With his fabled dark blade and his spectral steed Sleipnir, Barnabas Tharmr conquered the entirety of Ash on his own and united the tribes under the banner of Waloed. The white and black banners snap in the breeze, making the blue horses dance in the clouds like his spectral steed itself.
rp sideblog for the dominant of odin and his steed. non-selective and with sporadic activity. mostly barnabassing. rules under the cut.
I. GENERAL RULES.
I write both Barnabas and Sleipnir on this blog. This is a dual-muse side-account.
Mutuals and non-mutuals are very welcome to send asks, start threads or plot with me.
While Iβm not very selective, please have a rules page and an about page, if youβre writing an OC.
I rp with both canon characters and original characters. Please hand me your OCs!
Personal blogs are welcome here as long as youΒ donβt reblogΒ my threads, ooc or headcanon posts.
There might be nsfw topics on this blog.
Iβm willing to adjust headcanons and portrayals to your muses within reason. Even if our headcanons donβt align, Iβm more than happy to find common ground to make it work.
Barnabas and Sleipnir are a bit canon divergent, and Barnabas is also a single dad of @.danceofsteel's Astrid!
II. WRITING RULES.
Youβre always welcome to turn asks into threads!
Memes in my memes tag donβt have any deadline on this blog. You can always send something in, even if it has been reblogged a month ago or more.
We can either wing it or plot interactions. Iβm down for both, and might drop into your DMs for commentary or plotting during a thread. If this bothers you, please tell me, and Iβll leave you alone - no hard feelings!
I often default to multi-para, but Iβm fine with novella or short threads, too.
III. SHIPPING RULES.
The men aren't open for romantic shipping!
Familial bonds and friendships are always welcome.
Iβm also open for rivalry between our muses.
If youβre an OC or your muse comes from another fandom, but have an idea for an already established relationship between our muses, I highly welcome you to drop into my DMs. I adore pre-established relationships, and I most likely donβt mind OCs related to my muses.
IV. MUN FACTS
Iβm 25+ and have been trapped on this hellsite since 2014.
My activity is somewhat sporadic because of real life and other hobbies. But you can always reach me via DMs.
Discord is only open to people I have been chatting in DMs very regularly over the course of weeks. I donβt like collecting dead contacts in my discord and prefer to have my friends there.
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It was no surprise that Sleipnir's attention was directed to Clive as the man went about serving his master, nor was that sneer that was plain across the hall. But Clive kept his eyes on the King, brows furrowing slightly as the man rose from his seat. It seemed Barnabas was singularly focused on him, staring him down as he crossed the floor and ignored any who seemed to pine for his attention, and it was no small number at that. It became clear enough that the King was coming to him, a confrontation that could have been avoided if they had just decided to ignore one another, though Clive didn't help on that front at all. Staring down the King like this was nothing short of a provocation in and of itself.
The first thing out of the King's mouth was that he had not been invited by the Empress, which was true. He had not. "Clive, Your Majesty. Not Mythos." He rejected that name yet again, though he doubted Barnabas would pay that much mind. The man had only ever called him Mythos. "And I wasn't, no. I was invited as a guest of someone else." Clive had a way of getting where he needed to be, either by pure luck or planning, but he always managed it. Why he needed to be here, of all places, was on thing he wasn't sure of. "Is that all you came over to say?" A little short, perhaps too much so for addressing the King of Waloed, but Clive's patience with the man was equally as short.
He made another step closer to the other, shortening the distance between the two men and moving into his space. His response made the brow of the king quirk, and he regarded him with a mixture of scepticism and inquisitiveness. " The chosen sheep seldom entertains the thought of mingling with those that crave the holiness of the golden fleece. You came here with a purpose, Mythos. " Something dangerous flickered in his eyes; something that made Sleipnir in amidst the ladies look up and direct his attention to his master and Mythos.
Who had been the guest that had invited Mythos to the name day's ball of the Empress? Only those of high status had been invited to this most exclusive gathering - that much he had been told when his own invitation had been delivered by his other creation. And even though his Lord had remained silent in the matter of the ball and the brief distraction from the holy mission, Barnabas could not help but notice the dread forming in the back of his throat that made his hands twitch into loose fists.
A predator ready to strike in the presence of danger; or prey. " Mythos, " a voice interrupted, and only a blink of an eye later did a familiar face shove a half-emptied goblet of wine into Clive's hand. A sly smile danced on the Lord Commander's lips before he averted his gaze to glance at his liege from the corner of his eye - carefully and attentive to each and every twitch. " Who has invited you? "
ππππ ππππππ πππ πππππ, ππππππ πππ ππππ ππ ππππ π ππ πππ ππππ, πππ πππ ππππππππ πππ πππ ππππ π ππππ. After he had spotted him in return, their gazes had locked. " They are fighting over the wine, my liege, " Sleipnir informed him while handing him one of the two goblets. " But I have secured two for us nonetheless. " But the king did not grace his Lord Commander with a reply, and merely brought the goblet to his lips and took a sip without averting his gaze from Mythos even for a second. Sleipnir followed his eyes until he, too, found Mythos in the crowd. A sneer tugged at his fine features.
" Ah, I was wondering when Mythos would make his move and come to the ball. " Sleipnir continued chattering as he was fond of, yet slowly his voice faded into the background and into the music to which several pairs of guests danced. Another sip from his wine before he pushed his goblet back into his Lord Commander's hand and made his way through the room to Mythos. Here and there a woman was brave enough to approach him yet the king of Waloed had his eyes on one man for now and merely passed them without granting them a rejection.
Sleipnir stares at other Sleipnir from a distance.
ππ ππππ ππ πππ πππ πππ π πππ ππππ πππ π ππππ, ππππππππ'π ππππ ππππππ ππ πππ π πππ ππππππ ππ πππ πππππ πππππ πππππ πππππ. They twitched towards his direction and shortly after, the black steed raised its head to glance at the man, whose presence was not unlike his ownβit was the same. Almost. What did he want from him? His tail whipped left and right in response to the growing uncertainty. He could stand still and wait for the other Sleipnir to approach him. But this was his field. He was the king of these lands in a sense.
Thus, it was to him to approach the guest. With a hint of hesitance lingering in his steps, Sleipnir crossed the distance and fell into a gentle trot. He snorted quietly once he had reached the man and started searching his pockets for treats with his soft nose. He had brought treats with him, yes? It would be rude not to. As another piece of him and the other way around, he had to know that no one greeted the king's steed without at least one treat.
His eyes narrowed at Sleipnir's words. For a moment Barnabas did nothing, still posed as he was with his hand on the other's chin. The Shadows of Rosaria had long-since been a rumor, but one that he had discounted in the face of true evidence and in reason for them to exist. After all, there were no secret guardians of Garuda or Titan, no servants that served Bahamut's every need from the shadows, so why then was Rosaria different.
What was so special about the bloodline of the Phoenix that it was deemed so necessary to protect?
It was after a long moment that he finally released his grip on Sleipnir's chin. Barnabas stood, his brow knit in thought at the words. "And these shadows unnerved you to the point you felt incapable of capturing a single child?"
If that were the case, it spoke to their apparent skill. He wanted to be furious - and he was, but... the King of Ash could not deny the part of him that almost felt excited at this realization.
"I do wonder how those who hide in the shadows would fair against the Dominant of Darkness."
ππππππππ ππππ ππππ πππππ ππππ ππ πππ ππππππ ππππ πππππππππππ. Would he punish him for his failure? Would he scorn him for his inability to capture the child from the hidden claws of Rosaria? He would have deserved it, had the king decided to do so. But his liege merely let go of his chin and Sleipnir parted his lips as if he wished to speak to him, yet no sound rolled over the tip of his tongue at first.
Never had he disappointed him until this very moment. Before he could ask the other for his forgiveness and a second chance, however, the king spoke up once more. The Lord Commander's brows arched. " They would be no match against the might of Odin's chosen, my liege. If he sets out to capture the child, there is nothing they will be able to throw against him. "
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She. His brow furrowed as a question slowly started to bubble up inside of him. Who was it that Barnabas was referring to? There was no Queen of Ash, not as far as the Undying knew at any rate. But he spoke so confidently that Joshua found himself beginning to doubt that they were correct. A wife, a sister, a mother?
But why would they care at all about the Phoenix?
The thoughts slowly melted into questions that Joshua found himself wanting to ask, but there was no time for him to do so. In a flash Barnabas moved, his sword drawn and slicing down in an arc that surely would have cut what little life the Phoenix had left short.
Or would have, had he still been there.
When it came to strength, there was no doubt that Barnabas was stronger. But, speed? Joshua had no way of knowing if he truly was faster, but it was a better gamble to rely on that.
His own blade was drawn with his right hand, his left kept crooked behind his back. Joshua had jumped back to avoid the blade before letting a small burst of fire shoot forth. It was for little more than show, a small irritation to try to momentarily distract Barnabas. A dash forward then, sword readied to try to meet the King's own, but he had no hopes of actually holding his own in an actual sword fight against the King of Ash.
It was only when he was close enough that his left arm would move, the blade from his back wrapped in Phoenic Fire to slice through Odin's armor to stab into his side. Another vein hope, but fighting fair was not going to allow him to escape this battle alive.
πππππππ πππ ππππ πππππππππ, πππ ππππππ πππ ππππππ πππππππππ πππ π πππππππ'π π ππππ. A small consolation, and yet it required Barnabas to be mindful lest he injured the dominant beyond the eikon's capability of healing himβand the wrath he would earn for such a transgression was nothing he particularly wished to experience. The wrath for a sin of which he would know no absolution from, and thus, when the younger dominant approached with a trick behind his back, emerging from among the flames he had cast, Barnabas stepped aside the last moment to kick his knee against that of his opponent.
The tip of the burning blade, however, scratched against the silver armour, leaving a glowing red line not only on the metal, but a flicker in his eyes besides. How unexpected and yet... mildly exciting in the sea of utter disappointment. " I see the prayers have not all been left unheard by the Lord. You do have fire left in you, Phoenix. " Barnabas closed the distance between them once more and brought forth a wave of darkness that dragged along with the arc his blade described as he swung it against the Phoenix. Would he be able to parry him? Or would he try to evade his blow? Quick on his feet the dominant of the Phoenix was, he would never be able to match the strength of the king. " But how long will it burn before it extinguishes? "
"...I am a horse. Usually. This has never happened before.."
For as long as Sleipnir could remember, they have always been Odin's steed and nothing more than that. There have been other dominants, of course, but they could never recall being human before now. It's rather strange. Everything looks different, smells different, sounds different...and if this boy gave them this form, then did that mean he was Odin's dominant?
It's hard to say. They tilt their head, a curious look on their face. "Are you Odin? If you are, then I am your steed," they say simply, brushing the dirt off of their knees as they stand. "And I will be loyal to you."
Of course, Sleipnir has no idea what this might entail yet. While they are a friend now, they would be whatever Barnabas needs from them. "What's your name? Where is your mother?"
πππππ'π ππππ ππππππ? A chilly breeze touched his cheeks, taking all colour off them as tears started to dwell in his eyes once again. The image of his mother flickered in front of his mind's eye again; how she lay before him on the ground, disfigured by the men who had raided their village. Looking at his own hands, he could feel the warm and sticky sensation of blood, even though he had rubbed them clean in the snow days ago. He swallowed hard to fight back his tears and pressed with a heavy voice: " I don't know. "
He had to be strong. Odin had chosen him, and he did not want to fail him. And mother would have died without reason, too. She had trusted the eikon onto him, after all. He brushed his nose with the back of his hand. " I'm Barnabas... and I'm blessed by Odin. " Which meant the other was his companion now. Perhaps, things would get better again. At least he was not alone in the woods any more. The woods had been lonely at day and scary at night, he had to admit, and kicked a little stone with his boot.
"We have gained a couple hundred, so the men that we lost...well, it's like we didn't lose them at all," Sleipnir says as they begin to follow him, clasping their hands behind their back. "All will soon know the Lord's embrace. Just as He wishes. We are doing remarkably well, but I'm not surprised. Under your leadership and with the Lord's guidance, we surely cannot fail."
Sleipnir looks up at Barnabas as they speak, quietly admiring him in the low light of the setting sun. Yes, Barnabas was perfect to them: a perfect leader, a perfect warrior, a perfect everything. He could hardly do any wrong in their eyes, and they would follow him to the bitter end if they had to.
As they walk through camp, most have settled down for the night. There are a few stragglers sitting down by the fires, and the nightwatch doing their rounds. "I have the utmost faith that everything will go just as it ought to."
πππ πππππππππππ ππ π π ππππ πππ πππ πππππππ ππππ ππππ πππ ππππ πππ π πππ πππππππ πππ πππππππ πππ ππππ πππ πππππππ πππ πππ ππππ, ππππ ππππππππ πππ πππππππ ππππππππ ππ πππππ ππππππππ. Soldiers who had been assigned to the night watch bowed their head as he and his Lord Commander passed them. A couple of years ago, Barnabas thought, had not even dreamed of uniting an entire army under his banner and marching against the rest of the continent. Surviving in the wilds had been paramount at the timeβa different life, which he had led in what felt to him as if it had been in another age altogether.
" It has to, " he responded. " The Lord does not accept failure in a matter such as this. As long as the entirety of ash has yet to be brought into the fold, we have failed Him. " And the thought of failing his god, or his dear mother, weighed heavy on his heart, even though he did not wish to admit as much. A man like him, who was free of anger, grief and joy, would not feel the weight of a failure on his soul. It would not impact him.
As he approached his tent, the two soldiers at either side of the entrance saluted to him and his Lord commander before opening it. A brazier in the centre of the tent emitted an orange glow, filling the space with warmth against the growing chill outside. He took his leather gloves off. " In the morrow we will take stock of our army and decide on the course. Only a fool underestimated the might of Raven Wall. Even with the power of Odin, our campaign could end there. " Nothing penetrated that wall, it was said.
Sleipnir allowed his head to remain lowered as Barnabas approaches but raised it when he spoke, a smile coming to his lips. It amused him to consider other nations having to journey through Ash's inhospitable lands to seek them out.
"Then I shall ready myself to greet them." He would handle most of the meeting, he was sure. He certainly didn't mind being able to take that weight off his king's shoulders.
He rose smoothly and looked over the knights he had been training, raising his voice in a sharp order. "Drills until sundown - I want you all dead on your feet before you are done. Show our friends from Kanver our might."
Returning his focus to his king, he inclined his head to mark his readiness to leave the field.
πππ πππππππ ππ πππππ πππππππ πππππ πππππππ πππππππ ππ πππ πππ ππππ πππππππππ πππ πππππ πππ πππππ. Pushing back the silence, only broken by the howling winds from the shores, the familiar song eased his mind. For another brief moment, the king watched the soldiers in their training before turning on the heels of his boots to make his way back to castle Stonehyrr.
" Stories from across the sea have Kanver seeks independence from Dhalmekia, " Barnabas mused, half to his companion and half to himself. " They tire of their rule and regulations. Men grown indolent from gathered wealth and forgot their place. "
And if the old had grown stale, it was time to cut it off to save what was still fresh. Kanver had decided to remove itself from the rotting carcass of a nation - that was what the stories had implied, at least. The moment of their rebellion could not have been luckier, for Titan had yet to awaken once more. Now it was the time to strike, and he had to commend them for it, although it was with all certainty naught more than simple coincidence.
With his ever-loyal Lord Commander trailing close behind him, Barnabas Tharmr stepped through the wide doors of the banquet hall and took in the atmosphere with a mild frown to his features. Chattering drowned out the music, hanging so thickly in the air that it became nearly palpable for him, who remained on the threshold between the abandoned hallway and the busy hall. β Unimportant conversations between even more unimportant people, β Sleipnir drawled as he halted next to his king, following his gaze along the other guests. β Conversing with them will be a waste of time, my liege. β And of course he was right with his assessment of the other guests, who indulged in feasting and drinking. Their sight disgusted him, casting a dark shadow over his features.Β
β Should we leave again? β But Barnabas shook his head and finally stepped over the threshold to the hall as soon as his greyish-blue eyes locked on a familiar sight at the long table. If it had not been for a particular guest, the king would have left the invitation for the banquet at Twinside right on the table of his private quarters in Kanver, unopened. Yet the promise of a reunion most welcome had drawn him out of the city, that he had made to his new castle, and led him north to the celebrations on neutral grounds. The travel, it seemed, had not been for naught and when he had stepped closer to the unassuming guest, Barnabas took the chair out of the pitiful nobleβs hand to seat himself right next to the reason of his arrival.
Sleipnir sighed quietly in growing disapproval before talking another of the nobles out of his chair to his kingβs left. How he moved the chair back to sit down already mixed with the white noise surrounding the king, whose attention had been entirely hooked.
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When they appear before the boy, Sleipnir blinks, almost overwhelmed by the sights and the smells and the sounds. What was this? It didn't make any sense to them. They had simply been an extension of Odin, not something that was anything. They look down at their hands, confused, and then at the boy in front of them. They must not look hardly any older than him, and they look so very confused.
"I'm...Sleipnir," they say carefully, wondering how they even have the ability to say something out loud. "Odin's steed. Did you...um..did you do this?"
They look around, still very confused as they stand up. The child before them has a dagger, and they don't want to get hurt, so they frown, tilting their head. "I don't know how this happened. Did you do this?" they ask again, still keeping their distance. "I don't think...that I mind if you did."
πππ πππππ πππ ππππ, πππππππ ππππ π ππππ πππ πππππ ππππ. His words only rolled over his lips slowly in a voice heavy from uncertainty when he had mustered up the courage to speak to the stranger: " Mother said Sleipnir is a horse. "
Not a child. Odin was always accompanied by a mighty steed, brave and strong, and the other was nothing of that as far as he could tell. But maybe they did not have to, he thought to himself while watching them closely.
They did not mind if he had made them and if Barnabas was honest, he too would not mind if he had wished them into existence. A friend. Someone who would not leave him. " Are you a horse, " he asked them as he could not help but sate his own curiosity. " Mother said Odin makes one to ride it into battle. "
At last, the boy shifted his weight from one foot to the other and sheathed his dagger again.
Sleipnir is quiet as Barnabas regards them. While he might not say what he thinks out loud, the sentiment is loud enough in his thoughts. That's fine by them. They don't need him to say how much he cares or appreciates them out loud. It shows through his actions most days, and as long as they get to be by his side, then that's enough.
Well, most days, it's enough. They would be lying if they didn't wish for more sometimes, but they're..mostly content as it is.
"As you wish, majesty. I will return to you shortly." They bow as they say this, going off to fulfill his orders. Always loyal, always quick to do as they're told. Why would Barnabas need anything else?
They return to him a little while later, just as the sun begins to set beneath the hills. "My liege, our forces still remain strong. According to reports, we've lost a hundred men, maybe a little more, but nothing compared to the loss of our adversaries. When we reach the Raven Walls, they won't stand a chance."
πππ πππππππ πππ ππππ ππππ πππππππ ππππππ πππ πππππ, πππππππ ππ ππππ πππππππ ππ πππ π πππππ πππ πππππ. Tonight the dead would walk it, he thought as he turned his back to the grassland and acknowledged his Lord Commander with a subtle nod instead. " How many have we gained by our victory, " he asked them, walking past the other and trusting them to follow him to the camp at the foot of the hills. " Taking their lands is not enough for the Lord; we have to unite them under one banner. "
That was, he remembered, what his mother had told him once in passing. Whether she had meant by blood and steel or by spreading the word of their god, Barnabas had not known at the time, but now the path had been paved clear before him. With every victory, the camp would grow in size until every tribe of Ash had gifted him their swords.
In the distance, campfires lightened the hills. Countless little orange spots. " Waloed will span from the southern shores to Drake's Spine and all its people will be guided by our Lord's grace. "
Though Sleipnir may hold his position due to his proximity to his king, none could say he did not take it seriously. He was oft found running his men through strict drills or personally sparring with them - perhaps simply because he found joy with steel in hand.
He had just finished putting a man on his back when he heard the footsteps he knew belonged to his king so he quickly sheathed his blade to take a knee. The men who had been watching quickly followed suit.
"You grace us with your presence, my liege. Is there something you need of me?"
ππππππππ ππππππ πππ ππ ππππ. From the first moment he had summoned his infamous black blade, he had seen himself as a conqueror who had taken one tribe after the other under the black and white banner of Waloed.
Making the soldiers bend the knee to him and swear their fealty to the new kingdom had come easy to the man, but seeing his loyal companion as well as his soldiers kneel before him remained strange. Although swift and certain steps carried him over to Sleipnir, the truth lingering within his heart looked quite different indeed.
Behind that certainty, Barnabas found himself lost in a situation he would probably never grow accustomed toβregardless of how many years would come and pass again. " A delegation from Kanver has arrived, " he informed the constant knight. " And we will meet them in the audience chamber to hear what request they bring. " Here and there, his steel-blue gaze shifted away to the other soldiers, whose heads had been lowered as if they did not dare looking back at the king.
ππ πππ πππ ππππππ ππππ ππππ πππππππ πππ π ππππππ, ππππ ππππ ππππππππ ππππ πππ πππππ ππππππ ππππ π πππ πππ π πππ. Hot tears burned in his eyes as his cheeks, yet they did little to warm the rest of his bodyβhe was terribly cold from the chill and the solitude which had accompanied him ever since the attack on his home. Something about the shadow dancing between his fingers called a distant memory from the back of his mind, however. Distracting him from the cold that made his body quiver.
Somewhere and sometime ago, Barnabas had seen it before. He gasped first, thinking of his beloved mother. Had she come back to hold him and tell him everything would be well? His little heart hammered in his chest from joy and relief. It had to be his mother! But when the shadow took shape at last and the blur from his tear-filled eyes cleared, a shiver ran down his spine and he jumped onto his feet.
" Who are you, " the boy demanded to know and pulled a ritual dagger from its leather sheath. His hand trembled, and he clasped the grip so tight, his knuckles stood white against the rest of his hand and even the grip. " What do you want?! " Nervously, he licked his lips, tasting salt on his tongue.
The mere might of Odin and his steed would be unmatched, Sleipnir knows. For all their time together, they can count on one hand how many times they've not been successful. Their bond is something special, something coveted, something that Sleipnir would never take for granted. Barnabas granted them sentience, a real chance to live, and it's something they'll never forget, so when he speaks, they look at him in awe, nodding along with his words.
"As you wish. However, we are losing daylight. We can either move the army under the cover of night, taking them by surprise, or...we can rest and recoup and assess our forces in the morning. Which would you prefer, Majesty?" Sleipnir awaits their orders eagerly, tilting their head. The thrill of battle is something they are still getting used to as a person. If Barnabas wished to continue on throughout the night, then they would have no issues doing so.
ππ ππππ, πππ πππππ-ππππ ππππ ππππ πππ ππππ π πππ πππ πππππππ ππππ πππ π ππππ ππππ ππ πππ πππππ πππππππ. Since the day of their creation, Sleipnir had not changedβat least not in the king's eyes. Despite its constant nature, which had made him lose his gratefulness towards Sleipnir's existence, their presence offered gentle comfort. Comfort in a cold, uncaring and abandoned world.
Only a handful of things had remained good and pure. In a strange fashion, he could not help but count Sleipnir as one of them, even though the thought alone twisted his stomach.
How could a sinner like him create something like them?
He shook his head to chase away the fleeting thought before deeming Sleipnir's question worth of a response: " Regroup our forces in the hills. Break camp if you must and assess our remaining forces and sheep that long to join our Lord in his conquest. " Marching against the wall now would do no good, he knew. " We need a refreshed army if we want to take the Raven Walls and break into Veldermarke's heart. "Β
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He could feel the apprehension radiating from Sleipnir; the other did not need to speak for Barnabas to feel his nearly-desperate desire to know that he had done well and he had pleased his master. And... there was no denying that the news was good.
But it was not what he had wanted to hear.
He felt so little, so the strange stab of disappointment was almost like a knife in his heart. Barnabas' lips curved into a frown as he crouched, almost kneeling in front of Sleipnir. A hand reached out to gently cup the other's chin in a gesture that was almost loving, almost intimate.
Though the press of his fingers was far too firm to be anything but violent.
"Rosaria has no dominant." The last Phoenix was already dead, and the nation was suffering for it. "There would have been no one to stop you from taking what should be here, raised in preparation for Our Lord. But you say he is out of reach?"
πππ πππ'π ππππππ πππππππ ππ πππ πππππ; a touch so tender at first, but one which quickly grew firmer until his fingertips dug into Sleipnir's chin. Nothing of its tenderness remained, yet he merely looked at his master without even a flicker of uncertainty or doubt in his blue eyes. He should have run from the king. Anyone with a sound soul would. Devotion ran deeper than fear, however. The little hairs at the back of his neck raised when his master spoke once more.
He was disappointed in his knight for he could have done more. After all, what had stood between him and Mythos? Sleipnir remained quiet for a moment, maybe even for two, to gather his thoughts - the feelings which had coursed in his body during his visit.
Why had he not taken the child and brought it with him?
" The shadows of Rosaria are not imaginations, my liege, " his knight revealed at last. " They possess eyes and ears and carry blades of white steel. No one can see them. "
Neither had Sleipnir, but he had felt them. Had sensed their presence at every nook and cranny of the duchy since the day he had crossed the borders. Whether they had been humans or not, he could not tell. He could not deny it, though: Even to him, the shadows had been eerie.
" And they only listen to the mother's words and gazes. They would cut me down before I was able to reach the child. "
"Of course, Majesty. All will know the Lord soon enough," Sleipnir replies, bowing their head as he approaches them. Whatever Barnabas commands, they will follow, loyal as ever. Barnabas could go to the ends of the earth, and they would go with him. Where else could they go? Who else did they have? To them, he was everything, but those were thoughts that they kept to themself. He didn't need to know how highly they thought of him, but perhaps he already knew.
To Sleipnir, Barnabas was already akin to a god, a god that they would willingly prostrate themself to. This whole business with Ultima...well, it would be blasphemous to say it out loud, but they only do it because he asks them to.
"Veldermarke is strong, yes, but no match for our might, Majesty," they murmur, wanting to reach out and touch him, but they refrain, instead clasping their hands behind their back and looking out across the field with him. "If Odin wishes to take the field, then I have no complaints. Let them feel our power granted to us through the Lord's grace."
πππ π πππππππ πππ ππ πππ ππππππ ππππππ πππ πππππππππ ππππ ππ πππππ ππ. And he turned his head to the side, regarding Sleipnir from the corner of his eyeβit was not faith in the Lord that guided them, but their devotion to the king. Sometimes the tug gained strength for a second, maybe two, and then the strong connection loosened to its common state. A flicker, he would call it but had never bothered mentioning it to the other.
Not that it mattered, as long as Sleipnir heeded his call. And with that, he directed his gaze back to the battlefield, where their remaining forces scoured for survivors at either side. " They have resisted our Lord's claim long enough, and it is time we secure the divine haven for Him. " Lest his God grew uneasy if not displeased with His champion's effort to build a kingdom for Him and Him alone.
To grant Him Stonehyrr, He would absolve him from one of his sins. " Their time to accept our Lord's offer of peace under His light has ended. We will march against Ravenwit Walls and tear it down for our forces, " Barnabas spoke while watching one of the royal knights standing before one of the survivors, whose tabard had long lost its golden colour. The defeated man nodded, shaking on his knees, as he accepted the truth at last: Ultima's rule was absolute.