𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑎𝑤𝑛 | 𝐆𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐍

16⋆☾⋆An unfortunate fate

For the first official meeting with Lord Picard, Sir David had made sure his son would be dressed appropriately. Though the Rangers were formidable warriors, not only form afar, but also up close, they weren't know as it. The corps was clouded in secrecy to not only the citizens of Araluen, but also other countries. In his usual uniform, he would not leave a good lasting impression. The first time had only been excusable, because he had been traveling.

So, a servant had laid out a dark blue velvet coat that barely reached beyond his waist. The buckles were made out of leather, simple yet formal. And most importantly, it was practical. Something that could be worn into battle. After all, the Northerlings had a taste for blood and anything that reminded them of war or decay, was poetry in their eyes.

Gilan took one look in the mirror and frowned. It was not his usual get-up, but it would do. He wrapped a leather belt over the coat and sheathed a long, heavy sword in it. His usual he left behind, as it wouldn't be 'as impressive', his father had said. For safety he hid his smallest throwing knife in his new boots. Another requirement of his father, one he did not see the purpose of. Worn shoes showed more warrior spirit than anything else.

No one had shown him how to tie them, so they were a bit crossed and the young Ranger was sure he would fall over them at some point. With a final heavy sigh he walked out the door, heart pounding and his last meal sitting dangerously high. He had difficulty eating ever since he'd arrived; more than two bites and he felt it would come up again. It hadn't surprised him that he'd looked thinner: illness plagued his mind and body.

The new leather boots clacked harshly against wooden floors in the hallways leading to the Baron's study. He was very carefully placing his feet, so the laces wouldn't get tangled up, when a second pair of hasty footsteps echoed the halls. The tall man raised his gaze to see a small woman approach. She would barely touch his shoulder standing next to him, but her features were set so that she seemed taller, more gracious.

For a moment, the exact second they passed, he looked at her and then he fell. His balance, so abruptly disrupted, caused him to hold on to the person nearest. Which happened to be the red-headed beauty. They smacked against the hard floor, the lady having the luck of landing with her head on Gilan's stomach. Our young friend however wasn't so fortunate, as he was stomped in the stomach, hit his head on the planks and had to detangle his shoes.

But he was on his feet quickly, to help the fallen lady. "My apologies, it appears that-"

She accepted his hand and rose elegantly, a movement so agile it could've been a dance. "Save your worries, it happened and nothing is to be done about it now. I just don't want your incompetence to be my problem any longer." Her tone was that of someone describing a bug they'd squashed square against the wall.

The woman dusted off the outer part of her dress that was colored a dark red. The white part in the middle had been unharmed. Gilan noticed Scottic rhunes on the decorated edge bordering the two. She had to be one of the companions that travelled with Lord Picard. If she was, he dearly hoped they wouldn't meet again, because her countenance had already rubbed him the wrong way. Talking him down after having just met; that was only a privilege given to his fellow Rangers.

With one last cold look, she strode off not once looking back. Huffing and shaking his head, Gilan continued on. When he finally reached the heavy oak door he pushed down the iron handle and entered. All eyes in the room turned to him. Three powerful men, welcomed their soon-to-be fourth.