(1866-02-03) Goldhollow: Stay Safe
Goldhollow: Stay Safe
Summary: Henric and Klaudea leave the healing tent… They wish each other well in battle.
Date: 1866-02-03
Related: http://eternalcrusade.wikidot.com/log:1866-02-03-the-wolf-visited
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:
Henric  Klaudea  

Goldhollow
Outside healer tent.
1866-02-03

Following Sir Henric out of the tent, Klaudea takes the reins of the chestnut stallion with flaxen mane and tail that stands near Henric's own mount. She looks to the knight, waiting to see if he's going to mount right away, or show an inclination to talk beforehand.

Henric looks upon the black stallion he took on for the sake of one soldier's future. There's a sad look across his face as he rubs his hand down the beast's neck, knowing what he will submit the creature to on the morrow. He pivots after a thoughtful moment, glancing over at the squire, "Take care of yourself out there Klaudea. You've done your share of the fighting, you need not prove yourself more than you have." He checks the saddle straps (in case someone sabotaged them - a lesson learned from his elder sister), a natural habit, though there seems to be a disquiet about him as his fingers slide down the leather stitch work on the stirrup.

Watching him, without staring, Klaudea waits patiently for him to speak. She looks when he speaks, her hand curled over the nose of her own steed, scratching lightly under the nose strap for him. When he turns to check on the saddle straps of his mount, she opens her mouth, but it's a long moment before she decides to go ahead and say what's on her mind. "I could, pherhaps, say the same to you, my lord," she tells him, stepping towards his elbow to look up at him.

The saddle straps checked, he remains lingering there, pensive with a stoic expression that came from his resignation to his mission on the morrow. Charge a wall of pikemen and long cannoneers. If the pikemen were at all trained, they'd be trained on the charging animals, intent to kill horse rather than man. A pikewall was hard to break through, without losing good men in the first wave. He shook his head from such thoughts as Klaudea's presence was near to him then, her words earning the same sort of look Wulfred received, comforting, murmuring, "Of course."

Klaudea chuckles at his attempt to throw her off his thoughts, the sound a bit more raspy than it was before as her voice hasn't healed from her wound. Then she shakes her head and she reaches up a hand to cover one of his. "I mean it, my lord. You do your share. You don't need to prove yourself, either."

Henric looks toward the hand that covers his own, his eyes showing some dark mirth as a result of her words. Instead of casting himself down, as one might suspect of his character to do so, he looks at Klaudea dead in the eye and tells her, "I'm not out to prove anything to anyone. I've long lost the aspiration to do so. And while I'm ordered to make this ride tomorrow, I do it knowing that someone else would have too if I didn't… Besides, I have better control over seeing to the fates of my men if I'm to fight by their side." He pivots to face her, so his one arm is thrown up and rests on the seat of the saddle, "I do what I need to do and lead them."

Not flinching from the look as he speaks, Klaudea continues to hold the look after he finishes speaking. She gives a single nod, then. "Good. Just… remember that you're needed to look over them even after tomorrow," she says evenly, finding it easier to disguise feeling with her croak, which breaks when it wishes now. "Don't get too caught up in keeping them alive and forget about keeping yourself alive."

"Who else would?" Henric retorts with that natural easy going confidence he can muster without thinking, even if some would believe it was cocky as hell to say as much. Her last remark has him nod, "I'll do what I can, but we are the vanguard of this assault. I'm realistic to what that means. As should you be. Then again, you were upon the seas in the last war, perhaps you did not get to experience the full thunder of such a battle we are yet to face." He shakes his head, "I'm glad my sister has offered you a position at her side."

"No, that is true" Klaudea agrees slowly. "We only had to worry that our ship might be sunk and all hands would be lost." She shifts her gaze from his to his steed, then shifts. "She… appreciates my merit. Being a squire does not make a difference to her, she treats me according to my skill." Her lips shift to a smile. "I do like the Lady Raelyn, even if I cannot quite share her zeal to see every last Thorn dead."

"The first waves then, that is not where you want to be if you wish to survive the battle," he smirks, "but, that is the position you wish to be in, if you want glory and honour. I suppose why there's always the eager ones willing to throw themselves upon the enemy." There's a given shrug. As for the talk of his sister, he merely nods at the mention of such appreciation. "You are skilled, don't let anyone tell you otherwise," he looks up toward the saddle, "I should go."

"Well, I don't think I'll be having any choice as to which 'wave' I will be riding any time soon," Klaudea mentions without rancor. "Even as a Reliant, I will still have my orders to follow from someone else." At Henric's mention of her skills, though, she does actually find some pink rising in her cheeks, and she ducks her head. "Thank you, my lord." The slight, tell tale, embarrassment at the compliment gives her a cover for backing away enough for him to mount his horse if he should choose to do so. "We should," she agrees.

"A majority of us will always follow someone else's rules and orders," his eyes narrow, "I suppose that is why I had considered starting my own mercenary company not too long ago. I would finally get to decide when, where, and for whom we fight." His eyes are distant then, "But then, we are currently fighting those who were purchased for their price… They don't care about the peace they disturb in taking up arms against us." He grunts, a topic that he shakes his head toward and stops. He notes the pink rising in her cheeks, if only because well, he notices that stuff! "Klaudea… you don't have to call me my lord. I'd like to think after all that we've been through, you can call me a friend and a friend is by name, out of respect and not to slight the individual." A smirk, "In any case, I'm sincere in my regard."

At his words, Klaudea looks down to the ground. "I - " she pauses, and scrunches her nose slightly. "I don't think some of them have actually been purchased, my lord," she considers, her thoughts more on something that's been on her mind and therefore addressing him automatically. "It was… one of the bandits I killed at the pickets. I… I talked to him. He said they didn't have any choice, the Prince would have his hide if he didn't fight." It seems that after she talks of the man her brain catches up with what she heard. "Oh…" Her lips purse sideways as she considers. "I've not thought of that, my- I'd like to think of us as friends, as well. But I think it's a hard habit to break."

"Sir Ryan broke his lance because he wanted revenge. If some poor bastard was threatened into fighting, that is the way of our ruthless enemy. All sorts of men will be fighting for this cause." Here he finally pushes up to mount his stallion, swinging himself up with some deftness, "It is a good habit, in noble company. Some just prefer to be humbled once and a while," he winks at her, "Take care of yourself and watch your back." He clicks his tongue to draw his mount's head away, "I will see you again, perhaps."

"I don't like that people who aren't knights or men at arms being forced to fight for something they may not believe," Klaudea murmurs. But, as he swings into the saddle, she straightens again and looks up at the Knight. "The One is with you, Henric," she tries out the name. "There is no perhaps, I will see you again." She swings up in her own saddle, and looks a little more relaxed there. "See that you take your own advice," she adds, a bit of Sir Wulfred in her croak as she takes a hold of the reins and turns to follow for a ways until she branches off to the Huntresses camp.

Henric's eyes tell it all. He highly doubts he'll see her again. There's a weak smile on his face as he turns the horse to return to his base camp, lifting his hand up into a closed fist extended at a bend, as he rides off, a respectful salute to the squire.

The squire watches the Knight salute her, and a troubled frown crosses her face as she feels a certain sense of alarm prickling between her shoulder blades. She glances at the direction of the Huntress's camp, and then to him. Making a decision, she turns her horse. "Sir Henric," she calls, at least using the knightly title so people won't hear her being familiar. She gives a little nudge, sending the chestnut into a trot.

The call seems unexpected. He had said his goodbye. He had left it as that. So his head twists over his shoulder before he calls around his mount, twisting the black Solaris to meet the on coming chestnut. A brow lifts in question as he watches her riding in a trot at him. "What is it?" He asks, concern written on his face.

Faced with the knight she called back, Klaudea chews at her lip, feeling the monumental impertinence of what she's about to say, especially if she is wrong. Taking a breath, she plunges in, the croak of her not yet healed voice being her excuse if she should falter at all.

"A few years after Sir Kristov took me along with the red sails, we hit a calm. days, weeks, the ship sat still. no wind, no rain, just sun and water like glass to reflect it back at us.". She swallows. "After a fortnight, a change started to come over the crew. I could see it, even that young… some people had accepted that it was possible they would die. other people, you could see it in their eyes, the expectation, knowledge, certainty that they would die. I see that look in you." Her horse nudges a little closer so a column of men at arms can pass them, and she reaches out a hand to steady herself on the jostling steed, grasping his for balance. Her fingers squeeze tightly. "The people in the first group survived, the others sleep at the bottom of the ocean. /Be/ the first group," she implores, earnestly, trying to lend some of her own survivor optimism to him through her grip. "Please, Henric. as my friend."

Henric remains poised in the saddle as he considers the squire coming up alongside him and her story in which she tells. Her perception of his expression turns his gaze off with an exhale of breath, “I will see to my duty Klaudea and that duty includes ensuring as many men and women get home as possible.” He glances over at her, “I’ve come to terms with the inevitable. Death is part of the ride, remember that.” He offers her a quiet smile, “I do appreciate your concern. I’ll be okay and if I’m not, then I’ll still be okay because I will have redeemed myself honourably.” He looks ahead, “Stay safe, squire.”

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