[ P ] Answer the Call

burn like a fire,
willful and woe.

The sun was setting on Castle Stuart, the last dying rays of the day stretching across the streets that once bustled with life. Only a few wolves tarried in the pathways, some still trying to sell the rest of their wares, and some trying to hurry home. Ramses strolled through the stone pathways on patrol, his sulfuric yellow eyes darting left and right to peer into the shadowy areas one couldn’t see at a mere glance.

He was young for a captain - still merely two years of age, but he had made leaps and bounds since he entered the Imperial Army when he was just a yearling. He was a driven individual, and remarkably skilled; no one could deny that. It was the very reason he received a promotion after participating in a combat tournament, fighting his way to the top to be named a captain. He was profoundly proud of his accomplishments, but Ramses kept these thoughts to himself. There was no need to gloat when many eyes saw the feats he was capable of that same day.

He stilled near the major shopping district; his keen gaze cast down the long stretch of pathway to ensure there was no riff raff going on. When he saw nothing to be concerned about, the male turned away from his patrol. It was about time he retire for the night, but the restlessness in his bones made that a difficult feat. Perhaps he should stop elsewhere for a drink before trying to sleep for the night. His life was about to change, and while he welcomed change with open paws, he still felt some anxiety about it. It was difficult when one didn’t have anyone to help him navigate through the ranks.

Then again, Ramses had gotten himself this far, hadn’t he? Maybe he could continue to climb the ranks with no help. Confidence was key in these matters, weren’t they?

-

Don't close your eyes, safer to stare into the sun than to turn away from what you could become.

template by bean

glory's gone cold

Castle Stuart was the crowning glory of the ruling Throne, the formal seat of power for the army proper, and the dazzling pedestal of its erstwhile King. Noble and peasant alike clustered in the castle's sinful shadow, and both ruin and rogue were each equally dusted with the detritus of a hard-wrought history. As the sun wept golden tears across the azure sky, shadows lengthened and activity faded to a dull trickle - though so near to the Court, the streets were rarely ever truly abandoned.

Kvothe patrolled the familiar walkways diligently, nodding at the merchants as they packed away their wares, greeting the familiar street urchins as he passed their hideaways, and taking an easy pace as he drifted up and down the main thoroughfare. His routine patrol did not often keep him so close to the court, but he was a familiar face in the Mainland in the general sense - and his reputation preceded him where personal connection did not. The bastard Colonel, chivalrous and fair, adept in the political arena and unmatched in the alleys of war...yes, his story resonated surprisingly well with the peasants. The nobles told a different story, of course. Behind their ornate fans and gilded curtains, they disparaged his blood and mocked his command, his every action under constant scrutiny. It was a song and dance Kvothe had long since perfected, but he was never foolish enough to trust the smiles they offered to his face.

It was for that reason that he volunteered himself for the most far-flung patrols, and why he was so rarely seen in the castle proper for any significant length of time. But now, with his betrothal contract to Nassar drawn up and formalized, his father had kept him close to home these last few days. Perhaps Orestes feared outright rebellion - or escape - despite Kvothe's reassurances to the contrary. Whatever the reason, the Colonel had been forced to cleave close to the court. It chafed to neglect his usual command in such a way - but he voiced no objections, and threw himself into his duty. As always.

As the evening wore to a close, Kvothe turned down the main thoroughfare, entering one of the main street markets. Further down the way, he caught sight of a figure that was at least partially familiar - a young lieutenant, he believed. Or, no - this was the male who had won the rank of Captain in the last tourney. Young to hold such a title, but even Kvothe could admit that the boy had conducted himself well. They'd never interacted on a personal level, of course - Kvothe had very little to do with training, and less reason to interact with soldiers who were not under his direct command. Given the opportunity, however, he would not squander it. Especially not if it gave him reason to avoid a prompt return to his father.

"Hail, soldier," he called, approaching the other. "How fares the day?"

burn like a fire,
willful and woe.

’Hail, soldier. How fares the day?’

Ramses’ ears twitched on top of his skull as he heard the greeting, effectively drawing the brute away from his inner musings. Eyes of sulfuric gold found the male composed of grey, cream, and white tones. Pools of blue tinged with amethyst purple peered from their sockets, their color both alluring and intrigued at the same time. The male didn’t recognize the colonel at first, if only because he’d never had a reason to interact with him. Kvothe Immortalis’ reputation preceded him, though. Many knew him as a bastard son to high nobility, his actions constantly under the scrutiny of officers and nobles alike. It was no secret that the man was rather unpopular, which caused worry to settle in the depths of Ramses’ chest. The male didn’t want to taint his reputation by engaging the colonel any further, but his sense of duty kept him rooted in place. Popular or not, Colonel Immortalis was a commanding officer who held rank over him. It would be unwise of him to walk away from someone who held such a prominent position - even if the officer in question was unpopular among their peers.

”Hail, Colonel,” he responded, his head dipping in greeting. ”The day fares well so far. There’s been no cause for concern during my patrol. The streets and city alike were quiet. It’s been quite a tranquil day.” The male paused thoughtfully, his sulfur yellow eyes regarding the male with a tilt of his skull. He could excuse himself from the situation now that he’d paid his respect, but something kept him rooted to the spot he stood. ”Is there something further you require of me, Colonel?” Perhaps he needed the newly anointed captain to run an errand for him. Maybe there was some trouble that needed to be sorted out. He didn’t know what Kvothe’s reasoning was for calling out to him, and Ramses had to admit, he was rather curious.

-

Don't close your eyes, safer to stare into the sun than to turn away from what you could become.

template by bean

@Kvothe

glory's gone cold

Movement halted, momentum forestalled by erstwhile interruption. Kvothe closed the distance between himself and the younger male with a measured, metronome pace, his nature demanding perfection even in the face of casual converse. Up close, the differences between himself and the Captain became readily apparent. The Colonel wore his weathered cloak of ash and burnished gold with the air of long experience - while the other's newer uniform still smacked of fresh polish and newly-minted cloth. The courtly colors of the great Game gave Kvothe away, but the young Captain wore eager duty like a new coat of paint. Ramses fair radiated unbroken intensity and devout loyalty, while Kvothe's carefully cultured mien was harder to parse. It was an interesting dichotomy, if fairly nostalgic; Kvothe felt as though he was looking at a younger version of himself.

Wary orbs of sunshine and sulfur reluctantly met those of amethyst and azure, and the Colonel did the Captain a courtesy in pretending that he did not recognize the flash of instinctive dismay that colored the latter's verdant depths. 'The day fares well so far. There’s been no cause for concern during my patrol. The streets and city alike were quiet. It’s been quite a tranquil day,' the smaller male replied. Pertinent, punctual, precise. "Good," he offered, for he was ever pleased with news of peace. The war had been long and bloody; every day that passed without relapse was one to celebrate. Kvothe nodded, a slow gesture of understanding, even as the other paused in place. 'Is there something further you require of me, Colonel?' Ramses pressed. Kvothe's attention sharpened, but the smile that touched upon his handsome features was wry.

"At ease; there is nothing of immediate import," he answered. "I confess, I recognized your profile from the recent tourney, and wished to extend my congratulations. You are the new Captain Ramses Tarek, are you not?" The question was mostly rhetorical, a mere matter of courtesy - but raised amongst the dregs of the court as he was, Kvothe knew better than most how keenly the blade of courtesy could cut. He dipped his head in greeting, his body language communicating warmth. He was, for all appearances, both casual and indolent in his desire for conversation.

But then, he'd had a great deal of practice.

"Colonel Immortalis, at your service. A pleasure to formally make your acquaintance," he offered. There was a pause, as Kvothe allowed his attention to drift across the quiet market. He took careful note of the wolves who avoided his gaze, and the ones who met it more eagerly. It was with a seemingly distracted air that he inquired, "Have you been formally assigned to the Castle, young Captain? Or are you still awaiting a permanent post?"

burn like a fire,
willful and woe.

Ramses allowed the distance that remained between himself and Kvothe to be closed with those measured steps, seeing as the young male saw no reason to impede his advancement. There was a part of him that mourned his misfortune over finding himself in such a position as this, but he remained carefully impassive. The bastard captain still outranked him, and while he figured the man would pose very little harm to his career, he found it distasteful to give him anything less than the respect his title alone demanded. Truthfully, Ramses was glad when the colonel neglected to mention the dismay that had flashed through his eyes.

Good. Ramses nodded in agreement with the officer once, though his eyes of sunshine didn’t trail away from the man who had effectively closed the distance between the two. He seemed genuinely pleased to hear about the peace that was had, something the young Captain could find admirable. It wasn’t often he met someone in their line of work that cared only for the citizens they served. ’At ease; there is nothing of immediate import,’the single sentence earned another curt nod from the Captain, but the male’s stature failed to soften for the moment. ’I confess, I recognized your profile from the recent tourney, and wished to extend my congratulations. You are the new Captain Ramses Tarek, are you not?’

Ah, so he had seen his victory, then? A swell of pride burst in Ramses’ chest then, his head inclining a little further as his accomplishments were recognized. Perhaps it wouldn’t matter to most to be recognized by the bastard noble standing before him, but Ramses couldn’t ignore the attention. That was the more vain side of his being speaking, he supposed. ”Aye, that is me.” Of course, Ramses knew the question had been rhetorical, but it felt wrong not to say anything. He wasn’t a man of many words, but the Colonel was attempting to speak to him. The least he could do was respond accordingly. ’Colonel Immortalis, at your service. A pleasure to formally make your acquaintance,” and another nod was given in response.

A breath was taken, but Ramses felt confident in his reply, ”It’s a pleasure to formally make your acquaintance as well. I am sure you find this to be no surprise, but your reputation precedes you. I knew who you were when you first arrived,” he pointed out, his own pools of gold roaming over the marketplace. Everything seemed to be quiet still, which was a pleasant surprise. Sometimes, things got a little unruly when everything was quieting down for the day. ’Have you been formally assigned to the Castle, young Captain? Or are you still awaiting a permanent post?’ The question was a fair one, but one he didn’t fully know the answer to. Ramses tilted his head a little to the side, his gaze flitting away from the steadily emptying market to find the Colonel’s side profile.

”I suppose I’m still awaiting a permanent post. As of late, they’ve been placing me where I am needed. I have not minded, truthfully, but it would be nice to have something a little more permanent.” Alas, Ramses wasn’t a stranger to the demands of the army. ”And you, Colonel? You do not seem like someone to tarry near the castle walls for so long.”

-

Don't close your eyes, safer to stare into the sun than to turn away from what you could become.

template by bean

@Kvothe

glory's gone cold

There was a distance between them, a dissonant sense of disquiet forged of awkward formality. It was more than mere feet or inches, more than a measure could clearly define. Though Kvothe could attempt to bridge the gap, his efforts would be futile unless the offering was equaled. The tension whispered under every word, a babbling brook of broken trust. It was nothing that Kvothe had not encountered before; his reputation, and his bastard blood, preceded him in most social circles. Public perception of his background tainted every interaction, influenced every relationship. Though his various promotions had been well deserved and hard-won, they had also served to make him more and more of a public figure; the higher he climbed, the more visible he was to the prying eyes of the puritan court. Kvothe had long since learned how to navigate such treacherous waters, but he had always regretted the necessity of such duplicitous dealings.

It was hard to get a good read on the younger Captain, no doubt due to that selfsame sense of reluctant regard. As he offered congratulations on the other's recent victories, Kvothe's witchcraft eyes watched as pride suffused the other's frame and form. When in doubt, Kvothe fell back on old court mannerisms, courtesy and deference soothing the abrasions of awkward interactions. He offered formal greetings, and was crafted cordial civility in turn.'It’s a pleasure to formally make your acquaintance as well. I am sure you find this to be no surprise, but your reputation precedes you. I knew who you were when you first arrived,' the other male confirmed. Kvothe dipped his head in acknowledgement, a wry smile curling his lips for a moment before washing away in his next breath. Like the sand and the tide, his feelings were easily swept aside.

'I suppose I’m still awaiting a permanent post. As of late, they’ve been placing me where I am needed. I have not minded, truthfully, but it would be nice to have something a little more permanent.' The admission was somewhat surprising; the young Captain's victory had netted him a good degree of attention. It was doubtless only a matter of time before he was assigned to a proper regiment. 'And you, Colonel? You do not seem like someone to tarry near the castle walls for so long.' Kvothe shook his head in agreement, a shadow passing over his handsome features. "The Reserve is most often stationed near the Highland border, but business in the capital has necessitated a recent relocation. We have been assigned to the Castle for the near future," he explained. A shrug rippled the muscles between his shoulder blades, an air of casual sufferance donned with the ease of a well-worn cape. He disliked that his personal affairs had dragged his whole unit into the shadow of the city, even if it was only meant as a temporary measure. "I cannot complain of it; my men appreciate the diversion."

He paused, assessing the other's expression for a moment, galaxy eyes scanning over the other's physicality. For all his pride and prowess, he was still young. "Should you ever wish company in your training, we would welcome your inclusion. And I find myself in dire need of a sparring partner."

R

amses could admit the conversation had started out more tense than he would have liked for it to be. He tried to be respectful to those that deserved it, and in truth, he didn’t understand why Kvothe’s reputation was so poor. He seemed to be a respectable officer. All Ramses really knew was others in their line of work turned their nose down at him, and others that dwelled in his presence. While Ramses wasn’t a follower by any stretch of the word, ignoring the obvious tensions in the air could devastate to his career. The young captain felt like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place, but he didn’t allow his discomfort to show. For now, he pushed the pressing thoughts away in favor of the conversation he was currently holding.

’The Reserve is most often stationed near the Highland border, but business in the capital has necessitated a recent relocation. We have been assigned to the Castle for the near future.’ Ramses noted the shadow that fell over the Colonel’s features, but he didn’t feel it necessary to pry into the obvious distaste the man had over the decision. ”I see,” he offered simply, those pools of sunshine noting the casual indifference he portrayed. Ramses couldn’t get a reading about how Kvothe truly felt about it, but he wasn’t about to ask. He discussed only what was spoken about. The captain saw little reason to pry into matters that didn’t involve him. ”I am glad to have gotten to meet you,” he started carefully, his gaze glancing around their immediate surroundings to ensure no riffraff was currently taking place.

His attention quickly returned to the man’s handsome features, however, when an offer was made. ’Should you ever wish company in your training, we would welcome your inclusion. And I find myself in dire need of a sparring partner."‘ A faint smirk curved the male’s mouth just so, his head tipping to the right as he regarded Kvothe more closely. ”Does the Reserve not offer you a challenge in terms of spar partners?” The words were a jest, of course, but one wouldn’t be able to tell by his tone alone. Fun was never one of Ramses’ strong points, but sometimes he made attempts when the situation called for it. He contemplated the implications of the offer, though. Maybe he shouldn’t care too much what others in the Imperial Army thought - besides, it wasn’t as if he’d be serving within The Reserve’s. Officers sparred with each other all the time to hone their skills.

This would be no different. ”I am pleased to accept your invitation, Colonel. Though, I must ask, what does your training usually consist of? What would you ask of me?”

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

@Kvothe

glory's gone cold

'I am glad to have gotten to meet you,' the young soldier said - a practiced line that spoke of imminent departure, the closure of their current conversation. If a polite exit had been Ramses' intention, however, Kvothe unintentionally forestalled it by delving into his next avenue of questioning. The earthen male responded to the Colonel's invitation with a wry question steeped in tongue-in-cheek humor. 'Does the Reserve not offer you a challenge in terms of spar partners?' It was the sort of thing that could have earned him an enemy - the implication of a less-than-capable unit, a backhanded insult to the men and women under Kvothe's command. Kvothe deliberately chose not to interpret it as such; this was not the court, after all, and Ramses was not a noble. While the gentry were a subtle, insidious lot, Kvothe had long since come to know his fellow soldiers as a more forthright bunch. Doublespeak was all but a language of its own on the game board of politics, but the army put stock in direct action and clear directives. If Ramses had truly meant to insult him, Kvothe imagined he would have done so more directly.

So, he shook his head, and offered the amber-eyed male a short smile. "The wolves of the Regiment are skilled fighters, one and all - but many of them have been with me since the war. I have trained some of my men since their yearling assessments. A sword grows dull if it is dashed against the same stone overlong; to keep a weapon sharp, one must turn the edge to novel use." He had been without a dedicated sparring partner since Kohl had died. Oh, he practiced and trained with his men, of course - but for the most part, he was older and more experienced than the wolves under his command. The fights more often turned into more training exercises, teaching opportunities, rather than true, pitched battles. His other option, the officers of other units, either spurned his advances out of contempt or refused out of fear.

He was surprised, then, when Captain Tarek spoke out. 'I am pleased to accept your invitation, Colonel. Though, I must ask, what does your training usually consist of? What would you ask of me?' Bicolored eyes blinked, and a faint smile of approval washed across his whitewashed lips. "Former Captain Argent and I have been training in the evenings on the Glass Beach - mostly strength and endurance exercises. Swimming, dragging weights, and the like. You would be welcome to join us any time." A pause, as he tilted his head and considered. "As for sparring, my habit is to third blood. Tourney rules otherwise." No permanent injuries, no cheap shots, the usual. Training was all well and good, but they both had a duty to crown and country, and injuring themselves during a spar would be irresponsible and foolhardy.

The Colonel's gaze drifted past, his attention diverted for a moment by a small commotion down the street. He rolled his shoulders. "It's getting late, ser Tarek, and I would hate to keep you further. Feel free to call on me at the Barracks whenever you'd like that spar," he offered. A small nod of farewell preceded the Colonel's exit, as he drifted off to break up the squabble between two irate merchants.

[Exit]