"Ah, there you are!"
A boisterous voice rang through the infirmary, and Ashur was greeted by a familiar sight. His brother, Alric, was nearly ten cycles his elder, yet their relation was plainly evident; the two shared the same broad, angular features, the same mess of sandy blonde hair, and the same amber eyes. Alric was considerably more worn and weathered, though that didn't prevent him from wearing a broad smile.
"Recovering well, baby brother?" Alric asked cheerfully, nonchalantly sitting on the edge of Ashur's cot. The latter winced slightly at the sudden rumble of motion. "I'm sorry I couldn't see you sooner. The commander needed all hands on board for tedious labour, and unfortunately mine were idle enough to qualify." Alric gave his younger brother a quick look-over. "No scars?"
"You remember what Father said about a man with many scars," Ashur said dourly. "All things considered, I made it out mostly unscathed." As if to illustrate, he gestured to his bandaged torso. "Nothing but some ugly bruises that will vanish with proper mending."
"Unfortunate," Alric said, clapping Ashur on the shoulder. "Scars make for great conversation pieces. They'll be what attracts you a gorgeous noble wife, one day." Alric tapped a small scar on his cheek, mirroring Ashur's earlier gesture.
Ashur rolled his eyes. "I doubt you'd attract any noble ladies if they actually knew that that scar was from that time you tried to 'feed' a stray hound by headbutting it."
"It's not about what actually happened, it's about what they think happened. Which, by the way, happens to involve a deadly dragonfly scratching at my face. At least, once I'm done coming up with the story." Alric laughed before pausing. "How soon can you leave?"
"It'll be at least a few suns," Ashur replied, wincing in pain as he attempted to roll his shoulder to gauge how the bones in his chest were mending. "Did you see Mother before you came here?"
"If I did, she'd have just told me to march over here to check on you first anyway. Hells, she may have decided to come herself," Alric chuckled. "You missed the battle, baby brother. The lines were breaking, but those adventurers--you should have seen them! Commander Lucia had them snare that great siege wyrm in the snares, then pow, ten fulms of dragon killer steel rained on its head!"
"Well, I was busy being unconscious, but I'm sure it was a sight to see," Ashur grumbled before sighing. He recalled the memories of the battle once more. "Oddly, I was thinking of my inauguration during the battle."
"I'm assuming you mean that posh noble banquet you were invited to?" Alric inquired thoughtfully, raising a gauntleted hand to his chin. "That was years ago. If you were paying more attention, maybe you wouldn't be stuck in the infirmary for a few more suns." He clapped his hand on Ashur's shoulder again, retracting quickly once the latter gave a hiss and a wince of pain. "You've been a knight for...what, six cycles, and you're still daydreaming on the battlefield?
The joviality had fled from Alric's face and been replaced with one of stern reprimand. "You might not be so lucky next time."
"Ser Praihaux is dead, Al," Ashur murmured somberly, the memory still fresh on his mind. "A wyvern. Saw his head carried off and everything." Ashur had seen fellow knights die before, of course. It was war; that sort of thing was inevitable. Still, Ashur had served Praihaux as a squire since he was a teenager, and the Elezen had given off a certain air of being indomitable.
Alric's expression softened, though the smile didn't leave his face; it instead shifted from one of cheer to one of more subdued kindness. "You did him proud. I'm certain you did." A sigh, and then he stood up from Ashur's cot. "Just make sure you recover quickly, aye? I don't want to have to deal with Mother's hysterics any longer than I have to."
Ashur only gave a slight nod in response to one last affectionate pat from Alric before the latter stood to leave.
A boisterous voice rang through the infirmary, and Ashur was greeted by a familiar sight. His brother, Alric, was nearly ten cycles his elder, yet their relation was plainly evident; the two shared the same broad, angular features, the same mess of sandy blonde hair, and the same amber eyes. Alric was considerably more worn and weathered, though that didn't prevent him from wearing a broad smile.
"Recovering well, baby brother?" Alric asked cheerfully, nonchalantly sitting on the edge of Ashur's cot. The latter winced slightly at the sudden rumble of motion. "I'm sorry I couldn't see you sooner. The commander needed all hands on board for tedious labour, and unfortunately mine were idle enough to qualify." Alric gave his younger brother a quick look-over. "No scars?"
"You remember what Father said about a man with many scars," Ashur said dourly. "All things considered, I made it out mostly unscathed." As if to illustrate, he gestured to his bandaged torso. "Nothing but some ugly bruises that will vanish with proper mending."
"Unfortunate," Alric said, clapping Ashur on the shoulder. "Scars make for great conversation pieces. They'll be what attracts you a gorgeous noble wife, one day." Alric tapped a small scar on his cheek, mirroring Ashur's earlier gesture.
Ashur rolled his eyes. "I doubt you'd attract any noble ladies if they actually knew that that scar was from that time you tried to 'feed' a stray hound by headbutting it."
"It's not about what actually happened, it's about what they think happened. Which, by the way, happens to involve a deadly dragonfly scratching at my face. At least, once I'm done coming up with the story." Alric laughed before pausing. "How soon can you leave?"
"It'll be at least a few suns," Ashur replied, wincing in pain as he attempted to roll his shoulder to gauge how the bones in his chest were mending. "Did you see Mother before you came here?"
"If I did, she'd have just told me to march over here to check on you first anyway. Hells, she may have decided to come herself," Alric chuckled. "You missed the battle, baby brother. The lines were breaking, but those adventurers--you should have seen them! Commander Lucia had them snare that great siege wyrm in the snares, then pow, ten fulms of dragon killer steel rained on its head!"
"Well, I was busy being unconscious, but I'm sure it was a sight to see," Ashur grumbled before sighing. He recalled the memories of the battle once more. "Oddly, I was thinking of my inauguration during the battle."
"I'm assuming you mean that posh noble banquet you were invited to?" Alric inquired thoughtfully, raising a gauntleted hand to his chin. "That was years ago. If you were paying more attention, maybe you wouldn't be stuck in the infirmary for a few more suns." He clapped his hand on Ashur's shoulder again, retracting quickly once the latter gave a hiss and a wince of pain. "You've been a knight for...what, six cycles, and you're still daydreaming on the battlefield?
The joviality had fled from Alric's face and been replaced with one of stern reprimand. "You might not be so lucky next time."
"Ser Praihaux is dead, Al," Ashur murmured somberly, the memory still fresh on his mind. "A wyvern. Saw his head carried off and everything." Ashur had seen fellow knights die before, of course. It was war; that sort of thing was inevitable. Still, Ashur had served Praihaux as a squire since he was a teenager, and the Elezen had given off a certain air of being indomitable.
Alric's expression softened, though the smile didn't leave his face; it instead shifted from one of cheer to one of more subdued kindness. "You did him proud. I'm certain you did." A sigh, and then he stood up from Ashur's cot. "Just make sure you recover quickly, aye? I don't want to have to deal with Mother's hysterics any longer than I have to."
Ashur only gave a slight nod in response to one last affectionate pat from Alric before the latter stood to leave.
