#bardin

Silvaineaux’s eyes lingered for a moment on the space before the chapel door. Whatever snow had lain before it was now trampled flat by the back and forth passage of men and birds. Whatever secrets it might have revealed had been trampled under his own boots the night before. He shook his head and turned back to Cartier. “Make sure they’re getting through the last of the preparations to move out. I want to leave this place far behind us.”

“Yes, Ser.”

“Is Ser Valerian back yet?” Silvaineaux asked one of the men standing out beside the birds. 

“Not yet, Ser. He and Redding and Bardin went up that way, further into the trees.”

Silvaineaux nodded, shifting his hold on the reins and bringing one hand up to rest on Joyeux’s neck as he turned his own gaze to the treeline. The unease he had felt the night before settled in on him like a heavy cloak and he was grateful that the man watching the birds didn’t try to make any further conversation. Instead the man went back to fussing with the birds and Silvaineaux sat and watched the snow at the edge of the trees. It was not far to the treeline. He could easily see the tracks where they had gone in from where he sat.

Come out. Silvaineaux demanded in his thoughts. Any moment now Valerian would ride out of the trees, Bardin and Redding in tow. He would give his report and they would leave. Silvaineaux would never see the frozen font or the window with its broken saint again and he would be glad of it. 

Something stirred at the edge of the trees.

He had no sooner had time to discern the movement than it took shape. A riderless chocobo burst from the trees, two mounted men hard on its heels. The bird ran toward the rest of the mounts, chirping out the familiar little distress call of a bird in search of something. 

Silvaineaux went still, numb and stiff as a statue inside his armor. Blood dripped down the chocobo’s hind leg. He recognized the little seam where Valerian’s barding had been patched and the fine grey feathers of his familiar bird.  

He gathered his temper like he was tugging in Joyeux’s reins, shoved it down so that when Redding and Bardin’s birds trotted into sight he could meet them with a calm face. “Where is Ser Valerian?” He demanded of them. 

“I don’t know, my Lord.” Redding said. Silvaineaux had never heard the older hyur sound so humble and respectful. “We only fell behind him a moment, my lord, I swear it. Bardin thought he saw something in the snow.”

Silvaineaux turned to look at Bardin. 

Bardin lowered his head. “I thought I saw something… some fabric, a marker. You know I had family out this way before…” He gestured to the snow around them, ever present and stretching on forever. “I only stopped for a moment to look, Captain, I swear it. I said something but Ser Valerian must not have heard me. He rode on. I should have been louder.”

Silvaineaux ‘s fingers shifted on the reins, under him Joyeux stiffened and then danced in response to his tension. “Where is Ser Valerian, then?” He asked, forcing his voice to steadiness, speaking around the tightness of his own set jaw. “There is his bird. Did you notice it coming back without him? Did you look for him?”

“We were looking at what Bardin found. I heard the bird scream somewhere too far off.” Redding said. “And that’s when I realized how far behind him we’d fallen. There might have been shouting but between the snow and the trees and the hills. I’ve not got ears like you, Ser. The bird came tearing back past us and we thought we’d better come with it to tell you what had happened.”

“And have you told me that?” Silvaineaux snapped. “Because it seems to me you do not know what happened.” He took a deep breath. “Redding, with me. Cartier, with me! Laval!Get mounted, that bird is bloodied, we may need a medic. Bardin, you help see to that chocobo. I want everybody ready to move out the moment we come out of the trees.”

A breeze was rising. Silvaineaux could smell the chill of a storm in it as he waited the seemingly endless minutes it took Janvier Laval to tie his saddlebags into place and mount. He kept his hand steady on Joyeux’s reins to remind himself not to run off immediately as he wanted. 

They set off back along the tracks the others had left. In the fresh snow those tracks were easy enough to read, the rapid tracks of the frightened bird and following men gave way to the place where Redding and Bardin had dismounted and wandered around a small clearing. There past them were two sets of tracks. One of a chocobo moving at an easy trot off up the slope through the trees, beside it the tracks of that same bird rushing down the way it had come. Small spatters of crimson stood out stark against the snow at intervals. 

Those little flashes of color kept unpleasantly drawing Silvaineaux’s eye. They reminded him of the saint’s armor in the window. He thought of the saint’s cracked face and Valerian’s empty saddle and he touched his heels to Joyeux’s sides. Then he glanced back to make sure the men were with him. Looking back almost made him miss it, that first anomalous little mark. But as trees and snow flashed back he saw it again, drew on the reins to slow Joyeux enough for a better look.

The track of a boot, not far off the trail Valerian’s mount had made going up. Now that he sought it he could see another set, a different size, and then as they crested a small rise those tracks were all about, along with other clawed markings that were the track of neither man nor bird.  At the top of the small ridge the snow was trampled into a mass of tracks he could not truly hope to decipher but only to guess out. 

There, perhaps, Valerian had come out into the small clearing, paused to look over his shoulder as he realized Redding and Bardin had not followed. And there all around him tracks rushed from the trees and added themselves to a maelstrom of churned and bloodied snow. 

Silvaineaux swallowed and rode forward a little, adding Joyeux’s tracks to the edges of that mess long enough to see the tracks at the other side that went together in a mass down a little draw and deeper into the mountain. Too many tracks for him to reasonably follow with three men at his heels no matter how desperately he might want to. There was not enough blood there for a body. Just perhaps, Valerian still lived. He could gather the rest of the company…

A shadow flickered over the snow. Silvaineaux glanced up, and then touched Joyeux with the spurs. The warbird leapt back in under the shadow of the trees with the others. For a moment there was no sound but their breathing as they watched the shape of the dragon glide over, then wheel in toward the mountain, following in the sky the same line as those tracks. Numerous small shapes shadowed it. Silvaineaux closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of Valerian’s smile and that sturdy presence at his shoulder. 

kruber and sienna think its cute

bardin gets really pissed and puts cool rocks he finds on top of them passive aggressively/ eats the leaves in front of kerillian

Couldn’t get this out of my head:D The world is going to hell, but at least 3 of the Ubersreik 5 are making the most of it. Related to the latest Lohner Diary: