<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: #804000">House of Olegovich]</span></span><br/><span style="font-size: 130%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: #804000">Castle Cronce</span></span><br/><br/><a class="postlink" href="http://i1313.photobucket.com/albums/t557/srg109/56230f37-b997-4346-8812-7c085e626dfe_zpsbf4727d9.jpg">[ img ]</a><br/><br/><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: #804000">Sir Felix Olegovich</span></span></div><br/><br/>Felix gave a sigh,<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #804000">"You don't have friends when you are lord, either." </span></span>He looked up to the sky, glad to see the sun was beginning to set. The heat was a bit more warm than usual and he could see Freya was suffering in it.<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #804000">"Let's get some ale when we get to the grounds--I don't know about you, but my thirst is never ending,"</span></span>Felix said, shutting down the conversation. He would have continued it, but the words of Freya were too honest and true to be elaborated on.<br/><br/>He was inexperienced and he was too soft. She was going to be who she was, no matter what, and he understood it. He just wished she wouldn't throw axes into people's doors, but as long as she didn't kill some common folk, he supposed they would be okay. He was terrified of what her words did to him, though. The idea of his own people coming to attack Freya and her people left him with a terrible rolling in his gut and he knew he would turn his sword against any who tried to harm her. He hated himself for it, but he didn't believe Freya deserved that, no matter how much of a killer she claimed to be.<br/><br/>Despite what Freya thought, weakness was something he could not show to his people either. Granted he did not have to be as ruthless as she did among her people, but he did have to keep a firm hand. He had swung his sword before to prove a point and it hurt every time he had to kill--but that pain was becoming less and less as time went on. He had personally executed every leader of the rebellion in firth, including men he had grown up with. It had been hard, but he had stood firm as his people stared on in awe, amazed that the young lord had responded in such a way. He supposed they thought he would be softer than his father due to his age, but that had not been the case.<br/><br/>He could never claim to be half the warrior Freya was, but he wished she wouldn't underestimate him so much. He reasoned, though, that he had not proven much to her and therefore she had all the reason in the world to believe he was not strong. He was too soft, he knew that. People followed him because he was born into his position, but they would go against him if they felt he was too weak. They would do it for their own gains, because every man seemed to desire power. Wasn't that why he was in Ipale? To make sure none obtained the power they sought and would inevitably abuse?<br/><br/>But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that the nobility of Erathia would always struggle against one another for control. It bothered him greatly that the Kingdom could never seem to remain in peace for long. Their King had fallen ill and immediately the nobility had begun circling. It was that sort of scavenging that would throw the Firth back into turmoil, something he desperately did not want. His eyes cut to Freya and he was glad that she and her warband had helped him squash the rebellions at Firth. He knew their alliance was temporary and she could turn on him at any moment, but he would still always be grateful.<br/><br/>She mattered more to him than he realized, though not necessarily romantically. He viewed her as a friend, and even if she did not view him the same, it did not matter.