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The Face of Deceit (Forested area near Araya) For the fifth time in the last ten minutes, Futch found himself out of breath. He tried to force his body to move forward, but instead he found himself leaning against a tree for support. The cold, rough bark of the wood felt like spikes on skin, which was still raw from the beating Futch had taken in his fight with the dragon. Yet, even though it was uncomfortable, Futch found the jagged wood much more preferable to the idea of having to take another step into the forest and the towering trees that seemed to sap him of his strength as often as it slapped him with its branches. A rustle in the leaves ahead of him heralded the return of Humphrey. The old soldier glanced toward his young companion, the lightless early morning sky cloaking any expression on his weathered face. Futch knew that Humphrey was probably concerned, but he also knew that his friend was wise enough not to offer any assistance unless Futch asked for it. The former Dragon Knight's pride had given him a lot of grief in the past, but now it was the only thing that kept the boy from collapsing. Pride…and a thirst for vengeance. Even battered as he was, his anger at the crimes that Nerus had committed
had given Futch the energy to rush out quickly in pursuit of the Dragon
Slayer. At first, it was Humphrey who had trouble keeping up with the boy.
With his rage fueling him, Futch had little trouble dispatching any of
the cultists who had remained instead of fleeing with the majority as soon
as the dragon had broken free. However, after almost an hour of fruitless
searching, the fatigue and wounds he had received during the past few hours
finally caught up with the boy. Futch was still seething in anger within
himself, images of the dragon lying dead at his feet and of Nerus gloating
face were enough to make sure
Still…to let Nerus get away after all he did…Futch pushed himself away from the tree, only to feel his knees give way before he took three steps. Luckily, Humphrey caught him before he hit the earth. "I'm fine, Humph…just tripped over a root, that's all," he lied easily. "C'mon, that bastard has to be around here somewhere…" Humphrey shook his head. "He's probably long gone. We won't find him tonight." Futch twisted to glare at his friend. "Are you giving up? We can't let him get away!" "… After all this time, he won't still be in the forest. In any case, you are no longer in any condition to continue." Futch snorted. "And who are you, my mother? If you won't help, then I'll find him myself!" Humphrey merely shook his head mutely. Then, he picked up Futch and hoisted the surprised boy onto his broad back. "What the…Humphrey! Put me down right now! I'm not a… Put me down!" Futch tried to sound commanding but was annoyed at how whiny and weak he sounded, even to his own ears. He tried to struggle, but the older man's grip was tighter than a vise. Then, ignoring the boys strangled protests, the veteran warrior started heading towards the town of Araya at a steady trot.
[Araya, within the inn] Muffled near-silence...an aging grandfather clock sitting in the corner of the sparsely inhabited tavern, ticking and tocking away in a uniform symphony... ...and then the loud bong of the antique clock broke the monotony, its bold attempt to gain the narrowed attention of the only three that occupied the eerily silent room nonetheless proving to be in vain. Wordlessly, Miklotov regarded the timid Marash that sat hunched-like opposite of him. The former cultist almost seemed to curl up in his chair, his claw-like hands clutching his earthenware teacup like a fragile lifeline. Even so, he was shivering all the same, looking much like a frightened mouse trapped in a corner with no path of escape. He seemed like the kind of man who was easily intimidated and influenced...and those traits were probably what got him caught up with a group like the "Dragon Knights". The blue knight allowed himself to laugh mentally as Marash's behavior
immediately reminded him of Lord Makai of Two-River. Neither Makai
nor his newly-gained companion seemed to have much of a backbone under
pressure and seemed almost inhumanly submissive the rest of the time. Those
were traits of a follower, not a leader...and how someone like Makai had
gotten the reins of power in the Two-River state and all-the-while taking
the brunt of criticisms from political figures like
But that was drastically beside the point. Beside Miklotov, Alexandra remained silent and slumped within her rickity
chair, doing nothing for its unstable back legs as she thoughtlessly leaned
back, a brooding expression plastered upon her
"So," Alex suddenly spoke, shredding the veil of silence that had enshrouded the threesome, "what was this 'request' that you had in mind for us, again?" Marash flinched noticibly at the stern severity within the young Matildain woman's voice, but quickly mustered himself enough to speak intelligably. "W-Well," he started, not seeming to be able to shake his perpetual stuttering habit, "I-I know i-it s-sounds sudden, e-especially from someone l-like me, but..." Both Miklotov and Alexandra's faces mirrored a slight degree of irritation when Marash's voice died off and he began hunkering over his teacup, fingernails clittering against its glazed, earthy surface. This was the second time they had tried getting him to get over their ordeal within the Dragon Knights' lair well enough so that he could at least speak, but the shivering man's lips were sealed tighter than an ale keg. The first time they attempted to ask, they didn't even get so much as a mumbled response. Marash may have possessed a weak spirit, but there was a quick limit to the patience of either Matildain hosts... "Listen, I know you faced a terrible calamity with your former comrades," Miklotov began, raising his voice sharply and forcefully enough that Marash not only flinched, but nearly dropped his earthenware mug, "but we don't have time to dwaddle here, drinking tea and trying to 'relax'! For all we know, more of those Dragon Knights may be heading through the woods in pursuit...so if you've a request to make of us, then speak up!" For a fleeting moment, a strange, almost terrifyingly manic glint flashed through Marash's squinted eyes, almost as if the timid man balled up in the chair had become a totally different person. Miklotov nearly flinched at the sudden sweep in emotion, recalling how he had seen a similar fire burning within Sir Loric's eyes...but the tide within Marash's features quickly swept away, leaving him to his previous timidity. Something about the cultist left a nagging wake of uneasiness within Miklotov's thoughts, as if what he had witnessed was some sort of facade... That and time certainly wasn't their ally that night. A few, tensed seconds trickled by, marked only by the incessant clicks and tocks of the antique grandfather clock. Finally, Marash let out a weary, albeit shaky, sigh and set his mug onto the table, his eyes shifting fleetly between Miklotov and Alex before looking down into his hands folded into his robed lap. "I-I have to g-g- to R-Rockaxe," he stammered, voice only smoothed slightly, but not enough to shatter his perpetual habit. "U-Unless I see Lord G-Gordo, L-Lord Nerus' f-followers will s-surely find and k-kill me! I-I have to s-see your l-leader and tell him of w-what has h-happened! I b-beg both of you...p-please take me to y-your L-Lord! I can't g-go alone!" Once again, silence stuck its leaden foot in the gaping doorway. Marash clutched his robes like a terrified child huddled within an oversized security blanket. Miklotov could literally hear his rampant, disorganized thoughts tumbling in his head like loose pebbles in a speeding river. It wasn't that he hadn't been prepared for Marash's hastily-exhaled message, far from it! Something within his gut forced him to expect such a request. After all, Marash was a man being hunted like some sort of panicked, wild animal...but the "fear" within the cultist's eyes, genuine as it seemed, burned with an intensity that almost wasn't...natural. The knight begrudgingly admitted to himself that the timid man sitting across from him was making him rather nervous... But what choices were there? Was it safe to bring such a person to the very heart of the Matilda Knightdom? Maybe he should worry more about what Lord Gordo might DO to his future audience. Knowing him, the aging white knight would most likely dismiss Marash without even a second thought of the concequences. Miklotov stole a quick glance at Alexandra, finding that she was meeting his gaze with seemingly the same questions within her own dark eyes. So much for asking for advice... Well, it's either we escort Marash to Rockaxe or those remaining cultist come and another bloodbath ensues in the middle of the town... The sickening notion of another skirmish breaking out where, a mere hour or so ago, the earlier encounter with the turncoat white knights occurred didn't appeal at all to Miklotov. The azure knight grimaced tightly, feeling frustration creeping throughout his chest. It mattered not what Lord Gordo thought or would think. After all, he DID complete the task he had been assigned...and his knight's honor dictated that aid was to be rendered to those requesting of it, no matter how desperate the situation was. Once more, he glanced over at the wordless, brooding Alex, who returned his gaze with a silent nod, making it known that she would follow, whatever the choice. If he was to make a decision, now was the time. Miklotov cleared his throat, wishing it didn't feel so abruptly scratchy... "...Very well. As a knight of Matilda...I shall honor your request. We shall take you to see Lord Gordo."
[Araya, outside the inn] Futch gingerly took a few steps forward after Humphrey finally put him down. His muscles were still sore from the day's exertions, but he couldn't let Humphrey see that. He felt like he'd been babied too much already…although he had to admit he doubted if he would have gotten much farther if Humphrey had not literally decided to take matters into his own hands. But the old man didn't have to know that. "Wow," he said sarcastically, casting a rueful glance over his shoulder at the old soldier, "I'm surprised I even remember how to walk after being hauled about like a sack of wheat for so long." Through the years they'd been together, Futch had learned to glean Humphrey's thoughts just by reading the older man's eyes. At that moment, those eyes told the boy that his companion was seriously contemplating picking him up again and not letting him back on his feet until he was safely in bed. "Hey! I was just kidding, Humph," he said while speedily making his way towards the inn. Lantern light spilled from the open windows. It seemed that there were still patrons in the dining hall even at the current ungodly hour. Even though Futch's anger impelled him to continue his search for Nerus, his body ached for the comfort of the soft bed in his room. A few hours of sleep wouldn't hurt…and he'd heard the innkeeper say they were having chicken for breakfast… Futch opened the door and momentarily stood framed at the threshold. He blinked for a moment and adjusted his eyes to the light. Once his eyes had grown accustomed to the illumination, however, Futch gave a start at the sight that greeted him. Seated at a table were a man and a woman garbed in the tradition of Matilda, the man wearing the distinctive uniform of the Blue Matilda Knights. More Matildans? Are they part of the cult as well? Maybe this is just a coincidence… The boy's train of thought was suddenly and violently derailed, however, when his eyes come to rest upon the man sitting opposite of the Matildan pair, upon the trademark brown robe occupied by the familiar, hunched figure of a man who was in the midst of stuttering out his profuse thanks. The stuttering petered off as well as the brown robed man's gaze met the boys...and both were stricken dumb for an instant in the shock of recognition. "YOU!!!" Then, before Humphrey could attempt stop him, Futch was hurtling himself through the air, his spear brandished before him in a white-knuckled grip, its point aimed dead center at the chest of the brown-robed man.
Miklotov whirled around at the sound of the howl in time to see a young
boy, seemingly no more than fourteen summers, leaping towards Marash, a
deadly-pointed spear extended. "What the--!?" the shocked blue knight
managed to exclaim, but even as the words fled from his mouth, he was
"It's too late to try to lose them," the woman shouted over her shoulder. "We have to stand and fight!" Miklotov drew his own broadsword and poised himself. "We have to draw attention away from Marash. If these are the same people who turned Loric and the others against us…" The knight left his distressing thought unfinished as he flinched in remembrance of his former knightly comrades that turned so easily. He silently prayed that Joram had the common sense to stay with his wounded mother upstairs, out of immediate danger, since he, too, had been a member of the cult and therefore as much a target as Marash. Huddled in a corner like a frightened rat, Marash held his face within his violently-trembling hands, repeatedly screaming, "It's them! It's them! Save me!" The boy with the spear advanced menacingly towards the shivering brown heap that was Marash. "Stand up and fight, you coward! Your lackeys can't save you this time!" Miklotov was about to intercept the boy when, out of the corners of
his eyes, he spotted another figure enter the inn. The newcomer was
an older man with chiseled features and a menacing battle-scarred appearance.
The soldier's whole demeanor exuded experience and competence…and veritably
SCREAMED danger. The stranger took in the whole scene with a brief,
sweeping glance, then locked his steady, unblinking glare with Miklotov's.
As the other man unsheathed his sword, Miklotov advanced cautiously.
This was, by no means, going to be
Humphrey could only watch as Futch lept away from view, but was unable
to reach him in time to hold him back. As he watched, his young charge
was confronted by a woman sword wielder...but before he could move to intercept
her, he spotted a blue Matildan knight--obviously the woman's
The advancing knight, about the same height as himself but of a more lithe build that complimented his short-cropped black hair, was roughly two armlengths away from Humphrey before he took up a defensive stance, easily preventing the veteran from interfering in Futch's battle. "Upon my knight's oath, I won't let you pass!" the blue knight proclaimed, holding his broadsword at the ready. In a softer but much more vehement voice, he whispered, "For what your kind has done to good men like Sir Loric..." before he took another step forward, frowning tightly. Humphrey could easily see that his opponent was quite skilled despite his youthful age. His priority now was to keep the knight away from the boy. With that in mind, the old soldier made a quick feint towards the blue knight, then tried to circle away, trying to draw the man farther from Futch. The knight seemed to take the bait at first as he followed aside, but
suddenly pivoted and swung his sword upward, trying to knock the weapon
out of Humphrey's hands. Their swords met with a deafening, metallic
clang that showers them with sparks and sent them reeling, but Humprhey
"Not bad," the other smiled slightly, "but you can't resort to feinting alone..." Without answering, Humphrey charged the knight, sword held high as if to strike at his opponent's head, but as the knight began raise his weapon to block the high blow, Humprey brought his blade down to waist level and swung in a wide arc, hoping that the other's upward motion would leave him off balance. "Gah!" the knight exclaimed in genuine surprise, but before he became
cleaved in two, he twisted his body around to avoid the slash, only getting
his armor nicked lightly in the process. As Humphrey's sword finished
its arc, his opponent rushed at the older man, throwing his azure-armored
shoulder into his stomach. Humphrey felt the breath whoosh painfully
out of him, but with expert grace, he moved with the momentum and transformed
his fall into a roll. Leaving no moment to pause when he felt his
feet under him once again, he lashed towards the younger knight, his sword
whistling a painful scream as it chopped downward at the knight's exposed
sword arm. The knight grit his teeth
Within a glaring silence, the two circled each other warily for a moment, watching, waiting...before they charged and met in a flurry of sword blows and showering sparks, each swift and deadly, but each parried with equal skill by the other. When the exchanges ended, the two combatants found themselves eye to eye, teeth grinding loudly with effort, eyes narrowed with strain, with their swords locked between them, each striving to gain the upper hand. The blue knight managed to speak through tightly gritted teeth. "You've got impressive skill…it's a shame we fight as enemies. But it seems that the evening refuses to resist bloodshed…" Humphrey merely grunted in answer, neither in the affirmative nor the negative as he reflected once more that all knights, no matter the nation, seemed to have two major flaws: one being they could never stop talking and two being--as Humphrey pretended to weaken, slowly letting himself be pushed downwards before dropping to the floor and sweeping the other's legs out from under him--that they expected their opponents to fight fair. The blue knight yelped as he crashed deafeningly to the floor, losing
his grip on his sword in the process. However, he quickly recovered
and, just as Humphrey was standing, he grabbed a hold of Humphrey's boot.
Yanking hard, he sent the older man tumbling to the floor. A quick
disarming blow from the knight and both men were immediately weaponless,
but even as his sword flew from his hand, Humphrey sent his left elbow
crashing brutally into the face of the young knight. As the
The knight tensed once, his face displaying a mixture of distress and disappointment, then lay still upon the floor, barely conscious. A mumbled "Alex…" escaped from the young man's lips… Turning his back on his foe, Humphrey headed towards Futch.
"Now you pay!" Alexandra watched in disbelieving shock as the boy she confronted leapt clear over a table in the direction of the terrified Marash, seemingly oblivious to her presence directly between them. Fleetly, she kicked a nearby chair into his airborn path, knocking him completely off balance and spilling him to the floor. "Not if I have anything to say about it, boy!" Alex snapped as she advanced towards her new foe, her stance showing her extreme seriousness and warning her opponent that she was obviously a well-versed fighter. "Face me!" The boy glared up at the Matildan woman and let out a bestial snarl that had Alex mentally cringing at its sheer vehemence. "Girl or not, you picked the WRONG day to mess with me!" With a feral cry, he heftily threw his entire weight at her, ramming into her exposed stomach with a centralized blow from his head. Alex winced in pain but managed to catch her opponent with surprising strength for a woman, skidding backwards only a few steps. She quickly shoved him away. "And you've picked the wrong PERSON to mess with!" she exclaimed before ramming her fist into the other's chest, sending him reeling. Her thoughts, however, were on the boy himself… He's so young…a mere child! First Joram...and now this? The sheer force of her punch sent the boy slamming heartily against a nearby table, overturning it and the chairs surrounding it in the process. Picking himself off the hardwood floor, he snatched one of the nearby chairs and raised it above his head, all the while shooting her a glare of pure venom. "I don't have time for you, dammit!" he screamed as he sent the chair sailing towards her. Alex defensively threw her arms before her and shielded herself from most of the impact, the wooden chair shattered against her well-built arms, nearly splitting into two equal halves. She screamed at the uncontrollable boy, trying to reach him through his unbridled rage. "If you're going to fight, then get your head together! You fight like a kid throwing a tantrum!" As she shrugged off the last splintered fragments of the chair, Alex swiftly advanced towards him, arms extended and prepared. Once more, her thoughts sensed something horribly wrong with the entire situation. He's so angry… Why? The boy was obviously quite distracted, his furrowed eyes darting this way and that in searching for Marash...yet he was still able to evade Alex's incoming grasp. "Where is he? Where!?" Abruptly, the boy stopped, his red-flagged gaze riveted towards the stairway and a snarl growing upon his tightened lips when he spotted Marash cringing next to it. Alex used his badly-chosen moment of distraction to her advantage as she snagged him in a tightened arm lock and forced him to his knees, despite his feverish struggling. "I said to CALM DOWN--" She broke off at the sudden entrance of movement from the stairs. With the sword he was given, by Nerus, in his deathly-white grip, Joram, the innkeeper's young son, was racing rapidly and clumsily down the stairs. His gaunt, weary cheeks were steel streaks from the profuse tears he had shed for his part in the almost fatal injury of his mother, but his voice was determined as he shouted his plea. "No more! My mother has suffered enough! I won't let our home become--" WHACK! --and just as quickly as he had stumbled down the stairs, Joram crumpled to the hardwood floor, the sword of Nerus falling from his slack, nerveless fingers. And...standing over the unconscious boy, his hands still gripping the thick wooden table leg, was a manically-grinning Marash. The brown-robed man stooped over, retrieving the fallen sword, his hands gripping it with the ease of a practiced swordsman. "I'll take my sword back now, you pathetic failure," Marash said in a surprisingly deep voice that was suddenly stutter free, "so count your blessings I do not deem your continued existence a threat...otherwise I would end your misery." Alex watched everything in horrified silence. When she finally found her lost voice, it came out as a strangled mewl. "Marash…what have you done?" But even as the young woman spoke, the man she had known as "Marash"
was undergoing a drastic change. His stooped posture straightened
and his twisted limbs seemed to miraculously right themselves as he rose
to his full height, standing almost as tall as Miklotov. He threw
off his
With an sinister laugh, the man known as Lord Nerus made for the door. "Nooooo!!!" the boy, forgotten in that brief moment, within Alex's grip screamed, and with that he brought his head back sharply against his captor's chin, bloodying her lip and causing her to loosen her once-strong grip on his arms. Free, the enraged boy charged towards his enemy. "You're not going to get away from me that easily!" With lightning fast reflexes that left all who witnessed the moves dazed, Nerus pivoted, swinging away in an arch that avoided the boy's desperate lunge. The swing brought his black-gloved fist back around to sharply collide with the back of the youth's unprotected head, sending him careening into the brick wall of the inn. With a sickening crunch, he hit the wall and slumped to the floor, out cold and out of the fight. Nerus laughed with manic glee. "Fool! You had your chance. Did you really think I would be as easy the second time around?" He glanced venomously at the unconscious boy at his feet, then raised his sword menacingly. "You've proven yourself a worthy adversary boy. Unfortunately, that also means I cannot let you live. Farewell, Futch." With that, the corrupted Dragon Knight brought his blade down towards the boy's--Futch's--head. Time seemed to slow to a trudge. Seconds to choose, mere seconds to act... "NO!" Alex screamed as she hurled herself at Nerus, her sword Lohengrin
parrying the deadly blow with a splash of steel sparks. Angered by
the interferance, Nerus snarled and backhanded her away. The woman
fell but quickly leapt back to her feet, wiping blood from her frowning,
Goddammit.. he played us like a set of flutes… Nerus turned towards Alexandra, seeming to relish the pained expression
on her face. "Ah, how refreshing, the damsel coming to save the knight
in distress…but you would have been better served to stay out of my affairs,
cow." His last words scalding like acid, the madman started towards
her...but suddenly hesitated upon seeing Humphrey advancing purposefully
towards them. For an instant, his face contorted into a mask of pure,
unbridled hatred before he was able to control himself. "No matter," he
continued as if uninterrupted, "I have learned that my revenge can wait
as long as it takes…and do not deceive yourselves that it will not come.
For now--" He effortlessly grabbed hold of Futch with one hand and raised
the boy above his head. "--I leave you with the
Alex reflexively dropped Lohengrin in time to catch the limp form of Futch, nearly falling onto her back by the surprising force he came down at. Before she could do anything else, she saw Nerus vanish into the darkness outside the inn. "Damnit! Nerus!" Spitting a curse, Alex quickly spotted the unconscious form of Miklotov crumpled on the floor. "Oh hell…" she hissed, staring up at Futch's advancing companion apprehensively. The man, obviously a battle-hardened veteran, seemed to briefly glance towards the doorway in frustration before turning towards Alex. In an instant, his sword's point was hovering before the young woman's vulnerable throat. "... the boy. Drop him. Slowly." Alex gritted her teeth, producing a slight grinding sound as she locked gazes with the older man, trying not to pay attention to the sword poised at her exposed neck as she gently lay Futch on to the hardwood floor. "I think the truth is out in the open now…so we have no quarrel with you…" she murmured as she slowly rose back to her booted feet, her hands raised slightly over her shoulders to show that she meant no harm. The dour, stone-faced man remained silent for several moments before lowering the blade slightly. Wordlessly, he helped the ailing Futch to his unsteady feet. "…pardon lady. But you understand that with the way Nerus addressed you, I must leave nothing to chance." He's playing with our heads! Alex wanted to scream, but instead she just lowered her head, almost as if ashamed or unable to meet with the other's steely gaze. "I understand." she murmured as she carefully edged over to where Miklotov, who was slowly gaining consciousness, lay and helped him up. "You okay, Mik?" she said, concerned. The blue knight grunted an unintelligable response, wincing, and placed a hand upon his head. "I've got a splitting headache that I'll not soon forget," he stated as he opened his eyes, but when his renewing sight fell upon Futch and the older man, he immediately tensed. Alex quickly placed her hands on his shoulders as if to restrain him. "Whoa, hold it! They're not our enemies. Turns out this 'Marash' was actually the cult leader, Lord Nerus, himself. ...He used us." Miklotov frowned, seemingly upset with himself for playing the pawn, but before he could utter a word, Futch spontaneously erupted with a flare of anger. "He got away…he got away AGAIN!" he snarled as he glared at the Matildan couple through tear-filled eyes. "It's your fault! All your fault!" He tried to move forward, but his companion kept a firm grip on his shoulders. Exhaustion taking over, Futch began sobbing quietly as he fell to his knees, clutching himself in a fetal position. The older man, obviously Futch's ward, looked down at his charge with seemingly expressionless eyes, then shifted his gaze back to Miklotov. "I apologize. He's been through a lot tonight." Miklotov glances at Futch, his gaze softening. "I think we have our own apologies to issue as well…" The old soldier just shook his head in reply. He looked towards the stairs, watching as a groggy but otherwise unharmed Joram rose unsteadily to his feet. "I suggest we get some rest, then compare notes in the morning." After the others nodded silently in solemn agreement, the veteran gently helped the weary Futch to his feet and led him up the stairs towards his room.
[The next day…] "…so, he wanted you to take him to Rockaxe?" Futch asked Miklotov. Well, he TRIED to ask, at least, but his words were slightly garbled by the roasted chicken wing he had been hungrily munching on while talking. It was breakfast time at the Araya Inn, and Joram had made sure all four of them received the best meal the establishment could offer. The queried blue knight seemed to understand the muffled statement well enough, however, as he nodded in a terse reply. The knight's white-gloved hands were wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee. "He mentioned seeing Lord Gordo about the cult…these 'Dragon Knights' of his…" "What I don't get," Alex interrupted, gesturing with a slim hand that held a warm piece of freshly baked bread, "is why he called his cult members 'Dragon Knights' in the first place. Aren't you guys from the real thing back in Toran?" "Humphrey isn't. As for me…" Futch winced noticeably and slowly shook his head, almost sadly. "Long story. Anyway, Nerus told me he was almost a Dragon Knight himself back at Toran...so this was probably his means of mocking them. His armor is even a replica of the one worn by Joshua, our--I mean their--leader back at Toran. He consciously tried to twist and pervert everything we stood for into his own perverted image. I don't know what he wanted to achieve, though. He'd never have built an army large enough to invade Toran…" Humphrey looked up. "… maybe Lord Gordo knows something…" Miklotov grimaced at the uttered name of his lord and set his earthenware cup down with a dull, dissatisfied clunk. "I seriously doubt Lord Gordo would take us very seriously. He just sent me down here to sniff out potential "defectors", since he had sent a small platoon of white knights down here..." "Maybe he had a feeling something was happening here? But how...?" Alex asked with a mouthful of bread and chicken. "Only Gordo would know…and that means we'll have to get the facts straight from the lion's mouth." Futch finished hastily chugging down his drink, bringing his mug down on the table with a loud bang. "So its settled then! We'll go to Rockaxe and wring answers from this Gorba...Gorndu...whatever his name is." Alexandra snickered low at Futch's bungle, nearly snorting food up her nose in the process. Humphrey shook his head at the end of Futch's proposal. "You should go, but I will not come with you." Futch blinked, obviously startled. "What? Why not!?" Humphrey gave Futch a strange glance, neglecting to answer the boy's question, then motioned to Miklotov. "A word in private?" Miklotov was about to say something to Alex before Humphrey caught his attention. He immediately nodded. "Of course." He flashed a glance at Alex. "Just a moment…try and keep Futch company. I won't be long." Alex blinked, then glanced over at Futch. "Er…sure. Okay." Futch glared hotly at Humphrey's receding back to no avail before turning towards Alex. Now that they weren't trying to kill each other, he realized that she was actually really rather pretty. She had such beautiful eyes… Before he knew it, Futch found himself starting to blush uncontrollably. Oh no! Have to think of something to say… "Uhm… er… hi!" Alex smiled. She seemed almost on the verge of laughter. Oh, that was really witty, Futch…what should I… Suddenly, he felt a familiar, unwanted sensation in his throat... Oh no! Not now!
Humphrey abruptly halted when he and Miklotov were out of earshot from Futch. The blue knight quickly wondered exactly what was on the other man's mind. He had noticed Humphrey really did not speak unnecessarily, so the matter had to be important... "The boy is in my care," the older veteran began in a subdued voice, "but I will not come with him on this journey. I feel that his battle with this Nerus fellow is a turning point for him…and it is something he must face by himself. But, in case he gets in over his head, I am entrusting his protection to you." Miklotov felt the sheer intensity of the other's gaze and quickly found himself feeling humbled by both the veteran's serious voice and request. Humphrey did not do this easily…he's obviously given the matter some thought. Miklotov eventually nodded after a brief moment of musing. "I'd sully my name as a knight if I weren't to agree." Face flat with seriousness, the Matildain glanced back at the boy in
question, who currently seemed to be trying to engage Alex in a shoddily-constructed
attempt at conversation. Alex seemed to be
Shrugging indifferently at the comical situation, Miklotov turned back to the matter at hand. "I just hope I can live up to those expectations." Much to the knight's surprise, Humphrey shook his head. "Apologies, blue knight, but that won't be enough. I would have your Oath. On your sword, if you please." Miklotov blinked in surprise, but nonetheless smiled broadly. Humphrey certainly seemed to know a lot about his knightly order for someone from Toran. "I'm impressed you understand so much about the Matilda Knights," he remarked as he drew Dunceney and presented it to Humphrey, bending down upon one knee as per tradition. "By the Knight's Code, I swear I shall allow no harm to befall my gained charge. By my name and rank as a knight, I give you my vow..." Humphrey nodded in satisfaction once the Oath had been completed. Rising to his feet and sheathing his blade, Miklotov accompanied the older veteran to the table where Futch and Alex continued their less than serious conversational trade.
Futch was blushing like a ripe tomato when Humphrey and Miklotov returned to the tableside. He had been trying to talk to Alexandra like a mature adult, but all of a sudden...he got the hiccups! Now, of all times! He looked up at the madly-grinning Alex and blushed further. It took all his willpower just to keep from dying on the spot... Humphrey gave the boy a strange breed of a concerned look. "You should be going soon. I shall stay here and defend the town...in case some cultists return." Futch quickly stood with enough force to nearly knock his chair out from under him, grasping at any small chance to extracate himself from his embarrassing position. "That's a gr--hic--eat idea -hic--!" Humphrey turned towards Futch and nodded, grim as ever. "I will be here when you return." With that, Futch's companion for the last three years turned and walked away from the converged group. Futch blinked, almost as if caught off guard by Humphrey's blunt suddenness, then turned sarcastic. "Gee, thanks Humph. I'll--hic--miss you too…--hic--" He turned away, so that no one saw his rapidly-misting eyes. "Stupid old man…" Miklotov took that moment to nudge the amused Alex, who couldn't seem to wipe her ridiculously wide grin off her face. "Come on, time to move out." Alex only grinned wider than she already was. ",Aw, so soon? I was just getting to know our new travelling companion! He had such interesting things to say…" She abruptly gave Futch another smile and a toying wink. The knight actually let out a laugh, smoothing his normally stoic, humorless features with a softened expression. "Stop scaring the poor boy, Alex!" Futch reddened, cheeks warming impossibly, but tried to sound indignant…and failed miserably as his hiccups increased in frequency. "I'm not--hic--scared! Really, I'm--hic--no--hic--hic--not--hic--hiccup--!" As he tried to block out the sounds of the gleeful laughter of his new companions from his ears, Futch sighed defeatedly. This is going to be a loooong trip...
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