LOG: Clive and Rahal
Who: Clive (howling_storm) and Rahal (bluelamphinian)
When: A day ago
Where: On the grounds
What: Clive and Rahal run across one another while walking the grounds.
Flail crunched over the ground, wrapped in her light blankets as Rahal paced beside her over the grounds of Budehuc. Still a bit to cold for extended riding time, he was once more walking her about, the dragon horse following Rahal like a loyal dog.
With his black cloak on against the chill in the air and the hood once again pulled up around his head, Clive had quietly left the room he had 'rented' at the inn and stepped out upon the castle grounds to wander. He was tired, he needed to clear his head. It had been a very long night.
But when he spotted the large form of the dragon horse walking across the grass, with the smaller figure of her rider striding beside her, he stopped dead in his tracks. He stared, and tried to dig into his memory for a name. "Sir... Rahal...?"
Rahal stopped upon hearing his name, Flail taking up a position just behind him, snorting as if affronted that her ride would interrupt their walk. "Oh, Sir Clive," Rahal smiled, reaching behind and up to stroke the blue lizard's muzzle.
Clive padded forward slowly, picking his steps with care. The big lizard looked as tame and well-trained as a horse did, but... she was still larger than he was entirely comfortable with, and he eyed her warily. "Good afternoon," he said with a nod of greeting, his expression impassive. "You're... out for a walk, I guess...?"
"Oh yes," Rahal confirmed. "It's still a bit to cold for me to take her out for the time it takes to get in a good ride, so a walk will have to do for now." Flail made a groaning sound in the back of her throat and leaned forward, snuffling at Clive.
Instinctively, Clive shrank back when the long muzzle extended towards him- then, silently chastising himself for being a coward, he held perfectly still, letting the dragon horse breath in the scent of his cloak and clothing. It still smelt like grass. And dust. "You mentioned that before," he said, lifting his eyes to gaze at Rahal. "Too cold for riding...?"
"She's a lizard," Rahal explained. "Cold-blooded. In Falena, we don't get nearly this cold. She's already been quite sick and I'm not willing to risk her getting suck a second time this season, not until the weather warms."
Clive blinked. "I never... thought of that," he said, his expression relaxing a little as he thought it over. It was hard to imagine an animal that large being cold-blooded, but... he was thinking of horses again. He nodded, slowly, then lifted a hand from within his cloak and extended it for the dragon horse to sniff. "Falena... it's... south of here, isn't it...?"
Flail pressed her muzzle into his hand, sniffing loudly, Rahal's patting her neck absently as she made up her mind about the blonde Highlander. "Yes, very far South as I understand it. To be honest, I had never heard of these lands till I arrived here."
When he felt the pressure against his hand Clive spread open his fingers so that she could scent his palm, taking care not to make any sudden movements. He was still unsure about the big animal, but she seemed friendly. Hopefully, she wouldn't mind the acrid smell of powder, and gun oil. "I've never been that far south..." he said slowly, watching the dragon. "What's it like there? It must be hot..."
"It's lovely, actually," Rahal smiled, Flail snorting into Clive's hand and moving back, seeming to decide to tolerate him for now. "It can get very, very hot in the summers though, but we have plenty or rivers that help to keep the land cool."
Clive lowered his hand again when the dragon horse stepped back. He checked his palm, as if to confirm that it was still perfectly fine and intact, then gingerly returned his hand beneath his cloak. "It sounds a lot hotter than it gets here," he noted, nodding thoughtfully. "It must have been a shock coming here, if you arrived during the winter."
"Oh, luckily we arrived in the summer," Rahal chuckled, gathering Flail's muzzle in his arms and rubbing at her jaw, earning a purring-groan in return. "But winter has bee a shock, yes."
"You said that she'd been sick," said Clive, standing back a step to watch the pair together. He frowned a little- it was odd to see, at least to him. "What happened? Was it the snow, the cold...?"
"Well, we had an incident," Rahal said. "A rune went out of control and iced everything. She was exposed to the cold for two long, and she was already a bit cholicy. It just went from bad to worse."
Now that caught Clive's attention. He straightened, his expression startled before he managed to collect himself. "A rune went out of control?" he echoed. "What happened? How serious was it? It looks almost like spring here now, not much of a trace of ice or snow anywhere..."
"It was the Sun Rune," Rahal said quietly, his brow creasing as he brushed Flail's forehead, the dragon nudging him lightly. "First everything was covered in ice - everything, and then, all of a sudden, there was a second sun. Only recently was it... handled."
The Sun Rune? Clive's brow wrinkled as he tried to think back. He had heard of it before, of course, though what he had learned had been from books and history drills. The Sun Rune... a powerful, violent rune... it had been at the source of other historical conflicts, hadn't it? It had been a while since he'd read into it. History lessons had faded from his memory since then. "That's... the rune that only the Queen of Falena can bear, isn't it...?" he said, half to himself. "What was it doing here?"
Rahal blinked, surprised that this man knew so much about it. He wasn't anywhere anyone so far north was aware the Sun Rune even existed outside of Budehuc. "She was summoned by the Castle, we think," Rahal explained. "Same as myself and Flail."
The distant look went away from Clive's expression at that. His attention returned to the present and he frowned again, suddenly alert. He turned his head to stare at Rahal, his brow furrowed. "A couple other people mentioned in passing that this castle seems to bring people to it," he said. "You... you were brought here too? Against your will?"
"More or less," Rahal admitted. "I saw Miss Viki and she sneezed and I... ended up here - thirty years in the future."
Clive almost smiled at that. He remembered a young girl named Viki from the Jowston-Highland conflict, and from Toran before that. She had been rather dreamy by nature, but there was no denying that her abilities were... useful. "I see," he said. "So you were brought here by accide- thirty years?!"
The assassin jolted as his brain finally caught up to his ears. He stared at Rahal openly now, his eyes wide within the hood of his cloak, struck by the revelation. "W- wait, did you say that this is thirty years in the future for you...?"
Rahal nodded. "Yes, I know it's hard to believe, but it's true." Flail grunted and suddenly shifted her great mass, sitting down, apparently picking up that her rider was not planning on moving anytime soon - and even then her head was still level with Rahal's, if not taller.
Clive startled a little and unconsciously took a step back when the big dragon horse reared back down upon her haunches, his cloak swirling about his ankles. She had been so quiet, standing obediently at her master's side, that he'd almost forgotten that she was still there. "So, you're from the past..." he stammered, before scowling and collecting himself. "Did you... have a hard time accepting that, fitting in around here...?"
"Not really," Rahal admitted. "Well, perhaps a bit. It is quite daunting, at first, but over time I've found my niche. Though, I do worry about the people in my own time. I was... am, I suppose still, the Commander of the Dragon Knights."
"Commander...?" Clive's eyes widened even further. For a moment he stood stock-still, his mouth parted, gazing at the man in front of him in a new light. The blue garb... it did look like a uniform now that he looked at it more closely, with an eye for the trimmings of command and authority, and the rider did seem to have that air of calm certainty about him...
Immediately, his training took over. It had been drilled into him in Harmonia, in the Tower: respect authority. Clive straightened, bringing his heels closer to stand at greater attention. "I- I was unaware that you were an officer, sir," he said. "Do you have many men at your command...?"
Rahal saw the little chances, caught the different air and speech pattern. He waved his hand idly. "None of that," he said. "I am a Commander in Falena, but this is not Falena, and my Riders are not here. For the time being I have renounced my title and work as a mere tailor with a very unusual mount." He chuckled, stroking one of the sharpened horns of his said mount, the dragon horse rumbling and her eyes blinking slowly, clearly pleased at the attention.
Clive hesitated, torn between the request to relax his manner and his inbred instinct to respond to authority as he had been trained to. After a moment he managed an awkward compromise, by settling his stance into something a little less upright, squaring his boots against the soft grass. "You're... a very humble man, Sir Rahal," he said carefully, wondering at the man's casual tone. "I haven't met very many officers like that before. You work here as a tailor, a man of your command...?"
"There are no other Dragon Riders for me to Command," Rahal pointed out. "Nor is this my homeland where my office has authority. I can do a bit of tailoring, and it seems a fair way to earn my keep here." He scratched beneath Flail's chin, the dragon producing a high trilling sound, her tail flicking.
That one took Clive a moment to puzzle over, his brow furrowed. It was an unfamiliar concept to him, a man of military standing taking pleasure in simple things, in working his way through life by such means, exchanging power for honest living. "I see..." he said thoughtfully, after some thought. He lifted his eyes and watched Rahal's fingers rub under the dragon's jaw. "Do you ever wish you were back home, with your men...?"
"At times," he acknowledged. "Most of the time I find myself wishing I was a simple Captain again. Most of the time I spend in Council meetings with old men to stubborn to bend the rules for the better. I spent months fighting them on letting women into the cavalry." He rolled his eyes, whistling suddenly and Flail returning the tune, making Rahal smile and rub the top of her nose.
Clive leaned back a little, suddenly alert to the way in which the dragon had responded to that tiny quip of sound. A memory twigged in his head then, and with some surprise he said, "Ah... you just said something to her just now, didn't you? You said before, you communicated with... sound....?"
"Yes. We use whistles and dragon flutes to communicate," Rahal explained. "They do it naturally by themselves with their young, and we just expand on that for battle and behavior commands."
Clive listened raptly, his expression keen. There was something that had immediately struck his interest in the concept of communicating with little more than sound, pitch and note. Somewhat darkly, his mind took it to other applications instead. "Is it... difficult to understand...?" he said tentatively, his eyes turning back and forth between the dragon and her rider. "Can you actually understand what she is saying to you, when she... makes those calls...?"
"Not exactly," Rahal thought on it. "We know what they are supposed to indicate, but differentiating between the exact pitches is rather difficult." He pursed his lips, trilling high and sharp, and instantly Flail lurched to her feet, snorting. He changed his tune, low and long and Flail resettled, grumbling.
When the sound of the notes had trailed off Clive relaxed a little, letting out the breath he had been holding in a long exhalation. He hadn't known what the man might have been telling his mount, and the uncertainty had made him tense and his hand reach back to the weapon slung under his cloak, without thinking. But now that he could see for himself the way the dragon responded to the whistled commands as a horse might turn with a rein he found his suspicion fading, replaced with interest. "It... must be difficult to learn," he said, when he had regained his voice. "Do you ride using those commands as well...?"
"Yes. Their hides are to thick to properly respond to most leg commands," Rahal explained, stroking Flail's side. "We can direct them with the reigns a bit though, but whistles are easier and most people can't understand what we're planning to do if we use the whistles."
"I... hadn't thought of that..." said Clive, his expression blank. The prospect held a certain appeal to it, a means of communication that couldn't be determined. Or imitated. It was like cryptography, a little. He had learned about that as well.
He turned his gaze up at the dragon again, silently calculating. "So... do you and your men fight with then, then?" he said. "Back home, I mean. Like cavalry...?"
"Yes. We ride them and they can do battle themselves - on land and sea," Rahal went to Flail's back and suddenly vaulted up, straddling her and whistling again. She rose, Rahal easily moving his body with the dragon's and remaining seated atop her back and blankets. He reached out, patting her neck and giving a small cluck. She took a few steps forward then halted when he changed the pitch of the cluck.
Clive had taken another step back when Rahal had swung into motion, but then when he realised what the man was doing he fell back into a more lax stance, watching with a sort of wary fascination. When the dragon stepped forward he paced with her, then stopped when she did, alert and watching. "You make it seem very easy, but I'm sure it's not," he said, settling back again. ”Did you say on the sea as well...?"
"Oh yes. Dragon horses can swim, and love the water," Rahal chuckled. "It's a bit to cold for that, I'm afraid." Flail shook her head and sneezed as if agreeing.
Silently considering it, Clive turned his head towards the place he could remember seeing the sea, to the west, past the walls and the line of trees. He had seen ships there too, he had thought... the water had looked blue, hard and cold. "I guess you're both stuck waiting for spring then," he noted, looking back. He had to look far up now to see the man; he shielded his eyes with the palm of one hand. "What will you do until then...?"
"What we are doing now," Rahal shrugged. "I take her out to stretch her legs and in a few weeks I should start riding her again and once it's warm enough I'll take her for swims. For the most part I'm just trying to keep her happy and entertained."
Clive nodded. That, he could understand. "It seems quiet enough here," he noted, squinting faintly against the sun. "You must find yourself with a lot of spare time on your hands. What is around here, anyway? I found the tavern last night... but what else is here? I see a lot of shops..."
"There are the shops, of course, and then mostly it's just exploring on your own and finding your own sort of entertainment. The nearest big city is Vinay, but I prefer to remain here," Rahal shrugged, whistling to get Flail to sit once more and sliding off with a little bounce at the end to keep his balance.
"I've stopped in at Vinay," said Clive with a grimace. "Just quickly, in and out to get my bearings. It seemed all right, but it was busy, noisy. It seems a lot quieter here."
He stepped back when the dragon fell back upon her haunches and her rider dismounted. Watching the big creature move was still a little unnerving to him. He'd seen mantors before, but... "I suppose I should take a look around more, walk around the place and see what's here," he said, glancing at the modest looking square in the near distance. "I was just doing it now, but... are you often outside, Sir Rahal, walking the grounds?"
"Quite often," Rahal nodded. "I walk Flail twice a day, at least, and I enjoy sitting outside to do my tailoring work. Why?"
Clive smiled a little, and lowered his hand from his eyes. "I suspect I might need some tailoring done in the near future," he said, without further explanation. "I don't have any money to pay for it yet, but I will, shortly, I hope. I'm no good at that sort of thing myself."
"I wouldn't mind talking again sometime," he added, glancing around himself at the castle grounds. They looked overgrown, unfamiliar, but... well, quiet. "I need to learn more about where this place is and what's happening. You seem to know a lot about it. You don't mind it if I dropped by the stables sometime, do you...? Once I find them, anyway."
"No of course not," Rahal smiled. "In fact, I can show where they are. I need to take Flail back anyways. Why don't you walk with me?"
"All right," said Clive, with a nod. He had no idea where the stables were to be found, and there seemed more sense in being shown them than wandering aimlessly until he found them himself. And it was taking his mind off things as well. He turned to fall in beside the other man, his black cloak whirling around his ankles. "Thank you, sir. You've been a lot of help."
"Just call me Rahal," he insisted, smiling beatifically at Clive. "And it's not a problem. I'm always happy to help." And with that he came to walk with Clive, whistling for Flail, the dragon horse following behind placidly towards the barn.
When: A day ago
Where: On the grounds
What: Clive and Rahal run across one another while walking the grounds.
Flail crunched over the ground, wrapped in her light blankets as Rahal paced beside her over the grounds of Budehuc. Still a bit to cold for extended riding time, he was once more walking her about, the dragon horse following Rahal like a loyal dog.
With his black cloak on against the chill in the air and the hood once again pulled up around his head, Clive had quietly left the room he had 'rented' at the inn and stepped out upon the castle grounds to wander. He was tired, he needed to clear his head. It had been a very long night.
But when he spotted the large form of the dragon horse walking across the grass, with the smaller figure of her rider striding beside her, he stopped dead in his tracks. He stared, and tried to dig into his memory for a name. "Sir... Rahal...?"
Rahal stopped upon hearing his name, Flail taking up a position just behind him, snorting as if affronted that her ride would interrupt their walk. "Oh, Sir Clive," Rahal smiled, reaching behind and up to stroke the blue lizard's muzzle.
Clive padded forward slowly, picking his steps with care. The big lizard looked as tame and well-trained as a horse did, but... she was still larger than he was entirely comfortable with, and he eyed her warily. "Good afternoon," he said with a nod of greeting, his expression impassive. "You're... out for a walk, I guess...?"
"Oh yes," Rahal confirmed. "It's still a bit to cold for me to take her out for the time it takes to get in a good ride, so a walk will have to do for now." Flail made a groaning sound in the back of her throat and leaned forward, snuffling at Clive.
Instinctively, Clive shrank back when the long muzzle extended towards him- then, silently chastising himself for being a coward, he held perfectly still, letting the dragon horse breath in the scent of his cloak and clothing. It still smelt like grass. And dust. "You mentioned that before," he said, lifting his eyes to gaze at Rahal. "Too cold for riding...?"
"She's a lizard," Rahal explained. "Cold-blooded. In Falena, we don't get nearly this cold. She's already been quite sick and I'm not willing to risk her getting suck a second time this season, not until the weather warms."
Clive blinked. "I never... thought of that," he said, his expression relaxing a little as he thought it over. It was hard to imagine an animal that large being cold-blooded, but... he was thinking of horses again. He nodded, slowly, then lifted a hand from within his cloak and extended it for the dragon horse to sniff. "Falena... it's... south of here, isn't it...?"
Flail pressed her muzzle into his hand, sniffing loudly, Rahal's patting her neck absently as she made up her mind about the blonde Highlander. "Yes, very far South as I understand it. To be honest, I had never heard of these lands till I arrived here."
When he felt the pressure against his hand Clive spread open his fingers so that she could scent his palm, taking care not to make any sudden movements. He was still unsure about the big animal, but she seemed friendly. Hopefully, she wouldn't mind the acrid smell of powder, and gun oil. "I've never been that far south..." he said slowly, watching the dragon. "What's it like there? It must be hot..."
"It's lovely, actually," Rahal smiled, Flail snorting into Clive's hand and moving back, seeming to decide to tolerate him for now. "It can get very, very hot in the summers though, but we have plenty or rivers that help to keep the land cool."
Clive lowered his hand again when the dragon horse stepped back. He checked his palm, as if to confirm that it was still perfectly fine and intact, then gingerly returned his hand beneath his cloak. "It sounds a lot hotter than it gets here," he noted, nodding thoughtfully. "It must have been a shock coming here, if you arrived during the winter."
"Oh, luckily we arrived in the summer," Rahal chuckled, gathering Flail's muzzle in his arms and rubbing at her jaw, earning a purring-groan in return. "But winter has bee a shock, yes."
"You said that she'd been sick," said Clive, standing back a step to watch the pair together. He frowned a little- it was odd to see, at least to him. "What happened? Was it the snow, the cold...?"
"Well, we had an incident," Rahal said. "A rune went out of control and iced everything. She was exposed to the cold for two long, and she was already a bit cholicy. It just went from bad to worse."
Now that caught Clive's attention. He straightened, his expression startled before he managed to collect himself. "A rune went out of control?" he echoed. "What happened? How serious was it? It looks almost like spring here now, not much of a trace of ice or snow anywhere..."
"It was the Sun Rune," Rahal said quietly, his brow creasing as he brushed Flail's forehead, the dragon nudging him lightly. "First everything was covered in ice - everything, and then, all of a sudden, there was a second sun. Only recently was it... handled."
The Sun Rune? Clive's brow wrinkled as he tried to think back. He had heard of it before, of course, though what he had learned had been from books and history drills. The Sun Rune... a powerful, violent rune... it had been at the source of other historical conflicts, hadn't it? It had been a while since he'd read into it. History lessons had faded from his memory since then. "That's... the rune that only the Queen of Falena can bear, isn't it...?" he said, half to himself. "What was it doing here?"
Rahal blinked, surprised that this man knew so much about it. He wasn't anywhere anyone so far north was aware the Sun Rune even existed outside of Budehuc. "She was summoned by the Castle, we think," Rahal explained. "Same as myself and Flail."
The distant look went away from Clive's expression at that. His attention returned to the present and he frowned again, suddenly alert. He turned his head to stare at Rahal, his brow furrowed. "A couple other people mentioned in passing that this castle seems to bring people to it," he said. "You... you were brought here too? Against your will?"
"More or less," Rahal admitted. "I saw Miss Viki and she sneezed and I... ended up here - thirty years in the future."
Clive almost smiled at that. He remembered a young girl named Viki from the Jowston-Highland conflict, and from Toran before that. She had been rather dreamy by nature, but there was no denying that her abilities were... useful. "I see," he said. "So you were brought here by accide- thirty years?!"
The assassin jolted as his brain finally caught up to his ears. He stared at Rahal openly now, his eyes wide within the hood of his cloak, struck by the revelation. "W- wait, did you say that this is thirty years in the future for you...?"
Rahal nodded. "Yes, I know it's hard to believe, but it's true." Flail grunted and suddenly shifted her great mass, sitting down, apparently picking up that her rider was not planning on moving anytime soon - and even then her head was still level with Rahal's, if not taller.
Clive startled a little and unconsciously took a step back when the big dragon horse reared back down upon her haunches, his cloak swirling about his ankles. She had been so quiet, standing obediently at her master's side, that he'd almost forgotten that she was still there. "So, you're from the past..." he stammered, before scowling and collecting himself. "Did you... have a hard time accepting that, fitting in around here...?"
"Not really," Rahal admitted. "Well, perhaps a bit. It is quite daunting, at first, but over time I've found my niche. Though, I do worry about the people in my own time. I was... am, I suppose still, the Commander of the Dragon Knights."
"Commander...?" Clive's eyes widened even further. For a moment he stood stock-still, his mouth parted, gazing at the man in front of him in a new light. The blue garb... it did look like a uniform now that he looked at it more closely, with an eye for the trimmings of command and authority, and the rider did seem to have that air of calm certainty about him...
Immediately, his training took over. It had been drilled into him in Harmonia, in the Tower: respect authority. Clive straightened, bringing his heels closer to stand at greater attention. "I- I was unaware that you were an officer, sir," he said. "Do you have many men at your command...?"
Rahal saw the little chances, caught the different air and speech pattern. He waved his hand idly. "None of that," he said. "I am a Commander in Falena, but this is not Falena, and my Riders are not here. For the time being I have renounced my title and work as a mere tailor with a very unusual mount." He chuckled, stroking one of the sharpened horns of his said mount, the dragon horse rumbling and her eyes blinking slowly, clearly pleased at the attention.
Clive hesitated, torn between the request to relax his manner and his inbred instinct to respond to authority as he had been trained to. After a moment he managed an awkward compromise, by settling his stance into something a little less upright, squaring his boots against the soft grass. "You're... a very humble man, Sir Rahal," he said carefully, wondering at the man's casual tone. "I haven't met very many officers like that before. You work here as a tailor, a man of your command...?"
"There are no other Dragon Riders for me to Command," Rahal pointed out. "Nor is this my homeland where my office has authority. I can do a bit of tailoring, and it seems a fair way to earn my keep here." He scratched beneath Flail's chin, the dragon producing a high trilling sound, her tail flicking.
That one took Clive a moment to puzzle over, his brow furrowed. It was an unfamiliar concept to him, a man of military standing taking pleasure in simple things, in working his way through life by such means, exchanging power for honest living. "I see..." he said thoughtfully, after some thought. He lifted his eyes and watched Rahal's fingers rub under the dragon's jaw. "Do you ever wish you were back home, with your men...?"
"At times," he acknowledged. "Most of the time I find myself wishing I was a simple Captain again. Most of the time I spend in Council meetings with old men to stubborn to bend the rules for the better. I spent months fighting them on letting women into the cavalry." He rolled his eyes, whistling suddenly and Flail returning the tune, making Rahal smile and rub the top of her nose.
Clive leaned back a little, suddenly alert to the way in which the dragon had responded to that tiny quip of sound. A memory twigged in his head then, and with some surprise he said, "Ah... you just said something to her just now, didn't you? You said before, you communicated with... sound....?"
"Yes. We use whistles and dragon flutes to communicate," Rahal explained. "They do it naturally by themselves with their young, and we just expand on that for battle and behavior commands."
Clive listened raptly, his expression keen. There was something that had immediately struck his interest in the concept of communicating with little more than sound, pitch and note. Somewhat darkly, his mind took it to other applications instead. "Is it... difficult to understand...?" he said tentatively, his eyes turning back and forth between the dragon and her rider. "Can you actually understand what she is saying to you, when she... makes those calls...?"
"Not exactly," Rahal thought on it. "We know what they are supposed to indicate, but differentiating between the exact pitches is rather difficult." He pursed his lips, trilling high and sharp, and instantly Flail lurched to her feet, snorting. He changed his tune, low and long and Flail resettled, grumbling.
When the sound of the notes had trailed off Clive relaxed a little, letting out the breath he had been holding in a long exhalation. He hadn't known what the man might have been telling his mount, and the uncertainty had made him tense and his hand reach back to the weapon slung under his cloak, without thinking. But now that he could see for himself the way the dragon responded to the whistled commands as a horse might turn with a rein he found his suspicion fading, replaced with interest. "It... must be difficult to learn," he said, when he had regained his voice. "Do you ride using those commands as well...?"
"Yes. Their hides are to thick to properly respond to most leg commands," Rahal explained, stroking Flail's side. "We can direct them with the reigns a bit though, but whistles are easier and most people can't understand what we're planning to do if we use the whistles."
"I... hadn't thought of that..." said Clive, his expression blank. The prospect held a certain appeal to it, a means of communication that couldn't be determined. Or imitated. It was like cryptography, a little. He had learned about that as well.
He turned his gaze up at the dragon again, silently calculating. "So... do you and your men fight with then, then?" he said. "Back home, I mean. Like cavalry...?"
"Yes. We ride them and they can do battle themselves - on land and sea," Rahal went to Flail's back and suddenly vaulted up, straddling her and whistling again. She rose, Rahal easily moving his body with the dragon's and remaining seated atop her back and blankets. He reached out, patting her neck and giving a small cluck. She took a few steps forward then halted when he changed the pitch of the cluck.
Clive had taken another step back when Rahal had swung into motion, but then when he realised what the man was doing he fell back into a more lax stance, watching with a sort of wary fascination. When the dragon stepped forward he paced with her, then stopped when she did, alert and watching. "You make it seem very easy, but I'm sure it's not," he said, settling back again. ”Did you say on the sea as well...?"
"Oh yes. Dragon horses can swim, and love the water," Rahal chuckled. "It's a bit to cold for that, I'm afraid." Flail shook her head and sneezed as if agreeing.
Silently considering it, Clive turned his head towards the place he could remember seeing the sea, to the west, past the walls and the line of trees. He had seen ships there too, he had thought... the water had looked blue, hard and cold. "I guess you're both stuck waiting for spring then," he noted, looking back. He had to look far up now to see the man; he shielded his eyes with the palm of one hand. "What will you do until then...?"
"What we are doing now," Rahal shrugged. "I take her out to stretch her legs and in a few weeks I should start riding her again and once it's warm enough I'll take her for swims. For the most part I'm just trying to keep her happy and entertained."
Clive nodded. That, he could understand. "It seems quiet enough here," he noted, squinting faintly against the sun. "You must find yourself with a lot of spare time on your hands. What is around here, anyway? I found the tavern last night... but what else is here? I see a lot of shops..."
"There are the shops, of course, and then mostly it's just exploring on your own and finding your own sort of entertainment. The nearest big city is Vinay, but I prefer to remain here," Rahal shrugged, whistling to get Flail to sit once more and sliding off with a little bounce at the end to keep his balance.
"I've stopped in at Vinay," said Clive with a grimace. "Just quickly, in and out to get my bearings. It seemed all right, but it was busy, noisy. It seems a lot quieter here."
He stepped back when the dragon fell back upon her haunches and her rider dismounted. Watching the big creature move was still a little unnerving to him. He'd seen mantors before, but... "I suppose I should take a look around more, walk around the place and see what's here," he said, glancing at the modest looking square in the near distance. "I was just doing it now, but... are you often outside, Sir Rahal, walking the grounds?"
"Quite often," Rahal nodded. "I walk Flail twice a day, at least, and I enjoy sitting outside to do my tailoring work. Why?"
Clive smiled a little, and lowered his hand from his eyes. "I suspect I might need some tailoring done in the near future," he said, without further explanation. "I don't have any money to pay for it yet, but I will, shortly, I hope. I'm no good at that sort of thing myself."
"I wouldn't mind talking again sometime," he added, glancing around himself at the castle grounds. They looked overgrown, unfamiliar, but... well, quiet. "I need to learn more about where this place is and what's happening. You seem to know a lot about it. You don't mind it if I dropped by the stables sometime, do you...? Once I find them, anyway."
"No of course not," Rahal smiled. "In fact, I can show where they are. I need to take Flail back anyways. Why don't you walk with me?"
"All right," said Clive, with a nod. He had no idea where the stables were to be found, and there seemed more sense in being shown them than wandering aimlessly until he found them himself. And it was taking his mind off things as well. He turned to fall in beside the other man, his black cloak whirling around his ankles. "Thank you, sir. You've been a lot of help."
"Just call me Rahal," he insisted, smiling beatifically at Clive. "And it's not a problem. I'm always happy to help." And with that he came to walk with Clive, whistling for Flail, the dragon horse following behind placidly towards the barn.