>>6316862Why was that acting up now of all times? If the color of this drink stirred up poor memories for the halberdier, the aching of his scar brought up even worse ones. They reminded him of the old days. Back when he’d been several notches stronger than he was now. A royal knight, who answered to none but Her Majesty and her tactician. Were that Cuthbert here now, things might be different. Perhaps he might have stood a chance against whatever malevolent force had decided to masquerade as his charge, and he wouldn’t have needed to rely on the aid of the young Rusalkan lord to fix his mess.
However, Cuthbert knew that was unlikely. The reality was that Tristain, as well as many of those other lords competing, were in an entirely different realm than Cuthbert had been even in his prime. His thoughts turn towards his companions. Not the ones he currently travelled with, but the ones of old. Aaron, Quick Ben, Hardin, Martine. All friends he’d fought tooth and nail beside, and all who lost their lives attempting to stop the charge of the mad Boar King. Only Cuthbert had survived that day, and what did he have to show for it? Were any one of them here now, Elric would be safe. But, like most grizzled old veterans, it was easy to let cynicism take over. To become complacent.
“Honestly, who cares.” One of the men at the table from earlier says. “At the end of the day, whoever wins is just gonna be a puppet. Everyone knows the Four Sages won’t give up power. Whoever becomes King will be brewing coffee for the Sages by the end of the week.”
Both men laugh heartily at the joke. Cuthbert however, didn’t think it quite that simple. He’d grown to know Tristain well. Considered him a friend, even, for what that was worth. He knew he wouldn’t play second fiddle to scholars of all people. If the Sages expected a puppet, they were making a grave mistake. One that, in all likelihood, they would pay for with blood. And if it came to that, he knew that Tristain would be expecting him in his corner.
For some reason, the thought brought a smile to his face. An irresponsible and quick tempered man, Tristain was. But a likeable one. And someone who Cuthbert was placing all his faith in. The veteran had grown tired of fighting. After Gronder, he wished to never return to the battlefield again. But perhaps he still had one final fight left in him. One that he could be proud of. He realized he may look the part right now, but he wasn’t washed up. Not quite yet. There was still a use for old Cuthbert. And may the Goddess help whoever found themselves in his path when that day came.
>A): Cassius>B): Bronte and Chelsey>C): Adeline>D): Nadia>E): May 