[CLOSED] You think that all your time is used

[archademode]

WHO: Gabranth, Byerly, Derrica, Diana, Barrow, potentially tba
WHAT: local man has bills to pay, time to take on 100 low level quests
WHEN: catch-all, consider it fairly current with a little give
WHERE: Gallows, Lowtown, tbd
NOTES: catch-all for threads involving (1) millenial judge magister in need of jobs + bonus horsegirl chapter + old men fights

Comments

[bouchonne]

Of course.

[ His smile is easy. ]

I make it my business to know everyone - or at least know of everyone. And I take particular interest in do-gooders.

[archademode]

I’m afraid my hands are far too bloodied to be considered that. [No wincing, no whining. As natural a confession as discussing the matter of what tea Byerly drinks, or the color of the sky outside.]

But if there is something I can do for you in order to further your efforts, you need only ask.

[Compensation for that offer goes without mention. True, his pockets are lighter than the payments tailing him— there's no denying that. But if someone within Riftwatch is in need of help, he won’t ask them for coin in return.

For him, allegiances will always run deeper.]

[bouchonne]

[ A little flick upwards of his eyebrow at my hands are too bloodied - kudos on your drama, sir - but he doesn't comment. Instead, he gives a little twirl of his long, elegant fingers, and he says: ]

There is a little something, actually. I don't want to trouble you, of course.

[archademode]

[Thank you, he works very hard on it. You should see him when he’s turning it up to 11.]

Speak. I would see it done.

[And in recalling the fact that he'd been sought out— that this man looks (and in particular smells) of richer things than the ruddiness of war— the way Benedict had recoiled in dread of greater things than himself, setting a sort of perceived pattern in play regarding rank and need and all things perilous, there is a moment where that heavy helm twists to focus more fully on the man at his side. Voice lowered, attention fixed.]

...you are not in danger, are you?

[He seems generally untroubled, of course— but wounded animals are often the best at masking their own dismay.]

[bouchonne]

[ A little quirk of his lips, as much surprise as amusement. ]

What would you do if I were?

[archademode]

[Oaths carry weight. They matter, more than most ever care to realize— or perhaps purposely ignore. For Gabranth, however, they are the world.

And there’s a gravity to it, his answer. Heavy like stone, like the dead weight of a hard current.]

All that I could to keep you safe.

[This isn't a hypothetical, Byerly. He seems entirely convinced now that something is amiss.]

[bouchonne]

[ Huh. His eyebrows lift a few more millimeters. ]

Due to my position, I presume?

[archademode]

Your position? [Translation: no.]

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly lightly touches his lips. Fascinating. ]

Well. No. I am not in danger. Though I shall remember to call on you if that changes.

[archademode]

[Well, it isn't the first time he's been wrong in estimation: reason #832765578 why he prefers to be directed, rather than mapping his own course by hand.]

As you will. [It's a simple thing, correcting his attention. Letting that rigid posture fade away into something— well, nominally more relaxed.] But there was something else you yet needed, if not that.

[bouchonne]

Mm.

[ The smile turns playful. ]

I wanted some dogooding.

[archademode]

[That word again. From inside the helm there's a hollowed little puff of a sound, a breath let out too quickly. Something like a scoff's milder, much less bitter cousin.]

Would you be accompanying me for it, this...[No. He can't bring himself to say it. Dark Souls rules of vocabulary strictly forbid usage of all words even vaguely similar to dogooding.] ...task.

[bouchonne]

Ah, no. I'm afraid I've some duties to attend to elsewhere. I hope that's all right?

[archademode]

[A small noise of agreement, punctuated by a single nod, chases that question. The last of his future meal now wrapped and tucked away inside a small leather satchel laid out nearby. He’s done his due diligence for Jone, for Benedict and Flint and what other few have sounded more than somewhat unmoored across the crystal itself.

There’s a line to be crossed somewhere in terms of intent and comparative rank, but for the most part, he’s done more for less already.]

Hardly a complication.

[So then, Byerly. What do you need slain, exactly?]

[bouchonne]

It's a protection mission. Guarding a group of civilians as they venture into the wilds.

[archademode]

A worthy cause. [He loves escort quests they’re his favorite how did you know.]

How soon do they depart? I’ll make ready to leave with all due haste.

[bouchonne]

Early tomorrow. Around noon.

[ By has a rather liberal definition of early. ]

You can meet them at [ an address near the western edge of the city. ]

[archademode]

[Liberal indeed. That’s well more than halfway into the day itself by Archadian standards.]

You need not worry. [He isn’t worried, Gabranth.]

No harm will come to them for as long as they remain at my side, you have my word.

[bouchonne]

Excellent.

Ah, you'll also need to carry a few things for them.

[archademode]

[Valuable cargo? Smuggled weaponry, lucrative ore— possibly missives, if the matter of obligation and protection speaks to anything in Gabranth's own experience.]

A heavy burden hardly qualifies as hindrance. [And yes, the armor does due work in appealing to the idea that he is— at least in part— capable enough to manage taxing endeavors: even the most skeptical bystander could hardly argue against the amount of endurance required to maintain the guise of a Judge Magister, much less see combat within it.

But beyond that, he supposes he's little else in the way of credentials, and so adds without pride or preening:]

In my service at Emperor Gramis' side, there was little I could not be expected to manage without assistance.

[bouchonne]

That is a relief. This...

[ Heh. ]

Will take a special set of skills. How are you with children?

[archademode]

....children.

[bouchonne]

Children, yes. Do you have them where you're from?

[archademode]

[There is something so, so dry in his given answer.]

I was responsible for the protection and training of Prince Larsa Solidor for the majority of his young life.

[If something similar is in play here, he does at least carry a suitable record— though even before reaching age twelve the boy was infinitely more capable than most adults.

And triply so if that adult happens to be Benedict Artemaeus.]

[bouchonne]

[ A gasp of delight. ]

The Maker smiles upon us! You were the perfect man for the job all along, and I didn't even know it!