Knights of Anathaeum An Effect of Fake Flowers

[Monroe]

"You sure about this?"

A pause. "Should it matter?"

Monroe fixed the squire with knitted brows, a frown many knew her to sport. All it did in this situation was make the squire doubt their idea of questioning the dawnling's decision.

And still, that momentary conscience did nothing against what they said next.

"Yes it should, Syr Cathmore." He looked uneasy saying it. "I mean to say... not many know what happened, but I can tell going back would be a hard experience to mull over..."

Monroe's arms shifted to cross over her chest, and even as she sat across from this squire who joined her table outside in the sunshine without invitation, she made the poor young man cower under her withering gaze. "I am not going alone." She argued back with a near bark, and the squire squirmed and gave her a sheepish smile. He fumbled some apologies, all of which was a jumbled mess of words strung together, and he took his leave.

She did not remember his name, which was no shock when Monroe referred to them all as what they were: squires. Names did not stick until they were Sworn in, and Monroe knew they were ready for meaner things.

Drowning her thoughts with the last of her drink, she sagged her shoulders in defeat when she could not convince herself she had told truth. A half-truth. No, she would not be alone on her travels, but Monroe had not exactly approached anyone to see if they were up for the two week long travel to somewhere on the coast below the Reach. First, her eyes scanned the vicinity of the area outside the Knoll, where nearly every table was taken up by brothers and sisters in arms.

Who would put up with Syr Meanroe for two weeks to help set up an outpost in her ancestral home called Cathmore?

 

[Kaarle]

With two cups, one in each hand, and mid-stride towards them, he realized the squire had risen from the table. The lad passed him in a smile that was nothing short of disarming, being of the effortless sort that some people just had naturally. There was a downcast air to it, a sadness about the edges, but he needn’t but to glance in his wake to begin piecing together some reason why.

If there ever had been anyone to appear more forlorn—

“ Dismiss another suitor, have you, Syr Cathmore? The lad appeared almost as grim as yourself. “ And that is some sight. Forcibly unmoved as he always was, he put down the cups on Syr Cathmore’s table. The other was slid at her direction without asking, a cursory glance at her cup having spied it already drained. She sure looked like the textbook image of someone who could use another — and it was a warm, sunny day.

Perfect for melancholy. He continued taking liberties and sat down across from her in quick succession, reaching for his own drink and taking a lazy swig. Something a little stronger from the bar, perhaps a little early in the day but—

This is a goddamn emergency. He arched a brow, leaned against one elbow, casually inquisitive once he spoke again.

“ What’s going on? “

Monroe

 

[Alaric Wulf]

Alaric had entered just behind Kaarle, and even though they arrived separately with different intentions, it seemed that Alaric would continue to follow him a few strides back. However, each of the men approached the squire that passed them differently. While Kaarle had continued on, Alaric stopped him to investigate the troubled look he carried. It was a short discussion, one that compelled searching blue eyes to land on Monroe with a frown. Alaric looked down at the boy and gave him a few encouraging words before giving the lad a tousle of his hair and sending him on his way in a much brighter mood.

His blue gaze fell once more upon Frowny Monroe, and her now companion, Kaarle. He walked purposefully down the aisle, planting himself in the seat beside Syr Monroe, his normal easy smile clouded with frown his lips now bore. "Henry was concerned for you, said you were headed out to somewhere dangerous?" He glanced across the table to meet Syr Kaarle's eyes, his own blues filled with worried curiosity. It seemed he too was looking for answers, and her face certainly didn't do anything to hide her emotions.

Monroe Kaarle

 

[Monroe]

“Dismiss another suitor, have you, Syr Cathmore? The lad appeared almost as grim as yourself.“

Monroe gave Kaarle a withering glare, clenching her jaw as she accepted the drink slid in her direction. "It's fine." She grumbled.

But her ire flared once more as the young knight Alaric wandered too close to their table. She would have chewed his head off, but he unfortunately looked like a helpless fool, an affliction possibly learned from his sunshine sweetheart that wielded shadow. And so Monroe licked her lips to wet them, thinking better than to dismiss them both so soon.

"The roads there are tricky, riddled with nocturnal creatures. The town itself is safe."

She took a swig of her drink. Paused a moment, lifting her gaze to stare at Alaric and then her friend Kaarle. "Say... you both wouldn't want to say no to an adventure? You, I can live with traveling, but this one I don't know if he is a chatter like Syr Kerraelas." In truth, if she had been more pragmatic, she would have asked the likes of Faramund or Bebin, even Petra to accompany her, but Kaarle was someone she could get along with...

And it would help if Alaric came along to do most of the heavy lifting.

Kaarle Alaric Wulf