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@viridescent-lance
may activity check: passed!
skill points: 71->72
authority: C+->C+(1)
obtained: fairy dust (ball reward)
public thread tracker
if you have a thread with forsyth and it isn't on here, please let me know! i've done my best to round up everything, but some threads may have slipped through the cracks.
[ COFFEE ] - More specifically, a mocha brewed with Almyran coffee beans and Dagdan chocolate and served with hot milk. A sweeter variation of the drink taking Fódlan by storm.
Ordinarily Forsyth would be scolding the offering of caffeinated beverages this late, but it is a time of celebration! And this coffee in particular is shockingly sweet, before Forsyth has added his own sweetener. He might not even have to!
He's experimenting with just one spoonful of sugar on his second cup when he notices someone staring at him. Forsyth is quite a confident man, and he's not sure if it's judgement (or if it's intentional staring to begin with), but he's suddenly a bit self-conscious.
"Lovely night, is it not?" A very quick withdrawal and normal sip of his drink that does not burn his tongue return him to respectability. "They've really gone all out with these beverages, and from such a wide variety of sources!"
He removes a rose from his bouquet, further divorcing the conversation from the spoon that still sits in his mug. He is and will be getting a good grade in ball etiquette, something that is reasonable to want and possible to achieve.
[ STEAL ] - Purposeful or not, it looks like you've gotten your hands on something that isn't yours. You may want to return that before anyone notices. Or you may want to start running.
The objective of the night, aside from enjoyment, is to fill out one's bouquet. Forsyth has had some success in this department, but orchids in particular have evaded him. He should, then, be overjoyed upon seeing a trail of free orchids on the floor, easy pickings for those lacking them. But where is the integrity in that? One must obtain their blooms fair and square!
And thus, Forsyth follows the path, meticulously retrieving the flowers in his wake. He's got a sizable haul when he finally reaches their original source--a young woman with vibrant orange hair and an equally striking ensemble.
"Excuse me, miss!" Forsyth waves, his "free" hand practically its own bouquet at this point. "I believe you may have dropped these!"
He'll keep one of them, of course, provided she agrees. But he shall do so in an honorable fashion!
[ SHAVED ICE ] - Served with a wide assortment of sweet, fruity syrups. Traditionally, it is served in bowls, but some are saying it makes for quite a refreshing sip when drank from a glass.
Forsyth has quite the sweet tooth, and the confections at the ball are as alluring a vice as any. He's back for a third round of shaved ice when he spots a familiar figure sporting a delightfully bedazzled outfit.
"L'Arachel! It is good to see you, my friend!" He almost feels underdressed beside her. Perhaps he should have chosen a more vibrant green? "How has the night treated you thus far?"
He's filled his cup up once more before he realized how terribly rude he's been--he's not even offered a floral exchange! He nearly spills it fishing for a rose of sufficient vibrancy, settling on an orange-and-yellow one that perfectly compliments her vest and fiery nature alike.
"There we are! A bloom befitting of your ensemble. I must say, it stands out among the crowd!" Some may call it eye-searing, but Forsyth finds it to be a delight not unlike the brightly-colored drinks they currently nurse. "May I ask where you procured it?"
[ MOVIE - COMEDY ] - A techno-magical reproduction of a fantastical comedy about four young lovers who find themselves in a forest that calls itself home to curious spirits.
Across the theater, there is laughter that arises whenever the characters make a funny quip. Some of it is met with more of a chuckle than others - but one person in the crowd hasn't laughed at all. She's focused. Almost a little too focused, as she watches the performance go on...
And then, when the shows calls for an intermission, she glances over to the person seated next to her. "When....is the cue to speak up?" She asks. To laugh? It's an odd question, but she seems genuine about it.
Forsyth has a sense of humor, unlike what some people may think. He laughs strongly and freely when it strikes him, and it has struck him several times over this comedic moving picture! It's just...not quite his scene, perhaps. The dialogue feels inauthentic, and the laughter from the crowd synchronizing with laughter in the reproduction does not help matters.
He is weighing whether to leave early or stick it out when the woman sitting next to him poses aloud a question he's been pondering. That elicits a chuckle from him, the most genuine since he took his seat.
"I've wondered that myself, my friend." Forsyth may not have an easy answer for her, but it seems fate has brought two kindred spirits in this together. "I believe we are supposed to recognize the jokes as they happen. They sometimes provide us with laughter within the replicated soundscape, which I believe is meant to prompt a similar reaction?"
The person seated to the right of Forsyth looks at him like he has two heads before getting up to refill their aerated corn, but Forsyth pays them no heed. Finally, there's someone who gets it.
"It isn't a traditional form of audience participation, especially given it is a reproduction, but I've always found it odd. Should comedy not stand on its own merits?"
[ MINT CANDY ] - For when your breath isn’t as fresh as newly-fallen snow.
Forsyth doesn't dislike mint, per se. He's amenable to the flavor on the whole, but about a year ago, he developed an...association with the candies they have on offer here.
It's not really a problem on his mind as he traverses the ballgrounds, though he may spend less time dancing with the minty-breathed than he would have in previous years. No, it does not come to the forefront of his consciousness until he finds himself pushed by a particularly rowdy student into a girl with hair as vibrant a pink as some of the roses in his bouquet.
Mitama.
Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Have him nest in your subconscience, and you'll inconvenience his daughter.
"Watch where you're going!" The culprit doesn't even acknowledge Forsyth's admonishment, which is probably for the best. His focus should be on the girl whose kimono he'd almost inadvertently ruined, and who does not represent her father. "Are you alright, Mitama?"
Her opinion of Forsyth surely cannot be worse than Azama's, but he's never gotten the impression that she thinks highly of him. Looking at her now, several flowers in her collection crushed and disturbed, he can't imagine that's improving anytime soon.
"My deepest apologies for all of this." He plucks a rose of his own, the scent of mint lingering in his nostrils. "It's not much recompense, but I can offer this, at least."
[ REVIEW AND REVISE ] - The White Heron cup is mere hours away, but that still leaves plenty of time to reconsider your approach. Ask a friend for a second opinion, or drag a passerby into an impromptu rehearsal.
⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ
Upon seeing a rather familiar face, Clair walked gracefully over without a hint of urgency, no, no. A lady was always in the best of shape! No panic painted upon herself at all! “Salutations, Forsyth! A pleasure to see you once more. I assume you are aware of the, ah, what did they call it…”
Something to do with a bird? Quickly now, Clair! You must remember… “The White Heron Cup! Yes. Would you be so inclined as to grant me your thoughts on my desired performance? You have been here far longer than I, thus, you must hold some knowledge on the subject.”
She plucked a hyacinth out of her bouquet for the other. Of course, this would not be her only form of repayment but it would do for the moment.
“I have a dance prepared, rather common, I would assume? However, I do believe there is little else I could offer that could—”
And with that, she returned to rambling her thoughts away. Perhaps it could give her some reprieve…?
“Greetings, Lady Clair!” Clair’s enthusiasm is infectious, though she seems a little frazzled at the moment. Forsyth cannot blame her; if the ball is an undertaking for him as a mere knight, a student and lady must have such immense pressure, especially in her first year! “It is always a delight to see you.”
The way she speaks as if he is an authority on the ball should not bring him pause. He has been here near half a decade, after all. Perhaps that’s what trips him up, though--Lady Clair is deferring to him on matters of etiquette in a foreign land, and her assumption is in fact correct. He does have answers for her.
“Ah, yes! I’ve participated in it several times. I am not sure if I am the foremost judge for it, but I could certainly give feedback.” There's no time to dwell on that, not right now. Not with Sir Clive’s dear sister depending on him! He adds one of his own roses to Clair’s bouquet, giving what he hopes is a reassuring smile. "You need offer nothing more. I'd be happy to assist. You know, Python and I once..."
(If rambling quells her anxieties, Forsyth was the perfect person to come to.)
[ GODDESS TOWER ] - No effort has been spared in surveillance or suspicion this year, and you know as much now that you find yourself alongside another answering to an ornery guard the moment you entered its vicinity.
The Goddess Tower is meticulously guarded this year, with the monastery having an entire timetable of shifts and backups at its disposal. As a key contributer to this plan, Forsyth stands alert and poised to play the spoiler to any tomfoolery--though, at this point, he’s acknowledged this will be seen as a challenge by the troublemakers of Garreg Mach.
He’s already caught one pair of trespassers, and he has his sights set on another who’ve been milling about on the outskirts. Loathe as he is to admit it, he finds some enjoyment in his role. He is doing this for the sake of rule enforcement and order, of course, but is it such a sin to have fun on a night of festivities?
Alas, even the tightest perimeters suffer breaches. The two other guards had mysteriously disappeared from their posts--surely to frolic on the ballroom floor, and not to betray their very job, right? Forsyth trusts them, of course. But if he double-checks the inside for a moment, who could blame him? You never can be too cautious.
“Guh! Who goes there?” It’s only when he feels a tap on his shoulder that he realizes he is not alone. He whirls about, ready to scold a wayward sentry or too-bold student, but…
“Niles?”
"Good evening, Forsyth..." Katarina presents a white tulip as she greets him -- a gift made without comment, simply a matter of course. Rather, it seems like something else is on her mind, and she fiddles with the edge of her gloves once her hands are empty.
Right. She can do this. If she learned anything in that mirror, it was how important it is to reach. How it can light up the eyes of a friend.
"Do you, um..." She meets his gaze hesitantly. "...do you w-want to hang out? Sometime...?"
Forsyth, usually a constant and vibrant presence at Garreg Mach, has been uncharacteristically absent over the past year. Extended missions and visits to Zofia take up much of his schedule, and what time he does spend at the monastery feels distant, disconnected. Some days he wants nothing more than to return to his duties as a knight of Valentia, but that would mean leaving Python and the life they’ve carved out here.
So here he is, at the fifth Ethereal Ball since he first set foot on Fodlan’s soil, making a concentrated effort to feel like this is home again.
“Oh! Good evening, Katarina!” It has been too long since he last spoke with his cherished friend. For a moment, it’s as if the monastery never burned at all. A flower for a flower, a smile for a smile. "It is wonderful to see you. I hope the festivities are treating you well."
In truth, Forsyth knows he has been a coward. He has forged so many dear friendships here, and by throwing himself so wholly into his work he has numbed himself to their importance.
"I would love nothing more, my friend." The tulip that now sits in his bouquet seems delicate at first glance, but it is a hearty flower, enduring through conditions that would cause many others to wilt. Much like Katarina herself, it blooms in an unforgiving world, bringing color and cheer to those around it. "If you'll so have it, we could christen things with a dance?"
Tonight will be a good night indeed, come what may. Forsyth is sure of it.
2026 ethereal ball -- forsyth tracker
"Come now, Python, this is nothing new. Let us enjoy the festivities!"
It's Forsyth's fifth(!) Ethereal Ball, and he's with his partner in crime, @aimlessarchery, as always. I didn't have a lot of time or energy to plan this year, but I'm excited to participate in the ball proper! Forsyth is enthusiastic and social, if not a bit intense about everything, including finishing his bouquet. He has Roses, and will gladly exchange even if he already has his trade partner's flower.
Flower Tracker
Roses: Hector Orchids: Panette Lilies: Mitama, L'Arachel Hyacinths: Clair Tulips: Katarina, Niamh
His fit is similar to last year's, but has a fair number of differences. I'd say the top is a darker green, and he has a blue flower to match Python. I also think he has a cape. I'll see if I can hammer out anything more concrete.
last year's fit, drawn by maddie (python is a bit different also, see maddie's post for their new art of him):
housekeeping
Already did this on Heath, but oh boy, Forsyth really has a lot backlogged and has been living in the past. I'm going through my older threads and dropping quite a few of them. They were great threads, but it's been way too long, and I apologize to anyone I've kept waiting. Between school, health issues, and the weight of things piling up, I've really been less active in TOA than I'd like to be, and even when I've regained activity these threads have ended up at the wayside.
Please let me know if you'd like to talk to me about any of the ones I am dropping here, or ones I'm not dropping for that matter. I like to talk about what may have happened if the thread finished and treat it as if that happened, especially when the thread has moved significantly.
I hope to put out a plotting post in the near future. Perhaps after ball? We will see. I really miss writing here as often as I used to, and while I don't want to overwhelm myself, I hope to delve back in at a reasonable pace!
officially dropping:
there's nothing i won't understand w/ @deliverred
one more or one less, nobody’s worried w/ @aimlessarchery
neopets soup fairy w/ @nagaficat
sick is a state of mind and my mind frew up w/ @deliverred
we're kinda codependent but we're happier this way w/ @aimlessarchery & @deliverred
limbo w/ @willowitxh
my turn:
in a different life w/ @deliverred
from the ground up w/ @encantresse
we are siblings and we care for each other! w/ @far-from-common
their turn:
just three dudes staying warm w/ @deliverred & @aimlessarchery
february and march activity check: passed!
skill points: 69->71 (monthly x2, knowledge gem)
faith: C+(1)->B
authority: C->C+
obtained: tbd (event rewards & faith B)
the lone eagle's flight.
❪ ⠀boel 2026: round 3 / battle twenty ⠀❫
LEIF FALLS SO ABRUPTLY, OUT OF NOWHERE, 𑣲 that for a stunned moment, she isn't sure what just happened. eyes blink, mouth agape——and then of course it all falls into place, the only way that it can. he—! fauntleroy! she whirls around on her feet after leif disappears in a flash of warping magic and stamps her way across the damp and torn-up grasses, spear in tow.
face me, the remaining deer calls to her ' teammate '. oh, they'll face him all right, but not——before!
"i've. . . HAD IT!" in a declaration of frustration, she throws her spear to the ground at fauntleroy's feet with enough force that it clatters in the dirt, then storms up to his face with a jabbing finger. "what's wrong with you?? do you think this is how an eagle should act? or a self-respecting student of this academy??" she throws both arms wide, glancing down at herself as if to say ' look at me '. "i'm exhausted, i've been on my feet all day, out here fighting——dragon's teeth, the places i was hit by that war fire thirty minutes ago still smart like crazy, but i've gone back out on this dragons-forsaken field to keep fighting because this once-a-year event should be taken seriously. it's a chance to prove our strength, not goof around and show up if and only when we feel like it. if you have to do that with your classes, and you think it makes you so much better than us who care about the time and money we spent to be here, then fine. but i can't——stand it! when you all show up like you want to show off how little you care, then demand to be the main character and ruin it for everybody else!"
in perhaps a declaration of outrage equal to that of her frustration, she swipes her spear back up before giving fauntleroy a terse shove to one shoulder. "we're teammates, so let's finish this. but shape up. think of someone else besides yourself for once."
"Urk!" Fauntleroy flinches; the physical damage of Caeldori's shove is minimal, but the emotional is nearly enough to send anyone packing. For him, especially, because as far as he is concerned he has been taking this seriously. He'd shown up, even if it had been late. He'd done his best to adapt to the circumstances, even feeling at times out of his league. He'd seen Caeldori looking worse for wear, and doing his best to put into practice what he felt important, he'd stepped in to protect her.
So, trying to figure out where he's gone wrong, he's left a little lost!
He finds himself deferring to her regardless with a "yes, ma'am,"—the honorific slipping from him seamlessly. Entirely despite his confusion—has he been acting the main character?—it is easy here to recognize the difference between the two of them. Even in the midst of obvious righteous fury, she commands such respect.
There really always is someone else from which to learn something new.
"You're right. I should treat this with more severity." If not the main character, maybe he is still acting the child. He pulls what remains of his baguette from his bag, exterior hard as a rock, but inside still... not quite soft and fluffy, but tender. She had taken issue with this, hadn't she? And why wouldn't she—come to think of it, it was something of a crutch. And so, furrowing his brow with determination and shutting his eyes, he pulls back his arm,
and pitches it. As hard as he can.
Caeldori’s outburst may be amplified by Forsyth’s magic, but the emotions behind it are true, and it feels unsporting to try and take advantage of it. Battered and bruised, she’d endured it all, the sole chance at an Eagle victory…and then this guy waltzed on in, hardly even taking things seriously. Friendly fire isn’t against the rules, but even if it was, this is one violation Forsyth might turn a blind eye to.
“Alright, then.” The conflict quells, and the other student seems suitably cowed. Forsyth faces an uphill climb to victory that seems nigh-impossible, but to give up now would add to the disrespect Caeldori has endured, and is unthinkable elsewise. He squares up, lance at the ready. “Let us finish this battle with honor!”
Is there honor in effort? Forsyth certainly thinks so, but it’s hard to feel it in the moment when his combat art misses the nameless Eagle student. The momentum carries him too far, leaving his back exposed, and he never sees what hit him.
(He feels it, though, and will be picking crumbs out of his hair for the next day or two. His ego, though, will take a bit longer to heal.)
-fin-
[ TXT ] : I realize this is a hypocritical question to ask, but you've seemed under stress the last few weeks. Are you taking care of yourself?
[ TXT ] : You know it's not a moral failing to take a break from work and get some rest.
[ TXT ] : You have nothing you need to prove to him.
[ TXT ] : I'm doing alright, as far as things go. Nothing different than normal, anyhow. I can handle this, I promise you, and I will rest when it is appropriate.
(the message is deleted before it is sent)
[ TXT ] : There's no hiding anything from you, is there? Though I wouldn't call it hiding, per se. Just that my own stress would worsen yours, and I'm well-equipped enough to deal with it.
(several more messages are typed and erased before sending, each longer than the previous and varying in detail divulged)
[ TXT ] : I appreciate the concern.
[ TXT ] : I'm out of town right now. Have you ever been to Altea?
( ... ) is typing...
[ TXT ] : What kind of souvenirs do you like? I want to get something for my frie my f frien m enfhbrgwfjwef iiioooiiioooiiuuuyyygj my friends.
[ TXT ] : I've not, sadly. It isn't terribly far from Zofia, as I understand it. I've been meaning to visit, but things have been busy.
( ... )
[ TXT ] : I'm honored by your generosity! I would appreciate any gift from you, my friend. As for preferences, hmm...
[ TXT ] : I suppose if there are any local delicacies, I do have a soft spot for sweets. Those that would keep on the trip, of course. If not that, perhaps some manner of keepsake? I trust your judgement.
the lone eagle's flight.
❪ ⠀boel 2026: round 3 / battle twenty ⠀❫
——and soaring through the air instead comes that unmistakable Wishblade, so true its path that it is as though it exists to bring about preemptive ends.
Snatched with ardor from where it had embedded itself in the ground and pitched without hesitation despite Forsyth’s admonition. In fact, it is only after he acts that he even seems to register what has been said and respond in turn: “…a duel? This is a team match!”
What else was he to do, watching the way she wobbled on her feet as the dust cleared? What kind of knight or member of the Black would he be to leave an ally in the lurch?!
“We’ll only be able to succeed if we work together. As will you!”He states it so obviously; it is, by this point, entirely clear that any mood that might be in the air misses him entirely.
(Still, is it him, or has the temperature dropped a couple of degrees?)
Caeldori's laughter is one of the last things Leif hears before he sees stars. It's the last sound of that summer he misses, but to miss something, it must leave you. This battle's projected nostalgic tinge that has Leif enjoying even a bit of levity in the normally joyless but driven art reveals itself as not the long sunny season he'd thought of but instead the fleeting summer shower.
“Agh... damn... it.”
He lies sprawled out on the ground from the impact, and from there, he blurrily makes out the figure of the boy who had thrown what had spelled his end. Fauntleroy approaches over his body, retrieving his weapon, and Leif gets a glance at it before his dizziness overtakes him in full.
A good toss is a good toss, something Leif must concede even if it spits in the face of the honor Forsyth had so yearned to protect. After all, Leif is no stranger to honorless battles in the hopes of victory.
He just will not get the chance to articulate it, consciousness faded. A faculty member is ordered to retrieve him via Rescue spell, too entrenched in the battle positions to be grabbed physically without risking something, and in a blink of an eye, he is gone, leaving three figures to their own devices.
NEXT: @viridescent-lance !!
Forsyth's words fall on deaf ears, and his feet move too slow to prevent his fears from coming true--the student hits Leif square in the chest, and no amount of immediate healing will return him to this battle. Forsyth is on his own, now.
"Nothing to do about it, then." The student isn't wrong, per se, but could he not see the value of sportsmanship in a mock battle? Though, Forsyth can't help but see the irony, given it was initially him and Leif with such an advantage. He sighs, readying his lance. The battle isn't over until it's over. "Face me!"
A strange glow emanates from Forsyth's person, the magic he'd been lent coming forward all at once. Partially a last gambit, partially a straightforward enforcement of his declaration.
@venalier
the lone eagle's flight.
❪ ⠀boel 2026: round 3 / battle twenty ⠀❫
A FEW THINGS HAPPEN AT ONCE. 𑣲 at the cry of the brown-haired student's name, she has a sudden moment of recognition. "oh, leif." or, really, she should probably also be saying ' lord ' leif, but it didn't exactly feel right calling anyone that but hoshido's royalty, or corrin, or those around the likes of her father. she hopes he doesn't mind——he'd never seemed like it when they knew each other before. "i didn't realize. . . you look a little different."
but a battle isn't the place for conversation ; she'd thought as much when the blond boy had tried to chat up a storm before too. she's quickly reminded of this when fauntleroy shouts something and runs off just as suddenly as he'd rushed in——fortunately, not completely away from the battlefield like her last teammate, but that doesn't mean she has any idea what he's trying to do. and she doubts he does either.
"wait——!"
put some distance? why?? when their opponent clearly has a bow——and an axe, which her attention is only drawn to at the green-haired deer's mention of it, noticing that it sparks with electricity. so not just an ordinary axe, but liable to punch right through her chainmail as the man helpfully pointed out.
there's not much she can do to stop that but keep an eye on it most likely, but she still regards the now-running green-haired man with a brow-arched smile. "careful what you say out loud for your opponents to hear!" and, to leif, hands closing more tightly around her spear as she stands her ground⠀(⠀whatever fauntleroy's doing elsewhere⠀) : "let's see your best hit!"
The notion that he might look different to someone since the last time they saw him years ago hadn't occurred to Leif. It is in being around oneself all the time, in looking outward as a measure to define oneself rather than at one's actual reflection that perhaps Leif feeling himself stuck in constancy.
Constancy, stagnation— whichever word one uses for it, this perception warps a little by a simple comment. He comes to school and training exercises like this in search of progress, yet he finds himself struck by an indirect acknowledgement that he has somehow captured it.
Leif shakes his thoughts out of this. It's not the time to reflect, not when every moment counts and Forsyth has preoccupied one of their opponents, giving Leif the moment to breathe.
Caeldori stands direct from him with an open challenge. Not a dour expression, not a mocking word, but instead an invitation.
(He sees summer, he sees ocean waves, he sees adolescent days where training, whilst it still had a purpose, felt lighter than it does most times.)
And for it, he crooks a small grin on his face too, taking his axe in hand.
“Got it!! This is between you and me!” he cries out in turn and rushes forward, hefting the weapon in hand before he swings it down with all his might. The axe carves into the earth, not skin, as Leif stops short in his pursuit, but for it, a wave of lightning surges from his weapon, finishing his dash for him to smack into Caeldori all the same.
NEXT: @toa-npcs or @viridescent-lance !!
Fauntleroy winces watching Leif brings the full weight of his axe down into the earth, sending shoots of lightning out with an impact that he's not sure he — no, he shouldn't think that way, he would bear it if he had to! (But he hopes that he doesn't.)"Caeldori, are you alright?!" He calls out, squinting through the smoke brought about by singed grass.
...this field really has seen better days. Even last year, he is not sure it looked—or smelled—as bad as this. By how quiet it is... they couldn't be the only ones left fighting, could they?
His head pivots as he assesses the situation as a whole, and away the baguette goes when he spies an opening—not in Leif's defenses, but in that of his companion. Wishblade once again in hand, Fauntleroy knows that he doesn't have what it takes to cast that magical strike he did earlier, but... that doesn't render it entirely ineffective, does it?!
And so with as most force as he can muster and a grunt befitting of the effort, he pitches it at Forsyth. "Hang in there! I'll be done here in a moment, and then I'll join you to help!"
@viridescent-lance
Leif and Caeldori circle each other, clearly familiar in some way. Caeldori gets confident, cocky, and dives in...there! Electricity and metal mix poorly, and for a moment he's sure Caeldori will be knocked cold.
No such luck, unfortunately. And the other student remains, taking a jab at Forsyth that catches him offguard. It's a blow he should have dodged, but his attention is divided.
"You think to interrupt a duel?" The deed is already done, to an extent, positions scattered and weapons askew. "Show some respect!"
(Forsyth does believe the words he speaks, but with Leif and Caeldori on their last legs, putting his trust in Leif's strength feels the right thing to do--granted he gets a fair match.)
