[if ser corentiaux does know zephirin — and indeed he is the sort of man who would know, for corentiaux knows everything there is to know, at least so long as it concerns himself — francel knows better than to ask. the colder likes his secrets; he will not reveal them unless he is hard-pressed. any attempt to convince the man to divulge his thoughts will be futile.
in lieu of interrogation, francel proceeds with his plans. "would we be able to make use of the camp dragonhead armory, ser corentiaux?" the young lord asks, politely. "you see, zephirin would learn of his past life, and i would help him, so long as it is within my power to do so. given his age and physique, 'tis like that he served ishgard in some capacity, as mercenary or knight... i thought, perhaps, he might find his memories restored were he to hold a blade in hand. "
corentiaux's emerald eyes flicker over zephirin's — spring green. though he pauses a moment before answering, he seems to come to the conclusion that it is safe to allow zephirin a weapon, in the end. "'tis not within my power to refuse you anything, lord francel," he answers generously, with a warm smile that — francel knows quite well — must be forced. "you know where the armory is."]
[ Camp Dragonhead's armory presents Zephirin with a sizeable selection of swords and axes, lances and halberds. One after the other, he tests their fit, but his forgotten life remains out of reach. Each weapon's haft ill suits his hands — or is it the weight of each blade? The shield he soon discards?
When he has no options left to turn to, Zephirin steps back, quiet. A slight crease upon his brow, he presses his fingertips to his forehead, giving chase as another distant something flits past the outskirts of his mind. ]
I—
[ His frown deepens. His body's apparent complaint strikes him as ridiculous. ]
Mayhap these blades are lighter than I once preferred...
[francel frowns. if it is not the shape of the weapon that is the issue, but rather its size or heft, then zephirin must have preferred a bigger, more fearsome blade — perhaps even a greatsword, like those that dark knights are rumored to use.
francel has heard tell of these dark knights. they serve no houses, no masters; they have been known to slay members of the church, foregoing things like law and due process in pursuit of their own radical ideas of justice. they are not to be trusted, nor housed in the homes of honorable ishgardian men.
but this doesn't mean that zephirin was a dark knight, francel reminds himself. ishgard would not make and market greatswords if all those who preferred them were licentious vigilantes, and even whitebrim front has its share of soldiers who prefer large zweihanders over more traditional methods. zephirin could be a knight of house durendaire.]
...The merchant and mender who passes through Camp Dragonhead from time to time might have... heavier blades for you to try.
[ Zephirin's hand sinks back down to his side; he meets Francel's gaze, his frown carefully smoothed away. In the young lord's remarks, he hears the same strange, concerned reluctance of their conversation over breakfast, and once more it seems that he ought leave his past buried, though Camp Dragonhead has proven a possible lead.
His memories should never have become Lord Francel's responsibility, in any case.
After a moment, Zephirin crosses the armory floor to approach Francel, his right hand outstretched for the young lord's upon reaching him. On his lips, he wears a small, rueful smile. ]
Unless Ser Corentiaux objects, I suppose I am to stay here for a time, then. No matter what comes of it, I hope to repay your kindness.
[visibly relieved, though by all rights the young lord should not be quite so eager to keep an amnesiac within visitable distance, francel smiles and nods. there is more time now — zephirin will not go off in search of his memories, at least not until the merchant's next visit to camp dragonhead.]
I am sure he would not pass up the opportunity to have another skilled swordsman in his service. And there is no shortage of work to be done in Camp Dragonhead. Though you should be careful — he is not so forgiving a taskmaster as I...
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valoirs
no subject
in lieu of interrogation, francel proceeds with his plans. "would we be able to make use of the camp dragonhead armory, ser corentiaux?" the young lord asks, politely. "you see, zephirin would learn of his past life, and i would help him, so long as it is within my power to do so. given his age and physique, 'tis like that he served ishgard in some capacity, as mercenary or knight... i thought, perhaps, he might find his memories restored were he to hold a blade in hand. "
corentiaux's emerald eyes flicker over zephirin's — spring green. though he pauses a moment before answering, he seems to come to the conclusion that it is safe to allow zephirin a weapon, in the end. "'tis not within my power to refuse you anything, lord francel," he answers generously, with a warm smile that — francel knows quite well — must be forced. "you know where the armory is."]
no subject
When he has no options left to turn to, Zephirin steps back, quiet. A slight crease upon his brow, he presses his fingertips to his forehead, giving chase as another distant something flits past the outskirts of his mind. ]
I—
[ His frown deepens. His body's apparent complaint strikes him as ridiculous. ]
Mayhap these blades are lighter than I once preferred...
no subject
[francel frowns. if it is not the shape of the weapon that is the issue, but rather its size or heft, then zephirin must have preferred a bigger, more fearsome blade — perhaps even a greatsword, like those that dark knights are rumored to use.
francel has heard tell of these dark knights. they serve no houses, no masters; they have been known to slay members of the church, foregoing things like law and due process in pursuit of their own radical ideas of justice. they are not to be trusted, nor housed in the homes of honorable ishgardian men.
but this doesn't mean that zephirin was a dark knight, francel reminds himself. ishgard would not make and market greatswords if all those who preferred them were licentious vigilantes, and even whitebrim front has its share of soldiers who prefer large zweihanders over more traditional methods. zephirin could be a knight of house durendaire.]
...The merchant and mender who passes through Camp Dragonhead from time to time might have... heavier blades for you to try.
no subject
His memories should never have become Lord Francel's responsibility, in any case.
After a moment, Zephirin crosses the armory floor to approach Francel, his right hand outstretched for the young lord's upon reaching him. On his lips, he wears a small, rueful smile. ]
Unless Ser Corentiaux objects, I suppose I am to stay here for a time, then. No matter what comes of it, I hope to repay your kindness.
no subject
I am sure he would not pass up the opportunity to have another skilled swordsman in his service. And there is no shortage of work to be done in Camp Dragonhead. Though you should be careful — he is not so forgiving a taskmaster as I...