RP:The Old Guard and the New
Part of the To Haunt A Hero Arc
Part of the Thy Kingdom Come Arc
Summary: Lionel and Hildegarde discuss his mentality and her fateful declaration in Vailkrin's armoury. A brief encounter, but one destined to help define them both.
Vailkrin Armoury
Hildegarde had waited until the undead dwarf went off to do… whatever it is undead dwarves do, before coming down into the armoury to have a little time to herself. She wanted to sit in peace and quiet, to tend to her halberd and sword; to read in the gloom of the armoury; to just be alone for a while. These activities, repetitive and near enough therapeutic, helped soothe her mind. Much had happened in the last few days. She had declared herself Queen. She had found the real source of the attempt on her life, Balder. She had made allies and still had other alliances to consider, such as the one from Rynvale. Oh, what she’d give to return to the days of being a simple knight who only lived to serve!
Lionel has had a hell of a time being granted entry to the castle. He’s spent so long reveling in relative anonymity that it hasn’t been until today that he’s ever truly realized how handy it was back when eve-ryone knew him just by looking at him. He’s doing reasonably well for himself otherwise, though. The hallucinations come in waves. Some days are so much worse than others. He’s just about to complain to one of the undead fixing him with a steely stare – no small feat given the creature’s profound lack of eyeballs – when a vampiric dwarf recognizes him and bats at the eyeless interloper. Lionel is quick to ask for Hildegarde’s location, but he’s forced to call her ‘Lady’ even by this dwarf, and a soldier likely under Hilde’s direct employ chimes in that it ought to be ‘Queen Hildegarde’ now, in any case. When at last he descends the steps to the armory, a woman announces his arrival just seconds before Lionel can fix the silver dragon with his practically-customary ‘hello again, Hildegarde.’ A bit glum at this turn of events, he merely waves.
Hildegarde ’s short-sword taps against her thigh as she lays it across her lap, looking up to see Lionel enter the armoury. “Lionel,” she greeted, “you look a little… You look more miserable than usual,” she said it, not meaning to be unkind. There is concern in her voice. Her fiery brows have come together in a show of this concern, before she finally says, “I hope they’re not giving you a hard time upstairs. They seem to think I’m…” royalty? “They’re talking to me funny. But nobody needs to. I am Hildegarde, that is all.”
Lionel snickers despite himself. He shrugs, all rather dramatically, and scans his surroundings, ever the seeker of hidden foes and defensive fortifications. “It’s, uh… it’s not something I don’t have my own fair share of familiarity with, myself. They aren’t going to stop anytime soon. Trust me. You’ll have to leave this realm for years to make them stop. And you’ve got too much Donovan in you for that to happen.” He smirks. “But I’m getting ahead of myself. Actually, that’s a thing with me. I’m always getting ahead of myself. You may have noticed I’m a man of a few distinctive personas. Maybe you’ve taken note of the fact that one second I’m shaking, the next I’m stomping cakelogs. One scene I’m terrified, then here I come waltzing down these hallowed steps talking all casual-like. You’ve probably realized a great deal about me. Well, I think it’s high time we had ourselves our talk.”
Hildegarde kept one hand on the blade to keep it steady across her lap, while the other was used for conversational purposes. One of those people who talked with her hands. “You know, you keep men-tioning people who I have only read about or heard stories of. I’m not… Like I said, I am Hildegarde, that’s all.” Meaning she certainly didn’t consider herself to be a fabled hero or a legendary figure. She was just a knight who tried her best. Yet as he talks about being one man and then another in an in-stant, she nodded her head slightly before gesturing to him, “Oh yes, I’ve noticed,” she said with just a little smile. After all, Hildegarde didn’t want him to feel awkward or bad about that. “Then let’s talk,” she gestured to a stool, “sit with me?”
Lionel suppresses a smile at Hildegarde’s modest insistences. It’s rare days like these, days in which the Catalian is in greater control of his scarred mind, that he is able to appreciate life. Would that it were not so fleeting, this chance to be a decently-behaving man again. The heroes of Hollow have never been the boastful types. Even Lionel’s own boasts – he knows it in his heart – have ever been the coping mechanism, the technique to keep villains off-guard. Truly, he developed it in the face of so much loss. He wonders briefly if Hildegarde will ever be forced to do anything similar; then he realizes, looking at her as he takes a seat, that her methods are simply of a different sort. She seems to revel in kindness. “I’m not sure where to begin,” he admits. “For a number of years, I was a lifeline in these lands. My allies and I fought war after war after war. But you lose something in all that fighting. Or at least, I did. In that ceremony of loss, I cracked.” He shakes his head quickly. “No, there’s a lot more to it than that. I guess I’m just glad there are people like you around again. Evil is relentless, and just now I’m not much good for anything except…” He recalls a certain conversation. “…being thrown at it.”
Hildegarde listened to him quietly. He needed his time to talk and she was happy to give it, after all, hearing him talk might help her to better understand him. She had read that tome he had given to her in that gallous fashion, she even had it here in the armoury with her. Once he lapsed into silence again, she took a breath and reached forward to grasp the book. “So I read,” she said, as she took hold of the book and then extended it out to him. “Evil is relentless, that’s true,” she murmured in agreement. “But you aren’t good for being thrown at things. That’s not your only virtue. You have been beaten, broken, hurt, haunted, even. But… you have to stop thinking that you have so little value. A man who thinks he has no value, well, that is a sadness in and of itself. I will not throw you at anything, Lionel. But I will work with you. I will stand side by side with you.” The Silver paused for a moment, looking him over with her sole eye before speaking again. “Words are wind. I know what I say might not mean anything to you, but I should like you to know that I mean it.”
Lionel is taken aback by Hildegarde’s compelling speech. To be clear, when Lionel is taken aback, of late it means he goes silent, pensive. He stares into the ether. So transfixed by the ether is Lionel that the offered book does not register with him until the woman has finished speaking. At once, his proud blue eyes, his brilliant, almost ghostly Catalian eyes, recognize the gesture and he exhales from a breath he had not noticed taking. “Keep the book,” he insists. “A wise man once told me never to lend books. Hollow’s history isn’t about me; it’s about Hollow. I hope something in there will resonate. I hope something will aid you in your struggle.” Something flashes in his mind. “That stomping bit with the cakelog… it’s probably my greatest proof since returning to this land of just how fast and loose my mind has gotten with my…” He dwells. “Er, with my mind. I’m sorry. I can’t promise that sort of thing won’t happen again. Then again, I would be disappointed in the quality of evil here today if your enemies tried the same trick twice.” He scratches his head, not unlike a dog. There’s just enough crazy coursing through him today to keep him from appearing one hundred percent civilized. Without much conscious thought, he extends a forearm – a warrior’s shake. “And I should like you to know that I’ll stand beside you, side by side.” Some things, however, never change. Lionel’s verbal hallmarks rest in cynicism and wit against his nemeses, not gallant dialogs with allies.
Hildegarde pops the book back on the barrel where she had picked it up from. “Wise words,” she said with a little smile, “perhaps I’ll get you to sign it for me, hm?” Evidently a little bit of humour to lighten the mood. As he recalls stomping on the cakelog, the knight smirked, “Oh no, I don’t imagine you’ll be doing that again. My favourite pudding,” she said in a mock warning tone. “You don’t need to apologise. It worked out fine in the end, though… though you were out of sorts,” she said, meaning his moment didn’t escape her notice. “But it was good to have you on side, Lionel. A good man to have at your back.” As he extends his forearm, the knight reaches out and clasps her hand firmly against his forearm. “We’ll stand together,” she said with a broad smile, “as allies and as friends. Assuming you don’t mind being friends with me.”
Lionel is unable to suppress the simple smile that unfolds at the remarks about book-signing and pud-ding. Before long, the clasping commences, and he finds that it’s once again his turn to talk. Aye, talk-ing once came so easily to Lionel. Once upon a time. “I seem to have made it a life’s habit befriending the right sorts of people,” he replies wistfully, maintaining that clasp for four more stray seconds before letting go. “It’s saved me more times than I can count. In return, I’ll watch over you as well. Now then, does anything need addressing? Any current events that might become a bit clearer with someone to dwell on them? I hear-tell you’ve declared yourself queen,” he gestures, almost as if he hadn’t been there for the spectacle.
Hildegarde gestured at his smiling face, “See? I like that,” she commented, retracting her hand back into her lap once he had relinquished her forearm. “You’re lucky that you befriend the right people!” she praised his skill, “It’s a talent few people have. Friendship is a gamble. But a sweet one,” she murmured thoughtfully. As he asks if anything needs addressing, she leans back slightly as if in thought. What needed addressing? “Yes. This man came to me with thoughts of an alliance between Frostmaw and Rynvale… I am not sure what to think on it, but that man seemed to know you. He was even the archer who struck the statue that nearly squished you.” As he mentions her declaring herself queen, her cheeks suddenly flush red. It seemed the hardened battle commander who revelled in kindness was easily embarrassed! “I did, yes. Words said in the heat of the moment. Words I… suppose I must stick by.”
Lionel gazes off to some collection of bows as the woman addresses a man from Rynvale. Lionel has never been good with bows, but he’s met his fair share of archers. “Yeah, that’d be Jesen,” he nods. “Well, I can’t speak for the state of his government or the value of his word on political affairs. But I traveled with him several nights past; we met upon a road, he introduced himself, and just like that I had the thought of it to see the state of Frostmaw. We never made it so forth north, but he struck me as a good enough person. Whatever the nature of Rynvale at-large while I’ve been away, I would be comfortable calling Jesen an ally. And as for those words of yours…” He takes his eyes off the bow, bringing them instead now to a pair of finely-crafted shields. It would seem the whole damned armory has been set to the tune of Lionel’s thoughts. “It may surprise you,” he drips sarcastically, “but I’ve said all sorts of things in the heat of the moment. Generally I’ve tried to stick by them. In your case, you had a whole streetside audience. You’re going to be queen, Hildegarde.” He says it so matter-of-factly.
Hildegarde nodded at the name, he knew the man. “Yes, he offered a few things and avoided asking for what he wanted until pressed. So I need some time to think on it… As far as I’m aware, there’s no solid leadership in Rynvale, so it’d be an alliance between me and another; not me and a city state. That’s a hard deal to strike,” she said thoughtfully. “But it’s not something I would rule out.” Yet as he said with certainty that she would be queen, the flush returned to her cheeks. “Yes, well… ahem. That’s something we don’t need to think about right this second,” she muttered. “But know that I am glad to have you by my side in this. Unlike these vampires, though, I cannot stay up all through the night. You’re welcome to stay, Lionel. But pardon me while I depart to my bed,” she said kindly, lifting the book off of the barrel and offering him a friendly smile before leaving the armoury.