Open A Time of Change: 41st Day of Winter, 512 AV

[Bastion]

Bastion Saiaki strode through the entryway of the tavern, his eyes seemingly cold; they almost appeared to portray a sense of mourning. They did not shift or survey the tavern, they merely locked with the tender of the bar instantly. He found his way to the counter, seating himself at the counter without a word beforehand. He wasn't in the mood to drink, he just needed out of his apartment. He removed his stony gaze from the bartender and veered his neck to the left, absorbing the sights around him.

Nothing special, he thought to himself. What am I even doing here? He rustled his short raven-black hair with his bony digits on his left hand. A soft sigh of utter boredom passed by his lips as his soft ocean-blue eyes analyzed the remainder of the tavern as he turned to his right, his hopes high that something, anything will happen to slay the dreadful boredom that filled Bastion's soul.

[Marcus Braeden]

There was a faint glow on the western horizon and the winter sky was dotted with stars that were so far away but seemed so close. Evening had finally set in and the citizens of Syliras were beginning to retire for the night. The squires of the Syliran Knights were no exception, as they began the trek from the training fields back to their dorms where they would eat supper and have some time for themselves before resting for the next day's training. Many squires also went other places before finally retiring to the dorms. Some could be visiting family, while others might go to an evening training session if their patron demanded it. For Marcus Braeden it was neither family or any sort of training. Instead he found himself at the ever popular Rearing Stallion inn, Syliras' favorite tavern. If ever bored in Syliras, it was always a safe bet to visit the Rearing Stallion, as some sort of entertainment could easily be found, whether it be listening to a musician or drinking yourself into oblivion. There was always something to do at the stallion! Marcus casually strolled through the door and was greeted by the both the barmaid and the man working the bar. He was still in his knight armor from training, so maybe it was gaining him a bit of respect, even if he was but a squire. Or maybe he just went to the tavern too damn often and people just knew him by now. Marcus didn't really care. He assumed it was the former and carried on dimly lit tavern. At the end of the room there was the hearth, where the crackling fire kept the tavern heated. It also had the most popular seating in the house around it, especially on winter nights. Chatter and pipe smoke filled the tavern air. Marcus did love the smell of pipe smoke despite having never smoked it. He had enough problems endurance during training as it was, and didn't need smoke floating around in his lungs. But still, it smelt nice. Marcus looked out across the crowd seeking a place to sit, before his eyes finally settled on a rather lonesome looking man sitting by himself. Marcus debated whether or not to disturb the man. He did look a bit melancholic, but Marcus eventually decided he would take his chances and greet the man anyway. Marcus calmly walked over and asked a simple question. " Mind if I join you here? Seems to be a lacking of tables tonight."

[Bastion]

Bastion's stone-cold gaze fell upon Marcus as he had interrupted his lonesome thoughts. He wants something, I know it. I'll play it cool. He's not getting anything from me.

Bastion's blue eyes shifted suddenly, changing from an icy-cold blue to that of a radiant sky-blue, as his pink lips pursed into a small, thin smile.

"Sure thing, sir! Want a drink? It's the least I can do to pay my respects to a Knight like yourself!" Bastion glanced over at the man behind the bar, giving him an acknowledging nod.

Bastion's mind began swimming with thoughts, as he began to recall all of his sins he had ever committed.

I don'tthink I've done anything to upset the Syliran Knights... Maybe he's trying to swindle me... Bastion's expression portrayed his deep thought as he sat idly on the barstool, but a hint of distrust also existed to the observant and keen individual.

[Arkale]

41st Winter, 512 AV Arkale pushed his way into the humble tavern. Normally he did not indulge in such pleasures as drinking after a partrol, but then again, his patrols did not typically end with him slipping in some refuse in the Bazaar and landing sprawled on his back. The event left his head ringing and attitude sharper than normal. One of the Knights suggested a drink, so Arkale decided it was worth a shot (no pun intended of course). As the Mage Knight entered, the first thing he noticed was that the tavern lacked the smell of Kelp Beer that the taverns back in his home town of Zeltiva seemed to only ever have. It was refreshing through, the smell of real ale. Enticed by the scent alone, Arkale drifted over to the bar, his hand rummaging around in his coinpurse for a miza. He wrapped his fingers around a Gold-rimmed Miza and tossed it on the wooden counter. The noise quickly drew the attention of the Barkeep, and Arkale soon found himself clutching a mug of cold and delightfullly golden Ale. "Don't worry about the extra for now, I may need another." Arkale mentioned as he noticed the Barkeep reaching in his apron for a set of coins to make change for the Gold Miza. Clutching his mug, the Knight scanned the room, his eyes falling upon the face of a rather familiar squire. At least familiar in the sense he had seen him around with the other Knights. The table boasted a set of empty seats, and Arkale decided it was the best place to sit. "Hail, Marcus!" the young knight greeted cheerfully as he sat in one of the empty chairs. "And hail to you, kind sir." Arkale nodded to the stranger, and smiled. It was a trademark he was developing, a simple smile that marked him as kind, but honorable and dutiful. It was his Knightly mark...or so he liked to muse to himself. He drank deep from his mug, savoring the sweet amber liquid. It was worlds different from Kelp Beer, and so much better that the Knight ever wondered how was able to stomach the stuff.

[Marcus Braeden]

Marcus paused, thinking to himself if this blasted armor was actually getting him some respect around this place. First the warm greeting at the entrance, and now being offered a drink by this stranger. Being a member of the order has its perks Marcus guessed. But still, there were plenty in the city that didn't have much respect for the knights. Tyrranical, militant, harsh, all were words that Marcus occasionally heard around town, but Marcus didn't think too much of it. It was all just stupid politics to him. Marcus played with the idea of having this man buy him a drink for a few moments, wondering if it would really be honorable to get a free drink under the false assumption that he was a knight. Free drink...or honor? Marcus weighed the options in his head. Free drink it is! Marcus finally decided, but just as he was about to speak, Marcus caught the glimpse of a full fledged knight enter the tavern, and better yet, approach the very table he was going to sit at. Before responding to the man he was speaking to, he instead turned to the knight that had now greeted him and the man. "Hail Ser Arkane" Marcus greeted. Marcus didn't really know the knight before him, but he had seen him around, shooting people a rather warm smile. By Marcus' understanding, Ser Arkale was a mage knight, a Syliran Knight who would be found using magic rather than a trusty sword and shield. Ser Arkale must have also seen Marcus around, seeing he knew his name. Perhaps he was a friend of Ser Noah, Marcus' patron knight. Marcus shrugged it off and turned his attention back to the man who had offered him a drink. "No no, no need to buy a drink for me" Marcus said, "I am no knight yet, just a squire with the order as of right now" Marcus sat down at the table, and waved a barmaid over and ordered a mug of ale. He slipped the mizas into the barmaids hand, and waited for his drink to arrive.