#alm support

@rudlm

“Lad.”

Who Saber is speaking to doesn’t need any further indication. Having only one eye always makes it clear what the man is focusing on, and the way his eye doesn’t leave the younger’s form leaves no room for questioning. As for the intent, well. If his serious expression wasn’t enough of an indicator of his mood, the hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword would be.

He gave a short jerk of his head, off in the direction of cemetery. Private, as he’d only ever seen one student hanging around there, and if the mood struck him it’d be an easy place to dispose of the lad. “Come for a walk, will ya? Have some...teacherly words I’d like to exchange with you.”

@dumaschosen

It was a surprise to no one who even knew who Robyn was that she would frequent Askr Castle’s library. The lore, the history of other worlds, even the ancient history of Ylisse, dating back to the Hero King’s time. Everything was just so fascinating to her. However, as Robyn was looking through the books, contemplating on which history book to read, there was a book from the Valentian era (which was happening while Marth was still alive) with a cover most peculiar. A skip of a heartbeat and a quick glance at her right hand confirmed her suspicions. This was the Mark of Grima.

She swiftly skimmed the pages, still taking in every word. These were supposedly words engraved in stone tablets that resided in Thabes Labyrinth.

‘In Thabes lived an alchemist named Forneus... In time, he would be feared by all.’

This Forneus wished to control the dead and create a perfect being. Her spine shuttered as her mind thought of the Risen for a second. She continued to read. This man killed so many with ease for the pursuit of his goals. Then eventually, the tale switches speakers, no doubtedly meant to be Forneus.

‘A critical component in the death mask is a particular shelled insect.’

‘Death Mask?’ Mind conjuring the Risen once again. Now that she thought of it, the Risen appeared to be wearing leather masks. Robyn bit her lower lip as Forneus switches to his second pursuit: the creation of a perfect being.

‘At last, blood from a divine dragon! Its power is terrifying. Beautiful... At first, it was a tiny thing. But on day 80, I gave it my blood. It grew. Its voice echoes in my head. Dark thoughts. Violent th—’

RIP (You’re always welcome, friend!)

“Hah… hah…” Valter grinned, even as coughed up blood stained his teeth. “Do you… expect me to beg for forgiveness? Little ‘King’…” 

Another cough. “I’m not afraid of what I’ll find there… You all should be the ones who are afraid… Whatever will your sanctimonious lot do once you’ve run out of people to hate? Will you turn on your own kind like dogs? I’ve seen it before…” 

“What’s the problem, exactly, Berkut?” Albein asks with a haughty air, then laughs, waving his cousin off with what turns into a smile.

“Someone starts a fight, you finish it. If people perceive us for brutes when we don’t start things, then that sounds more like they need visual aid.” And that’s all it was to him, really. A fight to win, a point to prove.

“If father hears of this and disapproves, he’ll make it known to me. If you want, I can even approach him about it.”

Berkut just sighed, snapping the book closed and shaking his head. “Perhaps he dealt the first blow, but you clearly instigated him, Prince Albein,” Berkut explained as patiently as he could muster. “If someone grabbed you by the lapels and screamed a challenge in you face, what would you do? Unless you were a coward, you would respond in kind, regardless of your personal safety.”

He went back to browsing his book sullenly. “We’re not all as strong as you, Prince Albein. Nor are we all as loud and boisterous. But that doesn’t mean he or anyone else should back down from a challenge you yourself instigated. If you wish to stop getting punched in the face by strangers, perhaps you should obey the old adages to keep your hands to yourself and think before you speak.”

He paused for a moment, then flipped a page.

“…” Albein takes a breath, trying to keep what they had spoken of in mind, trying to drown out his want to… do just that, if only to shut him up. ‘Don’t act upon your impulses, Albein, he’s bedridden.’ He tells himself with closed eyes and an exhale, only to open them again and cross his arms, closing the door behind him with his foot.

“I came to apologize.” He said instead, trying to keep his head on his shoulders well as he could. If he was to be Emperor like his father, he had to act like it, and his cousin was a good start. “For everything the other day. I lost control and gave into exactly what you told me not to.”

And so, to that, he bows his head, pressing his left hand to his chest to display how heartfelt his words were, then rose once more to stand tall, hand dropping to his side. How sad his cousin looked… laying there like some sort of weak beast — and it had been him who did it, plain and simple. “I know it is unexpected… in more ways than one, but I hope it is a beginning of a better hold upon my temper.” It’s all he can do now.

Berkut turned his gaze away from his cousin, preferring to glare out of his window. It had been opened to let in a calming spring breeze. The nursemaid told him that the fresh air would serve to speed up his recovery by raising his spirits and ridding the room of the stale, musty air. Instead he often found himself glaring at it, loathing the bright sunlight and becoming frequently annoyed by the chirping of the songbirds.

“I don’t buy it,” he stated simply. “Did Uncle Rudolf tell you to come apologize to me for your behavior? I won’t accept it so simply. You’ve always treated me as though I was beneath you, Albein. Why should I accept your apology now? Why should I ever believe you’ve had a change of heart?”

He shook his head, then immediately regretted it, sinking back onto his pillows as the world spun around him. The dizziness might need another few days or so to subside, he’d been told. After he took a few seconds to attempt to compose himself, he sighed.

“... I get it, alright? You treat me that way because... Simply, you are. You ARE better than me, Albein. I shouldn’t have to remind you of that.” Four punches. Just four. He could have died so easily. Albein should have let it happen. He’d regret that act of mercy.

“I don’t even know why you insist on keeping my company. I’m surely nothing but a nagging nuisance to you. You are Rigelian royalty, serving under the will of Duma. Don’t ever apologize for asserting your strength over any subordinate foolish enough to stand in your path.” 

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