thefeywood | why don't you figure my heart out?

Estinien feels as if what his own inclination would be isn't all that indicative. There's a reason that making Captain was never one of his goals.

"Were it my position, I imagine I would send myself to the field regardless," he says. Then, he shrugs his shoulders. "But that is why I am not a Captain. Until we begin facing sterner advances from Dravania, this seems entirely reasonable."

Besides that, Estinien can't help but feel some relief to know that Aymeric is away from such duties. The fact that they twice had their unit devestated while on routine patrols has not left his thoughts.

He would never say as much, though.

Aymeric finds himself smiling at that, unsurprising though that is. "I cannot deny that I would prefer to be out on the field with them, even if it is just making rounds."

He is, of course, blissfully unaware of his friend's wishes to see him not. Probably for the best.

And as if on cue, there is a knock at the door with Saidine's familiar voice announcing her presence. Aymeric pushes off his desk, standing properly and straightening his shoulders. Though he does not appear unfriendly, he is definitely "on" in the professional sense. He gives a nod to Estinien before facing the door.

"Come in."

The door opens and two knights walk in--a tall, dark-haired Elezen woman with a stern brow but light smile until she stops to salute, all business. Beside her is a Hyuran man of middling height with short, ashy brown hair who salutes just a second after she does. Though his gaze is straight ahead towards Aymeric at first, it readily flicks back and forth between his captain and the very obvious Dragoon standing a few fulms away.

The lance at his back probably gives away exactly who this is.

"At ease," Aymeric says with a smile. Both Knights relax into their proper stances. "How went the rounds?"

"As expected, Captain," the woman--unmistakably the Ser Saidine Aymeric had mentioned previously--begins. "Naught an onze of unexpected Dravanian activity."

Aymeric nods. "Good to hear. And your times?"

"On a clear day it will take but 10 minutes to make it to the Black Iron Bridge on foot once we receive word, Captain." Unsurprisingly, Aymeric is already running drills of his own regardless of whether or not the other squadrons sign on. "Ideally we will not be without a chocobo."

Another nod, but Aymeric is visibly pleased. "'Tis prudent to be prepared for all circumstances. Good work, Sers."

The Hyur, Ser Theodlac, does seem to brighten at the praise, though he is staring fully at Estinien at this point. It does not go without notice, though Saidine has the manners not to.

"Ah, forgive me, I should introduce my guest." Aymeric half-turns towards Estinien and motions with his hand to Estinien, then to his knights. "Ser Estinien Wyrmblood of the Knights Dragoon. Ser Estinien, this is Ser Saidine Glourie and Ser Theodlac Todd."

Saidine and Theodlac both salute, the latter of the two trying very hard to contain his brimming excitement.

In this moment, Estinien does end up wishing that he'd decided to wear his helmet. It means he has to put more effort into managing his expression - through his natural inclination towards stoic expressions is to his advantage here.

The moment Ser Theodlac starts looking at him, he feels a bit overwhelmed. Still, he manages to regard the Hyur with a steely expression, inclining his head with professional distance as he's introduced.

"Ser Aymeric has spoken well of you," he says, which is certainly friendly by his standards. As much as he finds Theodlac's enthusiasm daunting, he can't exactly find it in himself to discourage someone looking to pursue the lance. He just wishes that passion wasn't being thrust in his direction.

He keeps it at that, for now. He's mostly here to listen.

Saidine allows her lips to twitch upwards a minute enough, but it is enough to please her. She knows that she does a good job, but that does not mean that she doesn't appreciate positive appraisals. She has ambitions to move up in the ranks as well and seems undeterred by their current assignments, no matter how minimal they may appear.

"Kind of you to say, Ser Estinien."

Theodlac, on the other hand, is of course happy to have the confidence of his captain, but is really struggling to care about much else than the fact there is a very stern-looking dragoon right in front of him. Full drachen armor. It is, undeniably, one of the most exciting things he has seen in a long time.

"Ser Estinien--" Theodlac starts, before sharing a quick glance with Aymeric to see if he really is okay to ask. Aymeric cocks his head to the side in Estinien's direction, so Theodlac continues. "--is it true that you slew a dragon before you even began the Dragoon trials?"

Estinien's eyebrows lift. He's not offended by being asked a question, but the choice surprises him. His thoughts flicker back to that day - is that a tale that's told of him? Or did it come from Aymeric himself?

"...Aye, with the aid of Ser Aymeric. I had tracked it's path across the Highlands... and his arrow allowed me the opening needed to end it. The rest of our unit was slain ere it fell to my lance."

Whenever he tells a tale of supposed glory, he feels the need to recall that part, as well. Many men perished on that day, regardless of the outcome.

To his credit, Theodlac looks surprised by this information and he needs a moment look back and forth between both Estinien and Aymeric. Aymeric, for his part, clears his throat lightly and nods. It may be a tale that is following Estinien's reputation more than Aymeric's--clear as it is that, apparently, others are happy to omit his involvement--but it was a grim day all the same.

"'Twas at a great cost that the beast was felled."

Theodlac's lips form a tight line as he nods too in understanding. Young and eager, just as Aymeric had described.

"Apologies..."

Aymeric shakes his head. "We can only strive to avoid such a fate for our own company and others."

Saidine nods, casting a glance along her shoulder towards the shorter Hyur. "And why no matter how minimal the activity, we will stay on top of our drills and training."

"I would expect nothing less." Hard-working and determined as ever, something of which Aymeric is very grateful.

Theodlac purses his lips. "It's not doing much for Hemlock, is it...?"

Saidine lowers her brows at the man.

It was the day that first brought them together, and it's hard to imagine trading it, but there is an unavoidable grimness to that twist of fate. Apparently, a more simplified version of it has been going around. He supposes that was a key factor in him being introduced to dragoon training as quickly as he was.

He's left reflecting on images from that entire experience as the conversation begins to shift, tough he tunes in again as Theodlac brings up something else. He can easily relate to the plight of the towns scattered across Coerthas, and so he's immediately curious about what the young man is referring to.

"Is it struggling?" he asks, glancing at Aymeric to see if this is news to him. He assumes it would have Aymeric's attention as soon as he was informed - and to see Saidine's reaction, he wonders about the truth of the situation.

Aymeric's expression turns serious almost instantly, though Estinien asks the question for them both. Theodlac glances back at Saidine and stays silent, and she turns her own grim expression to the senior knights in front of her.

"A few of the locals have reported that the monthly allotment from the Holy See has yet to be received."

Aymeric raises his brows at that, eyes flickering to Estinien for a second. "Do we know when it was scheduled?"

"Nay, Captain. 'A week or more' is what was stated."

He brings a hand to his chin and rubs the edge with his thumb in thought. "A delay could be expected if forces and supplies needed to be directed towards the Dravanian conflict, but with no activity of late..."

Theodlac looks back up. "Does that mean it was missed?"

Aymeric offers a placating smile as he drops his hand. "'Tis possible, but it is likely a clerical error. There are several villages and townships in the Highlands that receive monthly aide for their dedicates wares. With men being in charge of such efforts, mistakes are bound to happen now and again. I will touch base with the committee in charge and see that this is corrected posthaste."

Theodlac, at least, looks relieved and nods. Saidine nods as well.

"Anything else to report?"

"No, Captain."

"Then you are dismissed. I'll see you in the morning."

The pair salute, Theodlac sparing one last almost hopeful gaze at Estinien before they exit, leaving the door shut behind them.

Estinien steels himself against the onslaught of whatever that look means, staring back at the young man for only a moment before turning his gaze towards Aymeric. He tries to shrug it off.

"Who would be in charge of dispensing those funds?" he asks, tilting his head. As naturally suspicious as Estinien is, it does sound like something that was likely an error caused by carelessness. Still, he's well aware of how critical such relief could be to struggling townships.

He does note that Theodlac seemed particularly concerned about the situation. He can appreciate that instinct in a person.

Aymeric's posture does not relax when his knights leave, though his expression does open up more when it settles once again on Estinien. It's clear the other man is troubled by the news as well, likely in no small part because he grew up in the Highlands, feeling for the folk in similar situations.

"Ser Fauwax de Moutette. I have never traded word with the man, but I have seen the work of his committee. It is no small task orchestrating the woven supply chains across the region as routes become no longer available..."

And the worst, when villages are removed from the chain entirely. But he says naught of that aloud. It goes without saying.

Aymeric shakes his head. "What troubles me most is that the locals saw it fit to speak so plainly of this to patrols. My squadron is not stationed at Hemlock, only to scout the surrounding areas."

He leans back again to sit on the edge of his desk and crosses his arms, frown deepening.

"As much as it pains me to put it as such, Hemlock is both near enough to Ishgard's walls and a large enough settlement that there ought to be a Knight stationed there at least on a semi-regular basis. Would this report not have been best delivered through them?"

Estinien pauses to contemplate the implication of that. Aymeric has a point. Surely there should be enough presence in Hemlock that there would be people to report to beyond a wandering patrol. He frowns more deeply.

"Do you suggest that the locals may not trust the resident knights enough to lodge a complaint with them?" Estinien asks. "Or... that believe naught will be done as a result?"

It's the only explanation that comes to his mind for that. Ishgard does give plenty of reasons to become disillusioned in the system for the common folk.

Aymeric's brows pinch together in thought. He does not like admitting that Ishgard favors the townships that are of most economical import or are the closest to her own borders proper, but he also does not like thinking on the different ways the commonfolk are let down by the establishment. It is the sad reality of their time, one that should--nay, will need be corrected.

"Mayhaps both," he finally says, then shakes his head. "It is no secret that the Temple Knights have done little in recent years to earn the trust of the masses. If only the Holy See realized that it is equal import to the war that we wage against our enemies."

He exhales sharply through his nose, turning his gaze on Estinien proper. "Either way, I shall raise the issue and instruct the squadron to pass through Hemlock proper on our next patrol. I may join as well, to at least validate that their concerns were heard and to reaffirm that they are yet valued citizens of Ishgard."

Estinien nods his head. It sounds like a solid plan to him, and he feels like not many captains would take so much initiative for the townships under their watch. It's heartening to see Aymeric in a position where he can finally start working towards his vision, no matter how small in scale.

"It sounds to be a situation where your skills would be of use," he agrees, knowing that Aymeric is more skilled than average at leveraging with others. As much as the sound of the situation causes his hackles to instinctively rise, he would hope it's something that could be resolve plainly.

He pauses, glancing back towards the door the other squadron just left through.

"Tell me, what do you know of Ser Theodlac's origins?"

Aymeric cants his head to the side as if to say 'we will have to see'. There has definitely been a singular benefit to receive ire throughout most of his life for his questionable origins--his ability to play diplomatic under tense situations. This would be his real first venture out to speaking to citizens on behalf of the Temple Knights, though, so it is something he wants to do justice, both for the villagers and for his squadron.

At Estinien's question, he raises both of his brows. Aymeric had thought that Theodlac's clear excitement for all things Dragoon might have been too much of a deterrent, yet it seems his heart and empathy may yet be his saving grace.

"I know that he is from a settlement that is close to our border with the North Shroud, though his papers indicate he has lived in Ishgard proper for several years prior to enlisting. I believe his father was a Wood Wailer before coming to Coerthas. I venture that it was his father's abilities with a lance that gave rise to Ser Theodlac's own enthusiasm for the discipline."

Estinien does not have much to spare in terms of being a bleeding heart, lest he exsanguinate himself completely, but if he couldn't respect it in other people he certainly wouldn't be friends with Aymeric. He could easily see that Theodlac had a good heart, and attention towards his fellow man that not all Ishgardians managed.

He nods his head, as if that explanation confirms something in his mind.

"An immigrant, then," he confirms. That could be as troublesome as anything when it came to existing in Ishgard. Even if Theodlac himself had been born in Coerthas proper, the fact that his father had not been is something that would be talked about. Immigration was very uncommon, and his father must have had to prove himself wit his lance.

"Not as cloying as I might have thought," he adds a few moments later, as overt of approval as Theodlac was likely to get.

Aymeric gives a short huff of amusement at that. Is this Estinien going soft on someone new? He won't say as much despite the fact the thought hands readily at the forefront of his mind.

So he merely nods, though he does not bother to hide the smile steadily growing on his lips. "His father, at least." He has little idea of his mother, though he assumes she is of Coerthas for his family to have settled in the region.

"I am sure given the opportunity he would have much to ask you."

"And wind up disappointed," Estinien says with his own soft scoff, shaking his head. "I've not much skill in giving advice. Mayhap on the training field."

He crosses his arms, leaning back against one of the desks that is decidedly not Aymeric's. Nobody is here to stop him.

"But if I started giving private lessons to just anyone, surely there would be no end to it."

Aymeric chuckles, making just a small effort to hide it behind his hand out of feigned politeness. They have no need for such overtures but he mostly uses it in jest.

"Ah, but think of how excited he would be to say he was a pupil of the next Azure Dragoon?"

Estinien knows that Aymeric is joking, but he can't help but reflect on how much he would hate for someone to go around telling everyone that. The last thing he needs when it comes to his interactions with Ser Draneux is for there to be word on the wind of Estinien already preemptively claiming the title.

"If I live to see retirement, mayhap I will follow in Alberic footsteps that way," he say. "But I have no intent on starting yet." It lets that sit for a moment, shaking his head slightly in amusement. Then, he looks up.

"Do you have other business to conclude?" he asks.

"Hopefully you also mean in regards to retirement." Another jest. They are both yet young and have really only taken the first steps to their long and arduous careers. Though Aymeric sees a few avenues that his path may take him, he is still getting a feel for where he may be most useful and have the greatest amount of influence.

To Estinien's question, Aymeric shakes his head as he pushes himself off of the edge of his own desk.

"Naught left for the day, though I may stop on the third floor to see if I can yet catch Ser Fauwax before he takes his leave. No sense in letting the situation in Hemlock carry on longer than it has."

A pause as he taps the edge of that same desk twice.

"Would you join me for dinner?"

Estinien nods his head in agreement, both to the idea of speaking with Ser Fauwax and also to having dinner. Left to his own devices, he usually just grabs whatever the easier to eat rations are, but it can be nice to stop for something a little more formal when Aymeric is around.

"I would. I also thought it could be a fair night to test ourselves in the training yard." They've been training less frequently since their respective duties intensified, but for a while it had been part of their routine, and Estinien thinks fondly of it. "Mayhap after the food has settled."

Aymeric's lips twist upwards into something akin to a smirk as his eyes sparkle with mirth. It has really been too long since they stood together--or against one another on the field. A little friendly sparing may be overdue.

"Then I shall inform Alfred to hold the wine for dessert." Namely, after they have trained and Aymeric decides he needs something sweet to finish the night off. Estinien is aware by now that even when Aymeric's dinners are far from extravagant, he never forgets to have something for dessert.

He motions to the door with a sweep of his arm.

"Shall we?"

And so they do. Estinien allows Aymeric to conclude his business while he returns to his room to change out of his armor and into something more practical - after all, if they are going to have dinner, he may as well enjoy himself, and in Drachen Armor you can scarcely sit down without turning the chair sideways. He even runs his fingers through his hair a few times, evening it out a bit, before taking only his lance to greet his friend at the manor.

Dinner proceeds as expected, with conversation staying light and spirits high, even without a visit to the wine cellar. Then, it's off to the training yard. Estinien leaves his dragoon armor in his room in favour of something a bit lighter, and a bit more evenly matched to Aymeric's. It's not a gesture intended to go unnecessarily easy on his friend - more that they will both get more out of it if Estinien focuses on honing the aspects of himself that do not rely on the power of the armor from time to time.

Though he would never want to end up without his armor in a true battle against the Dravanians, the future can never be guaranteed, and he would not allow himself to grow soft without it. It's in that spirit that, after some familiar weapon-based trials, they move on to some hand to hand sparring.

It's largely focused on grips, blocks, and dodges, as they have an ill need to pummel each other into submission. Towards the end of the session, even Estinien is getting tired, and with their scrabbled having wound up on the ground, it's feeling close to when they might want to call it quits.

"Do you yield?" he breathes into Aymeric's ear, having taken the advantage for the moment as he pushes his friend into the ground. Though training is often all business for Estinien, it's hard for him to not be a little bit cheeky in this context. He has fun when he does this with Aymeric, and not in a way he would with anyone else.

The best days are the ones that he is able to spend with Estinien, he is quickly finding out. They are not as frequent as he would like, but in some respects that makes the ones where they do manage to find time with one another all the more special. He does not voice these thoughts, of course, already being prone to helpless sentimentality as he is and tries not to overwhelm his friend with it.

Dinner is simple but filling and once they feel up to it, he is only too glad to face the dragoon on the training grounds. It feels nostalgic. Though he spends some time there with his squadron to oversee their progress as well as get in practice himself, facing Estinien has always been a welcome challenge. He fights in a very different way than Aymeric, but so used his friend's movements as he is, it becomes something of a game to see how predictable he can be.

It is unsurprising that Estinien has a few surprises. His style of fighting has always been more wily and if there is anyone to best him, Aymeric would prefer it to be Estinien.

That does not mean he willingly throws in the towel.

Aymeric lets out a strangled breath of his own, a happy surprised exhaustion. It's good that his cheeks are already flushed from the excursion because the feeling of Estinien's breath on his ear does something to him that he ought to ignore.

He grins towards the ground and breathes out,

"Nay."

With a grunt, Aymeric pushes back up against Estinien, swinging one leg outwards to hook his foot at the back of Estinien's knee. He yanks hard to destabilize his stance, effectively dragging the lower half of his body down while pushing the top half up. Aymeric pushes his advantage, twisting around to pin his friend instead on his back, pointedly straddling his hips and looking quite proud of himself.

"Do you yield?"

Estinien is successfully flipped, landing on his back with some surprise. In a different context, he might find himself being more desperately competitive, but it's not as if hand-to-hand wrestling is the field in which dragoons excel. There's more space for him to grow, and so losing feels more like an opportunity than a failure.

He puts a momentary effort into struggling, pushing up with his hips to try to dislodge Aymeric's hold, but when his squirming doesn't get him much of anywhere he finally rests back against the ground. His hair is spread around him in a halo of white, his cheeks and ears flushed with effort. He laughs, more hearty and whole than he would often muster.

Aymeric is the only one allowed these moments, and within them, Estinien is filled with a different sort of life than he would be otherwise. Thriving, perhaps, instead of surviving his march towards his goals.

"I am at your mercy," he says, breathing heavily as he recovers from his exertion.

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