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

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.

So preoccupied was he in pressing his advantage that Aymeric did not at all consider the view he would be given. Under any other circumstances--with anyone else, truly--Aymeric would simply smile and stand up. Wrestling is, after all, a contact sport and there is nothing at all compromising about the situation to an layman, to the Knights at all.

But to Aymeric there is. Something. He can feel it when he takes in the way that Estinien's hair lays in a messy halo because of him, the particular shade of pink at his cheekbones and the tips of his ears, and how utterly charming it all is in combination with the full-bodied happiness he so rarely gifts Aymeric with. Aymeric's throat tightens, those words cutting to places that he immediately dismisses.

Aymeric has long since acknowledged (privately) that he finds Estinien attractive--and who wouldn't? But to see what he sees so plainly and to allow it to affect how he approaches their friendship is something else entirely. He has no intention of doing so, of course. Does that mean he cannot look a moment longer?

Aymeric's own breathing takes a moment to calm, the heaving of his chest slowing down. He lets out a breathy laugh, his gaze not leaving Estinien's as he runs a hand through his bangs, feeling that a bath will be necessary soon. It is the good kind of exhaustion he feels settle in, even as his heart is racing at an embarrassing rate.

"Then--" he begins in a breathy tone, "--you will find I am merciful."

He swings his leg backwards and moves off of Estinien's hips, pushing up onto his own two feet before offering a hand to the other man.

Estinien doesn't seem to catch the tension forming within his friend, and is happy to accept his hand as soon as he's been freed. He pulls himself to his feet, scooping back his own hair which is similarly in a mess.

"That's enough for tonight, I think," he says, stretching his arms. "If you, too, are sated."

The training yard is empty at this point in the night, leaving them the space to collect themselves at their leisure. He supposes this is where their ways could part, each returning home to wash and rest, but he finds himself inclined to linger.

"A productive day, overall," he comments. More accurately, it's been a good day, at least for him.

Sated. Yes, he supposes he is in a few ways. Aymeric pushes those thoughts aside as well, dropping his hand only when Estinien releases that and forcibly looks out towards the training area at large. He stretches as well, hands at his waist so he can flex the muscles in his shoulders.

"Indeed," he agrees with a smile. Much had been accomplished both professionally and, perhaps, he does truly feel sated on a personal level as well. Unknowingly answering some of Estinien's own thoughts, he has to offer,

"Do you yet have it in you for dessert? I fancy that wine that we postponed."

Estinien bends into a few more involved stretches, pressing low to the ground as he works the kinks out of his legs. Being flexible is a necessity for his combat style, with many of the leaps being hard on the body. It's important to keep his muscles loose.

As he works on that, he looks to Aymeric. There is no reluctance in his answer at all.

"If I didn't before, I do now," he says. "Though I'll need to stop in my room to change." And wipe himself off a bit, at the least. As he winds down, though, something else comes to his mind.

"...On another note... did you ever find out what happened to Hemlock's allotments?"

Aymeric nods, dropping his hands and only idly watches the other man stretch from the corner of his eyes. Aymeric will change and bathe quickly back at the manor as Alfred readies the sitting room for dessert, he knows.

"Of course. I can come with you back to the barracks or we can meet back at the Manor, whichever you prefer." Obviously just to...wait outside.

To Estinien's question, Aymeric bows his head slightly.

"There appears to be naught amiss in the paperwork. So then I am left to believe the error occurred when the supplies were set up to be shipped. Mayhaps with the wrong carriage or the wrong chocobo? That will be much more difficult to investigate, but I will follow this thread ere our next scheduled patrol."

"Hmph." That's all that Estinien says at first, seemingly annoyed by the mundanity of the answer. He tilts to the side, huffing out a breath as he stretches his shoulder. "Not as dramatic as it sounded, is it."

It seems all too likely that some manner of human error resulted in the problem, which is annoying on a different level from it having it be a conscious effort. To have a few clumsy fools result in such difficulty for an entire town...

"I hope you determine where the trouble began," he says, after a moment. "Someone may need their ears boxed." A particularly deadly threat for an Elezen, no doubt.

It is indeed, seriously enough for Aymeric to flash his furrowed brows in Estinien's direction. Though the effects of the mistake are suffering many, if it is an honest mistake, there ought to be opportunity to do better in the future. That much Aymeric can afford, though he knows not all are fortunate enough in the position as he.

"As am I. With all good intentions, this matter shall be dealt with quickly. Mayhaps we can personally escort the next allotment to ensure it reaches its proper destination."

Aymeric is determined to get to the bottom of it, of course, though he will be willing to set the investigation aside for a day in order to make sure Hemlock does not go without for longer than it yet has been.

He shakes his head. "But there is naught to do for this eve. Come, let us fill our heads and bellies with something more pleasant."

Though Estinien would genuinely up to play escort, it is mostly just due to the company. Thankfully, he doesn't have to make any related concessions tonight - he's free to spend the rest of the night with Aymeric at his leisure. By the end of it, worries about clerical errors and misplaced chocobos have all but left him.

It's some days later when Aymeric mentions it again, bringing it back to Estinien's attention. Part of him assumed that Aymeric would be able to handle it without further discussion, that it was only a matter of making a simple correction - but it has started to sound like it's more than that.

Having been asked to Aymeric's office to discuss, and without anything more pressing to attend to, Estinien follows along without much thought. He genuinely has no idea what to expect, with how something so simple could have become so difficult.

After arriving and making the expected greetings, he glances around the office, wondering what the story will be.

"Becoming unduly complicated, isn't it?" he prompts, tilting her head. He sets his helmet down on one of the other captain's desks.

It is troubling, more so than Aymeric imagined it might be. As trivial a thing as it may seem to the greater efforts of Ishgard, Aymeric can only imagine how important it is to the residents of Hemlock who rely on that aid. There is talk amongst some of the aristocracy that such settlements ought to be able to "stand on their own" with little regard to how they are often in the direct line of fire, having to be prepared to abandon house and home and their way of life at a moment's notice. That alone is enough incentive for Aymeric to at least stick up for this group.

Of course, tracking down where the allotment may have been erroneously shipped took some time too. He had to pull a few strings and actually enlisted the aid of Lord Haurchefant, giving House Fortemps' involvement with raising many of the chocobos that the Temple Knights employs. Though they are primarily bred for battle, they are dual-use when it comes to shipping goods into warzones--of which much of Coerthas is considered at this point.

The fact that what he found was not so much of a mishap as a complete...lack of anything is the most upsetting.

Having Estinien's input matters as well. And he feels the need to keep his friend informed.

Aymeric looks up from a report that he is writing when Estinien enters and offers him a short smile in greeting--no matter the circumstances, he is always glad to see the other man.

"It is indeed." Aymeric sets his quill aside in the inkwell, then exhales low and slow through his nose. "I wish I had better news to share for it."

He shakes his head, folding his hands together on his desk with all the presence of someone of a much higher rank.

"I can safely say that there was no mix-up when it comes to the shipment itself--only because it seems that no shipment took place."

Estinien generally feels out of his element when it comes to the ways of Ishgard's administration, and this is no exception. His confusion shows plainly on his face, as he lingers in silence, trying to determine if there is a specific meaning he is meant to take away from that.

"I had thought that you were told the allotment was issued," he says. Quite simply - if what Aymeric is saying is true, either his friend had been directly lied to, or something intercepted the shipment before it even began. It was easy to imagine it being misplaced, or even the possibility of it being stolen in transit, but this...?

Still, he waits for more elaboration before saying anything else. He trusts Aymeric to be knowledgeable on the matter, given that he's taken it upon himself to look into it.

Aymeric nods again, leaning back in his chair. "For all intents and purposes it was--there is yet record of it here at the Congregation. Yet it did not make it to the parties responsible for doling out the supplies, let alone assigning the dispersement route."

His lips push together tightly as he frowns, pulling his hands off of the table to rest onto his lap.

"What troubles me further is that the allotment for this moon was, apparently, also suspiciously absent." Once could be an honest, if strange mistake. But twice? He need not say as much--Estinien will draw the same conclusion. "I was able to correct the most recent error and my squadron and I will be accompanying the supply chain towards Hemlock in two days time. You are welcome to join if you are available."

Somehow, when the subject of escorting the allotment had initially come up, Estinien had not thought it would be something that would actually occur. It's ridiculous that it's come to be necessary, but he won't turn his back on it now, or he'd be no better than the others that let it happen.

"I have no other pressing demands," he says, crossing his arms. He looks irritated by all of this conceptually. "Though, I am particularly concerned about finding where the first one was spirited away to, in particular."

Simply rectifying the situation is one thing, but to find the source...

"It cannot be allowed to happen again - especially if Hemlock is not the only victim of this sleight of hand. Not all guardians are as watchful as you."

Aymeric nods. He thought Estinien may prefer to but the duty of being a Dragoon will always come first. Having the presence of a Dragoon Knight may lead further credence to the gesture they are making to Hemlock as well.

"As am I," he agrees. "My investigation is not over yet, though I will prioritize getting these supplies out quickly."

The less they have to go without, the better.

"Your concerns mirror my own, henceforth I have inquired about neighboring settlements. Strangely enough, Hemlock seems to be the only one affected...at least within my patrol."

And therein lies the problem he has now.

"...I do not have many allies in a similar position, but in order to gain access to see the designations under the jurisdiction of other companies, I will need explicit permission."

Which means that he did some asking around and found that out himself.

Estinien supposes that all of the local townships being missed would not have quite as much plausible deniability. That is, if this turns out to be foul play. Yet, that is starting to seem like the only ration explanation.

He pauses to consider, then looks up to meet Aymeric's gaze.

"What other companies would those be?" he asks. He has some guesses, considering the locations in question. Who there are will really make all the difference when it comes to the ease of going forward. "Given the location... I would guess the majority would be under House Durendaire."

Edited 2020-11-29 05:34 (UTC)

Aymeric himself only gives a slight pause, then nods in affirmative.

"Aye." Most areas of Coerthas are under the protection of one of the High Houses, even if the Temple Knights have patrols that cover those same locale and the less populated regions in between.

"...That is not to say the Captains themselves owe any particular loyalty to House Durendaire, of course. Unfortunately I have only had passing conversations with one, and the others are yet unknown to me. Time is of the essence and I may not have the ability to make the best use of it."

He exhales sharply through his nose--frustrated, and partially with himself.

"Nevertheless...I am hoping to do an impromptu investigation of sorts on the field. Mayhaps the locals at Hemlock may shine a further light on our findings."

As with many of Aymeric's ventures, Estinien thinks he is doing the best that can be done within his current position. His friend is unduly harsh with himself, he thinks, but at the same time he will not deny him his ambition.

"'Impromptu' may be the best sort, given who we may be dealing with," Estinien says. He's naturally cynical about this kind of thing, particularly any skullduggery that happens beneath the High Houses. "Let us not draw too much attention to our efforts - at least until we've spoken to the townsfolk."

He comes over to Aymeric's desk, closing the distance between them.

"They already put their trust in your soldiers once... with any luck, they will be willing to do so again."

Aymeric lifts his gaze to the other man, keeping it on him even has he draws closer. As dark as his recent findings have been, he finds himself forming the hints of a smile at Estinien's words. He nods, unlacing his fingers as he allows his hands to simply lay on his lap.

"Indeed." A thoughtful pause as his eyes shift to the report in front of him. "...Though I doubt much for the Fury's direct involvement in such matters, I do feel blessed to some degree to have a small, but stalwart and moral group of knights under my watch. For all that the Temple Knights have yet to do for all echelons of Ishgard, they remind me why we do what we can."

Estinien hums in agreement, that sentiment definitely one that had struck him with regards to Theodlac when they'd first met. Reluctant as he is to heap more praise on the boy without having seen more of him, it was a more positive first impression than he may have otherwise anticipated.

"They know not what they meddle with by giving you a squadron of like-minded soldiers," he says, a bit of a smirk coming to his lips. Whether or not the Fury has deigned them with her attention, it seems Aymeric may have been given a choice hand after all.

"Is there aught I might do in preparation, or will my presence suffice?"

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