“Hm. He’s handsome.â€
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The Hyuran woman stood upon the edge of the sun-baked ledge, yalms above an open expanse of dry Thanalan dirt. Below, a large, red-haired young Highlander trained, tearing through bare-fisted techniques against an imaginary opponent. A simple pair of dusty white slops were his wares, already soaked through with the sweat that drenched him. Every movement he made was swift, confident and backed by the strength of his powerful build.
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“He’s just a babe, barely out of swaddling.â€
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The second, much deeper voice came from the Hyuran woman’s equally Hyuran partner, and was laced with abject disapproval. Two Highlanders were they, dark of skin and brown of hair. The woman was lower than the man by a head, but exuded no less of a presence. Her hair was clipped short, which in turn accentuated her broad and muscular shoulders. A modest bosom trailed down to a somewhat pinched waist and thick hips, supported by what could only be described as trunks for thighs. She was clad in a replica of the Temple Cyclas, colored in the traditional yellow. There was a dangerous, strong grace in the way she carried herself; somewhat like a dancer on the verge of aggression.
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Her partner seemed very much her opposite in several ways. He stood with brutish altitude, and bore age-betraying grey streaks in his back length brown hair. The man seemed hewn from the very stone his feet were planted upon, and was possessed of an obscenely solid and muscular build. The parts uncovered by his own yellow Cyclas were marked with the scars of a life steeped deep in battle. He was far from handsome, though his scarred mug presented as much shrewdness as it did oafishness.
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“You don’t seem to approve at all, Guntbrand,†The woman observed smoothly, “Nor do I, for that matter. He teaches truths, but allows his wards to run wild and makes no attempt to bring them into the faith. Thus, they taint our ways with trivial aims and frivolities.â€
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“I’m impressed that he’s so knowledgeable for someone so young,†Guntbrand admitted gruffly, “Only one of the true remnants could have developed a child so thoroughly.†His brown eyes narrowed with further displeasure. “But…I agree. For all his wisdom in the art he is foolish in its distribution. In his quest to revive our ways, he has only served to corrupt them.â€
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“And then there is his ambition,†The woman hummed. The comment was inserted with calm purpose, and and by the little hint of a smile on her lips, had achieved what she had intended. Guntbrand swiveled his head toward her.
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“What ambition?†He demanded. “Tell me, Gerdtrid.â€
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Gerdtrid responded in demonstration; she stood a little taller than usual and affixed a stern countenance to her mein, effectively mimicking masculine steadfastness. When she spoke, her voice was a deep mockery. “I will rally them around me so that we can take back our home. From there, the throne will be empty, but if needs be I will fill it until such comes who is worthy.â€
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The look on Guntbrand’s face rendered even his hardened and scarred features to something akin to an affronted child’s. His mouth hung open and both his eyes were as wide as Gerdtrid had ever seen them. “King?†He wheezed incredulously. Again his head rotated upon his thick neck, as his expression compressed into share outrage. The training Highlander below became the target of a blazing glare. “He would dare make such a claim? Lounging and strutting about, buggering a pair of Gridanian blood traitors and handing out our ways to the undeserving – while we spill blood fighting for our land! King! I would sooner see Gyr Abania brought to the sea before one such as he sits upon the throne. I care not how symbolic or sentimental his claim may be. Real or hypothetical, I won’t stand for it.â€
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Gerdtrid remained quiet while he ranted, and took a moment to admire the prominent veins along his neck. In his ire they looked like they would burst – but fortunately for him they did not. “It would never come to pass,†She assured him – as if it was necessary, “They would never accept him, even with what he knows of the arts. He’s just a child who plays in the sand while we fight and die to retake what is ours.â€
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“I would be the first to demonstrate my disapproval.â€Guntbrand’s words bore a heavy weight to them, from the very tone, to the rasping snort that came afterward. He did not see the wry smile that tipped at his partner’s face.
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“I’ll leave that to you,†She indicated with a light flourish.“I, in the meantime, must make haste to Vylbrand. There has been a lead on the Bybel of Fire.â€
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Whatever the Bybel of Fire was, it held enough significance to draw Guntbrand’s seething gaze away from the red haired man below. “So they’ve found it then? If you retrieve it, that would place two of them in our possession. You’d best make haste.â€
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Gerdtrid nodded. “Yes – so don’t spend too much time on him today.†Her chin jerked down. “Master will be expecting us both anon, with Bybel in hand.â€
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Guntbrand mirrored her nod, then turned to curl his thin lips into a malicious sneer. “I won’t. For all the knowledge he possesses, it won’t take me long at all.â€
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“Don’t kill him, Gunt.â€
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“I won’t, Gerd. I’ll just bring him to his knees. Go ahead and claim the Bybel. I’m eager for Master to read us the scriptures within.â€
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