensnruin:
“Waha, sorry! Aye aye, Sir Frederick,” he said, addressing the great knight a mock salute. Okay. So. Good to know that ‘Freddy’ was off-limits. He’d have to remember that.
Wouldn’t want the great knight after his head over a misunderstanding, after all. “Sounds kinda silly though, to be happy sacrificing yourself like that.” Henry couldn’t think of anyone he was close enough to that he’d bother to do the same for. Then again, unlike so many others, he did not fear death’s sweet embrace. “Well, good thing I’m on your side and not, in fact, an enemy,” he finished with a nod. “You can go on protecting him to your leisure.”
The idea of having someone to protect… Once upon a time, it made sense. Now, though, it was a notion far scarier than simply dying. It invited the idea of a certain closeness. A vulnerability. And yet… It was tantalizing, in that it meant the dark mage might be needed by someone…
He shook his head and the thoughts dissipated like smoke.
“Sure, consider it a challenge, then,” Henry replied with confidence. Did the man know what was required of a hex? Either way, it sounded like an entertaining prospect. More so than his own poor past attempts at wielding any sort of weapon, but he’d cross that bridge if they ever got to it. “I get to watch when you try, though. You know, to make sure you don’t curse your eyeballs out by mistake.”
He’d seen worse.
“D’awwww. You’re no fun.” But even as he complained, only half in jest, Henry moved to lift one of the crates. Or, that is, he moved to attempt lifting one of the damned things. Frowning lightly at the offending objects, he tried again, grunting under the effort. Then, a pause, as he reflected aloud: “What do you mean, ’watching’?”
He tried again, gripping the lower edges of a different box and, knees wobbling just a mite, successfully lifted it. This was the devil’s work, he was sure of it, and the knight was sure to have himself a laugh at Henry’s expense. Hmph.
“Wh-where is this going?” he asked, somewhat urgently. Gods, how he hated to sweat.
Is Henry making a mockery out of him without having to call him ‘Freddy?’ He always found a way to irritate the Great Knight, even with just simple gestures as those. But his stoic expression doesn’t betray him and he remains composed.
“On the contrary, having met Chrom was a miracle in and of itself. Before him I had no particular reason to protect anyone. No, that is not quite right, I did have ambition, but it was aimless. Milord was kind enough to give my life a greater meaning. I live to serve not just him but the Halidom of Ylisse and the realm itself. You would do well to find a purpose like that, if you still lack one.”
He sounds very sure of himself, his convictions, though sounding like lofty platitudes, are the real deal. Frederick does give the impression that he would lay down his life for his liege if it ever came to that. Could he curse his eyeballs by mistake though? Slinging hexes has never looked complex, especially when half of the time it’s just Tharja dumping ingredients to a cauldron and laughing maniacally. He could do that, couldn’t he? But Henry’s presence might be reassuring.
“Consider it done, any day, any time! For the time being, however, these boxes are out of place. We must move them across the camp. Some of these are being used to store other useful tools. As you know, our enemies occasionally drop very useful items. We’ve gathered a large amount of them, so we’ll go to the back of camp and re-store everything new we’ve got. We must first expend the used equipment before using the new one.”
With that, Frederick easily lifted two of the largest boxes on one hand each and looked back at Henry with a warm smile, not a single drop breaking into his skin yet. His physical prowess is definitely far larger than the Plegian Dark Mage’s...
