Sherral (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fluffiest_archadian) wrote2015-03-29 09:56 pm
fluffiest_archadian) wrote2015-03-29 09:56 pm
[OOM]
“Blessings of the Great Father descend, and guide these bodies' return to the earth,” Lady Amondsham intones. “Great Father guide these spirits' return to the Mother of All. There they shall find peace. Faram.”
“Faram,” the gathered soldiers echo pressing their fists to the chests and bowing their heads.
As the people start to disperse, Ives is quick to catch Sherral, nodding at his arm. “I see you're healing well.”
“Aye,” Sherral replies quickly, lifting his arm a little. The sling, at least, is gone, replaced with a brace that glitters with magicite dust and made his arm feel sluggish and stiff. The fabric has so little give that he barely has any more movement in his arm than when it was in a sling. “I'll be returning to duty tomorrow morning, if that suits you, Ser Ives.”
“It does. You'll be pleased to know that Lieutenant Illan's running of the division has been excellent,” Ives says.
“I'm not surprised. In all truth, she should have been promoted a long time ago. I would recommend her for Rudge's post,” Sherral glances quickly over at where Rudge's lieutenant is paying his respects to his captain. “Lieutenant Dorvin is plenty competent, but Illan has more experience.”
“I'll take it under consideration when I discuss the matter with Lady Amondsham,” Ives says. “Once I leave, Major Brackenbury will be assuming command of the garrison, so I would have her vet any candidates for captaincy herself.”
Sherral's eyebrows lift. “You're leaving? Ser Audyne is yet at large.”
Ives' mouth twists. “War is closer than ever now. We cannot truly afford to have judges anywhere other than the front lines, not when our numbers are so thinned.”
“Rabanastre is of strategic importance and he presents a threat to our control of it, I should think - ...”
“Yes, you might think a great many things, but you are not a judge.” Ives says sharply. “You are a garrison captain. It is not given to you to question the Ministry of Law's decisions.”
Sherral stiffens, inclining his head. Low: “Forgive me, Ser Ives. I spoke out of turn.”
Ives' expression softens. “I understand your concern, Captain Maduin, but it is simply out of my hands. We cannot be sure that Audyne even still lives within the Waterway, or that he has not found one of its many routes out beyond Rabanastre's boundaries – and if we did find him, there might be loss of life that we can't afford. To hunt him down would be a fool's errand.”
“As you say, Ser Ives.”
---
Sherral takes up his duties the next day, and the day after that, he starts setting aside time for training. He's careful (at Illan's insistence, although he can well imagine the enraged clucking from Milliways patrons if he didn't) not to move his arm too much, but training for a Quickening is, luckily, a mostly one handed job.
It takes him two weeks to manage to focus the Mist around him into a dozen glittering, crackling blades. They hang in the air well enough, but the moment he tries to move them they fizzle out, vanishing into sparks.
It takes another week for him to move the swords, in simple, clumsy movements. The strain of the simple action exhausts Sherral.
He keeps setting aside time for it every night, though.
---
Ronick wakes up four days later.
Amondsham awakens not long afterwards. Neither of them speak much – Amondsham seems in the better state of the two, able to rasp words out, while Ronick's wakefulness manifests only as short bursts of mute half-consciousness.
By the week's end, though, Amondsham is sitting up and talking, filling out paperwork even. Ronick's condition hasn't improved, though, and Sherral avoids visiting him even after most of the other captains have.
“Faram,” the gathered soldiers echo pressing their fists to the chests and bowing their heads.
As the people start to disperse, Ives is quick to catch Sherral, nodding at his arm. “I see you're healing well.”
“Aye,” Sherral replies quickly, lifting his arm a little. The sling, at least, is gone, replaced with a brace that glitters with magicite dust and made his arm feel sluggish and stiff. The fabric has so little give that he barely has any more movement in his arm than when it was in a sling. “I'll be returning to duty tomorrow morning, if that suits you, Ser Ives.”
“It does. You'll be pleased to know that Lieutenant Illan's running of the division has been excellent,” Ives says.
“I'm not surprised. In all truth, she should have been promoted a long time ago. I would recommend her for Rudge's post,” Sherral glances quickly over at where Rudge's lieutenant is paying his respects to his captain. “Lieutenant Dorvin is plenty competent, but Illan has more experience.”
“I'll take it under consideration when I discuss the matter with Lady Amondsham,” Ives says. “Once I leave, Major Brackenbury will be assuming command of the garrison, so I would have her vet any candidates for captaincy herself.”
Sherral's eyebrows lift. “You're leaving? Ser Audyne is yet at large.”
Ives' mouth twists. “War is closer than ever now. We cannot truly afford to have judges anywhere other than the front lines, not when our numbers are so thinned.”
“Rabanastre is of strategic importance and he presents a threat to our control of it, I should think - ...”
“Yes, you might think a great many things, but you are not a judge.” Ives says sharply. “You are a garrison captain. It is not given to you to question the Ministry of Law's decisions.”
Sherral stiffens, inclining his head. Low: “Forgive me, Ser Ives. I spoke out of turn.”
Ives' expression softens. “I understand your concern, Captain Maduin, but it is simply out of my hands. We cannot be sure that Audyne even still lives within the Waterway, or that he has not found one of its many routes out beyond Rabanastre's boundaries – and if we did find him, there might be loss of life that we can't afford. To hunt him down would be a fool's errand.”
“As you say, Ser Ives.”
Sherral takes up his duties the next day, and the day after that, he starts setting aside time for training. He's careful (at Illan's insistence, although he can well imagine the enraged clucking from Milliways patrons if he didn't) not to move his arm too much, but training for a Quickening is, luckily, a mostly one handed job.
It takes him two weeks to manage to focus the Mist around him into a dozen glittering, crackling blades. They hang in the air well enough, but the moment he tries to move them they fizzle out, vanishing into sparks.
It takes another week for him to move the swords, in simple, clumsy movements. The strain of the simple action exhausts Sherral.
He keeps setting aside time for it every night, though.
Ronick wakes up four days later.
Amondsham awakens not long afterwards. Neither of them speak much – Amondsham seems in the better state of the two, able to rasp words out, while Ronick's wakefulness manifests only as short bursts of mute half-consciousness.
By the week's end, though, Amondsham is sitting up and talking, filling out paperwork even. Ronick's condition hasn't improved, though, and Sherral avoids visiting him even after most of the other captains have.