Charles
*The stables were a source of some comfort for a previously poor boy, and shoveling hay for his horse was always a pastime he undertook not for his horse's sake, but for his. It sometimes made him think of home, and of what had been before his knighthood, if he undertook manual labor like this. So in the warm, still night, he stood in the stables, giving a dull brown stallion the hay he was tossing and working to his heart's content by lantern light.

The man was absolutely massive - standing at a well-muscled six feet and eight inches, with a few crocodile scales peeking out from his shoulders, he cut an imposing figure. At the moment, he was draining a tankard of ale directly into his mouth, laughing and joking with the bartender all the while.

His eyes were a sea-green shade, his hair a tawny brown. He didn't speak like a nobleman, and his deep, rumbling voice contrasted greatly with the apparent youth of his face. But even so, the man was clad in steel armor of high quality, which bore the emblem of the Royal family on it. He was of course off-duty, but it was his prerogative to wear the King's colors as a member of the prince's household knights.

His hair was cut short, practical to fit into a helm or other headwear, and he carried with him a steel mace on his hip beside a dagger of plain make. The smile he wore extended to the corners of his eyes, and it was clear that he most enjoyed the current situation. He felt quite a bit at home here.*
Kendra
*'There is no comfort to be found in this wretched kingdom.'*

*Edvard complained silently as he slowly dragged the coarse brush across the rough fur of his horse. The meaningless activity offered no sense of peace, leaving Edvard almost numbingly bored. Yet, with the everlasting memory of his lover and the god that taunts him throughout every waking moment of his life, no solace could be found even within the thoughtless task. Edvard cursed softly as he threw the brush down to the corner of the stable, frustrated with a knot in the horse's mane. Placing his armored pauldron on Gerhard's snout, he aimed to calm the beast as he retrieved a small knife. With a single quick motion, he removed the knot, leaving an extremely noticeable dip in the consistent hairline of the mane. Edvard didn't care. The appearance of his horse didn't matter to him at all. As long as the beast was fed, happy, and effective, he was satisfied. Although, Edvard was never satisfied. Not anymore. Rage and dissatisfaction seemed his permanent state as of late.*

*With a clank and a thud, the large man collapsed onto a small stool outside of the stable, placed on the side of the large swinging doors. He was in a sorry state, his hair and beard rather unkempt and stained with sweat accumulated under the heavy weight of his pure steel armor. The sun over Alynthi grew more malicious by the day, and the attractive yellow color staining the steel certainly didn't help. He always hated yellow. He placed his armored hand under his chain, ignoring the hairs pinched in the nooks and crannies of his armor. The slight pain was easily ignored and a subtle reminder that he was still alive, even if he hated the notion. His tired eyes stared forward, watching the blue sky outside of the stable. The color. Findara. He shot a glance down at his hip, noting that the blue cloth wrapped around the handle of his sword was still there. If only he could go home.*

*If only.*
Charles
*The clunk of a horse brush and the clank of an angry knight reminded Rikard that he was not the only one present in the stables - and while he might have found the exercise relaxing, some noblemen didn't see it that way. He scratched with one armored hand at the back of his neck, where scales grew a dark olive green, and put down his pitchfork, reassuring the dull horse that he was going to be back in a minute. 

He traipsed over to the place where Edvard sat, exiting the stable proper to lean against the doorway and survey his fellow knight. Edvard was a cranky one, he knew, but maybe there was something besides the norm bothering him. Maybe he was a little fussy, and didn't want to take care of the horses. Maybe he was prissy, and didn't like to be dirty. But that didn't suit him too well, he thought to himself. Best to find out another way.*

"Hey, what's eating you?" *He asked simply, the booming voice that echoed from the huge man rumbling with the faint echo of a throat that was far more voluminous and expansive than it needed to be - and the slight reptilian tone that colored such a deep affectation. His face didn't match his voice at all - it was like a young boy speaking in a grizzled old man's way.*

"Lice in your armor?"
Kendra
"If I had lice I wouldn't be here. Horses don't deserve that wretched plague. We bully them enough already." *Edvard grunted, not daring to look towards the towering man speaking to him. It wasn't a show of disrespect, but more a show of his intense laziness. The world had eaten away at him, and he had simply taken it. There was little fight left in the man, all of it replaced by an intense drive to simply do nothing. The world wouldn't better itself through his action. What was the point? He shrugged at his own thought, sighing as he softly ripped his hand away, placing it in his lap. He gritted his teeth as it took a few hairs with it, the stinging pain resounding on his chin. He shut his eyes and leaned back against the wood of the stable, feeling the exhale of his horse ruffle his hair ever-so slightly.* "Long story. Not one I'm willing to tell." *He lazily opened a single eye to inspect the man, slightly surprised by his appearance. A seven foot man with the face of a stable-boy. Eh. He had seen things far more confusing. There was likely magic at play. There was always magic at play. He often wished the damned art didn't exist. Life would be a lot less complicated.*

"I'm surprised you even have a horse able to fit in the stables. You don't seem the type to be able to even mount and normal steed. Perhaps a direwolf is more your speed, ser." *Edvard chuckled softly, slamming his eye shut. He rested in the darkness for a moment, before a vision of his love appeared. Quickly, he opened his eyes, shaking the thought from his mind. Thinking about her hurt him dearly, yet everything made him think of her. Damn Otis, and damn the gods. Damn it all. He stared forward, once again, inspecting the infinite expanse of blue sky laid out for him miles and miles away. His eyes caught sight of a small bird, flying from tree to tree in a natural stupor. What the knight wouldn't give to grow wings and fly far, far from here. Free from service, and free from the gods.*
Charles
"Suit yourself. If you wanna be a clam, why should I tell you what to do?" *Rikard raised an eyebrow at the knight that sat on the stool outside the stables. Though they worked together, Rikard and Edvard hadn't been particularly close, and that was for a reason - Rikard was quite a bit more open than the constantly moping Sir Aldebrand. He guessed that was because of his noble schooling, or something like that. Either way, he played things close to the chest, that was for sure.*

*At the mention of his size, Rikard gave an unnaturally toothy grin. It was one of a few things he was proud of, and the mirin' was always appreciated.* "I don't know, the last time I tried to ride a direwolf, she was a shifter I met in the woods. Didn't go as well as I wanted, because, well... She didn't like knights. So, no rides on the direwolf train. But a percheron or something is still in my size range. There's a good one in the stables here I use if I really have to travel, but I figure most times, I can just swim wherever I want. Tie up my armor to a pack, put it on, shift, then make my way down a river till I reach the town I need to be at. It's fun, you should try it sometime."
Kendra
"I don't swim."

*Edvard hated water. To be fair, however, he hated most things. From the dirt caked on his boots to the food on his plate. He hated it. He never attempted to hide his hatred, even if it painted him as a displeasing individual. He always used to worry about status. To think, just a decade ago, he was a beloved hedge knight that demanded respect from his brothers in arms. Hailed as a hero across Findara. The famous squire turned knight, carrying the legacy of Ser Hastings. Now, he was little more than a grumbling oaf, full of hatred and anger. It was almost depressing. Almost.* "The story isn't a pearl, ser. You don't want to hear it. I'm sure there are plenty of stable-boys and squires willing to bare their whole life stories out to you at the slightest mention, but I am not one of them. I will suffer in stoic silence, like a good knight should." *Ed shook his head, breaking his concentration to stare back over towards the man.*

"You seem the type to try and ride the first animal you find in the forest, regardless of its true form." *Edvard chuckled softly, his armor clinking softly as his diaphragm exploded against the inside of his chestplate.* "I'm sure the wolf had her reasons. Knights aren't exactly known to be the pristine warriors we are so often taken as. At least, not anymore." *Edvard stood from his seat with a heavy sigh, slowly making his way out of the stables and onto the vibrant green grass left in tatters in front of the wide open door. He was far more comfortable with the sky over his head than he ever was with a roof. There was security in the infinite freedom the outdoors provided.*
Charles
"You know, the water does wonders on the scales, Eddie boy. Besides, it'd probably do a good job of getting you smelling better than the horses if you went for a swim once in a while." *He grinned down at the morose man, whose humor seemed to be the key to getting him to lighten up once in a while. There was something there. More animals. More stories. He had a few.* 

"You're so silent about your suffering that you had to tell me about how stoic you are, as a knight should be." *He cracked, jostling him on the shoulder with a large hand.* "That's what we need, Eddie boy, proper knights like you who sit in their shit till they're all out of wit." *Rhymes weren't usually his domain, but he'd been hanging around with a dwarf lately that had told him that line. He thought it was decent.*

"I'm just too far below you, it seems. I do go for wild animals." *Rikard racked his brains for an interesting story.* "Did I ever tell you about this orc I wrestled in the Hungry Wolf? She was raring for a fight, she came in looking for arm wrestling. So I turned halfway into a crocodile at the table and won. Then she challenged me again, so I asked her to wrestle upstairs. Boy, that was fun. I didn't get anything from her, though, either, except an actual wrestling match. Funny how that goes."
Kendra
"Call me Eddie again and I'll cut out your tongue and feed it to my horse." 

*Edvard quipped with no sense of malice or venom in his voice. He seemed almost bored making the threat, as if it was tiresome to correct him. All actions seemed tiresome to him now. It was all so... Demanding. Why couldn't he just lay down in his bed and never get up? The kingdom and the gods demanded him and his sword. Of course they did. Damned parasites couldn't stand up for themselves and do their own damn bidding. With a loud clank Edvard sunk into the wood wall of the stable, leaning all of weight against the crudely cut lumber. Old and poorly crafted. Shitty excuse for a royal stable if you asked him. But all of Alynthi felt that way. Other than the places the fancy king and queen and their little royal spawns inhabited, of course. They got the fancy pearls and quartz while the common man got wood and hay. Suppose that's how its all supposed to work, though. Edvard sighed, shaking his head as he half-listened and half-ignored Rikard and his tales.*

"Proper knights don't overshare, ser. Perhaps you should take the blatant advice I'm giving you." *Edvard shot his gaze towards Rikard, very clearly annoyed at the conversation. Rikard's stories of sexual debauchery were meaningless to him.* "You are the exact reason I don't go to taverns anymore. Drink is for somber reflection and long slumber. Hard to ponder all of my mistakes when you're wrestling across the bar in some drunken excuse for entertainment. Psh. How did you ever get knighted, let alone put on the King's Guard? You're supposed to be a shining pillar of morality and stoicism, not a wolf-fucking and orc-wrestling degenerate." *Edvard spat the words before returning to staring forward, sighing slightly.*
Charles
"Hey, now, I got to this point by doing this stuff when I'm off duty, and playing by the rules when I'm supposed to. I could probably be more refined, that's true, but hell, who wants to be refined if all you do is sit and mope? Somber reflection, my ass." *Rikard snorted, voice rumbling the the baritone of a crocodile as he chuckled far too deeply for a man with his boyish face.*

"Never helped my parents much. What did help them was arresting the thieves in town. That's why I'm a knight - I can help out the people a lot better by having the authority to go beat a criminal's ass and land them in jail. I'm not much for show. You aren't either. But I'm not gonna say I don't do my job. That I can promise. The mindset that comes with it, that one I can't. Fuck do I know about knightly etiquette? I'm a peasant in a tin can being a thug for the right people for the right reasons. Personally, I think that's the way it should be." *He laid it out step by step as the hostile stare floated away.*
Kendra
*Edvard stared towards the man as he spoke, his expression unchanging. It seemed almost for a second that he was listening, trying his hardest to understand where Rikard was coming from in an attempt to settle their differences so they could work as a team. Being on the royal guard was, after all, something that required trust in your fellow man. Yet, as Rikard finished speaking, Edvard only returned to his forward look, chuckling softly. Edvard wasn't the type of man to listen, anyway. Not anymore. Had Rikard caught him a decade prior, back when he was a hedge knight fighting for the kingdom of Findara, he would've heard his whole story. Probably would've shared his own, too. Not anymore. That shit has long since sailed past, never to be found again. Fallen off of the edge of the world, he guessed. Quietly, Edvard moved to adjust his pauldron, sliding it back into place after it had been jostled by the wooden wall of the stable.*

"Remember what I said about oversharing?" *Edvard smiled slightly, turning to look towards Rikard.* "Piece of advice from your senior, ser. Learn when to shut the fuck up." *Edvard laughed heartily, cracking the first smile of the day. Of course, it was at Rikard's expense. Beating others down seemed to be the only thing that provided joy to Edvard nowadays. The joy however, was fleeting. As soon as it had arrived, the smile faded, and Edvard was left bereft once more.* "Didn't ask for your life story. Didn't ask for what motivates you. Don't care either. Most people could give less of a shit why you piss in a golden chamber-pot every morning. Didn't ask for you to explain why you're a thug, either. Knew it from the moment you walked into the stables."