Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

Scalvoris Town, Scalvoris

It took only a few breaks with the Air Troops for Laures to decide that he was not going to be joining them. By the end of the first trial, he had reconsidered his decision to join the Elements at all, for how badly he did not want to return to their training. He should have known from the name that the work would pertain to… the air, but it had not occurred to him that anyone would go up there. Certainly he did not think it an impossible feat to touch the sky, but it was not something he had ever wished to do himself, and after five trials in training with the Air troops, he’d made up his mind. It was not for him.

Caring for and cleaning up after the strange, enormous beasts used for such ventures in the air had been the least of his concerns. That, at least, he could do without his excitable heart threatening to burst from his chest (but admittedly, he was grateful to have been barred from caring for the rather imposing, winged creature Trooper Mulian had called a Scal Sohr Kahl). What physical training they had done, too, he had managed without issue. A bit of soreness, a few lingering aches, a faint bruise here and there - but after almost thirty trials spent in his new form, he found it easier and easier to control. The physical activity helped settle the soul into the bones, he thought, connecting the two in a way that idle thought could not… and it was good to know exactly how the Elements were taught to defend themselves, should he ever find himself in need of that particular information.

The five trials spent under Trooper Mulian’s guidance were mostly uneventful. Without a flying mount of their own, the two trainees were made to ride along with the other troopers when necessary, and taught to (mostly) control such mounts from the ground. Laures was grateful for the fact that he did not have to control one himself in the air, as he knew already that the panic would easily override whatever training and advice he had managed to retain, but being up there at all was more than enough to dissuade him from ever possibly committing to the Air Elements.

Not to mention it was fucking cold up there, and he could not see a thing in the dark world below, and he would have rather found some kitchen to slave away in than spend another trial in a blue cloak.

The Land Elements proved a somewhat better fit. Though he still had his opinions on the cloaks they were made to wear, he did not find them as immediately offensive, and he was pleased to keep his feet on the ground. Whether he would enjoy the division in the long term, he was not yet sure, but the three trials spent with them thus far had been a far better experience than the previous five. So on the morning of their fourth, Laures had drawn himself from their bed with a bit of a better attitude.

(The shift did not stem entirely from their training, of course, and in fact the majority of it came instead from a lovely night spent studying with Carver, but it allowed him a brighter mindset towards their work all the same.)

Trooper Olev of the Land Elements was perhaps less friendly than Trooper Mulian had been, but he was an improvement over her in terms of getting the job done. After ten arcs spent in service, he knew his way around, and he’d trained more fresh-faced recruits than he could count. An older human with pockmarked cheeks and balding red hair kept hidden beneath his hood, Olev was sturdy, but not strong. He was helpful, but far from approachable, and whether because of the younger man’s somewhat meek demeanor or the silence that trailed him on patrol, he didn’t take much of a liking to Laures.

It was for that reason alone that the former slave did well. While the surly ginger saw fit to give the preferable, more interesting tasks to his husband, Laures thrived under his scrutiny. The accidental harder hits amidst training, the more arduous paths for their patrols, the cleaning and scraping of equipment and cloaks when the trial’s work was done. He put his all into it, and not out of any desire to win the older man’s approval, but to hear him grumble when the blond so eagerly met each and every request.

Wearing his coat and neck kerchief beneath his borrowed brown cloak, Laures watched his breath visualize itself in little clouds before his nose. Arms crossed beneath the layers, he stood stiffly, straight-backed and clearly freezing. Trooper Olev walked ahead of them on the cobbled street that would soon take them out of Scalvoris Town proper, and Laures knew the routine well enough to know that they would circle the outer palisades once they reached them. As with their time with the Air Elements, the three previous trials had not exactly been eventful, outside of regular training. He supposed that Trooper Olev could have passed along the more important (and exciting) duties to the others in his division while he dealt with new recruits… but Laures did not think it the best way to prepare them for action.

He did not walk as closely to his lover as he wanted to, aware of the curious minds of the other two recruits that walked in between them and Trooper Olev. While he did not mind anyone knowing of their relationship, he did not wish to invite any more questions than necessary, nor did he really want any of them to know the details of their personal lives anyway. They were training alongside them, but they were still the enemy, as far as Laures was concerned, and he much preferred the share of information to come from them rather than himself or his soulmate.

They neared three stands along the road, selling various items or produce or something else Laures did not care to look at, but he did take notice of the rightmost stand being left unattended. While the other two were tended by a rather sleepy-looking girl (she appeared to be napping, in fact, while she waited for business) and a vocal young man that called out to anyone that passed, the third’s owner must have left for some sort of break.

A quick glance to the other side of the street, and he saw an older biqaj, pulling things from his cart to presumably bring back to the third stand. Laures uncrossed his arms and reached out to grab Carver’s wrist, slowing them down to allow distance enough between themselves and the other trainees - not enough to fall behind, but to speak without catching attention.

“Patrolling the wall is boring,” complained Laures in a whisper, with a frown on his face - it was a contrast to the mischievous little glint in his gray-blue eyes, and they darted to the side, where the the third stand still stood unattended… the second hardly watchful… and the first in clear desperation.

He looked back to his lover, and only barely managed to suppress the sly smile that wanted so badly to peek through.

“We can’t learn how to stop crime if we don’t ever see any. Such a shame that these merchants feel the need to take from each other, don’t you think?”

Scalvoris Town, Scalvoris

Carver had joined the Elements for one reason and one reason only. It wasn’t the coin, though he didn’t mind the extra money given in his name without attachment to Antoni’s bank account (of which, he knew that could only last for so long). It wasn’t the unexpected prestige when other students in his classes found out that he’d started training as a recruit. After a few of his lectures, other recruits even approached him to talk about which division he might join. Each had their benefit, it seemed, and each had their risks. Everyone he talked to, though, seemed to agree that the Elements were a dangerous thing to join – and all the more reason for the respect they were given by Scalvoris citizens and foreigners to the city alike. But it was not the coin, it was not the respect, it was not even out of any personal curiosity. Carver joined the Elements so he could learn their methods, their protocols, their communications. Carver had joined to find answers to all these, out of practical necessity so that he might secure the cozy little home of a love nest in which he and Laures had bought within the city.

It only took him a trial to decide the Air Elements were a complete waste of his time. He learned everything he needed to know within that time: that they could be used to scout from above. Which meant – as he told Laures that first night after training, while the couple ate supper in their dining room (it’d been a slightly burnt dish of rice and fish, but he’d ate it like it was the most delicious thing anyway) – that if they had to flee town, they couldn’t use the open roads where a flyer would easily spot and dive onto them. That they had to keep an eye to the skies, as well as behind them and around them. Carver mentioned that hoods could help though, whether cowls or cloaks, but basic hoods that blended in, to cover their hair from view from above. For the next four nights, he ignored his homework and instead, spent his evenings pondering aloud to Laures about various potential ways to handle flying mounts. The best he'd come up with, was to explore the taunted potential that Doctor-Professor Devin had said about teleportation, what that meant and how they might acquire similar freedom.

All that aside, Carver did not like flying. In fact, he hated it. The first flight, he clung so tight to the trooper who controlled the reins that when they’d landed and the woman had rolled up her sleeves, angry red marks in the shape of his hands showed. Not only that, but they had landed within mere bits of taking off because of it. Carver had so badly wanted to hide his reaction, but it was impossible with how cold sweat clung to his skin and his breath caught in his chest. He tried one time after that, and he’d tried to ignore the way it felt like he would fall at any moment (not in a good way), but when they’d landed: again, he found himself drenched in sweat and breath chattering against his will. No, Carver didn’t like to fly. At least, not when someone else held the reins.

The beasts, Carver didn’t mind them so much. If only because they were so unusual, and he wondered what they could do. This was where he focused for the last trials with the Air Elements. He asked all he could about the mounts and the various ways they were used () and which were the best (because he wanted to learn of the strengths and weaknesses of each one). As soon as they left training, Carver would sprint home (literally. In fact, Carver had taken to running about frequently, whenever he got the chance to run instead of walk) – regardless if Laures kept up or attended to other tasks such as shopping – and he’d grab a journal and note all the information that he could remember which the Troopers had told him. Only after he got it all down, did he go to find where Laures had gotten to – whether far or near.

Between their classes and their training, the only real time they got together was the mealtimes that they shared – and, of course, the breaks spent in their new bed. A bed that Carver had gone through the trouble on the morning of the 21st (before training) to find elaborate blankets and pillows, so that Laures might be as comfortable as possible after the long trials of work. Red, and soft, and far more than they could ever possibly need; and though it overheated Carver easily and he usually kicked all the blankets away from himself while he slept, he kept them on the bed for his sweetheart’s sake.

By the time they switched to the Land Elements, Carver felt impatient to get on with things so that he could learn what he needed to. There were other things he wanted to do with Laures, than spend all their precious time outside of classes with nodding along and trying to be pleasant with the city officers. Carver did his best, though, to nod and listen to things he didn’t care about and seem like he was very interested in being there. Of course, Laures seemed to enjoy this division more and maybe because the cloaks weren’t blue (though his lover certainly had plenty to say about all the cloaks) or because of how Trooper Olev treated him or something else… Carver figured they’d discuss it that night during their supper.

Trooper Olev didn’t bother him so much. The balding ginger was one of many Elements who blurred together in a mess of potential targets for later. Only one Earth Element truly stood out to Carver, and that was a familiar face who’d been the one to arrive and take their statements from the blood aftermath of the jewel thief who they’d stopped (or more accurately, who Laures had desperately defended himself from in glorious splays of blood). Trooper Horst was plump for an officer, broad with a wide frame and a suspicious glower ready to set on Carver and Laures whenever they happened to cross paths… which they seemed to be crossing paths a fair amount. Carver tried to confront it, best he could, but Horst had seemed appalled at the notion that the couple had joined the Elements. What was the man’s problem? Whatever it was, Carver didn’t like how Horst seemed to be showing up more and more in places outside of training. He’d even seen him near the academy yestertrial. Regardless, the annoying burdensome Horst wasn’t on patrol with them now and that was a problem he’d attend to at another time.

Walking alongside Laures, on their patrol around the palisade, Carver tightened his leather gauntlets. They were new, and he’d only acquired them just the other trial when he’d lingered behind at the Air Elements’ storage space. It’d only taken two trials into the Land Elements that Carver somehow had found a set of studded leather armor as well, which he now wore – though it awkwardly fit to his body’s silhouette, obviously meant for someone a little broader in frame. He didn’t mind the cloak anymore, either. He liked it because the cloaks had hoods included to them, which Carver made frequent use of. Even while they simply patrolled, Carver had his hood kept up to shadow his features from sight. The dark didn’t bother him. He found his eyes had adjusted to the perpetual night of Cylus.

Carver was busy daydreaming about unspeakable things, when Laures took hold of his wrist. He slowed, uncaring if the other trainees noticed and more concerned about why the other man had touched him like that.

“Patrolling the wall is boring,” whispered Laures.

Oh. His sweetheart was bored. Carver supposed he was also bored, after Laures had mentioned it. He nodded and lingered in observation of the familiar glint in the gray-blue eyes. Following the glance, he looked toward the trio of market stands.

Laures might have tried to suppress the sly smile that threatened to peek through, but Carver didn’t even bother. Behind the shadow of his hood, the white teeth revealed in a perfect grin. He didn’t know exactly what Laures wanted to do, but whatever it was – it sounded fun to him. With a small glance to check the pace of the other trainees, then to Laures, considered what was before them.

“Shame…” he murmured in a low hushed voice, dark eyes surveyed the area. “…shame how that girl pretends to be asleep while taking things for that young man’s stall when the pointy-ears is gone.”

“They must be together,” he added with a disinterested tone. He glanced at Laures and said, “Why don’t you go around behind, and check exactly how much she’s taken and put into that young man’s stall already? I’ll see if he won’t admit to his part in the crime.”

Carver waited, just a moment for Laures to either agree or change the spontaneous plan ahead of them. He glanced to watch until the older biqaj started away from the stand and back to the cart far to the other side of the street, then broke away from the patrol. It didn’t seem like the other troopers had even noticed – which informed him that when recruits were about, patrolling, he didn’t have to worry so much about their observations.

Briefly, he took hold of the older blond’s hand and he squeezed it in a firm grasp. He walked past with a small guided pull for Laures to go in the opposite direction of him. He suspected they only had a few bits before Trooper Olev noticed them missing and came to see why. Carver approached the loud young man at the stall.

“Mornin’,” offered Carver while he flipped down his hood and fixed the weight of the brown cloak on his shoulders.

“Good tria-” started the young man, eager to have what he seemed to think was a customer until he noticed the pin attached to the cloak. He smiled, though, and said, “Anything I can help you with?”

“Yeah, yeah…” said Carver while he crossed his arms and glanced over the young man. “You look familiar, don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“Me? I… maybe?” offered the hawker, and he paused to call out to a couple women who strode past. Neither of them gave the slightest interest to the shouts though.

“Yeah, pretty sure I have seen you. In Almund, right?” Carver snapped his fingers and pointed directly at the man. The loud gesture caught the young man’s attention to look right at the leather gauntlet.

“Ah… Almund? I… I don’t think so. I live in here, have for arcs, an-”

“Are you calling me a liar?” asked Carver in a low voice. His amiable, mostly neutral expression darkened into a glower. His voice rose slightly, though not hardly a shout but more of a stern clarity. “You saying you ain’t never hawked illicit wares in Almund before?”

“No! No, I mean- I might have visited a while ago bu-”

“Oh, so you do admit you’ve been in Almund!”

“Yeah, but- not for like… not long, and it wasn’t any busi-”

“Look, mate, if you don’t want people to know you’re here after what you pulled in Almund. I get it, I do. But did you really think no one was going to recognize you eventually?” Carver rolled his eyes and shook his head. He glanced aside to check how Laures fared, before he quickly returned his attention to the befuddled hawker. Carver set a hand on the slightly shorter man’s shoulder and squeezed to force him to look into his dark eyes. In the other human’s pale brown eyes, he recognized anxiety. “I won’t tell no one, if you… you know, if you promise me you’re going to play it straight here. No swindling, right?”

“Sw-swindling?!” the young man looked over, as the other troopers had noticed the absence of the two recruits. Olev was a few paces behind them, not seeming too concerned about any of it. “I never, I wouldn’t!”

“I believe you, mate, I do. But I’m gonna have to see your permit,” insisted Carver. “You do have the correct permit to be shouting about like you are?”

As the young man started to search through his pockets for something, Carver had let go of his shoulder. He turned to greet the other troopers with a wave and said, “Oy, good of you lot to make it. I noticed something off and wasn't sure bu-”

“Where’s Laures?” asked Olev with a glance past Carver.

Perfect white teeth revealed themselves in a wonderful grin. Laures could hardly keep his own mischievous spirit dampened then, encouraged so by his lover’s unspoken agreement. The delight seeped through a little smile as darkened, gray-toned eyes lingered at the other man’s mouth. They moved over the words, murmured and conspiratorial, and a hum escaped from Laures in quiet approval. Dark eyes swept over their surroundings before landing on him again, and he gave a small nod, his smile widening for an excited, fleeting moment before it was forced away from his face. It just wouldn’t do, to be seen smiling when such crimes were taking place. What kind of a law-abiding Element-in-training would that make him?

“Careful,” he warned in mock seriousness, “these sort can be so unpredictable. Don’t let him try to trick you.”

An eyebrow was raised, and then lowered again as Carver broke from the rest of the patrol. Laures followed, following out of step from behind the other trainees and turning to meet his lover instead. The others didn’t seem to notice their temporary departures, or else they simply didn’t care. He’d take it either way - so long as it made their lives easier and did not result in their capture, the other recruits could do whatever they pleased. His gaze darted downward as he felt a hand upon his own, and the leather gauntlet squeezed before pulling him in the other direction. He returned the little gesture, and as he moved to comply, he offered another flash of an off-white smile.

While Carver started towards the boisterous young man, Laures walked through the darkness to approach the third, unattended stand. A quick reach up and his hood was pulled over his hair, concealing most of his face from view while he stepped around to the back. A glance to the side… and the girl still appeared to be sleeping, meanwhile Carver had caught the noisy man’s attention already. The biqaj was still fiddling with his cart across the street… so Laures lowered, hands reaching out immediately to feel around the open shelf on the inside of the stand. Papers, some sort of ledger, keys, some round fruit, a cheap (broken) necklace chain, a little coin pouch - he took the thin chain and opened the pouch, but left it where it sat.

Straightening up again, he scanned over the items set out for sale. The young man at the first stand sold more of a variety of fruits, meanwhile this stand’s owner sold only one kind. There weren’t many left, and he supposed that was why the biqaj was over there was restocking… he took a guess, based off of the meticulous way the fruits were displayed, and grabbed two of them before moving away from the stand. He went to the middle stand next, approaching the slumbering girl with soft steps. A look over to the first stand - Are you calling me a liar? - told him that he still had time enough.

Closer… closer… and the girl slept on, arm propped up on the wooden stand to hold her chin in her palm. Her stock was free of fruits, so it would do no good to set the biqaj’s on top. Instead, Laures leaned down, eyes watching the girl’s sleeping face while he set the stolen fruits atop a bundle of papers beneath her stand. Obscured by her legs and the long skirt that covered them, the fruit wouldn’t be seen by the stands on either side… unless she moved, of course. He pulled away after that, and allowed himself to breathe again.

Finally, Laures moved forward again, this time striding past the back of the third occupied stall. The man seemed to have gotten a little too insistent, for his lover’s hand had found his shoulder to warn him of his sincerity - so the older blond took that moment to drop the plain, broken necklace into the hawker’s back pocket. He didn’t linger, continuing to walk farther down the darkened street without pause.

“Good trial, sir.”

The biqaj turned away from his cart to watch the approaching Element-in-training. Dark cloak swaying gently as he walked, Laures lowered his hood, revealing his fine-featured face to the confused older man.

“Good trial,” he returned, voice low and husky. Laures could hear more voices behind him, back at the stands. Trooper Olev and the other trainees must’ve taken note of their absence, then. He hooked his thumb back in that direction.

“Is that your stand at the end over there?”

“It is…” answered the biqaj, his face contorted further in his concern.

“Why? Something wrong with it?”

“Oh, no, you’ve not done anything wrong, sir - that girl at the other stand isn’t with you, is she?”

“What? No. Huh?”

A small tilt of his head, and Laures frowned. Turning on his heel, he gestured for the man to follow. His eyes traced over his husband’s familiar silhouette as they walked closer, before drifting to that of Trooper Olev and the others. Leaning closer to the biqaj, he offered, “I thought I saw her behind your stand, after you walked away… my partner and I are just making sure nothing’s going on, if you wouldn’t mind checking that all of your things are in order.”

“Laures?” Olev was quick to approach, and Laures could tell the trooper was already displeased with him. “What’s all this?”

The biqaj moved past them both. Laures watched him return to his stand before allowing his gaze to shift back to the balding ginger before him. The girl at the middle stand had awoken from the commotion, but still sat in place, looking disgruntled and confused with all of the Elements surrounding the other stand.

“Oh, Carver thought it would be good to check in on these stands. Never know what might be going on, you know?”

Did that sound right? No, probably not. He didn’t know what to tell him. It didn’t matter though, for the biqaj’s husky voice distracted Trooper Olev from his weak excuse.

“Hey - someone stole my fruit!”

Laures held back a smile.

“There were six here, and now there’s only four!”

Trooper Olev pushed past him. Laures’ gaze found Carver, and he gave a wink.

“Hey, don’t pull me into that,” said the hawker, nervous already from his encounter with Carver.

The biqaj, who had moved around to check the interior of his stand, looked towards the Elements and the other merchants. Bewildered, he yelled, “someone check their stands! They’ve gotten into my coins too!”

“What? Come on,” the sleepy girl shook her head, “no one took your stuff, old man.”

Trooper Olev strode past Carver before the young blond barely managed to put together a response more than a shrug. He glanced at the other two potential recruits who seemed appreciative of not being so bored. Carver thought to follow but he wanted to keep near the hawker, just in case… the young man had started to look squirrely with the addition of the older Land Element’s attention. His eyes darted from side to side, in what Carver recognized as a quick survey of the buildings and streets. He knew that glance. That was the glance of a man preparing to run for it, if needed. So, his guess that the hawker had some sort of less-than-desirable past had landed a bit closer to the mark than he anticipated. That or the Land Elements held the sort of reputation where innocent or guilty didn’t matter, what mattered more was slipping away if possible. Carver hadn’t gotten that impression from those in the Land Elements… or any of the Elements, even. Most of the Troopers he’d met seemed more than willing to assume a certain respect to those under their scrutiny.

Carver glanced over when he heard the biqaj merchant’s shouts about missing fruit. He saw the mischievous wink and the corner of his lips twitched in a smirk. He quickly rid himself of it though, when he noticed one of the other recruits had seen the exchange. He glanced at the blond woman who seemed confused by what she'd accidentally witnessed. Either way, they both turned their attention back to the traders.

For the biqaj was getting increasingly agitated. He marched over to the girl’s stand, on his own volition despite the Elements’ presence, and searched through the interior.

“What are you doing?” insisted the girl who woke now that the older biqaj shuffled around and near her skirts. “Get away from there! That is my coin purse.”

“Aha! Ha!” The biqaj brushed aside her skirt, threw aside the papers, and lifted one of the stolen fruits to show Trooper Olev. “I knew it!”

Olev’s brow furrowed in a darkened look as he observed the fruits that the biqaj showed him in proof of the theft. They did match his stand’s fruits perfectly.

“I didn’t take those,” insisted the girl, her voice pitching shrill and face turning bright red. “I was sleeping!”

“Thief! Liar!” returned the biqaj, entirely justified in his upset while he pointed at the girl. He said, “She stole my coins too!”

“Sir, if you could lower your voice,” requested Trooper Olev as he took one of the fruits and examined it. “And please, step back from the miss. We’ll get it sorted.”

Those on the surrounding street watched the exchange, including the other recruits… but not Carver. He glanced once at Laures, to check that the other was alert, then he reached over and-

-grabbed onto the hawker’s elbow. Startled by the touch, the young man gave a shout and all eyes swiveled onto him and Carver.

“Oh, no y’ don’t,” said Carver in a voice loud enough to be heard by all. “What’s that yer tryin’ to hide?”

When he’d been holding onto the other young man’s shoulder, Carver had seen exactly where Laures had slipped what looked to be a chain of jewelry – into the hawker’s back pocket. He reached to the spot, while ignoring the perplexed and increasingly panicked stammers from the other man and took out the broken chain. Carver lifted it up until it glinted from the lantern lights that cast illumination over the market stalls.

“What’s this then?” asked Carver.

“Wait! I didn’t-”

“That’s mine,” piped up the biqaj, and he pointed at the chain then looked at Trooper Olev. “They’re in cahoots! I tell you! Take them both in! Thieves! I won’t do business next to THIEVES!”

It took all of Carver’s willpower to not laugh or smile. He kept a stern expression on his face as he handed the chain off to one of the other recruits. The recruit – a young man with black hair and no other notable features – walked over to hand it to Olev for a similar sort of examination.

All seemed to be going well… until Carver felt a tug on his hand, and the elbow slid out of his grasp. The hawker took off down the nearest adjacent side street in a full-on sprint.

“Shit,” muttered Olev. “Go get ‘im and bring him back here, will you lot? Good for training. You-” he spoke to the black-haired recruit who’d handed him the necklace. “-stay here.”

Carver allowed himself a slight grin. Without waiting for any coordination with either Laures, or the blond female recruit, he broke into a run and chased after the hawker. The streets were wet with slush-snow. As soon as he left the glow of the lantern, into the darker shadows of an alley, the ground turned to ice. It made for precarious running, not only for him, but the attempted escapee up ahead. If there was anything Carver still recalled from his previous life as a street rat, it was how to use shadows and the angular shapes of buildings to flee those in pursuit. As such, he tracked the path that the hawker had taken and caught sight of the figure not too far ahead.

“Halt,” he called out, as that seemed like a very Element thing to say. “Yer only going to make things worse for yourself!”

“Screw you, Trooper,” called back the hawker. He slowed, however, as his shoes hit a large patch of ice that coated the alley street from building side to building side. The hawker slid along, arms waved to keep balance.

It gave enough of a slow that Carver caught up, but his boots hit the ice and he felt the same loss of control. He slid over the stretch and tried to reach out to grab the hawker by the coat. His fist grabbed firmly onto the fabric, just as his heels slipped out from underneath him. Carver stumbled onto his knees, thudded against the ice and stone, but he held tight. The hawker fell against him, awkwardly on top of Carver and trying to wrench free.

“Hold still, stop, dammit,” swore Carver as the hawker yanked at his wrist. Behind him, he could hear footsteps in approach. He assumed it had to be Laures, though. Who else could it be? Without looking, he let go of the coat. The hawker seemed relieved by this, scrambling to get back to his feet –

-but Carver slammed his leather-gauntlet fist upside the other’s head. The blow dazed the hawker. What little height he’d gained from starting to get up, was lost as he fell back to his knees. Carver shoved him over and slapped aside the other man’s attempt to push him away. He climbed on top to straddle the hawker, and punched again, this time landing his fist until he heard the nose give way. Carver grinned, punched again and again, until he felt warm flecks of fresh blood across his face.

“I told him to stop, didn’t I, lo-” Carver stopped abruptly mid-sentence when he looked over and saw that it wasn’t Laures in the alley with him…

...but the female recruit. She stared, aghast, her mouth open and her eyes wide.

“Y-you- I-is he still breathing?” she stammered, her breath visible in cold air from the vapor cloud that escaped her mouth. “I-I don’t th-think we’re supposed to do that. He might be innocent!”

Carver’s smirk was quickly wiped away by a fellow recruit’s questioning look. Laures wouldn’t have noticed it himself, but he followed his husband’s dark gaze to the blonde, and caught the confused expression on the woman’s face. He looked away from her just as soon, without any clear indication of his thoughts on that particular matter, and watched as the victimized biqaj approached the middle stand. Silent, he crossed his arms over his chest, hidden partially beneath the dark fabric of his cloak. It was hard to keep from smiling as he watched the scene unfold; a sharp canine tooth bit into the inside of his lip to keep his amusement from surfacing. Most of the gathered group’s attention was focused on the street vendors, but he did not want to risk another incident of being seen, insignificant though the girl’s glance might have been.

He bit a little harder on his lower lip as the misplaced fruits were discovered, and a shadowed blue gaze lingered on Trooper Olev when the older Element was handed one of them. The balding ginger didn’t look pleased… but then, he supposed most people wouldn’t be happy with the discovery of a crime committed right under their nose. The trooper had simply walked by all three stands without a second glance, after all… and gods, didn’t he get bored? Even a man as surly and tired as Olev had to get bored when he spent his trials patrolling a quiet palisade. He couldn’t have joined the Elements with the expectation of doing that all his life.

A turn of Carver’s head drew his eyes to the side. They flicked downward for a quick moment before darting back to the crowd - and he didn’t look at his husband again until he heard his shout, this time looking suitably surprised by the sudden interjections. The thieving young man stammered his way through a plethora of questions while Carver searched through his back pockets. All of them went unanswered as everyone’s attention was drawn instead to a thin line of broken chain, clearly decorative, retrieved from the hawker’s pocket. He heard the black-haired recruit gasp.

The biqaj confirmed their suspicions in a loud shout, pointing his gnarled finger at the young man Carver still held by the elbow. The man that’d gasped (what was his name? Ror… Rorik?) took the stolen chain to hand off to Trooper Olev, and the old ginger heaved with an audible sigh. Perhaps, Laures thought, Olev really did prefer the silence. But for a man so willing and determined to put his troops to work, he was about as useful himself as the stones beneath their feet. It was Laures’ turn to be surprised - genuinely - when the hawker made a sudden move, and escaped Carver’s grasp in a rush to the shadows. His eyes shifted from Olev to Carver and back, awaiting instruction, and he offered nothing but a nod when it came.

Get him and bring him back. That, he could do. If he and Carver went together and the girl split off, there was no doubt in his mind that they’d catch him first.

Except his well-coordinated, incredibly patient husband had other ideas. The younger blond took off, running after the escaping criminal without so much as a word and leaving Laures and the female recruit behind. He opened his mouth to speak, or perhaps to simply make some remark, but then the girl was rushing after him too. With a frustrated huff, Laures followed, sprinting through the alley and catching every turn a handful of trills after the other blonde. Somewhere up ahead was another, and he could only hope that his husband did not allow the thief to stray too far. He set aside his doubts as he ran, shoes sloshing loudly through the dirtied snow and slipping clumsily over the ice. Surely he could have done this in his old body without any issue at all - he was sure that he could have caught the errant man before he’d made it through the first alley, so quick-moving had his small, fragile form been. Iver’s body was far from big and farther still from some slow, hulking mass of sentient muscle, but Laures was still so clumsy within it, and flailed his arms awkwardly as he slid across patches of packed-down ice.

By some miracle, he managed not to topple over and embarrass himself completely to whatever alley rats looked on, and kept a steady pace mere trills behind the other blonde recruit. Laures began to slow down once he finally caught sight of Carver and the thief up ahead. Escape stopped by their dispute, the two men fought in a slipping, chaotic mess of pushes and pulls. He was out of breath by the time he neared his fellow trainees and the man they meant to detain… and dark eyebrows raised as he registered the scene.

“...to do that. He might be innocent!”

Well, shit. Although he had not been paying enough attention in his approach to witness the events that brought the hawker’s face to a bloodied, beaten mess (he was sure that it had been beautiful), it did not take him longer than a trill to notice the woman’s resulting distress. She stood with her back facing him, stunned into temporary stillness by the bloody display. Laures sniffed - the tip of his nose was pink from the cold - and he glanced back quick. No one behind them, and the darkness of the side street was on their side.

“B-be careful, that’s - shit! Stop! Eva!”

A hard twist of two strong, scarred hands placed to Eva’s chin and the base of her skull. A hard twist was all it took. Sound drowned out in his shouts, he snapped the woman’s neck. In the same movement, before he’d even had the chance to register the limp flop of her blond head, Laures pushed her forward onto the ice -

- and fell right with her, shoulder hitting hard against the cold.

“Khh-” a hissed, pained sound escaped his throat, but Laures was pushing himself up and onto his knees already, ignoring the ache. It would bruise, he knew, and he was sure it would hurt more later, but it would heal. Eva’s neck, however…

Laures grabbed onto the recruit’s shoulders, turning her over so that she faced the dark, starry sky.

“Eva?!” his breath hitched, and widened blue eyes darted over to Carver. “I - I - I think she’s de-dead! He killed her!”

Another sniff, louder as his cold nose began to run from the tumbling movement and hard impact of his body against the ice. Still out of breath from his run, his inhales were quickened into shuddered gasps. Voice strained, he yelled, “Olev! Trooper Olev, help!”

Laures grabbed a handful of Eva’s dark cloak as the words left his mouth. He set his other hand against it and tugged hard, until the fabric began to tear. The smallest patch was torn off and set between the hawker’s open fingers, and he tugged at the cloak again, pulling it hard against the woman’s neck to angle it in the direction he wanted.

“He c-can’t get away with this! Is - is he - did you -” the shouted words devolved into panicked breaths as he heard heavy footsteps coming from behind them.

“What’s going - what the,” and Trooper Olev was quiet for a moment as he observed.

“Sir we di - we didn’t - di -”

“Miss Artell?!” the older Element came forward, setting a hand upon Laures’ shoulder and pushing him out of the way.

“What happened here? She’s not breathing!”

Carver had barely let go of the hawker’s coat. He had wanted to get to his feet, wanted to cross the ice to the blonde recruit who stared at him, wanted to rid Eva of her aghast look. He’d seen that look before. It was a look that meant he needed to keep things quiet. A look that meant if he didn’t, she’d say what she saw. Exactly what she saw. She’d mention the smiles exchanged between him and Laures, before while everyone else had been shocked by the theft between the merchants. She’d talk about the oddity of it, and then she’d tell the Elements about how Carver had pulled down the hawker only to punch and punch and punch… without the slightest attempt to hold back his strength, or maybe she’d even seen the grin that had broken over his face when the blood had started to spray and the nose had broken apart. He couldn’t let her say any of that. He couldn’t give her the chance. The only way to keep things quiet was -

-a shadow crossed behind Eva. He realized it wasn’t a simple trick of the darkness. Laures. The brown cloak served to camouflage his perfect, beautiful, wonderful partner. The shouts of his sweetheart echoed off the alley walls and over the top of the buildings. Such wonderful deceit so quickly scraped together to make it all easier for them. Where Carver would have simply smashed and throttled, Laures crafted a tapestry of a story to aid in their benefit. So in love with the older blond, he sat back on his straddled position over the wheezing hawker below him. He witnessed the smooth snap of a take-down, the ruination of the witness. Laures could handle himself. In the meantime, he needed to handle the hawker who sputtered warm blood while he struggled to breathe past broken teeth.

He grabbed hold of the coat lapels. Carver lifted the barely conscious young man up, and then slammed him back down. The hawker’s skull c̶̕͘̕r̡ ͢͡a͏̸͘͟͠ ͟҉̢͡c͢͜ ̵̶̡͘͜k̶̛͡͡͡ȩ҉d̸҉̷ against the icy stone just as Laures’ voice rang out: “…He killed her!”

Carver caught Laures’ gaze and couldn’t help a glance of pure affection that showed in his expressive dark eyes. How he wanted to reach for him, hold him close, embrace him, kiss him while the hawker’s blood still dripped warm over his own face, and while Laures still gasped from the swift execution he’d served the problematic blond recruit. Briefly, he silently mouthed: I love you.

Laures tore at Eva’s cloak, and Carver held the unconscious hawker by the coat while his fist returned to slam into the battered face. Gods, it felt good to punch like this again. The leather gauntlets made it all the easier, protecting the skin on his knuckles from breaking. He had brass knuckles in his pocket but couldn’t be bothered to retrieve them. It wasn’t like he needed them. The hawker had stopped breathing, streaks of red spilled out his nose and ears. A pool of blood gathered underneath with bits of skull fragments along the stone. Carver resisted the temptation to grab onto Laures when the older blond came close enough to set the torn patch of Eva’s cloak in the dying man’s hand.

Heavy footsteps, and he forcibly rid himself of his smile or the look of his love for Laures. He bit down on his tongue and then the inside of his cheek. He winced, and an angry frown settled on his features instead. With how demolished the hawker’s face and skull had become, he couldn’t look any other way. He rammed his fist back into the bloody face, just as Trooper Olev reached them.

“…She’s not breathing!” Olev checked the recruit first, then looked over and demanded, “Sinclair! Carver, stop! Stop him, will you?!”

The black-haired recruit, Rorik, didn’t listen though. He took a step backward instead, eyes round like saucers while he stared at the limp body of Eva in Olev’s arms. Rorik stammered, “E-eva? Is she… Vri, no… I-I… I didn’t si-sign up for this!”

Carver paused. He let go of the coat and the hawker lay limp against the alley ground. Lifting to his feet, he stared down at the ruined mess, then ran a hand over his face. The blood smeared under the leather of his gauntlet. Like this, he remained for a few trills while he ignored whatever was being said. Finally, he lowered his hand and stared at the hawker with a look of uncertainty and surprise, “He- I- I didn’t- but Eva and-”

“I caught him,” said Carver finally, and he placed his dark gaze directly onto Olev. “Like you said. I got him.”

Olev looked at Eva, then what was left of the hawker, and he swore but he didn’t disagree. The stern man walked to the edge of the alley and set a hand on Rorik’s shoulder. “Calm yourself. This doesn’t happen often but… it does happen.”

Carver wiped his gauntlets off on his brown recruit cloak. He moved closer to Laures.

“I’ll…” it was obvious from the way that Olev’s eyes swept over the scene again and he hesitated that he was thinking. “I’ll explain what happened here, but you three will need to give statements… but it seems to me… there wasn’t any other choice for Sinclair.”

The comment surprised Carver, and his eyes widened slightly. What was this? Was Olev creating his own story? Did the man not want the truth he thought to be the case to be known – or… did he want to mitigate the blame… they were recruits after all, not even sworn in, and Olev had been the one to tell them to run after a suspect without accompaniment. Carver wondered if the Trooper might get in trouble for that or not. He wasn’t sure but judging from the way that Olev looked between the other three men, he guessed it might be the case.

“Yes, sir,” said Carver, quick to catch on. “No other choice at all. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“You’ll have to train to pull your punches more,” interrupted Olev. “But the scumbag did kill one of our own. Okay, Sinclairs, you’re coming back with me. Rorik, stay here and make sure no one messes with the bodies.”

“You want me to stay here alone?” asked Rorik, then shook his head. He started out of the alley. “Fuck this. I’m out.” The black-haired recruit ex-recruit threw up his hands while he left them all behind.

Carver glanced over at Olev, unsure if he should say something or not. Instead, he looked at Laures… and he shrugged.

“Sinclair! Carver, stop! Stop him, will you?!”

Laures sniffed a third time. Nose wet from the cold, eyes dried and red from the same, he pulled his features into a wobbling frown. He lifted a hand, gloved and free of blood - in stark contrast to his husband’s reddened gauntlets - and wiped at his eyes with the back of it, sniffing a fourth time while he did. The sound was accompanied by the smallest sob, and he lowered his head for a few long moments while the others spoke around him. He sat beside Eva on the ground, pushed off of her by Trooper Olev, and the icy stone was cold against his legs. The hand travelled upward to push through his hair, dragging through the wavy golden locks with a strained, shaking hold.

He heard Carver’s voice, eventually, and let his hand drop to his side. Lips parted, he let his eyelids rest heavy, and pulled in calming breaths. Slowly, Laures moved, pushing against the cold ground to stand up and taking care not to trip over his cloak. By the time he reached his full height and made himself look to the others, his dear husband had moved away from the brutalized hawker’s corpse and moved to stand nearer to him. He resisted the urge to reach for his hand, but he allowed himself the pleasant thought of it - of intertwining their covered fingers, or of pulling Carver’s hand up to his face instead, and taking the bloody, leather fingers into his mouth to lick them clean, or -

- perhaps it was too dangerous to even allow himself the fantasy. Now was not the time for such thoughts, and they would only make it more difficult to maintain his controlled response to the scene. It was pushed to the back of his mind as he dragged his darkened blue gaze away from Carver and towards Trooper Olev. The Land Element let his eyes sweep over the bodies, one bloodied and battered while the other laid crooked but clean. It was far from the first time Laures had killed in such a fashion - he had used the same method the very first time he had directly taken a life, after all - but it always brought him a unique thrill, to see the body’s useless, contorted limbs. Eva Artell had taken quite a tumble, thanks to the boisterous hawker. Surely his death had been deserved, for what he had done to the poor blonde.

“–there wasn’t any other choice for Sinclair.”

Olev’s finishing statement almost cracked the façade. But Laures held tightly to his mask of sorrow, and swallowed hard. He gave a solemn nod of understanding, despite the briefest flash of panic in his stormy blue eyes. If Trooper Olev wanted to handle things, then the recruit would let him do it however he saw fit. That’s all he was, after all - just a recruit, new and unsure, naïve and bound to make mistakes without proper guidance. Guidance that Olev certainly wouldn’t have neglected to give before sending him and his fellow recruits after an escaping, possibly dangerous (and now verifiably murderous) criminal. Carver attempted to speak, and to offer some form of explanation, but the balding ginger heard none of it, cutting him off before he could finish his thought. Laures hummed, and the sound was soft, and low enough not to be heard by anyone but perhaps his husband.

After the order to stay behind with the corpses, their black-haired fellow recruit once again voiced his displeasure with the situation. Laures let the words bother him, let them penetrate the calmer expression he’d made to draw forth another saddened frown. Rorik turned away from them in defiance of the command, and Laures shut his eyes, moving his mouth over silent words, likely unknown even to him - but it looked enough like a prayer that Trooper Olev did not question the movement of his lips. The ex-trainee’s boots clicked against the icy ground and echoed off the walls of the alleys. When he opened his eyes again, he noted that his husband was looking back at him… so he took a deep breath, and reached up.

“Okay, w- we - I -” a final sniff. His hands were suspended in front of him, frozen halfway between his sides and his shoulders. “I’ll… stay here with them. Unt - t - till y-you two can come back. I’m not - I won’t let her be here alone.”

That sounded like something a friend would do, didn’t it? Gods, he didn’t know what friends did. Did friends care when their other friends died? He didn’t want to stay with the corpses. Not because he was afraid of them, or disgusted, or anything similar, but because he liked to stay with his husband. Trooper Olev had wanted for someone to stay though, to ensure that nothing happened to the bodies in their absence, and the faster they did what they needed to do, the faster he and Carver could get done with their trial’s work, right? Oh, he wanted to go home. Certainly things were a lot more exciting now than they had been for the previous few trials, but even so, he would feel far better about it all once he got back home and back into a big, warm bed with Carver.

“I…” Olev trailed off, staring after Rorik’s silhouette as it disappeared into darkness. Miffed though he was about his trainee up and leaving, he did not complain, and instead gave a grunt. He looked towards the other two men, and said, “alright. Don’t let anything else happen.”

Regretfully, he unpinned his cloak. The dark material was pulled from his shoulders, and he offered Trooper Olev another nod as he passed by him. With a loud swish, the borrowed brown cloak was shaken out and laid over Eva’s body, covering her face and leaving only her shoes in sight. Without the added layer, Laures shivered, but he could manage until the others returned. He knew the walk back to the Element Hall, and knew that his love would not leave him in the cold any longer than necessary - and he hoped his look conveyed that well enough when he glanced back up to him and the trooper.

“I won’t,” he promised, “but please, be quick. She doesn’t deserve to sit out here like this.”

Trooper Olev exhaled an audible sigh as he turned around and started back down the alley. Laures let his shadowed gaze shift towards Carver, and he mouthed in return: I love you.

“Come on, Sinclair,” said Olev, “and… be careful on the ice. I don’t need to lose any more of you.”

Laures offered to stay behind, all on his own, and Olev agreed. Carver allowed himself a moment to take hold of Laures’ hands when he saw the mouthed words of affection. The younger blond said in a hushed voice meant to be heard, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Once Laures assured him with a nod, Carver gave him a quick hug that he allowed the Land Element to see. He let go, then nodded as well when Olev told him to get on with things.

The walk from the alley to the Hall wasn’t far, and it went mostly quiet. Olev didn’t ask him any questions about what had happened, but he did reiterate what he wanted Carver to say. Not so directly as instruction, but Carver was familiar with such point of saying things like: And you knew I was behind you three, right? I wasn’t going to leave you guys all on your own.

While they approached the Hall, Olev did pause. He turned and set a hand on Carver’s shoulder. “Look, kid… they’re going to give you a hard time about this. Especially if the flamers get involved. Stick to what happened, promise you’ll train to get that strength under control, but… and you didn’t hear this from me, but we could use some Land Troopers like you on the streets. Maybe not here in Scalvoris Town so much, but definitely in Almund, if you’d be willing to transfer. I got a buddy up there, and the scum he deals with…”

Olev shook his head with a glower, then he mentioned, “Alright, enough of that. Keep nearby and quiet. I’ll do the talking. You ready?”

“Yes, sir… I’m sorry, sir, I honestly am. I promise nothing like this won’t happen again,” insisted Carver. He did his best to look contrite and when he felt the fatherly pat on his shoulder, he suspected he had succeeded in the expression. The younger blond fixed his cloak, then followed after Olev.

Inside, Trooper Olev led through the offices of the Element Hall to his presiding superior – or an administrator. He still wasn’t sure about how the ranks worked among the troops. Carver stayed close, while the balding man explained the situation to a stern-faced woman. She didn’t seem too concerned, other than when she lifted a stack of papers and handed them over with a sigh and a request to fill them all out by tomorrow, then if they needed to speak further about what happened – they would send for them.

Once back outside, they traced back along the path of the alley to wait for a couple other Troopers. Olev reiterated that he’d fill out the reports for them so Carver and Laures could go home if they wanted. As much as Laures clearly wanted to go, Carver wanted to stay so he could help with the disposal of the bodies. He wanted to learn how the Land Elements got rid of such things – or what they all did with such scenes. Olev explained that normally the Flame Elements would send a Trooper to check over everything, but that he didn’t like to wait around for them. Sometimes, those guys take breaks to get places and the corpses start to smell. Better to clean up the street before people come around and start asking questions. If it were in a house, there’d be more time since we’d be able to close it off but this… no, if the Flames want to check the bodies out, they can go to the morgue. With that, Trooper Olev dismissed the Sinclairs to go home per an order rather than request. To rest and recover from the tragedy of the trial… but that he still expected to see them for their last trial of training in the morning tomorrow.