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October 2008
Topic Started: May 1 2010, 05:17 PM (3,203 Views)
golden_trillium

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golden_trillium

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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Wed Oct 01, 2008 6:46 am
Quintus


Brendyn
 
"I am settling in well enough. I am honored to be
serving under Commander Castus...well, sir, I fear I did
not do well in others' eyes, though I feel I acted in
the right. At Aesica, I heard great things of Commander
Castus and the men who serve under him. Some things I
would hear almost sounded like legends. Commander
Antonius spoke highly of him....it was my dream to serve
him, and to be as good as the men who serve under
him...but I fell short of that endeavour."


Quintus chuckled at that, his chin bowed to his chest and his
eyes downcast, but glinting with amusement. The lad was so
nervous...as in a way, he should be, but his nervousness was
combined with an eager earnestness and a lingering confusion
about the situation that made it downright funny. Very eager
to please, this one- eager not to put a foot wrong, and
clearly haunted by the one time he had, but not quite
understanding it, either. Clearly in need of a little
reassurance, too. Quintus straightened and pushed away from
the wall, unfolding his arms and regarding Brendyn with a
rueful, chiding smile.

"Look, lad...that business with Lavinia- you made a mistake.
You didn't realize her rank, and in a way, I can't blame you.
It's not like she dresses it." Quintus allowed himself another
laugh at that, trying to put the man more at his ease.
Lavinia, of course, dressed as all nuns did- in a big black
sack that hid any womanly charms that might be present. Not
that Lavinia, Quintus was sure, had many. But she was a good
infirmary head, and in Quintus's opinion, Badon was lucky to
have her. He'd seen much worse in his day.

"You didn't do right in talking to her like a drudge," Quintus
emphasized that point with a sharp shake of his head, his
expression hardening into sternness. The he quirked half a
smile again, shrugging one large shoulder upwards.

"But there's nothing for it but to take your punishment like a
man and consider it a lesson learned. Now you know." And won't
talk back to her again, I'd be willing to bet. "And don't
worry about the other men, Brendyn- it'll be forgotten in a
week, soon as something funnier comes along." Quintus's simle
broadened a bit as he leaned back against the wall again, a
relaxed, casual posture.
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golden_trillium

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Author: lady ione
Date: Wed Oct 01, 2008 11:40 am
Brendyn


Brendyn had spoken what was on his heart, and it was something
he truely believed in, so when Quintus chuckled seeingly
amused, Brendyn cocked his head and gave the other man a
serious look. It was not meant to be amusing at all. The
soldier offered a brief smile, but it went back to the neutral
look he wore when the man had entered the room. Damn it all!
The situation had not been funny. Brendyn began to think of
another way to approach the topic as Quintus pushed away from
the wall he had leaned against. The smile on the Centurion's
face was anything but comforting to Brendyn's mind...

Quintus
 
"Look, lad...that business with Lavinia- you made a
mistake. You didn't realize her rank, and in a way, I
can't blame you. It's not like she dresses it." "You
didn't do right in talking to her like a drudge," "But
there's nothing for it but to take your punishment like
a man and consider it a lesson learned. Now you know."
And don't worry about the other men, Brendyn- it'll be
forgotten in a week, soon as something funnier comes
along."


What was the church coming to? Brendyn finally eased up a bit
allowing himself a good hearty laugh along with the Centurion,
but he was not willing to let the matter drop. Brendyn was of
a good humor, but he felt that perhaps he could trust this man
to share his side of the story with, and have him take it
seriously. He had seen the smaller woad take on Malcus and
Titrus, two well trained oman soldiers, and the thought of
unchaining the two woads in the infirmary brought back that
memory to mind. He moved over to the table and leaned against
it, one leg crossed liesurly in front of the other, hands
braced on the edge of the table behind him. He gathered his
thoughts, then looked into the eyes of a man he wished had
been his Commander at Aesica instead of Antonius. At least
this one had a sense of humor.

Brendyn kept the new found humor in his voice as he walked
casually toward the table while he spoke, "Sir, the private
rooms in the infirmary here...do they have windows in them?
The reason why I ask has to do with something that did bother
me a bit..." He cleared his throat not feeling nervous at all
but baffled. "Why then, would a head nun order chains removed
from prisoners, known to be dangerous, and have them placed in
one of the private rooms, and shutting the door? Okay so there
were two guards outside the room, but how are they to know
what goes on inside the room with the doors shut and no one
else in the room but the two woads? And I heard it tell that
the guard they found dead outside the dungeon cell had been
stabbed..." His eyes rose to earnestly meet Quintus's, the
humor now replaced with confusion, the thought still there.
"Now, how would a prisoner, a woad, get her hands on a knife,
or have the knife in her possession with out our knowledge? I
also heard one of the guards mention that the little woad had
a doll in her possession that had not been there before, and
that the woad had been very possessive of it...not letting it
out of her grasp. Am I wrong about this?"

Brendyn shifted a bit, but still looked at the man before him.
This to him, could have been a disaterous scene, and he felt
the nun had placed everyone in danger...he did not care what
rank she was.

"Amazing what you learn on the night watch, isn't it?"

Now it was Brendyn's turn to smile, but the smile was slight
and with no humor. He had not meant to come across as cheeky,
thinking that he knew it all, but after finding the escape
route they had taken and taking what had happened earlier in
the day at the infirmary...well something was just not right.
Just as Quintus had learned of the situation, so Brendyn had
learned of the other parts from the two guards he had talked
with briefly at the wall.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Elessars Girl
Date: Wed Oct 01, 2008 1:52 pm

Arthur


Arthur – revered Roman Commander and confident leader of men –
hesitated to give voice to one simple fact. Why was it he was
finding this so difficult to discuss with his closest friend?
The news of having a child was a joyous thing, was it not?
However, Lancelot gave Arthur a short reprieve by interjecting
his thoughts on Merlin and Arthur’s decisions and the Roman
welcomed them despite his lieutenant’s obvious continued
irritation.

Lancelot
 
"Fuck Merlin. He is no more dangerous than Scipio is.
That bird face could easily slide a knife between your
ribs before Tristan could even but sniff his treachery.
And Arthur,"


“This Optio would do no such thing,” Arthur cut in with
complete – albeit foolish - certainty. Scipio might be many
things privately to which Arthur truly knew nothing of, but he
appeared to be every bit the ‘proper’ Roman officer and would
not risk his own death by attempting to harm a superior
officer. But….Arthur knew he should heed Lancelot’s instincts
to a point….the Sarmatian’s views on all Romans were heavily
skewed, but if Lancelot had a sense of something with
Scipio…..

Lancelot
 
"Arthur. I went to Merlin willingly the last time. I
knew what I was getting into - this is different. Any
one of your lackeys could watch over this pisshole of a
fortress, I am here to serve and follow you, as I failed
to do so recently. I seem to have no say. Besides - what
is so important that you'd leave me here, in command of
your beloved Badon, rather than have to put up with my
company?"


….serve and follow you, as I failed to do so recently.

There was more than one interpretation of that particular
statement. Arthur looked away from Lancelot’s angular features
and penetrating gaze; looking anywhere than into the eyes – or
rather eye - that seemed to confound the Roman’s emotions
completely this morning. Always. One glance to the window told
Arthur that morning had fully come and he had no more time for
idle talk. His gaze dropped to his fingers where they were
laced together in his lap and he sighed; face contorted in
near frustration. And thus Arthur missed Lancelot’s fingers on
the pendant the Sarmatian wore around his neck….it represented
the one person in this world that Lancelot loved. Perhaps it
was better that way.

Lancelot
 
"You have me intrigued. Truly - is there something
behind this?"


Lancelot’s tone had changed again…this time Arthur heard
compassion where only moments ago anger had clearly ruled. And
Arthur knew he had to answer….he needed Lancelot’s counsel.
But still unwilling to look the other man directly in the eye,
Arthur slid his legs over the side of the bed and pressed bare
feet to the cold stone floor. He stood and while rubbing a
hand at the back of his neck, padded over to the chest
containing his clean clothing.

“There is a private matter in which I must request you to
tend…for me,” Arthur began while he pulled open the top drawer
and retrieved a plain shirt to be worn beneath his chainmail.
He placed the folded shirt on top of the chest and pulled the
linen shirt he’d worn to bed over his head. Neeve had
meticulously bandaged Arthur’s stitched side and the material
had held up through the night. But the bandage would need
reinforced beneath Arthur’s clothing if it were to hold up to
riding – and any other strenuous activities today.

“Lancelot,” Arthur turned to look at his lieutenant as he
called the other man’s name. His tone made it clear that he
wished for Lancelot’s aid in dressing….at least in further
wrapping his wound.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Lancelot
Date: Wed Oct 01, 2008 5:56 pm
Lancelot


Lancelot breathed heavily, the long, bent fingers of the once
broken hand rubbing at his swollen eye. He tried to let his
anger and - yes, hurt, ever still - at Arthur's decision (it
was final, obviously; the other man hadn't even acknowledged
Lancelot's reasons behind his objections) fade away as best he
could for now. He'd known Arthur Castus for a long time -
longer than anyone else other than his Sarmatian brothers, and
in all theory, the Roman - Roman, how odd - had become his
closest confidant, friend, ally and enemy all at once.

Lover, too.

That would have to be thought on at a later time - perhaps it
might be good that Arthur was leaving the fortress without
Lancelot for a bit. That absence, however short, would give
Lancelot time to fucking think and ponder exactly what it was
that had made him begin to ... consider? Weigh options? Decide
whether or not he could only love one person - his little
sister - for the rest of his life and be satisfied with that?

Arthur
 
“There is a private matter in which I must request you
to tend…for me."


Arthur's back was to Lancelot as the other man had padded
barefoot to his clothing storage, but he canted his gaze once
as he called Lancelot's name, obviously wanting help. The
knight's eyebrow cocked again; he winced from the pain, but
did it again, just to aggravate himself and to make sure he
could still perform the gesture to his satisfaction. It was
scathing and extremely useful when he did it right. Gods
forfend if Galahad had damaged one of his most dangerous
weapons beyond use.

Arthur had removed his nightshirt and had pulled a tunic from
his chest of drawers; Lancelot got off the bed creakily and
with great effort, managed to cross the room without fainting
from exhaustion or tripping over his own feet. He had too much
to do and too little time to do it in while Arthur was gone.
So be it. Lancelot would take advantage of the absence if the
commander wouldn't allow him to come along - no matter what
this -

"Private matter?" he asked, his hands reaching for the small
dagger in his boot sheath. Using it to quickly and effectively
cut through the bandage Neeve had wrapped around the Roman's
waist, he removed the old cloth and examined the freshly
stiched slash in Arthur's side.

….serve and follow you, as I failed to do so recently.

"The swelling has gone down," he commented, and, picking up
the some of the soft linen swabs and dipping them into the
salve the Briton healer had left behind, he began to clean the
wound with fresh medicene. Better to have it as clean as
possible before he covered it up again.

"Take note, as I said," his voice was soft and distracted as
he paid attention to what he was doing, his good eye focusing
on the angry injury on his friend's side. "I am no healer, but
I will do my best." He settled his free hand on Arthur's other
side to steady himself as he worked, cleaning first and then
reaching around the other man's half-dressed body for the
gauze that would go under the linen strips.

Private matter? Arthur has no private matters.

"Do go on," he spoke, his voice muffled from the wad of cloth
he held between his teeth as his arms reached around Arthur to
begin the bandaging process.

If I can do but this for him - perhaps he can learn to forgive
my absence in the last battle.

Perhaps I can forgive...
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golden_trillium

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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Wed Oct 01, 2008 7:08 pm
Quintus


Brendyn
 
"Sir, the private rooms in the infirmary here...do they
have windows in them? The reason why I ask has to do
with something that did bother me a bit...why, then,
would a head nun order chains removed from prisoners,
known to be dangerous, and have them placed in one of
the private rooms, and shut the door? Okay so there were
two guards outside the room, but how are they to know
what goes on inside the room with the doors shut and no
one else in the room but the two Woads? And I heard it
tell that the guard they found dead outside the dungeon
cell had been stabbed...now, how would a prisoner, a
Woad, get her hands on a knife, or have the knife in her
possession, without our knowledge? I also heard one of
the guards mention that the little Woad had a doll in
her possession that had not been there before, and that
the Woad had been very possessive of it...not letting it
out of her grasp. Am I wrong about this? Amazing what
you learn on the night watch, isn't it?"


“Aye.” Quintus had to agree to that, and he laughed briefly
again, acknowledging the lightning speed with which
information of all types, both true and not so true, moved
within the squads of soldiers who were posted at the fort.
Brendyn did seem to have heard a very complete and correct
version of the story, though- nothing he had said was wrong.
Quintus’s smile fell and he shifted himself against the wall,
gathering his thoughts before going on again. The soldier was
taking this seriously, and he no longer seemed amused. Quintus
had to admit that in terms of the infirmary, the man might
have a point- though that still didn’t excuse his behavior.

“Well, I’ll be straight with you, Brendyn- no one knows
exactly how the little Woad got out.” Quintus made that
admission with a regretful shrug, but went on
matter-of-factly. He was in a mood and a position to be
perfectly honest with Brendyn right now- though the soldier
couldn’t expect this kind of extended explanation every time.

“One thing certain is that she had help- so she may not have
stabbed the guard at all. No way to know,” Quintus continued
grimly. It was a bad situation, all around- and he could only
hope that the walling up of the little gate that he had
supervised last night had done a lot of good towards
preventing future incidents. There was still one more Woad
prisoner down there- the bigger one, brought back my Captain
Barbattus after yesterday’s abortive attempt at negotiations.

“About the infirmary, though…you might be right. I’ll let an
officer know what you just told me as soon as I can.” Quintus
had to admit he didn’t know anything about the specific
arrangements for prisoners in the infirmary, but it was
possible that they weren’t ideal. Badon- by Arthur Castus’s
policy- didn’t hold too many prisoners, so the question rarely
came up. It might have been that the nuns simply didn’t
realize how dangerous Woad women could be. Quintus didn’t
know- but he could pass on Brendyn’s concerns.

“But that doesn’t excuse you mouthing off to the head of the
infirmary- especially not with your superiors present.”
Quintus frowned deeply at Brendyn as he delivered that
reprimand. Valid concerns or not, Brendyn should have known
better to speak out of turn like that. A quiet word to the
Lieutenant who had been there would have been better, had he
really seen some problem that no one else was noticing.
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golden_trillium

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Author: lady ione
Date: Wed Oct 01, 2008 8:23 pm
Brendyn


Now, Brendyn seemed to be more at ease with the Centurion, but
not too comfortable. He learned long ago to respect those in
authority above him. He decided that he liked Quintus, and
knew that this was a man he could learn a thing or two
from...like how to avoid trouble of that nature again, and
handle things more tactfully. So he listened to every word of
what Quintus's response was...

Quintus
 
“Well, I’ll be straight with you, Brendyn- no one knows
exactly how the little Woad got out.” “One thing certain
is that she had help- so she may not have stabbed the
guard at all. No way to know,” “About the infirmary,
though…you might be right. I’ll let an officer know what
you just told me as soon as I can.” “But that doesn’t
excuse you mouthing off to the head of the infirmary-
especially not with your superiors present.”


Brendyn had to admit that he had shown the nun a certain
amount of disrespect, and that could have been why he gained
none in return. Brendyn took Quintus's repremand to heart. ''I
admit, sir, that I did act out of place where Sister Lavina
was concerned, and I feel that that justified my punishment."
He arose from where he had leaned against the table, and
approached the other man, "I thank you in advance for bringing
my concerns before another officer....and I thank you for your
advice as well as your opinions...." He looked once again
about the room, wishing that it had been Arthur and not
Antonius who had trained him. Commander Antonius had been a
good trainer of battle skills and such, but there was no such
a thing in his book as far as mistakes, and anything a trainee
did that he did not deem "first rate", that soldier was
subject to ridicule, or punished in some way. For Brendyn, it
meant going without food for a certain length of time, or five
good lashings...or having to train harder than the rest, and
without water. Granted Antonius had been a good Commander and
person in other respects, whether it was just to talk to, or
ask an opinion of. These experiences were ones that Brendyn
never forgot, even now as he talked to the Centurion...

"There are some things that I still need to learn, sir, and I
would like to learn from you. For instance, I am better at
using a lance and a spear, then I am at using a sword..."

There was a long pause. Brendyn was the first to admit that he
was far from perfect, and yesterday's actions had showed that
to be a fact. Briefly, his thoughts went back to Veronica,
Antonius's wife and Brendyn's lover. She had always believed
in him when others hadn't. GOD! How he missed her! To this
day, he often wondered where she was, and if she was safe...or
if she was still thinking of him as much as he was her. Deep
inside, he said a silent prayer for guidance and wisdom
concerning whatever this summons had been about.

"Do you know why we have been summoned here?" He looked at the
other man with a curious glance...
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golden_trillium

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Author: sabor ice
Date: Thu Oct 02, 2008 12:44 am
Cáel


"Nyah..num...toadstools and honey..." Cáel murmured
half-consciously and abruptly sat bolt upright, his
hay-infested dark locks falling about his features in vicious
disarray.

He reached out blindly with calloused hands and ended up
tapping palms up against an unfamiliar surface. His brow
furrowed but his eyes remained closed, slurring incoherently
then as he slumped frontward alongside the apparent barricade.
His pale cheek pressed up against the stall and he slapped a
hand against it, his features screwing up at the unpleasant
sound that ricocheted off of it in response.

"Mmm...didn't do it...open...damn...cell..." he grumbled.

Something kept swatting him in the face, a kind of ticklish
feather or hair. He winced and swat back at the annoyance, but
it persisted. He moved away, crawling along a prickly, uneven
surface; finally drawing himself up onto his knees, Cáel
wavered unsteadily as he attempted to peel back his heavy
eyelids. Now something was touching his face again, but it was
not soft. It was a pronounced shape and wet, like lips of
sorts. The Goth's brow gave a pleasant lift and he nuzzled
back willingly in response. Suddenly, his black eyes snapped
open and focused upon his intended - his goddamn horse! Cáel
whimpered, aghast, sputtering and spitting as he scrambled to
his feet and spiraled backed into a corner of the stall all in
one sober movement.

"Lord...I will never drink again..." Cáel swore, smacking away
the stale taste rimming his lips. He doubled over, head
between his knees, and groaned outwardly at the headache that
now ailed him ten-fold. It was going to be a hell of a
morning.












Cassidy & Fleur

It was more an unconscious effort than anything that Fleur was
resistant to release her hold on Drake. Sure he had been
around in the past couple of days, but he hadn't specifically
been around her. For a child like Fleur, two days seemed a
millennium, and there was nothing she wasn't willing to try or
do in order to keep him from leaving until she got everything
off her chest. And, the girl had alot to say to the soldier
this particular morning. She was desperate to garnish his
attention, even if the conversation was served up one-sidedly.
She continued to babble as he carried her in his arms back to
Cassidy, tiny fingers idly stroking flat the hairs at the back
of his neck. Fleur was unaware it was time to be quiet and
chirped cheerfully away until the soldier pressed a finger to
her lips. And, even then she initially tried to speak through
the silencing digit. She gave up at last, only because her
nose was stuffy and she needed to push an exasperated breath
from out her mouth.

"Fleur...do you need to go to the latrine...?" Cassidy asked
her quietly, in speculation of the way her little sister was
squeezing her knees together and wriggling upon the bed.

"Uh-uh," Fleur replied, with a shake of her head.

"Fleur..." Cassidy began again.

"Drake will leave!" the younger girl pouted, giving her sister
a suffering look. "I gots lots more to tell him!"

"Well..." good. "I guess you better hurry up then..." the
twelve year old managed in forced politeness, gesturing with a
jut of her chin for Fleur to go.

Fleur gasped and turned from Drake, bounding off of the bed
and rushing toward her destination. Cassidy shook her head to
herself, trying with every fiber of her being to suppress her
amusement. She glanced at the soldier with an aura of
indifference when he addressed her.

"One of Fleur's many...attachments..." Cassidy answered,
giving Drake a pointed stare. She gave a nonchalant shrug of
her shoulder and looked away again. "He's coming back
today...promised to let her ride his horse or something..."
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golden_trillium

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Author: Pinkie
Date: Thu Oct 02, 2008 3:09 am
Saoirse


Dagonet
 
"Great... I would like that very much, love. I think
I'll try to get some sleep before you return. Had a real
rough night... Wake me up when you come back. With food
only, I feel hungry"


Saoirse's face contorted into anguish when her lover closed
his eyes and said he would sleep while she was gone, then
informing her that he had had a rough night. She knew he had
not slept all too well - she had felt almost every
uncomfortable breath he had taken - but to hear him admit to
it was very unlike him and it spoke of a painful reality.
A strand of red hair fell forward, covering half her vision as
she looked at the man's neck, at the sure and steady press of
vein against his skin showing her clearly his pulse. It was a
comfort to see it so strong, to know that, despite his current
state of weakness, there was that old familiar strength just
waiting to be released. He would be made better eventually..

She was about to step away when his eye cracked open and he
mentioned food. This brought a smile to the Irish-woman's
face. She snickered gently and nodded, leaning down to kiss
his cheek.

"I bet ye do." she murmured against his skin, smacked a kiss
against his cheek and walked away, her footsteps lighter than
they might have been just one minute ago if he had not asked
for food. An appetite, she had read only yesterday morning in
one of those dusty old books, was a sure sign of a healing
body. Well he would be fed and fed well then... Perhaps, as
part of her duties in becoming a healer, she should bring the
makings of a broth back with her for the rest of those cooped
up in the infirmary...?

Saoirse glanced over her shoulder at Dagonet before she left
to see him with his head lolled to one side and a restful look
about him though she wasn't entirely sure that she just wanted
to see him looking restful...

Walking out into the fresh air made the woman's stomach rock.
It was only out here in the brisk morning breeze that she
realised how sickly she had found the air inside. Her head
swam and for a moment she stood on the steps letting her mind
catch up with her body. Once stable she narrowed her blue eyes
against the spitting, sleety rain and walked across the main
courtyard towards the fortress. She was not going to go to
Dagonet without some fresh clothes for him or her...

A few minutes later she was striding back across the
courtyard, this time towards the tavern, purposely, with a
small sack of clothes slung over her shoulder. She walked into
the tavern and took a deep breath of the familiar scent that
wafted throughout the place. It seemed a lifetime since she
had been here last.

The red head approached the bar and pursed her lips wondering
what would be suitable for her healing Knight, not wanting to
give him an upset stomach but not wanting him living on an
invalid's diet either.









Galahad

It was alot harder to get from A to B than Galahad would have
creditted. He was hardly a complete invalid but he found when
he got halfway across the courtyard that he was miserably
tired and even more miserably hungry. He stopped once or twice
just to stretch his battered body, finding it impossible to
stop himself from feeling sorry for himself. Granted he had
started the fight, and granted he had accidentally given black
eyes to his buddies, but he was still entitled to feel the way
he felt... surely.

He had been betrayed in a most bitter and conniving way. He
couldn't help but wonder if it was all that he had seen or was
there more... ? Was it just a budding relationship or was it
spontaneous...? Did that old sour Knight evoke a passion in
Alina that he, Galahad, could not? Was it permanent? Was that
it between them now?

Galahad didn't know -- and he didn't know if he should bother
his time thinking on it either because he wasn't sure if he
could take Alina back. Even if she wanted to.

She did want to come back to him, didn't she?

The man's worried blue eyes looked skywards as it started to
spit rain on him. He shivered and hurried his laboured steps a
little more, ducking into the fortress with a loud,
teeth-chattering shudder. Gingerly lifting a bruised hand,
Galahad brushed the droplets off his shoulders as he made his
way towards his room. He resolved to keep his head down in
case he spotted anyone that he didn't want to talk to... like
Gawain... or Alina... or Kolya... or anyone.

When he got to his room he shrugged out of the cloak and
looked sullenly at the cold hearth.

"Damn.." he muttered, wiping a hand down his young face,
wincing as he brushed a bruise. Tugging off his boots, Galahad
pattered barefoot out into the corridor and deftly pinched
some of the logs reserved for the kitchen fires that were left
at the bottom of the steps. He took a torch from a wall and
lit himself a little fire. The orange flames lit up his young
face which was now haggard. Blue eyes were shadowed as he
stared into the flames thinking to make sense of stuff and
wondering if putting his head in the flames might alleviate
the crippling hangover that was looming in the back of his
addled brain.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Elessars Girl
Date: Thu Oct 02, 2008 11:42 am

Arthur


The moment Arthur spoke the other man’s name he realized what
requesting Lancelot’s ‘help’ would entail…physical contact
from the one person that Arthur could not show indifference to
no matter how hard he attempted it. But the Commander could
not re-dress his bandage alone and Lancelot was one of the few
persons that Arthur would allow to see his weaknesses. And the
dark knight was the only person present. Arthur lifted his
arm, resting it behind his head to give the other man access
and silently prayed Lancelot would make quick work of it.

Lancelot
 
"Private matter?


“Yes,” Arthur quietly answered as Lancelot cut away the
existing bandage and examined the Roman’s stitches. Arthur
opened his mouth to continue, but halted in delivering the
news on Darya’s condition. Instead, he frowned at the heady
scent that filled his nostrils with Lancelot now in such close
proximity. Why hadn’t he noted how pungent the other man
smelled when they had sat together on the bed? Hadn’t Arthur
practically ordered Lancelot to bathe last night?

Lancelot
 
"The swelling has gone down, take note, as I said, I am
no healer, but I will do my best."


Arthur mildly hissed through his teeth the instant Lancelot’s
fingers pressed a cloth to his side despite the obvious
gentleness of the other man’s ministrations. Goose bumps
decorated his exposed skin from the chill still lingering in
the room…most assuredly not in reaction to Lancelot’s touch –
or so Arthur attempted to convince himself. And of course
Arthur could not ignore the hand that now rested on his other
hip – one that had gripped him there many times in both anger
and in passion. Without pain, love could not exist….and that
was at the root of the tumultuous bond Arthur and Lancelot had
always shared. The Roman breathed heavily through his nose and
attempted to relax the muscles in his suddenly very taut neck
while Lancelot continued to tend him – without argument.

Lancelot
 
"Do go on,"


“Have you forgotten the location of the baths in this
fortress?” Arthur mildly chided the other man first and while
lifting both arms up and out of Lancelot’s way. He half
grinned at the mention of the baths though; again recalling
things between him and Lancelot that he should not think on.
Not anymore. I have made my choice. And it was that choice
that forced Arthur to go on with what he must ask of Lancelot
now.

“I want you to keep a close watch on Darya in my absence, keep
her safe,” Arthur began; knowing how odd that must sound
considering what he had accused them both of doing together
behind his back in recent times….and in truth, Arthur was
still confident he’d been right about it even though Darya had
denied it.

“She is with child and I must be reassured that she will be
well provided for….in the event that I should not return. I
trust you to do this for me, Lancelot,” Arthur finished; the
muscles in his abdomen tightening on their own accord as he
awaited Lancelot’s answer. The Commander had already requested
Neeve’s assistance in the matter, but it was Lancelot’s help
that Arthur wished to secure before riding out today. It was
Lancelot that could best protect his fellow Sarmatian while
Arthur was away…and it would be Lancelot that he was certain
Darya would turn to in any event.
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golden_trillium

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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Thu Oct 02, 2008 12:13 pm
Linnesse


Ione
 
”A boy...Ian...a girl...Anne...want to see my baby...hold it...I want...to name...him Ian....after...my father...had considered...you and...Derfel as godparents...”


“Oh, Ione…” Linnesse murmured in sympathy, blinking back the
mist that clouded her vision, obscuring the sight of Ione and
the tiny, sad little bundle that she held. Sister Margaret was
still busy on the other side of the bed, adjusting fresh
towels and discreetly removing the bloodstained ones to a
bundle in the corner of the room. Linnesse felt her fingers
curved around some hard object, and looking down, discovered
that she was still holding the cup of black haw tea- now
useless and cooling. She reached out to set it down on the
bedside table; her arm shook slightly as she did so, and it
seemed to take an effort to straighten her fingers. The clink
as she set the cup down seemed unbearably loud, a disturbance
in the room even over Ione’s sobs.

“You were very brave,” she whispered, reaching over to lightly
rub Ione’s back with her hand. The other woman’s body was
shaking with her sobs, the tiny form of her child barely
visible- but looking over her shoulder, Linnesse could see the
curve of its- his?- head, pale and almost translucent-looking,
smaller even than Linnesse’s fist. The whole body had been
scarcely longer than her hand, the limp limbs like fragile
twigs, the eyes tightly closed. He hadn’t moved at all.

Across the room, Sister Margaret finished her tidying and came
over to sit down at the foot of the bed. She settled herself
at the corner of it, her eyes on Ione and the child, and
matter-of-factly crossed herself and began to pray aloud, with
no preamble or announcement- but as soon as Linnesse realized
what she was doing, she hastily crossed herself too and bowed
her head, though she kept her other arm around Ione’s
shoulders.

“Lord, who gives all of us life, we pray that you will accept
this innocent soul into your kingdom, and that you will
comfort his mother in her sorrow…” There were a few more words
after that, but Linnesse barely heard them; her own heart was
too full of sorrow. What if this happened to Linnette? What if
her only remembrance of Gedeon ended up that way, thrust from
the womb before his time, limp and pale and tiny in her
sister’s arms? Could Linnette even survive something like
that?

The shift of the bed as Sister Margaret stood up made Linnesse
look up, and she realized that the nun had finished praying
and was speaking now to Ione. Linnesse murmured “amen” in a
barely audible voice, concluding her own small communion with
the divine- such as it was. Why did God allow things like this
to happen, anyway?

“Are you the father?” Sister Margaret was saying to Mirtha,
with all the straightforward unsurprise of a woman who was
used to assisting at the births of children of unknown or
uncertain paternity. There were many of them, in a place like
this. The nun sounded like she would not have blinked no
matter what Mirtha or Ione had said to her inquiry.

“Or is there someone else we should notify?” She looked from
Mirtha to Ione inquiringly.








Quintus

Brendyn
 
'I admit, sir, that I did act out of place where Sister
Lavinia was concerned, and I feel that that justified my
punishment. I thank you in advance for bringing my
concerns before another officer...and I thank you for
your advice as well as your opinions....there are some
things that I still need to learn, sir, and I would like
to learn from you. For instance, I am better at using a
lance and a spear than I am at using a sword...do you
know why we have been summoned here?"


“No.” Quintus shook his head, having no further answer for
that question. There had been no hint of the purpose of the
summons in the word of Livius, but if Quintus had to guess, he
would bet that this had something further to do with the
various Woad debacles of yesterday. The escape, the one
remaining prisoner, the failed negotiations with Merlin- none
of those matters were over and done with. The Woads were not
over and done with- they’d be back, and probably with a
vengeance.

“Maybe they want you to practice that swordplay against the
Woads,” Quintus said with a grim chuckle, looking at Brendyn
out of the corner of his eye as he made the small black joke.
Maybe- but then again, if more battles looked in the offing,
the whole fort would have been put on the alert, and it
hadn’t.

“More likely the Captain just has some more questions about
the escape,” Quintus continued, coming to that conclusion as
he said the words. He and Brendyn had both been involved in
discovering it, after all. Yes, that was probably it; Quintus
only hoped they weren’t in for too much of a tongue lashing.
The Captain didn’t suffer fools gladly, and yesterday had been
a day for fools, that was for sure- though Quintus was
reasonably confident that he himself and Brendyn were not
among them. The damned guards who had been at the front doors
of the dungeons, yes, but those bastards were already mucking
out the stables on reduced rations and would be for weeks.












Tristan

The scout once again raised his eyes from feeding the hawk one
of the last pieces of meat as the door of the tavern opened
again. It was quiet in here- Linnette and Vanora chatting
softly at the bar, and a few other people working on their
breakfasts, but no one rowdy or loud. It was a subdued
morning- subdued enough that the entrance of one red-headed
woman was enough to clearly catch his attention.

Saoirse was moving with great purpose, a sack of something
slung over her shoulder, almost as if she was going somewhere.
She paused in the doorway as she entered, taking a deep
breath, almost as if she was relieved to be here, and then
continued on to the counter and the two women who stood behind
it. Behind her, Tristan popped the last piece of meat into the
hawk’s mouth and then stood slowly, his eyes still on the
newcomer. The bird gulped down the meat, then squawked as
Tristan lifted her onto his shoulder- but he shushed her and
kept a hand on her until she got her balance properly, then
continued on across the tavern floor until he stood just
behind and to the side of Saoirse.

“How’s Dag?” he inquired gruffly, looking down at her with a
slight frown as he leaned his side against the bar counter and
folded his arms.
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golden_trillium

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Author: lady ione
Date: Thu Oct 02, 2008 2:34 pm
Vanora


The Red head had thought that it was a good idea, even though
books were only written for the more important people in
authority. To Vanora, everyone was just as important as the
other. Well, she watched Linnette, as the young woman turned
her back to the counter and leaned on it, arms folded in front
of her. Not really being able to see the woman's reaction,
Vanora stood up, reached for the towel, and folded it with a
silent sigh...

Linnette
 
"Hmmm." "Artists? I wish I did." "You...you don't know
anyone who can draw, do you? I mean, I don't, and..."


Vanora sort of winced at Linnette's reaction which was as she
somehow knew it would be: Bitter and with some tears. They
were to be expected. She would have reaced the same way.
Vanora looked down at the folded towel wishing that she was
going through the same thing Linnette was going through. The
only thing that had come remotely close was the death of her
father. "No, sorry....I don't...It was an odd idea," Vanora
pressed her lips together wishing that she had not mentioned
it. Stupid idea anyway. "Linnette, when my father died, I was
very young and because he was always fighting, I never really
got to know him..." She paused as if hoping that what she was
saying would be of some help, outside of that, could think of
nothing else to suggest. "My mother, and other family members
told me stories of him...those stories helped me to "see" my
father even though I had never really known him. No, it is not
the same as having a loved one here, but all of the memories
you have kept of your time with Gedeon can be told...."

Vanora stopped realizing that she was just babbling, but it
was a good idea and better than the one she had suggested
before. Every family had it's own way of preserving memories.
She was about to get back to her work when she caught the
sight of Saoirse approaching the counter. It had been so long
since Vanora had seen her, and smiled, though she had not
forgotten the other conversation with Linnette. In that one,
she wanted to gather her thoughts. What would Linnette suggest
if Bors had died and she were feeling she Linnette did now?
Surely there had to be an artist among the Romans stationed
here, and one tha'd do a decent job. Vanora made a mental
point to ask around...

"Good Morning, Saoirse. It has been a long time," Vanora
greeted warmly. "How is Dagonet fairing?" She cast a glance at
Linnette, then back to the other red head. About that time,
Tristan, with the injured hawk on his shoulder, had got up
from where he had sat quietly. Vanora eyed the injured bird as
Tristan spoke....

Tristan
 
“How’s Dag?”


Vanora raised an eyebrow. That was a good question, not
because he was injured, but he, like Linnesse had lost Gedeon.
Perhaps Dag had some advice for Linnette. Bors was always
telling the children stories of their grandparents whom they'd
never know, but that instilled those memories in their minds,
and Bors had told vanora that it was his tribes way of
preserving memories for the next generation.....









Brendyn

At Quintus's negative response, Brendyn raised an eye brow
wondering what was going on. He had been summoned here after a
night on the wall, and at first Brendyn thought that perhaps
one of his superiors had wanted to talk to him, but then
Quintus had come in, and somehow, this Centurion had begun to
make Brendyn feel a bit more at ease...though he was not sure
how "at ease" he should feel. Antonius rarely liked his men to
get into a casual attitude, and when he did, it was only to
eat, have drink, and chat....then it was back to training...

Quintus
 
“Maybe they want you to practice that swordplay against
the Woads,”


Brendyn laughed at this, and returned the other man's gaze, "I
enjoy battle, and it is a good place to hone one's skills... "
He stopped and then remebered that he had saved the
Centurion's life at the battle on the other side of the wall.
Brendyn had been proud of the fact that he was now able to
talk to Quintus and get to know how the man though....

Quintus
 
“More likely the Captain just has some more questions
about the escape,”


The escape.

Brendyn nodded, considering himself lucky that Quintus had
come along when he had, that way they had both seen the same
thing. But the fact remained that he had left his punishment
in the latrines to help in seeking out the escaped woad. He
had run about the fort smelling like a pig in a sty searching
earnestly for the woads that had even outfoxed the trained
Romans. After a long search, he had found the gate through
which they had escaped, and a surge of pride had coursed
through his body as he reported to the Centurion what he had
found. The compliment Quintus had tossed to him had made him
feel good as well: it had made him feel that he had done a job
well.

"I cannot think of any other reason why we'd be here. If we
are here for a mission, then I can only hope that I make the
Captain proud," Brendyn smiled warmly at the other man. He had
never had time to make true friends: ones that he could go out
to the tavern for drinks, talk, girl watch, and perhaps he had
made a friend like that in Quintus. "Maybe, when the reason we
are here is over, we can go to the tavern and share some
drinks, and talk. My treat," Brendyn smiled. A glint of mirth
shone in his eyes as he chuckled, "And to be honest, I was a
bit nervous when I got here...." Brendyn's eyes moved over to
a bowl of fruit that had been left on a table in the corner.
He was starving and the fruit looked tempting. He stifled
another yawn, and his stomach rumbled.
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golden_trillium

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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Thu Oct 02, 2008 6:35 pm
Linnette


Vanora
 
"No, sorry....I don't...it was an odd idea. Linnette,
when my father died, I was very young and because he was
always fighting, I never really got to know him...my
mother and other family members told me stories of
him...those stories helped me to "see" my father even
though I had never really known him. No, it is not the
same as having a loved one here, but all of the memories
you have kept of your time with Gedeon can be told..."


"I know, I know," Linnette exclaimed irritably, more tears
gathering in her eyes, tears of frustration now rather than
pure sadness. Stories, stories...almost all Gedeon himself had
had of his father had been stories! Stories seemed all very
well when they were all one had, and they were certainly
better than nothing, but the thought that she could tell her
future child stories about Gedeon was a cold comfort. Stories
were a pale attempt at an imitation of the real thing. Stories
weren't a father.

Linnette sniffed and half-turned from Vanora, facing sideways
to her and ducking her head, her good hand over her face in a
probably-futile attempt to get her emotions under control
before she had to look at Vanora again. Fortunately, though,
she was spared the need to continue that conversation in its
current form by the arrival off someone at the counter. She
only half-saw the approaching shape out of the corner of her
eye, but Vanora's greeting told her who it was.

Vanora
 
"Good morning, Saoirse. It has been a long time. How is
Dagonet faring?"


Linnette lowered her hand and raised her head, sniffing and
regarding Saoirse with teary eyes. Despite the awkwardness she
had felt around the other woman last night, when she had gone
to see Dagonet in the infirmary, she was glad to see her now-
because of her good timing and also, perhaps, because she
could give news of Dagonet. And Linnette and Vanora weren't
the only ones to have that idea- Tristan was hovering around
beside Saoirse, too, apparently awaiting the answer to that
same question. Not wanting to contribute to the mobbing of the
poor woman, Linnette hung back a little, a couple of feet down
the counter- but she was clearly listening in on what Saoirse
would say.








Quintus

Brendyn
 
"I cannot think of any other reason why we'd be here. If
we are here for a mission, then I can only hope that I
make the Captain proud. Maybe when the reason we are
here is over, we can go to the tavern and share some
drinks and talk. My treat. And to be honest, I was a bit
nervous when I got here..."


"Who isn't, lad- who isn't?" Quintus reassured the younger man
again, once more leaning against the wall and letting out a
breath, his eyes fixed on the upper part of the room's
good-sized window, where morning light now streamed in.
Brendyn, the Centurion noted, was eying the fruit on the
table, and also yawning, but Quintus was confident now that he
would snap to as soon as Captain Barbattus entered the room.
Whenever he entered the room. Quintus didn't show it, but
inside he was beginning to get a little impatient of the wait.
Officers had the right to take their time, of course, but he
had been doing useful work himself when he had been called
here- if he had only been able to stay a few more moments
instead of spending those moments here, he could have gotten
that breastplate all polished and oiled by now, which meant he
wouldn't have to do it later. The Centurion shifted his weight
more towards the other leg, uncrossing and recrossing his
arms, and kept his eyes on the window, and on the triangle of
sunlight slowly growing on the floor.
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golden_trillium

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Author: lady ione
Date: Thu Oct 02, 2008 9:20 pm

Ione


So delicate.

So small.

A life cut short.

Ione's body shook uncontrollably from sobs as she held he very
small body of her child. A child that would never know the
feel of soft grass under his feet, the sunlight warm on his
face....the wind...snow....the adventures that life would set
before him, Ian would never know these things. She refused to
look at her friends, even as Linnesse reacted to what she had
said...

Linnesse
 
“Oh, Ione…”


The world had suddenly disappeared, and it was just she and
her baby. Ione could feel the nun still exchanging towels
underneath her, heard the mug that Linnesse had held clink
againt the surface of the table next to the bed, even see
Mirtha still sitting by her bed, but all of her attention was
on the very tiny bundle in her arms lying there as though it
was asleep. The only thing that gave her comfort right now was
the gentle understanding feel of Linnesse rubbing her back as
she spoke, and Ione looked up into the gentle face...

Linnesse
 
“You were very brave,”


The words wrung more sobs from Ione, 'Ian was brave in his
struggle to live. He was so small and yet had faced death
braver than any warrior...' It was how she viewed her son.
Ione tried to imagine what he would have looked like when he
grew up: A tall, handsome man with a lion's heart and a dove's
compassion. Something like her father whom she had loved. The
weaver knew that she'd soon have to give Ian to the nun so
that he could be buried. Gods she did not want to give him up,
but Ione had to face it that he would be leaving her side. She
took her eyes from the child for a moment to look up into
Linnesse's own eyes trying to show how grateful she was that
the healer had been close, but then Sister Margret moved to
sit by her bedside and crossed herself...beginning to pray.

Damn their God for taking Ian from her! She returned her gaze
to the small body, and held it protectively close, the heart
wrenching sobs refusing to quit. What else could happen to
her? It seemed as though everything she had loved and held
dear in her life had gone, vanished as though it had never
existed. Ione buried her face into the blanket that held her
son. He was so very small. She could hear, now, Linnese's
voice in prayer as well, but with one, soothing arm about
Ione's shoulders. The words of the prayer seemed distant to
Ione, but just to know that Linnesse, Mirtha and Sister
Margret were close...

Sister Margaret
 
“Lord, who gives all of us life, we pray that you will
accept this innocent soul into your kingdom, and that
you will comfort his mother in her sorrow…”


Comfort? It seemed that there was no place for comfort in her
soul right now. Ione's body ached as did her heart. She had
felt, at one time, that her future was going to be bright and
happy: A handsome man like Javier and a child. But Her dreams
had begun to fade as Javier had ridden off...Accolan, a man
who had risked everything to save her life, dead...Thorn,
dead. She placed a soft kiss on the small bundle's face,
saying, 'You'll never feel the sun on your face..the adventure
of what life throws your way...you'll never dream, know the
joys of love...wind...the smells of the earth after a
storm...but I...' Ione murmured softly into the small ear as
if implanting these into the tiny mind to store. 'I want you
to know how very much you are loved, my son...I can't give you
up, my little Ian...' The soliloquy was broken as Sister
Margret spoke to Mirtha, then to her....

Sister Margaret
 
“Are you the father?” “Or is there someone else we
should notify?”


Ione brought her eyes up to stare at the woman, then to
Mirtha, and back. In the midst of her mourning, this nun
wanted to know who the father was? She had no family left,
except Adian, who was working as a carpenter here at the fort.
'Adian...he is a life long friend who came here to the fort to
work...he use to work...for my father on the farm...' Ione
looked back down at her child savoring what little time she
had left with him. The nun would try to take him from her
soon, and Ione thought selfishly that she would fight for more
time...but she wanted Ian to have a good burial instead of
being thrown in a cold ground and unceremoniously covered with
dirt. Her dear father, Ian, had been a Christian and would
have wanted this for the child. 'Want him to be buried in a
Christian burial...as my father was a Christan and because I
loved my father...promise me that he'll have a head stone so I
can find the place...." Her eyes, swollen from crying, looked
at those in the room, before returning to her child, her sobs
arising again. Helplessly, she looked at Linnese, 'I can't..'
she said weakly. 'I can't..give him up... oh gods I can't...'
She could not stop the sobs. Turning to the nun, Ione pleaded,
'Please...do not take him from me...please...'

It was all so emotional, and right now it felt as though the
happiness had fled from her life.









Brendyn

Quintus
 
"Who isn't, lad- who isn't?"


Brendyn nodded in agreement. Which soldier or officer was not
scared or nervous sometimes....especially before a mission or
battle knowing that you might never return. One of the reasons
he had broken it off with Tatiana so soon. She was a good kid
and deserved a normal life with a man who was not dedicated to
battle. His eyes followed Quintus's up to a large window at
one end of the room, and marveled at how the beams of light
shining through it. "I suppose some men have the art down of
hiding their nervousness better than others...At Aesica, I
would relieve stress by working out with a whip and a bag of
straw...or I'd put Tyranus through some paces as far as battle
manuvers..."

After Brendyn spoke, he grew silent, and seemed to take in the
width and breadth of the room. He had always appreciated
architecture, and the forts he had been in had some nice
structures within them. Others would have called them plain,
but to Brendyn, there were always small details that lent a
certain "authoritative" feel to it. The way the windows in
this room were placed, He felt like he was in a cathedral. The
soldier placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, as he walked
a bit away from the other man, and over to where it seemed the
beams were falling to the floor. The glass had slight designs
in it which caught the rays of light in different patterns.

Slowly, he drew his sword and left the light beams shine off
the highly polished surface, looking at how the light sparkled
and danced on the blade. It had been Antonius's sword.
Bringing it up so that the flat of the blade was vertical in
front of his face, Brendyn recalled the day the Commander had
given it to him...the day Antonius had died at the hands of
the Saxons. He lowered it slowly, turning it so that the point
rested on the floor of the room...

"Sir, have you heard how Commander Castus is fairing? The last
I saw, he had severe wounds...as did some of his
knights...though Lancelot seemed to have none..." He turned
still standing in the light, to face the man leaning against
the wall. Brendyn left out a heavy sigh, and was beginning to
wonder if anyone was going to show up and tell them why he and
Quintus had been called to this special room...
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golden_trillium

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Author: LadyCastus
Date: Fri Oct 03, 2008 6:17 am
Karl


Karl mumbled to himself as he made his way toward the squad
room. The Roman was in a foul mood this morning, which was not
unusual for him. His head roared in the aftermath of too much
drinking the night before. He belched loudly as he approached
the squad room's closed door. He heard voices inside,
recognizing Quintus' distinctive drone. Karl rolled his eyes.
When the page had summoned him to report for special orders,
Karl hadn't been pleased. What the hell was going on anyway?
What mission? Why couldn't the dogs ride out and take care of
whatever was going on? As he pondered these questions, Karl
walked inside the room and took a quick inventory. Quintus,
Titrus and ... what was the new guy's name? Karl couldn't
remember and didn't really care. Without so much as a word, he
plopped down on a seat and stretched his long legs out in
front of him, crossing his ankles. He folded his arms over his
chest and waited, like the rest of them, to find out what was
going on.
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