"Try to act natural when we get back to camp. Don't arouse any suspicions," Lannord drawled, lounging atop his horse while Stellan trudged alongside. He'd flatly refused to sully his boots in the sodden earth any longer.
"Must you repeat that same tiresome warning every few minutes?" Stellan grumbled, pressing ahead with determined strides. "You're neither my servant nor my handmaid, so spare me your endless fretting."
"Maybe your father intended me for your handmaid all along." Little Black whinnied twice. "See there? Even Little Black agrees."
"Enough of that. Stop trying to deceive me with your supposed 'animal connection.'" His crimson eyes caught a flicker of firelight, and he swiftly altered their hue. "I plan to feast properly, in honor of that little bear's spirit."
The Shadowgreen Knights were still savoring their evening meal. "Well, well, if it isn't our little pair returned!" Duck-leg was first to spot them, his words drawing scattered laughter from his men. "Hey, Lothar." Lannord ignored the others, directing his greeting solely to Lothar.
"Lost your way, did you?" he asked Stellan, who acknowledged with a nod. "This forest is a terrifying maze - even I can't claim to know every path within its depths. Haven't eaten yet, I take it?" He brushed some leaves from Stellan's shoulder. "Come along, we've saved plenty of choice morsels for you both."
"Oh my? From what I observed, they've already had their fill in the forest," Duck-leg sneered, obscenely working a blood-streaked duck leg between his lips. "No, pardon me - I should say they've had their fill of drink. Hahaha!"
"That roasted duck clearly hasn't satisfied your appetite," Lannord remarked dryly.
"How observant, my lord," Duck-leg rose to his feet, drawing out the word 'lord' with exaggerated deference. "Unlike some, I'm no beast - I'd never consume raw meat. That's better suited to your... tastes." He shot a pointed look at Lothar.
"You wretch - you knew it wasn't cooked through?" Lothar's memory flashed to that bloodied duck leg. "What? My lord, surely you can't blame me! I never forced you to eat it. You were the one devouring it like some starved creature. What else could I do? But fear not - given the circumstances, I can certainly understand such bestial behavior. Wouldn't you agree?"
Veins bulged at Lothar's temples as he audibly swallowed. "Enough talk. Nature calls - time for a little excursion into the woods." Duck-leg grabbed his crotch with a vulgar gesture. "Now if only I had a pretty little lordling to pleasure me. A mouth would suffice." His raucous laughter mingled with his men's as he vanished into the forest alone.
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"You will, bitch," Stellan spat, shrugging off Lothar's hand and stalking toward his tent. Lannord followed close behind. He'd expected his friend to object, but instead heard rare words of agreement. "I think he will indeed." Lannord's icy tone sent chills down Stellan's spine. He turned to meet his companion's gaze.
Beast's eyes glowed yellow in the darkness. The sight made his blood surge.
"Let's give him a proper celebration," Lannord growled, his voice thick with animal menace.
"Why not? It's been far too long since we hunted together." Stellan's reply came as a high-pitched screech.
Both men's faces split into savage, predatory grins.
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"Lord Devalosfang?" The question wasn't unexpected - Tyler had seemed troubled about their squad leader since leaving the battlefield. "What about him?"
"I don't know quite how to explain this..." Tyler said, walking slightly behind Carl. "What did you make of his swordsmanship?"
"During the fight with the Black Riders, you mean?" Carl considered. "Swift and powerful, every movement graceful yet purposeful. Even mounted, he moves like he's dancing..." Wait, he thought, dancing? He remembered another describing swordplay that way. Ten years ago, when Monowe fell and they parted ways in Tyler's palace. Later, during Tyler's account, he'd mentioned a knight whose blade-work resembled a dance. That same knight had killed Sir Reid, the Wynlers family's captain of the guard, in single combat. "Surely you don't mean..."
"That's exactly what I mean." Tyler's tone brooked no argument. "I could never forget that distinctive style. Though his face was hidden behind a helmet then, the swordplay is identical. He must have been a captain or knight even then. He offered Sir Reid the chance to surrender the palace. When Reid refused, that dancing knight killed him in their duel."
"I remember you were hiding nearby, only fleeing after Reid fell." Just like during the training ground assault - classic Tyler tactics, Carl thought wryly.
"Sir Reid concealed me there. I suppose I could have struck from behind, but it was an honorable duel between knights. None expected Sir Reid to fall to him. Later, I realized fleeing the palace was a mistake... perhaps dying by that knight's blade would have been better." After escaping, when Tyler witnessed his sister's fate in the garden, his world shattered forever.
"So you're convinced our squad leader is the same knight who stormed the palace a decade ago." Carl continued forward. "But your only evidence is their similar fighting styles. That seems rather tenuous to me - others might share such dance-like swordsmanship. Though I'll grant I've never seen its like elsewhere..." They reached Simon's tent, where two spearmen stood guard, their expressions shifting subtly at Carl's approach. "But there's no way to prove it now." You could confront him directly, but none of us would welcome the outcome. "You're the one who said we should let the past rest. Perhaps it's best not to dig too deeply. At least for now..." He glanced at the guards. "He seems an honorable knight."
A stout guard greeted them, his voice oily and ingratiating. "Here to visit Lord Simon?" Carl nodded, signaling the end of their previous discussion. "We appreciate your concern. How fares Simon?"
"Nothing serious, we think. The physician agrees," said the scar-faced guard. "Though... perhaps best not to disturb him now. For... reasons we all understand." He exchanged a lewd look with his fellow guard, who responded with a knowing snicker.