HONOUR

'I hope that five years and ten years from now, I'll be a better man, a more mature man, a wiser man, a more humble man and a more spirited man to serve the good of my people and the good of humanity.' - Louis Farrakhan Sir Bastien Coupe | 28 | Queensguard

[assassinelektra]

keep me from the cages || Elektra & Bastien

[assassinelektra]

Well, she couldn’t argue with that answer. The knife’s balance was unmistakable, and impossible not to find even for a beginner. Elektra listened as Bastien explained his recent adventures with the lithe dagger, but it didn’t take his admittance to see that he’d been exercising its usage. The way he’d been flipping it with ease and paying the movement no attention spoke for itself. What surprised her about the soldier’s comments revolved around the respect he held for the weapon. Usually other Kingdoms came up with whatever insult- lie it may be- in order to protect their own realms forges. A weapon was a weapon in Elektra’s eyes, and their was no reason to deny a well-built blade. One murderous piece of iron, steel, or silver wouldn’t change from the use of another. Grinning, the assassin moved away from a yearling’s prying head, “If its origins slip, they will still have to track me down to receive one.” Unless she wanted to be seen, the woman would remain in their shadows. The two daggers residing in each of her boots were of the exact make as the one Bastien now possessed, and their were plenty more stashed away.

"Always so stern," she teased at the sight of his frown, "lighten up. There is no war at your doorstep just yet." In fact, part of her presence in Omnium was to prevent one. Of course that was a first in her line of work, but the Queen had found her price. Elektra lightly bumped his shoulder while passing in attempts at a playful jest. She wasn’t their to behead him, and that was exactly how the member of the Queensguard appeared. "Your recruits, are they promising?"

It was easy to say that Elektra never expected to agree with this man. From their previous conversation her intention had been to stay away from him. She wasn’t bothered by the sword he’d kept at his waist- or for the fact he’d unsheathed it and held its point to her throat- but would rather keep her business with Faye alone. “I agree,” came her thoughtful reply, “their emotions are quite like our own, and like ourselves do not easily forgive the past.” Mentioning her Sparran heritage caused a raise of her brow, and soon she was returning the taunt, “Unless the farmer has a rather sharp pitchfork.” The last time she had been able to joke along with another had been ages ago, and it was odd to find that she had missed the interaction. Being who she was..there wasn’t anything left to miss. “Yes, well, I assure you I am not here to cause Omnium trouble. I have enough of that elsewhere.” The notion was clearly stated and sincere; perhaps even laced with traceable melancholy if the man had truly been listening.

Her curiosity peeked when Bastien mentioned his own mount, and that curiosity turned into an incline of her head as she trailed after him down the aisle. She expected the horse to reside with the war horses at the end; the stalls giving view to muscly brutes with pawing and scraping hooves. Half of them seemed rather rowdy from lack of exercise or young age, but perhaps from also absorbing a taste of their rider’s personality. Overall, Elektra could see how they could create an intimidating force. Allowing room for the animal to exit its stall, she stood on the opposite side of Bastien. She looked the gelding up and down, accessing each sinuous muscle it possessed. He stood with practiced discipline unlike the other powerful breeds prancing in their stalls. Quiet, alert, intuitive, there was no protest of saddle or bridle that usually amused her while watching soldiers battle their steeds. “Handsome,” she complimented, “and trusting. I am glad to see I was right about you. You lived up to your word, and that is more than half of what I find true during these times.”

Elektra’s expression instantly changed when Bastien proposed they leave. That hadn’t been in question, and she nearly choked at the option. At the stable’s entrance she paused and leaned against the door frame, holding Bastien under a cautious gaze. “Is this how you usually sweep noble ladies off their feet?” She joked quietly, glancing from him to the horse resting patiently beside him. Her eyes trailed across the city to the plains beyond, and from there they latched onto the forest’s direction. It would be a nice change of scenery and company from the past few days, but her mind still swayed toward a no. “I suppose.” And truthfully, she wasn’t able to pinpoint how the opposite answer came to exist. It was, after all, completely against her better judgement.

[sirbastiencoupe]

“Always so stern – lighten up.”

Bastien’s stance and expression remained unchanged and while he may not have relaxed as she had prompted, he didn’t tense either. Usually, when one was told to ‘lighten up’, one did the exact opposite – especially if one was a soldier – simply in case there was a reason behind getting one to lower their guard. He paused momentarily at the thought , finally grasping just how much of a soldier he in fact was after a near decade of the position and realising that he was never entirely likely to shed the persona he had built up because of it. The thought was only proved when he remained as rigid as ever when Elektra bumped his arm with her own, giving no leeway to the playful, innocent gesture. Instead, he glanced down at her with steely eyes, ready to defend himself if the need arose. His expression only softened when his mind managed to process the action and catch up to his instincts. “I’m sorry, it is...far easier thought than executed,” he replied, bowing his head slightly, only to look back up at her when she mentioned the recruits. “They are much like carriage horses: not suitable for battle. But when they finally slow down and put the hours of careful work needed in, then...” His eyes lit up slightly as his mind wandered back to the training sessions he had taken over the past two or three days. Each had been as exhausting as the last, but, as proven that morning on the archery field, every agonising second had paid off. “I predict that some of Omnium’s best are currently residing in our barracks.”

He paused a beat when she openly agreed with him – it may not have been much, but just as his previous comment had been, it was a white flag of sorts. “Even if he were to hold his own, there is no doubt in my mind he would soon turn pale at the bloody sight before him,” Bastien replied with a small shrug, speaking his mind. It was something he so rarely got to do, given his position: even with Maya and Damien, there was a veil of professionalism, however thin it may be – they were constantly in his life, after all. A stranger, despite who may dispute it, was far easier to talk to than even a close companion. He listened to her carefully, clenching his jaw as he considered her comment, then nodded as he turned to her. "Fine," he said simply before nodding again, "I believe you - somewhat. Your eyes have such...depth, such that I rarely see outside of the garrison. Forgive my frankness, but perhaps one day you shall tell me your story, Elektra."

Just standing at fifteen hands, Aethon was rather small and stocky compared to the other horses that occupied the Royal stables, especially the lean war horses that he was housed with, but physical appearance was not all one could judge a horse on. Unlike the cavalry horses that continued to shift back and forth in the stalls, Aethon was disciplined - Bastien had trained the horse himself and the two had been close companions for the past thirteen years, years that had formed a mutual trust and respect between the two. Not only could he read Bastien's body language and react appropriately, Aethon was also swift and had endurance that was near impossible to match. "The finest horse in Omnium," Bastien added, running his hand down Aethon's bay neck. He once again hesitated as Elektra added another comment that contradicted everything he previously thought of her. "No doubt you will soon find out how near impossible it is to be wrong about me," he replied, "I am what I appear and say to be, Elektra - nothing more, and nothing less." He doubted the woman standing before him could empathise: despite not viewing her as a serious threat, he still knew very little about her.

Aethon's hoofs clopping against the stone ground and echoed around the stables as a silence hung in the air between Elektra and Bastien. It was as though he had proposed they flee the land, taking with them only the shirts on their back despite barely knowing each other. He took advantage of her hesitation and mounted Aethon, smiling softly at her remark, but made no reply. Instead, he remained silent, keeping careful eye contact with her as she considered his request and finally gave her answer. He shifted forward slightly in the saddle as he reached down and offered her his arm.

[assassinelektra]

keep me from the cages || Elektra & Bastien

[assassinelektra]

"I see you’ve found its balance," she noted, "it was the first dagger I made when learning to smith. So far it hasn’t failed me, though I’ve learned how to perfect the make even more over time." Still it seemed the older knife seemed to keep up with its job, and that was all that mattered. From blacksmiths in Sparra and Assari; her skill set between both techniques had become rather unique. For her work, however, she prized the delicate yet brutal Assarian pieces over a heavy shield from Sparra. Assarian weapons were light, quiet, and deadly. "You should test an actual blade of that build."

It was a side of the soldier she hadn’t expected to be showcased. She studied Bastien closely; watching as he became affectionate toward the beast called Amaury. The horse seemed to be hunting for a treat as his nose pushed and prodded, nostrils finally finding their mark and pressing against the man’s pocket. Her own companion did the same and the memory caused a genuine smile to cross her features. There for a second then vanishing for a year; it was a usual defeated defiance. “So it seems he does.” Elektra commented while walking along the row of occupied stalls, naming breeds and purposes within her head.

She decided Bastien appeared less strained out of his usual Queensguard garb. Less demanding with a lighter demeanor, though the aura of leadership was still in plain sight. He was still notably commanding as well, but with a position as his you never truly took a day off. Nor did you pay attention to a medic’s order of bed rest if wounded- at least she didn’t. The edge that originated in their initial meet seemed to dissipate with each passing exchange, but that didn’t mean she was ready to let down her guard. Not around him, not around anyone. Not ever again. And the walls? Like a scarlet-stained coliseum.

Elektra couldn’t keep the grin from her face as the stallion responded to each phrase. Her eyes passed to Bastien briefly in order to gauge a reaction to his silence. She’d spoken to an Assari trader just outside Omnium’s Castle walls that morning, and someone within the crowd had the audacity to assume her a traitor. It had been an idiotic assumption that required her lending aid in a merchant’s escape. Then it had sustained his life, but now without her around..the ending may be futile. The Kingdom was spiraling into paranoia; no wonder the Queen requested her informative mind. “He agrees with me that you are a hardheaded and stubborn man,” she mused in a teasing manner, “but that you are indeed loyal to your duties.” Releasing herself from the animal’s presence she allowed Bastien to escort Amaury back to once again occupied stall. “You are wise for it. Many rush whatever four-legged creature that lies within their confines into a war, and send their army into disarray. You will not be throwing a spear from the back of a carriage horse.”

At the question of where her own steed rested, she gave a simple gesture toward the stable’s exit, “The valley, the forest, the meadow,” Elektra listed easily, “wherever he feels unbridled until I call.” There were no chains on her, and there would be no chains on her stallion. “His name is Sithik. I’m sure you would like him, although whether the returning feelings are matched is a mystery to me. We will have to see.” From what she had accessed of Bastien thus far he posed no threat toward the equine species. She couldn’t see telltale signs of mistreatment radiating from the horses as he neared them, and that was something to say about a soldier. Or something that she had observed from other Kingdoms. If your mount did not trust you, then why would you attempt to bend its will and thrust it upon a raging cavalry? A will did not need to be bent. “I’ve crossed the blazing deserts of Assari with him- been to hell and back- and I have never known a better horse.” She grew with him; her last piece of family and home.

[sirbastiencoupe]

Bastien glanced up at Elektra’s comment, replying only a brief second later, “It wasn’t hard to find.” Her admission that she had made the weapon herself caused him to pause, narrowing his eyes as he looked back to the blade. Not only had she made it, but it was apparently the ‘first’. The mystery surrounding this woman was only growing deeper with each thing he found out about her, fuelling his suspicions that her reasons for being in Omnium were not exactly pure. However, he had already come to the firm conclusion that he would not let his doubts get the best of him – he would have a conversation as civil as possible, exercise the careful control he had spent years refining. This time, perhaps, he would get more answers and she would not run. "I tried it during archery training - the recruits were more impressed than usual, so perhaps I should keep its origins a secret or they will all be begging you for one."

The frown that had crept its way onto his face only deepened at Elektra's 'translation' of Amaury's whinnying, not necessarily because she said he was stubborn - he was well aware of that fact - but because she chose to highlight the very reason their conversation had become so heated that morning. Yes, if he were conceited enough to choose a trait that he most prided himself on, it would be his loyalty to his Queen, his country and those he served with. It was an attribute that his father had instilled in each of his children from a young age - not matter how different their personalities, interests and lives, their overwhelming loyalty was a common trait that ran through their veins. 

He used the excuse of turning to Amaury's stall to hide his confusion somewhat. "Horses are very human," he replied, "well, perhaps only a select few people can be compared to them, as their careful balance of strength, grace, loyalty and agile minds are near impossible to match, but it can be said that each has their own unique set of skills. You would not send a carriage horse to war any more than you would trust a farmer to wield a sword in the midst of battle, rather like how you could not expect a soldier to allow a mysterious, no doubt heavily armed Sparran walk around with no questions asked." Bastien glanced at her from the corner of his eye at this last comment, a small smirk playing on his lips. He did not say it to antagonise her, but rather as an explanation for his previous actions. 

The sugar cube disappeared as quickly as the last, and Bastien ran a hand down the horse's neck, listening as intently as always to Elektra's reply as he wiped down the bit in the bucket by the door before hanging it on a nail. "I suppose horses are like humans in that manner too - one cannot always guarantee that they will liked," he said with a firm nod and tight smile as he picked up another bridle and saddle, only to raise an eyebrow as he approached her. "Each to their own, but you have yet to meet my steed."

Bastien walked past her with the tack and continued down the rows of carriage and workhorses to where the warhorses were kept, and amongst them, his own. Aethon was already waiting at the stall door and the gelding nickered impatiently as Bastien came into view, no doubt having heard his voice and he seemed to  nod his head enthusiastically when he caught sight of the saddle. The knight opened the stall door and Aethon walked out in front of him and stood perfectly still as he had been trained to do as Bastien slung an old blanket over the horse's back before tightening up the saddle. The bridle was next to go on, and a minute later, the horse was ready to ride - the speed of the skill had been carefully perfected over the years, in case an emergency was ever to arise. Loosely holding onto the reins so they didn't drag along the ground, Aethon followed Bastien towards the stables' entrance without the slightest protest, and Bastien glanced over his shoulder at momentarily, "There is no better time than the present - shall we see now?" 

[sirbastiencoupe]

A Morning Stroll || Faye & Bastien

Bastien smothered a yawn as he glanced out the window above his bed and squinted as the sun peeked over the edge of the windowsill. Despite the heaviness of his eyes, the thought of returning to bed and sleeping for another hour or two did not seem as appealing as it once had when he had begun his training - nearly a decade of experience had taught him that he would be fit for duty if only he got up and kept moving. 

Perched on the end of his bed, he began his usual morning routine: one boot went on after the other, his shirt was tucked into his trousers, he tightened his bauldric and spaulder over his jacket, and checked his various weapons. The final step was unnecessary after all these years - he felt a certain lightness if even a knife was missing - but, as the saying went, old habits died hard. 

Hearing laughter pass under his window, he turned to the door and left his humble room ('humble' as such simply because he found that he spent more time sleeping in the stables, Castle, tavern or some noblewoman's bedroom, thus there was no apparent reason to make it grand or unhumble in any way), well aware of the fact that if recruits did not sound as though they were not entirely miserable, it meant they they would soon be eating. Rather than join them at the mess hall, Bastien left the barracks and made a quick detour to the Castle's kitchens, where a sly grin and a few words to a servant earned him an apple and bread fresh from the oven - a modest breakfast, perhaps, but one that would last him until he had the chance for lunch. 

Bastien was just finishing the last of the roll as he came to the closed doors of the dining hall. Nodding to the guards standing on either side in turn, he glanced out of the window to see the sun had fully risen - he had once again timed his arrival impeccably  - before he opened the doors to a familiar sight: Queen Faye was seated at the table, finishing her breakfast as Miya stood a few feet away. "Good morning, your Majesty," Bastien greeted with a bow, hand resting on his sword. Miya gave him a small nod and left the room as he approached, no doubt eager to catch up on sleep. "May I ask what business you are to conduct today?"

[larmoyante]

I can be changed by what happens to me. But I refuse to be reduced by it.

Maya Angelou (via larmoyante)

[sirbastiencoupe]

Bastien looked down at the dagger Elektra had left in his possession, examining the blade next to one of his own throwing knives. The balance and lightness of the blade amazed him - perhaps if he took it to the blacksmith, duplicates of the weapon could be made, but something told him that it would never be of the same standard...

He flicked the knife as he glanced up at the target, pausing mid throw, just before the blade left his hand as he noticed someone approaching. Giving them a brief nod in greeting, he turned back to the target. The knife flew effortlessly from his hand and hit the bullseye with a dull thud. "Morning," he greeted, going to retrieve the dagger.

[ulfarsfell]

And make death proud to take us.

Cleopatra, Anthony and Cleopatra - William Shakespeare  (via seaworth)

[assassinelektra]

keep me from the cages || Elektra & Bastien

[assassinelektra]

The abrupt change of the stallion’s attention had Elektra snap back to reality. The whistle- a distinct call- had her slip easily from the horse as it moved. She immediately turned defensive; as anyone in her line of work should. For a moment the assassin even made a move toward her boot; where she kept a dagger when her usual garb was absent. The voice and silhouette, however, had her relax somewhat. Only a few hours ago the man had pursued her in attempts to arrest, after all. “Yes,” she agreed softly, taking the few steps left toward the pair, “I know what he is used for. I know what positions they each hold.” The soldier wasn’t the only one with an affinity for equine; she’d been raised in the horse lands.

"I would not have touched him if his temperament had been different," Elektra assured him while running a hand through the stallion’s withers, "and what is your name, hmm?" The inquiry was directed toward the horse whom she whispered toward, though her eyes crossed to Bastien for the answer. The pommel of his sword did not go unnoticed each time she studied him. She half expected him to point the blade at her throat again and pull away from light conversation, and perhaps that was a problem. Elektra never had a conversation where a death wasn’t present, nor had there ever been one where a deathwasn’t being plotted or requested.

She expected at that moment in time she looked rather nonthreatening, except for the look in her eyes that never seemed to leave. Her orbs were not dark in color, but a bright sapphire that held an unmistakable aura about them. Danger, perhaps, though distrust and a constant warning. And her hair, rather than its sleeked ponytail or bound braid, held loose waves of ebony that fell just past her chest. Her armor had been stashed for the night, and she looked nothing of a weapon as portrayed during heated golden days. It was quite obvious that the woman was not a lady. Not with her sporting a man’s cotton blouse with pants tucked into boots. An assassin had no time nor taste for dresses, jewelry, and hair pins that prodded your head in the most ghastly of ways. A noble woman had tried once, and a hand had nearly been lost in the process. It had been for her father’s funeral, and even at five she recalled the man telling her what a waste dawning a noble’s life would be for her. Therefore it was rejected, as was the innocence of a child shortly after.

The Assarian dagger entered her vision rather quickly, and Elektra found the corner of her mouth lifting into the slightest hint of a grin. She hadn’t expected Bastien to keep it, but perhaps add it to evidence of her presence. A light laugh escaped her at his last comment, her eyes darting past him before her gaze found him once more, “Perhaps your men can learn of these manners.” It was a simple jest, odd coming from someone such as herself. Turning to face the animal, she placed a gentle hand under his chin and lifted. She spoke with a clear accent, in the language of her own people, the words within the phrase falling from her tongue with purpose. There was a smooth transition from Sparran to Assarian, and her tone changed with the meaning of each new sentence. She found that the horse latched on to most of it, as if he could truly understand every syllable. The language of the horse- superstition had called it- but she used it often and used it well. Her own horse had been trained in a dialect created by her; forged from the two languages. If another ever attempted to command him, she expected the outcome to be quite amusing.

"More than a carriage horse," Elektra thought aloud, a hand running down the blaze that led to a softening nose, "but you would not fair well in a war." The brute would make quite a target, and his temperament did not involve rushing into a seven nation army.

[sirbastiencoupe]

Bastien remained surprisingly relaxed as Elektra slipped off Amuary with grace that one rarely saw around soldiers. He was infamous for the fact that he was always on guard, 'paranoid' as some of the newer trainees had chosen to label his alertness, but despite the fact that he had attempted to arrest the woman standing before him mere hours before, it was a miracle in itself that his sword remained in its sheath, the only weapon in sight instead being the dagger that he was now idly flipping. He had found that it was even more balanced and intricate than he had originally though while throwing it at targets as trainees shot arrows around him that afternoon.

He nodded absent-mindedly at her words as he stood and stuck the dagger into the beam before holding out a hand to Amaury. The horse nuzzled his hand affectionately and, after discovering an apparent lack of sugar cubes, began sniffing around his clothes. It wasn't long before they were discovered - with the faintest of smiles, Bastien reached into his trouser pocket and offered the treat to the eager stallion. "Amaury can smell sugar cubes and apples a mile away," he replied, scratching the horse's ear as he glanced down at Elektra.

As contradictory as it may have seemed, she appeared much less of  a threat in the torchlight. Her garb did not cause any grief with him, not as it would have some of the other soldiers - he had spent enough time around Miya and his sister to become accustomed to women in men's clothing - and her loose hair and lack of armour showed that she was not expecting a fight, just as he hoped the absence of his usual  protection told he - he was without armour because of training, not by choice, but that was beside the point. Her eyes were blue, he realised as he glanced down at her again, so different from the dark tempest he had seen earlier that morning.

And there was that laugh again. Bastien couldn't help but frown at her comment as he ran a hand through Amaury's mane - Elektra continued to be unpredictable, as always. As if to prove the fleeting thought, she gently raised the stallion's head as she muttered in a foreign language... Two, in fact, Bastien realised as he listened intently to her words. Beyond knowing that she was slipping between Assarian and Sparran as if it were the normal thing to do, he was oblivious to what she was saying. Amaury, on the other hand, whinnied and shook his head, as though the two were engaging in deep conversation, just as he often did with Bastien. The knight frowned at this exchange, unsure whether he should be feeling impressed or irritated, and his face remained hardened as Elektra addressed him. "Nor would we ever place him in that situation," he replied curtly as he turned back to the stable - the stallion was far too temperate and gentle for battle, "I would not allow it."

Whistling again as he placed his bow and quiver on a nearby bench, he opened Amaury's stall and the horse trotted in without a moment's hesitation. Bastien followed and shut the gate behind him, running a hand down the horse's back as he approached his head. Loosening the bridle, he slipped it off Amaury as he muttered to the horse under his breath as per habit "And where is your noble steed residing?" he asked Elektra, glancing at her briefly out of the corner of his eye as he retrieved another sugar cube from his pocket.

[sirbastiencoupe]

THE HOUSE OF COUPE

Lord Frederic Coupe | 55 | Nobleman

Lady Adelaide Coupe (nee Chaput) | 53 | Noblewoman | Hedgewitch

Children

Lord Raoul Coupe | 35 | Nobleman

Lady Eleanore Coupe | 32 (twin of Gabriel) | Midwife

Lord Gabriel Coupe | 32 (twin of Eleanore) | Nobleman

Sir Bastien Coupe | 28 | Queensguard

Lord Lucien Coupe | 25 | Nobleman/Writer | Empath

[m-benoist]

Theo James as Walter Clark in Golden Boy - 1x13 “Next Question”

[nerissamalaise-blog]

the breath that passed from you to me | bastien & nerissa

Nerissa couldn’t take it anymore. She had to be out in the fresh air, away from the stuffy nature of the court and the people inside it. She loved her sister dearly - more than she loved even her own self, but if Nerissa was to make peace with living in such an opulent castle, she needed to find her own sense of freedom as well. So she rummaged through her closet, an ornate and stately chest commissioned by Faye, until she found the lightest gown in her possession. It was a deep green, one she’d chosen herself for the color and the sturdiness of the cotton fabric. The skirt was free of bustling or crinolines, and she could easily run without tangling herself up in the thing. It would be perfect for what she had in mind. She tied her hair in a loose plait down her back, a few errant curls here and there, and set about her next task - eluding Sir Damien. 

It was difficult, to say the least. Damien was clearly the best at what he did, and his loyalty to her sister knew no bounds. Her guilt for what she had done to him that chilly midsummer’s night when the lynx inside her had roamed free knew even less bounds. His distaste for and distrust of her only made her guilt and embarrassment rise, and though Nerissa knew Faye had not inflicted Damien’s guardianship of her as a punishment for her, it felt rather like it more days than not. Once she was in the hallways, however, traveling a little faster than most humans could walk and then hiding amongst servants’ stairs and between their skirts and aprons, she was in the clear, and she hurried outside the palace by way of the kitchens. The air was cooler than she had thought it would be, and she reveled in it, taking off immediately for the gardens. She spent almost an hour amongst the roses before cabin fever itched her to run farther and faster. She wanted to run as fast as she could with her eyes closed and her arms flung out at her sides, and so that is what she did. 

Nerissa made it as far as the stables before she had to slow down, nearly laughing at the sharp pains in her lungs and the feeling of the wind tugging at her fingertips. She had missed spending her days amongst the grass and the sunshine, and was at a loathe to return to the palace. So she did what any reasonable young woman in her position would do - she dropped down onto her back, arms flung out in the grass, and closed her eyes to let the sunshine bathe her skin, heedless of any and everything around her.

[sirbastiencoupe]

"Keep it clean, Legrand! We don't want -"

He should have saved his breath. Poirier was on the ground, clutching a bloody nose that made even Bastien cringe. Normally, as per protocol, he would have told the younger man to get back on his feet - a war could not be put on hold because of one minor injury, after all - but the boy had been receiving blows from his far larger, stronger Legrand, and it was unlikely he would be able to do much if he could stand. 

"Legrand, just...take him to the infirmary, will you? Then get back here pronto." Bastien ran a hand over his stubbled jaw as Poirier was dragged to his feet rather unceremoniously by friendly, perhaps simply rather overeager giant that was his partner. He had found it rather surprising when he had started his own training that hand to hand combat was more dangerous that sword training, archery or any other drills, but it had only taken a few weeks to realise his misconception. 

Hearing laughter coming from behind him, he turned slowly, his lips pursed in annoyance at the recruits lack of respect for their fellow trainee. It was not as though they were perfect, after all... The sight that met him was no what he expected, however - the recruits were staring across at the stables, nudging each other as they pointed to a figure barely visible amongst the grass that was almost the same colour as her dress. He caught the words 'Queen's sister', 'insane' and 'trampled to death by horses' before he let out a sharp whistle that caused them to whirl around to attention, but he paid them no attention as he squinted at the lone figure. It was, as the recruits had pointed out, Nerissa. 

"Phillipe!" he called to the older knight, but he was already at his side. "Thank you, my friend," he said with a nod, the need to ask him to continue the training on his own unnecessary - Bastien's duty was first and foremost to the Queen and her family, after all. "Perhaps you can teach these 'gentlemen' a thing or two about respect, yes?" he said a little louder, not wasting a second to glance over his shoulder at the squirming trainees.

It wasn't long before he was standing before Nerissa, blocking the sun in hopes that he wouldn't startle her. "The Squires are scheduled to ride in twenty minutes, My Lady," he began, resting a hand on his sword out of habit and comfort, "I would perhaps recommend moving before then...or before the Lord Commander finds you have escaped."

[lordcommanderfarwell-blog]

In your dreams, perhaps. Her Majesty thoroughly enjoys my company, I assure you.

While I appreciate the offer, I don’t think Her Majesty would approve of slipping out of my assigned duties but thank you. It looks like I’m meant to tail Lady Nerissa for a little while more. How’s training so far? Are the recruits promising?

[sirbastiencoupe]

Oh, I have no doubt about it - perhaps Miya would be 'Lord Commander' if Her Majesty thought otherwise.

Of course, it was merely a suggestion, although if you ever change your mind... Training is...well, they are improving, although we are taking things a lot slower than in the past. However, once they learn a basic technique, it does not take long before they master it. 

[sirbastiencoupe]

The invitation is left in the stables, tucked into Bastien’s saddle bag with the corner peeking out. The hand that wrote the letter is clearly not the same that addressed it; the untidy scrawl of his name is barely legible in contrast to the elegant hand that wrote the invitation.

[assassinelektra]

keep me from the cages || Elektra & Bastien

She’d once stolen an Assarian mare from a prince’s prized herd. A glossy-hoofed, stark temperamental beauty. She was fleet-footed and agile; flew across heated sands with a swiftness unknown by other Kingdoms. Elektra had been born into a life with warhorses; whose bones were not so fragile and muscles able to withstand arrow after arrow. They, however, could not have fared well within golden deserts. Like many things they were built for another purpose and to live a different life. Like many things, they belonged to a specific home. Elektra did not fit into this category.

She did not fit into any category where the word ‘home’ was present. There was, however, one place she could always consider home. It was an exception, a fine line between lost and found or the will to belong. Among horses. Stallions, geldings, mares, colts, foals. It did not matter. Breaking into the royal stables had been easy; unfortunately so. She loved a challenge, and Omnium guards who had drunk too much were about as much of a threat as splintered driftwood. To make things even smoother, the certain soldier of the Queensguard whom she’d encountered earlier was nowhere to be seen.

The dappled grey was seventeen hands of bulky yet sinuous muscle and moved with the grace of a carriage horse; perhaps part of the Queen’s personal breeding group. He was a stallion but not purebred, as she could tell his frame was built with some sort of draft breed. Therefore if he was used for breeding, it was only to supply a strong work force.

It only took the lightest touch to receive a response. Her knees barely need apply pressure, and the reins only required the slightest shift of hand. She weaved him in-between racks with ease, and listened to the echo of horse shoe against stone. Pulling him up she leaned forward, no saddle prohibiting her movement to drape herself across the beast. Scratching at pointed ears Elektra spoke in a distant language, laughing under her breath as the stallion seemed to snort his answer. It was because of a prolonged sense of freedom that she let down her guard, enthralled with the animal beneath her.

[sirbastiencoupe]

Bastien had dismissed the trainee soldiers from training as soon as dusk had fallen. They had been working virtually non-stop for the past three or so hours, and there was no doubt in his mind that they were as eager to get to the mess hall as he was to get to the stables. 

Slinging his bow over his shoulder, he pulled his arrows out of the straw target and after returning them to his quiver, he made his way across the archery field to the illuminated building that was located some hundred metres from the battle school. Squinting in the firelight as the stables grew nearer, his frown quickly transformed to a smirk as he recognised the two guards propped up by their spears, both half asleep. "Attention!" he shouted as he approached, using his best 'trainer' voice. 

The guards' heads jerked up and they quickly came to attention, their eyes wide with fear as they realised they had been caught sleeping on the job, but they let out an apparent sigh of relief as they saw a chuckling Bastien. "Best lay off the ale next time, gentleman," he suggested with a mock salute as he opened the doors to the stables and disappeared inside. 

Anyone who knew Bastien knew the stables were practically his second home. When he had become a squire, he had spent all of his time either here or running around after Damien, and now that he was a knight himself, he came here any free moment he could get. Horses, while complex, eloquent creatures, were far more simple to deal with than anyone in the court, and they surprisingly made better conversation.

Given how well he knew each of the horses, it didn't take long for him to notice Amaury's empty stall, the door to it still open slightly. That was the sign that something was off - all the stablehands and other frequenters knew to lock each stall behind them, whether empty or not. Following the sound horse hoofs, Bastien drew an arrow and put it to his bow as he silently made his way to the cobbled courtyard out the back. His frown deepened as he watched the figure from the shadows: despite only having met her briefly, Bastien recognised Elektra's form. But something was different, something that caused him to return the arrow to his quiver - she was laughing, seemingly oblivious to his presence. 

Instead, he pulled out the dagger she had 'gifted' him with and stepped out of the shadows, letting out a low whistle as he did. Years of careful training meant that Amaury didn't hesitate in responding to the call, and came over to Bastien at a trot. "He's a carriage horse," he informed Elektra as they approached, casually leaning against the doorway, "meaning he's not used to being ridden bareback. I suppose I have trained him to have manners far too well since he's not thrown you off by now."

[sirbastiencoupe]

Excuse me,

[assassinelektra]

She stared hard at him in return and did not budge, only finding his countering replies to be a nuisance. He wouldn’t be getting any information from her, and for once her reasons for being near a royal castle had nothing to do with her actual position. The man may pry- try and do whatever duty he figured correct- but none of it would lead him any closer to her reasons.

Elektra didn’t flinch when his sword was drawn, nor did she make a movement toward any of her own weapons. The assassin merely smirked, “Then hold your breath, Sir Bastien Coupe.” And then she turned with no regards to his orders; continuing into the shadow of the hall.

[sirbastiencoupe]

If there was one thing that would haunt him that night, it was the simple action of blinking. His eyes were barely shut for a second, but when he opened them, she was disappearing around the corner into the bustling marketplace. Bastien didn't waste a second before running after her. The crowd of hagglers and stall owners parted before him, but the action was of no assistance. He cursed - the mysterious woman seemed to have disappeared into thin air.

Still, he continued on his pursuit, carefully scanning every face in the crowd. His eye caught something running into the forest, but it was nowhere near human - a dog or a wolf, perhaps. Accepting defeat, Bastien came to a sudden halt, eyes continuing to dart back and forth as thugh she might suddenly appear again. It was only as he sheathed his sword that he realised he was still clutching her dagger in his hand. 

[sirbastiencoupe]

Excuse me,

[assassinelektra]

"Your apology is worthless,” she sneered in reply, “as are your attempts to threaten me; or pry the information from me. You know nothing of Sparrans, and you are blind to everything but what you’ve been raised into. You are no different from anyone else who cannot see past their position and so called duty to protect their dear Kingdom. Continue on, I beg of you.”

[sirbastiencoupe]

Bastien clenched his jaw at the woman's words, his hand inching towards the sword at his side. He wasn't narrow minded as she suggested, nor was he doing this for his own amusement - if she would simply put aside her stubbornness for just one minute and even briefly tell him of her business, he would let her continue on her way. However, could he not see past his duty? Perhaps, but he had accepted that the Queen was his priority first and foremost when he had joined her guard. From what he could gather, Elektra kept putting him to blame to distract from the matter at hand, and for all he knew - she had several weapons on her, she was Sparran and gave no clear reason for being in Omnium - she could quite easily be an assassin on her way to murder Her Majesty. 

"Blind I may be," he replied rather calmly as he drew his sword in one swift movement and pointed it at her throat, "but I will stand by this Queendom until my dying breath. Now, come with me."

[lordcommanderfarwell-blog]

I— yes, yes I am, Bastien. Thank you for reminding me but we both know that if you want a job done right… You have to do it yourself, am I right?

But nothing can keep the Lord Commander down for long. I’ll be back guarding Her Majesty again in no time.

That’s what I like to her. She’s uh— she’s hanging in there. She’s almost as annoyed with me tailing her - laughs - as I am.

[sirbastiencoupe]

I know things tend to slip your mind, but it's a common side effect to having been hit on the head one too many times... But you make a fair point, I will agree to that much.

Well, yes, apart from perhaps the Queen herself? I've heard that I make better company, given that I don't talk as much as some...

Perhaps I should 'tail' her, as you so eloquently put it, tomorrow, to give you both some breathing space - assuming you would rather take training, of course.

[sirbastiencoupe]

Excuse me,

[assassinelektra]

"Now we have come to a first name basis? Perhaps you should bow and kiss my hand." Of course, that was if the man wanted to lose it. "If I speak in riddles then I may as well become the Queen’s fool, and believe me when I say that I am far from that position."

[sirbastiencoupe]

"My apologies, perhaps you would prefer to keep this entirely informal and just have me call you Sparran?" Grouping and judging others based solely on their kingdom of origin was a last resort, if you will, but Bastien's patience was wearing thin. "I will give you one last chance to tell me of your intentions - and this time, ma'am, you may interpret that as a threat, similar to the threat you pose to the Queen and this land given the amount of information you have chosen to withhold."