Rohan A. Vermeer

Huilang waited for the man to fling the annoyance to the settee, and in the process of doing so, she noticed the thing strapped on his back. The feeling that washed over her was not surprise ( she no longer had it in her to be surprised over anything anymore ) ; it was not rage, either ( she had minded her own business - picking up a pointless fight with a man she did not know, in her own house, seemed like the most idiotic thing a person could do. plus, he was a stranger and she couldn’t say she cared to know anything about him. perhaps he was a merchant. perhaps he was some slave-overlord. she didn’t care to assume. cared even less to ask or even seem like she’d noticed ). The sentiment she felt was, frankly, disappointment, but oh well. People always disappointed her in the end.

She walked over to the cabinet with smelling salts, taking a gauze and pushing over a bucket of cold water closer to the settee, as she quickly assessed the situation at hand once again. A few cuts and bruises, but it was nothing both she and the man laying strewn across it were not already familiar with. Pulling a chair to sit by the settee, Huilang briefly dunked the gauze in the bucket of water, before putting it over the man’s throat, to cool down the blood which will help with the clotting.

He had a point there, about the healer’s profession, but she frowned at the implication. “No, my parents did not choose this profession for me, I chose it myself - when I left Mosmait, to be more precise.” She quietly replied, eyeing the patient with a wary expression on her face. He better not be eavesdropping. “You don’t seem like the type of be dragged in pointless brawls. How did you end up carrying his dumb ass here? Surely, his cousin could have picked someone familiar to take him.”

Rohan looked around, not eager to stay but not wanting to leave given the pouring rain outside. Cold droplets continued to fall from his hair  but he did not mind. Even someone raised in the heat of the Kalgarian dry land could withstand the cold rain of Mosmait. After all, he’d been facing death every day of his life and this discomfort had not been the worst he’d ever had to be subjected to. Nevertheless, he was not only body muscle and power and he knew he was risking a cold. Before leaving the room for the less crowded and more comfortable area near the hearth, Rohan listened to the healer. 

“How fortunate, to be able to make such a choice I mean. In some ways I made the choice too when it came to my profession. Though others might say I am a result of my environment” he shrugged. In his mind, it was probably both. 

“I’m from Kalgar,” he added after her remark about pointless brawls while further explaining his previous statement about environment. “But you are right, though kalgarians like fighting, I don’t fight in pointless ones. Carrying the man here has more to do with my curiosity about Mosmait than any real care for his wellbeing.” Rohan smiled as he took a few steps backward out of the room and turned toward the hearth in the other, “may I borrow something to dry myself with?”

He ignored the other man’s words. Sure, he could’ve been polite about it but the pompous entitled part of him couldn’t help it. Plus it wasn’t like Rohan was dirt poor with no money to his name. Given all the profit he made from his prior business, surely it would suffice in helping with the coverage costs. “Hmph, at least I was educated,” the words slipped through his lips quickly, each syllable sharp for Rohan’s ears only. Regardless, this wasn’t about them - this was about the investigation. 

Yasuo watched, his eyes shifting from one person to another - analyzing the scene as he brought up the teacup to his lips. He wouldn’t have to say anything under these circumstances so long as his mouth was physically occupied. 

“Tell me more,” he casually slid across a gold coin, eyeing the light glitter in the greedy man’s eyes. He began to gush out words like a faucet. It was ridiculous how easy it was to gain information. Yasuo sighed, “so you’re telling me that the loss of income has been because of runaway fairies?” he raised a brow. He wasn’t sure if he believed such claims. It was too easy, too obvious. 

Rohan was not insulted. He considered himself highly educated. He made no comment however, it was common for men of Yasuo’s social class to think there was only one path of education. Theirs. Yasuo would eventually discover his book knowledge didn’t mean shit in the battlefields. This made Rohan smile.

The fairy next to him saw the smile and hated him more. Rohan was a human carrying the fairy wings of his slaves on his back. Yet he could smile so handsomely. She too could smile beautifully, yet her life in Draeben was anything but. She hated that too. She looked across to the finely dressed and arrogant Yasuo and hated him too. Humans thought themselves better and here was a human doing just that to everyone in the room. And yet, he too was beautiful. How ugly, she thought, and her expression betrayed her. 

Rohan would have been impressed with her hate, if it had served to fuel her instead of eating at her. “So this is your colosseum,” he said out loud and the man that had been eager to please looked momentarily confused before Yasuo’s fingers fiddled with another coin.

 “The way Draeben battles is very glamorous on the surface. It distracts too much. I’m not a fan. So, what’s really causing the loss of income? Not even Kalgar loses that much on runaway fairies. Hidden investments maybe?” 

Rohan was talking for the sake of talking. Truth is he was having trouble following some bits of the conversation. What he did notice was that the man was sweating now. Something was said, he had no idea what, but it had made the greedy man nervous. His eyes kept glancing in the same direction. “Something seems to be bothering this good man. Perhaps, Yasuo, we could lend a hand?” 

In the dead of night the door silently opened. In the darkness Rohan was alert, all his senses sharpened by the day’s investigation. Now he’d entered his sleeping chambers where the safety of the Knighthood was provided, yet he was still slow to relax. It had always been so and he’d always liked it that way. After all, the moments after the day’s battles were the moments he could savor them in peace. Of course, investigation was nothing to the dusty iron smelling sweat of the colosseum. Every muscle screaming I’m alive. 

And so, Rohan began his unwinding routine. He removed his shoes, setting them aside ready to be worn again. Reverently, he untied the straps that tied the wings of his best fairy fighters to his back. He set them down on the bed, carefully unstacking them so that each unique pattern was visible. Like a clockmaker cleans, polishes, and winds his creations with detail, Rohan too lit a candle and cleaned and inspected every wing before wrapping them back together in linen. They would lay by the bed, waiting to be strapped to his back again tomorrow. 

Barefoot and naked from the waist up, Rohan began his slow dance-like stretch which marked the end of battle and the coming of rest before a new battle begun. And as he danced for Gaveron he said,

“I have fought and survived. Gaveron, Child of Aberadus, I hope to have pleased you with my combat today and may my survival please you again tomorrow.” 

As his dance to Gaveron comes to an end, Rohan places a hand to his heart and to Armand he says, 

“I carry you with me my brother, and my victories are yours. Gaveron give us the strength to make our names known.” The tip of his finger traces out the name Armand and Rohan over his chest, and as always, he ends his prayer with another wording of his geass: “there is no impossible because we can make everything possible.” 

Huilang waited for her sibling to finish up preparing the backroom for the irrelevant man she had been vaguely acquainted with for the majority of her early life - he was most certainly not her friend, but then again, no one in Mosmait had ever been her friend. They were all a bunch of hypocrites with a vastly overinflated sense of self worth. Had it not have been annoying, it would have been amusing - but, while she had appreciated the irony of their stupidity, she was still greatly exasperated by them ; they were tiresome and vexing.

Her sibling emerged from the backroom, just as the man spoke again and the brunette snorted in amusement. “Mosmait’s reputation is greatly overpraised - and overestimated.” She commented, locking gazes with her sibling as the latter quietly motioned to let her know everything’s been set up. “This way, please.” Huilang instructed, waving her hand for the man to follow her.

Entering the room in question, the healer motioned to the settee in the corner. “Just fling him there, while I fetch the smelling salts.” Lavender would do just fine. Unless he had had a concussion - in which case she would certainly require something stronger. “This is the usual for him, to be honest. I am not sure why his cousin still bothers to bring him here.” She suspected the woman might be curious - and of the notion that her dimwitted cousin would actually remember anything of any value.

Rohan found it surprising to hear a local healer belittle her own city. After all, to someone like him, Traos seemed like a soft and peaceful city the type of which might belittle a city like Kalgar though Kalgar ideology might be interesting enough for Traostians to argue about. Then again, it occurred to him that perhaps feeling above others might be what a typical traostian did. 

As he was beckoned to follow, Rohan guided the now more awake than asleep man into the room and then into the settee in the corner of it. As he did so, the covering on the cargo strapped to his back slipped partially off revealing the tips of fairy wings clearly different from each other. He did not notice. What he did notice, was how little the healer cared for the patient even after finding out the man often visited. Shame on him, Rohan thought, how weak he must be. However, he also thought her shameful in the way she seemed to dislike her own profession and means of survival. A traostian like her must have had plenty of choice, and therefore Rohan faulted her. 

“I always believed to be a healer would be a source of pride. It is a means of survival that can allow others to live. It does not force muddling through trenches but through books. Was this profession your parent’s choice upon you?” he asked, “I’ve heard such things happen in the middle and upper classes of Brittania, I suppose it should not be another surprising thing to me about Traos.”

Tcht, he had spent all the moments leading up to this one performing, and within seconds - Rohan had clearly finished playing pretend. Fine, so be it he thought. He made himself comfortable, his back facing the wall.

Yasuo used his index finger to motion the man to come forward, to join them. He seemed rather surprised, almost nervous even that he was in the company of the odd duo. He eyed up another one of the attendants at the door, snapping his fingers together as if he were in the luxury of his house - ordering those around him. He didn’t even bother speaking, merely mouthing, “food” before the servant was gone from view. 

It wasn’t long before an array of food appeared accompanied with other pretty girls. Yasuo turned to Rohan, edging closer and whispering, a restrictive smile on his lips as he spoke through his teeth, “hope you can contribute some coins tonight because I’m not the fucking king,” sure he was wealthy but not impossibly wealthy. Then he moved back in place.Mental curses were already going off in his head, if the night didn’t go as they intended - it would all be a waste. 

“Tell me sir, what is business like for you here? I am potentially interested in longterm investments. I would like to know the truth before I participate in any endeavor, I’m sure you understand that,” he arched a brow. He would leave the fairy girls to amuse Rohan if it was what he pleased. The last thing he wanted to be was touched. 

Though given the circumstances of his proposal, he had no choice but to continue his little scheme. He feigned an interest in one of the fairy girls but still managed to keep her at arms length despite her persistence to approach him. 

The gold haired fairy slid comfortably next to Rohan, looking at him with dreamy eyes and a pleasing smile as she did so. The act was nearly perfect, the only thing that betrayed her had been the lingered glimpse upon the cloth covered  possessions Rohan carried strapped to his back. She knew. 

Just then Yasuo turned to him and spoke. It was clear the luxury had gone to Yasuo’s head. Or rather, it had perhaps brought him back to his regular snobbish self true to his kind of people. “There are less rude ways of asking for money,” Rohan uttered, then turned to the beautiful gold haired woman next to him and said, “perhaps he ought to be educated more.” The veiled insult was clear, and it seemed such a thing was becoming a common part of the two knights’ interactions. Rohan found it somewhat surprising, not because he felt truly insulted, for that to happen he would have to respect the young noble, but because Rohan himself was not one to veil his insults usually. “Is the topic of money something you often discuss with clients,” he asked the golden fairy. 

Yasuo’s line of questioning to the man in charge was impressive. Realistic, believable, well done. Yasuo was not so useless after all, Rohan thought as he listened to the conversation while continuing his with the golden haired fairy next to him. Upon the mention of a certain way of networking however, Rohan interjected Yasuo’s conversation to say, “protection? Does that mean there’s set punishments for those who break some sort of rule in your network? It sounds different from how business goes in Kalgar, which I find interesting. ”

notgcne​:

    huojin frowned at the sudden disbursement of people, especially when the pretty fairy had fled from his lap. who dared to disrupt his fun, to – oh, that damned knight. he could feel the man’s disapproval seeping into his skin ; not even scrubbing his skin raw would be able to get rid of the feeling it gave him. finally processing what was transpiring, what yasuo was saying, anger flashes in the magician’s eyes & he shoots an icy glare towards his companion. huojin had been trying to avoid suspicious glances all night, opting to win over the hearts of the patrons, & now this fool strode in. “what the fuck do you think you’re doing – important business ? are you trying to draw unwanted attention towards us ?” by the gods, he wanted to strangle this man & he’d barely been in his presence for five minutes. 

just as he was about to allow another slew of vulgarities pass his tongue, their second companion joined & he paused. “are all knights this insufferable ?” he muttered under his breath, shoving as much of his coins into his pouch as he could. “fine. but, i will take what is mine. we can start the bet anew.” 

They were infuriating but it wasn’t like they didn’t have a point. While Yasuo didn’t agree with the approach, he was placed in a situation where had no choice but go along - lest more eyes turned their way. Even Rohan had done the same, which only made Yasuo’s lower lip furl with growing annoyance. Whatever, if both of them wanted to play like this then so be it. It wasn’t like it was particularly hard for Yasuo. “fucking wasting time,” he muttered under his breath, dismissing the comments that Huojin had made. 

“Speak for yourself,” Yasuo was quick to comment back as he begrudgingly joined in on the next bet. While he wasn’t an experienced gambler, he understood mathematical principles. The first round was quick, allowing Yasuo to sweep a win - done with much nonchalance and indifference. He glanced at his companions, sighing, his mind was focused on proving his self worth at all costs and in his opinion, playing along with the ruse was trickling down every precious second. 

He eyed Rohan, “do you know what you’re doing?” He was certainly bemused, a part of him suspected that the reputed pit fighter turned knight did not know what he was doing. Nor did Huojin, but at least it seemed like he was trying. If anything, Yasuo wasn’t that concerned with wins, he merely wanted to get it done and over with. 

Listening to the young duo complain made Rohan feel terribly disappointed. The prestige that came with the monicker of Knight of Brittania was nowhere near as truthful as that of a true Gladiator in Kalgar. By the legendary Gaveron, may the Children of Aberadus help us all, Rohan thought, the lowest ranks of knighthood were as green as the petty thieves and everyday survivors of the common world. Should they not improve with the rise of ranks, King Artur would surely lose the war. Not that it changed Rohan’s plans in any way. 

Rohan himself had suggested to play, but he had done it to mask the real purpose of their mission. However, the two fools took it seriously with one whining about the money and the other whined about the wasted time, and both focused on playing rather than their actual job. 

“No,” Rohan confessed in reply to Yasuo’s question with deadpan honesty though his ego did suffer the losses and his mind did attempt to win though in truth, as he next told Huojin and Yasuo, “I’ve never played this game before.” 

 “But, I have noticed a boy rush in and out followed by a commotion of servants. There are important customers in the room behind the dark green curtains and it seems they were not expected. It also seems the way they’re spending money is not exactly typical. Might be a lead, or a dead end, but it’s the only thing this place is offering. Did you choose to investigate this gambling house for any particular reason Huojin?”

If his survival depended on the stolen money, Rohan was treating it as such and making sure he we was standing in the end and not sprawled on the floor where money or time no longer made a difference. Huojin and Yasuo could stay green for all he cared. 

He had remembered the history lessons that had been taught when he was a child, learning of the different economic facets of each region - Draeben had been touted for its wealthy merchants. But it was an unspoken fact that where there was immense wealth also flourished the filth and grime. 

There had never been a single thought of participating in such sordid amusement. But now that he was thrusted into the situation, he found himself rather intimidated. He bit his bottom lip, watching at the eyes of greed stare at him like a money bag. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the look, the smell and desire that reeked from their fat lips. All he could think of was the amount of money he would have to fish out tonight, having little faith that Rohan would offer help. He nodded his head as the workers and business men led the two into their establishment, treating the duo as if they were royalty. 

It was more elaborate than Yasuo had expected. A grand staircase led toward another level. His eyes scanned the view, resisting the urge to scowl. There were all sorts of men, many looked grotesquely ugly, he pitied the fairy girls who were forced to entertain such bastards. As they followed after the workers, it was undeniable that the pair attracted attention. He could hear girlish giggles and the sensation of a thousand eyes upon him. He gritted his teeth, nothing he wasn’t accustomed to when he was at home. 

“I know,” his lips barely moved when he uttered his response to Rohan. 

He unclasped one of the smaller pouches on his hip filled with gold, tossing it to the worker who had taken a pause to shoo one of the girls to hurry downward. “Only the best,” there was a casualness in the way he moved - as if he had done a million times. To be truthful, it wasn’t entirely different from ordering around his own servants back at home. Despite the the environment, his face showed mere nonchalance. 

Under the circumstances, any other man might have wavered and walked forth with an uneasy step. However, as a man with a view of the world such as Rohan’s, the foreign situation showed no such change in his manner. Like a gladiator entering a colosseum Rohan’s observation was keen though not for the beauty and luxury they were introduced to, and more in the way a fighter makes himself alert. The way Yasuo faced this encounter was smooth, easily blending in and making it impossible for them not to be welcomed. Rohan was the opposite. Instead of blending in, he clashed further with his stoic and unfazed demeanor as if challenging the businessmen and the workers to do their best and see who was victorious - him or them. 

The feeling of walking up the grand staircase was familiar, it felt as if there was an audience except instead of them waiting to be entertained, they were eager to entertain this strange pair of men so opposite from each other. 

And though Rohan viewed this endeavor in investigation as a battle, there was no hiding the fact that it was unusual and unlike any combat he’d ever done. Like stumbling with a new weapon, entering the spacious room full of intricate cushions and luxurious tapestries felt awkward. Yasuo on the other hand, looked surprisingly as if in his element. Like him, Rohan attempted to lounge on a seat though his instinct was to sit ready to strike. “I give up,” he finally told Yasuo, and sat as he normally would. Fuck the acting, Yasuo could play the nice guy and gather information that way. Rohan would be Rohan, it was what he was best at. 

“Word has it more than the usual coin is being moved of late,” he told the man who was figuratively licking Yasuo’s shoes, “Draeben’s usually the first to feel it, before it trickles elsewhere... like Kalgar. Any insight?” 

The man rubbed his hands still eager to please though clearly bothered by the line of Rohan’s questioning because it had nothing to do with his girls or room or the refreshments. He called a beautiful fairy over saying, “she’s one of the best conversationally and in other areas sir, perhaps she can whisper her insight into your ear. Go on darling, sit by the kalgarian gentleman.”

It was a fine evening - mostly quiet, save for the sound of deluge raging outside. No one in their right mind would be out during such a weather, except for those who had been caught unawares, coming home from work. She wondered if her father was one of them, or if he was still holed up in the archives, doing what he did the best, isolating himself from everyone and everything in the process. perhaps she should have followed in his steps, took up translating and transcribing ancient texts, with zero to null contact with the living people ; but, instead, she took to herbalism and healing, though people rarely deserved to be healed - or at least those who lived in Mosmait did not deserve it.

Oxdwell was another thing entirely. It was not like she particularly trusted anyone there ( her trust issues were deeply rooted, and no matter how kind someone was to her, she always suspected there was something sinister - or at least an agenda - behind the kindness ), but they were… decent enough to her there ; both fairies and humans. So long as she did not ask questions and so long as they omitted the cause of their wounds ( she was satisfied enough with the : oh, it’s from the training, lie they usually made. perhaps it was from the training. she was not invested enough in the individuals to care ).

Yes, it was a fine, quiet evening - until someone had the audacity to knock on the door. Reining in the more questionable side of her temperament, Huilang rose to open ( it could have been her father, or her mother, returning from the forest ), her dark eyes meeting unfamiliar pale ones. Her attention shifted from the unfamiliar man to the familiar man hanging at his side, and the brunette arched an eyebrow ( whether she was amused or annoyed, she herself did not know ).

Dark gaze shifted to her sibling, who understood the silent message - prepare the room. “Bring them in.” Huilang spoke, stepping to the side to let the men in, with an exasperated sigh falling from her lips. Normally, she would have left the idiot to rot in the nearest pitch, but since he was sent here, her family might get into trouble if she turned them away - though, quickly scanning the condition of the unconscious man, the only thing he needed was a bucket of ice cold water thrown over his head, and maybe a good few slaps ; and smelling salts. “The name is irrelevant - ” meaning, the person is irrelevant “ - and all drunken brawls are pointless.”

Rohan did as told and pull-carried the swaying man inside. Both of them were drenched with freezing sky water. The sound of movement told him a separate room was likely being prepared, but in the meantime Rohan had paused near the hearth to warm himself. The man leaned heavily on Rohan as he moaned with the warmth of the fire and the pounding pain he was beginning to feel in his half waking state. 

Nothing Rohan was not used to, though he found no cause to respect the fool and therefore cared little for his comfort. He did not wish to be there after all, because he agreed with the healer. The name was irrelevant, and the drunken brawl had been pointless. “Yes, which is not behavior I expected to find in Mosmait if I’m perfectly honest,” Rohan said with a casual sweeping of his dripping hair away from his face. “Where do I let him drop?,” he said with a marked glance to the clinging man, “not that I’m in a hurry to enter the rain again, but I don’t care to hold him until his cousin decides he’s worth more than the few coins her tavern might make on a day like this.”

It was easy for Yasuo to keep his mouth shut. He had long been accustomed to it whenever he was reprimanded by his father. Yet the words that came out of this man’s mouth surely lit a new sense of irritation, one that was founded by privilege and entitlement. He had earned his title in one way or another too, hadn’t he? From the mere fact that he spent his every breathing second to prove himself worthy to his family was the beginning of it all - knighthood was the other half of it. “Nothing to disrespect,” he murmured, nothing to disregard in a person who made a business out of selling others. His own family would have perceived it lowly and even Yasuo had an ingrained prejudice against it but his facial features were careful to evoke such a thought.

While the words were certainly grotesquely stated, Yasuo refused to let it shake his resolve, keeping a placid face at the detail of violence that man could so picturesquely complete. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a point - he did. “I suppose so,” the low grumble of his voice escaped his lips, ignoring the pointed comment at his ability to sit and look pretty. It was a partial truth that even he wasn’t capable of denying. 

He eyed the other man, “so tell me, what kind of charms do you perceive will work on these people.” he forced aside his ego, a part of him wishing to call them cretin. That or scum, both terms he couldn’t help but judge.

 “I’ll follow your lead.” 

Rohan carefully observed the young noble, both impressed and surprised at an Okazaki’s attempts to adjust to his new lifestyle as a knight of Brittania . Promising. He turned from the knight soldier and with a sigh walked into Draeben’s main street of pleasures. "I know little of the pleasure houses, but I have dealt with Draeben’s gamblers and they like people with as much charm as a golden coin,” he said implying so long as there was a prospect of profit they would be well received. 

Unsurprisingly, they were quickly approached with offers. On the one hand Yasuo looked expensive, attractive, and vulnerable in the best possible way to both businessmen and their workers, and on the other, Rohan was quickly recognized. “What fine gentleman! I have just the place for you to sit and enjoy,” clamored a man to Yasuo, “a fine sitting room with privacy and the best tea and cakes in all of Draeben! Not to mention the company I shall provide for you! The best and most beautiful! That you would bring the Great Rohan to our humble establishment sir, I shall offer a most appropriate discount!”

It was clear the dravenese thought highly of Yasuo, both in the quality of his purse and as a possible regular, as well as the achievement in bringing the reputed kalgarian fighter who’d not stepped into a pleasurable dravenese establishment yet. 

“I’m not sure,” Rohan whispered to the the young soldier, “following my lead would be useful, seeing as it’s you they’re approaching.” 

@nckrus Location: Mosmait Time: Early evening

The brawl had lasted less than 5 rotations of the middle wheel of Mosmait’s timekeep tower. It had just begun to rain ice water but even that had not been enough to stop or slow the violent anger two schools of thought had built up against each other. Rohan had walked in to purchase warm drink when the verbal brawl turned physical. Emotion had pulled in everyone in the cozy tavern outside into the rain, leaving Rohan as their only spectator behind a window. He did not join in nor did he step in, instead he reverently witnessed their conviction made physical even though he understood both sides had already lost. The first thing Mosmait had taught him was that a battle of thought could not be won with the strength of the body. 

Before the fifth rotation of the timekeep wheel the flamed discussion turned worried and reproachful as one man lay half conscious. “Dear customer! Help me get him to the healers,” said a woman behind the counter while her husband told the brawlers to go home or get along lest they get banned from the tavern. 

Rohan found himself half-carrying a half-conscious man through the streets after the woman had pointed in a general direction saying, “it’s the green door on the other side of the street down that way, you have my gratitude good sir, this cousin of mine will be the end of my shop! He ought to go back to his books!” before closing the tavern door. When someone in Kalgar asked for help with a body, it was usually followed with a symbol of non-monetary gratitude like food, as a way of wishing the helper long life. Mosmait was a different place to expect someone to aid without reverence or pay. It told him even the most scholar places could be just as backwards as the ignorant. 

@ofsvends​ Location: Mosmait Time: Morning

The early morning air, crisp and clear, passed cooly through the near empty street. The only customer choosing the tea shop’s patio sat straight and comfortable where others would not. He was dressed warm in a Brittania issued military coat with the clear insignia of Lieutenant etched on the shoulder. He watched the ocean view, the marble architecture spread out below, and thought to himself that perhaps he could marginally understand why all mosmaiti were more interested in learning about the world and enjoying it passively rather than climbing its rocky peaks with tooth and nail. Though he could never choose such a way of life, Philosophic discussion bled through the door to the inside of the shop and Rohan listened to it. 

Adaptations to different environments came in such variety. This he had come to learn on his first trip out of Kalgar, and if you didn’t adapt you died. Or worse, you were forgotten. 

Rohan sipped his tea and relished the warmth of it flowing down his throat. Dirt water, he had once called it in his youth. Humanity was remarkably good at changing and yet staying the same. He sipped his tea again. 

“Have a seat,” he said to the blonde fairy passing by as if the chance encounter were common enough, “my treat.”

Friends had been the last suggestion Yasuo would have expected to come out of the mouth of the man. Rather, he had naturally assumed that they would’ve resorted to some physical tactic. He swallowed, the word rolling off his tongue with tartness, the sound strange against his lips. 

“Friends?” Though he should’ve assumed that the notion was made with slight derision. 

He held up a gloved hand, “No need to use master, we are knights here and now … titles are not important.” He did not need to be reminded of his background. Certainly some respected it but others often used the formality as a method of mockery. Surely he could feel the eyes that were prone to watching him. A pretty boy, a rich boy - a boy who was playing knight as a hobby. Yet none of that stood true. 

“Do I look like I lie well?” Sarcasm coated his words as his eyes barely lifted to meet the gaze of the other. If the man meant wooing women, then the answer was simply no. Yasuo was far too distanced from the notion and thus, he had never made an attempt. Women were prone to flocking to him from the mere look of his features the fact that he was made of valuable money. “I would assume you’d have experience, am I wrong?” He mused aloud. He seemed like the tactful type, someone good at business and wasn’t their destination all about manipulation and negotiation? 

“I heard of your reputation, being a famous pit fighter and all … perhaps that will aide us on the King’s mission.” 

Oblivious politeness was not something Rohan was ever treated with, even by the few nobles he had encountered who were all veiled scorn for the people they thought beneath them. He’d seen people grovel, shift with caution, and throw insult behind some figurative wall of protection, but Rohan saw in Okazaki Yasuo a child. Soft and unblemished, and yet there was something there of survival that Rohan could not quite discern clearly. Perhaps, he thought, the battles among nobles leave invisible scars. 

“Some titles are important,” the Knight Lieutenant corrected, “when they are earned.” He meant no malice, that was just a fact. Even Kings could be worthless and thus so would the title of ‘king.’ In fact, Rohan respected the soldier’s choice to relinquish an advantage he’d been given in order to earn his own. Very well. “Yasuo,” he began, “I have earned my title. Even so, I don’t expect recognition from you, but I will slap you across the face if your disrespect is too great.” 

TW: brief gore/violence mention "You misunderstand soldier,” Rohan stated, somewhat perplexed by the noble’s point of view of the world - so different from his own it must be. Then again, most non-Kalgarians were tricky to understand. “I can peel back a man’s skin, slice through his muscle, and pull out a tendon of my choosing to wrap around his throat and make him sing. But why would I do that to random strangers of Draeben on the off chance one of them knows something? We need information first and Dravenese people respond best to charms you seem to naturally possess. If all you know is how to sit nice and look pretty, pocket full of coin and all, you’ve got adapting to do.”