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“So…”
“So?”
The ginger man leans against the wall, hands across his chest, pressed up against his nicely ironed white jacket, and he smiles. Something tells Garroth he’s planning something, but Laurance seems safe. For now, at least. Garroth even made sure to lock the door to the guard’s quarters, just in case something were to go awry. Better to be safe than sorry, especially after what happened with Zenix.
What’s not okay is Laurance’s language.
“Have you considered stepping down from your position as the Head Guard of Meteli?”
Laurance’s eyes slightly widen to show his surprise, but he catches himself. Garroth notices. “No—? Why would you ask me such a thing?”
“I‘d assume the women of Meteli don’t want you to be in charge of such affairs while you yourself are off involving yourself in other affairs.”
“Excuse me?” Laurance asks, uncrossing his arms. His nose scrunches up as he furrows his brows, trying to read the guard. But his stupid helmet is obscuring his entire face, Laurance’s best bet has got to be either Garroth’s tone of voice or his body language.
Stiff, still. Almost uncomfortable. Hm.
A light bulb should appear above Laurance’s head with the idea that had woven itself into his mind. A menacing grin forms and he takes a step forward. Garroth doesn’t move from his own place, not daring to even flinch.
Garroth is clearly unafraid. Well, two can play at that game.
“Are you jealous of me and Aphmau’s relationship, Garroth?”
“It is Sir Garroth to you. I am not envious, I am simply trying to keep my Lord as comfortable as possible during her travels. You are a detriment to her comfort.”
Straight to the point. Laurance likes that in a man.
“Apologizes, Sir Garroth,” Laurance’s tone rings similar to that of a child mocking their mother. “But hey, do you swing both ways?”
“Swing both—?” Laurance doesn’t need to see the reaction beneath the helmet for him to understand how confused Garroth must look. “What are you trying to say?”
“If ya like men and women,” Laurance responds simply. That smile doesn’t fall from his face.
Garroth grows bashful, trying not to make a show. He clenches his fists and shakes his head quickly. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“What if I said I wanted to take ya out? Aphmau can come with, if you want. I know, we’re both eye candy, eh?”
“Oh my Irene, Laurance—“
“Sir Laurance to you, Sir Garroth. You’re not the only Head Guard here.”
Garroth rolls his eyes. Laurance obviously doesn’t notice. “Sir Laurance, I don’t see how that’s an appropriate question to be asking a fellow guard. Have you no manners?”
“Not every guard is uptight like you are. Some of us have lives. Do you even have any friends?”
“Well, Lord Aphmau—“
“The Lord doesn’t count. Head Guards are supposed to spend majority of their time with their assigned Lord. How about your guard mates?”
“Well, Dale’s there, I guess—“
“What is Dale’s favourite colour?”
Garroth blinks. “What?”
“If they’re your friend, you would know something about them. Something as simple as their favourite colour.”
“…Well, Dale drinks.“ The statement comes out more like a question.
“Right, right,” Laurance laughs, voice as soft as cotton. Garroth would be lying if he said it didn’t pull on some of his heart strings. Still, he ignores the feeling. “That’s all? One of your only guards, and he drinks? That’s all?”
It’s clear Garroth has grown unbearably uncomfortable, because by the way his head moves with the helmet, he’s trying to avoid any type of eye contact with Laurance.
“I’m the Head Guard to protect the village of Phoenix Drop. That’s my duty as a Head Guard. I do not have time to dabble in mindless games with other guards or villagers.”
“Have you ever had sex?” Laurance asks genuinely.
“Laurance!” Garroth shrieks, shaking his head. It’s getting too hot beneath his thick, metal armour and his heavy headpiece. “In what dimension do you think that is a socially acceptable thing to ask?”
“I’m just asking,” Laurance responds and shrugs his shoulders. He takes another step forwards. This time, Garroth steps away. Whether it be subconscious or conscious. “Sometimes we all need stress relievers. What better way to relax than to take a load off, if you catch my drift.”
“There is no way you think that is an appropriate question,” Garroth responds, now staring directly at his sabaton. “Do you speak to all Head Guards like this?”
“To be fair, most Head Guards don’t take their jobs as seriously as you do. Seriously, even Azura understands that work can’t take over your life.”
“I have to take my job seriously, since the King is out there, killing Lords and turning loyal guards into Shadow Knights—“
“And what’s the point in worrying about all of that?” Laurance interrupts quickly.
His hands move before his mouth can, and he slams the palm of his hand against the wall right next to Garroth’s head. Their height difference is a little disorienting, considering Garroth is a behemoth of a man, while Laurance stands at a measly five foot nine. “If the King attacks, then he attacks. And if he doesn’t, then he doesn’t. Are you going to spend the rest of your life, scowling beneath that helmet with the worry of your Lord’s whereabouts? Sometimes death happens in unexpected ways, Sir Garroth.”
Garroth can’t get a word in, because Laurance continues to speak. “That clear image of my Lord being murdered in front of me plays in my head everyday. And guess what? I was still standing next to him, doing my job as best I could. I did everything I could, and he was still murdered. I would have thrown myself in front of him if it meant I could save his life over and over again. We’re expendable, y’know. If we die, then someone else will take our place and complete the job we were set out to do. It’s a never ending cycle, Garroth. It will always be, for as long as there is a Lord, there is their Head Guard, waiting for them.”
“That’s—“ Garroth can’t find the proper words to express himself. “…I apologize. For the loss of your Lord, and for assuming you were going to retire your title.”
Laurance smiles. He pulls his hand away from the side of Garroth’s head, and Garroth somehow releases a tense breath that he hadn’t even realized he was holding.
“It’s alright. But my point is that you’re going to do nothing, being worried over your Lord constantly, like a hawk eyeing its prey. It gets exhausting and I understand you care for the Lady, but you must understand that she is capable of taking care of herself, and that no matter how much work you put into her protection, she might still die. There’s always that possibility.”
The idea of that leaves a bad taste in Garroth’s mouth. Still, a soft sigh escapes his lips and he stops himself from coming up with a rebuttal. Even if he might disagree with some of Laurance’s points, he understands where the ginger man is coming from.
“…Are you religious, Sir Laurance?” Garroth asks carefully.
“Oh, where’s this coming from?” Laurance sings. He takes a few steps back and presses his spine against the wooden wall behind him. He quirks an eyebrow, curious. “That cross on your chest plate’s tellin’ me all I need to know. Don’t tell me you’re one of those religious folk—“
Garroth clocks it almost immediately. “No, no, I am no such thing. I believe that a Guard, no matter what, should protect their village and people. Nothing so minor, such as someone’s preference for another, should affect a guard’s judgement.”
“Good,” Laurance grins. “Because I thought—“
“Do not insult my good name, Laurance. You wound my heart.”
Laurance laughs, and Good Irene, his smile shows off those freckles that dot his face much clearer. And those green eyes— they weren’t always green, were they?
“Why are you asking if I’m religious, anyhow?” Laurance asks. A half smile plays on his lips as he patiently waits for Garroth’s response.
Garroth clears his throat, readying his response. “Well, you see, I… grew up in a fairly conservative home. My father was a man who demanded greatness from his children. My mother held the kindest soul. They constantly believed in this higher power, that the Lady Irene Herself was able to save us. Even after my father fell gravely ill.”
The smile is replaced with a frown, and a soft sigh escapes Laurance’s lips. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“It’s alright.” Garroth shook his head to rid of the thought. “My father is still alive today. The question I’m trying to ask is that… do you believe Lady Irene can save someone from death’s door? Does she possess the ability to keep the cogs in someone’s heart running?”
That was certainly a question that might take some time to process. How was Laurance supposed to respond to something like that?
No matter good or bad, are they deserving of Lady Irene’s blessing?
“It depends,” Laurance finally decides. Garroth looks up to listen to him intensively. “Maybe if you’re good, then you’ll receive Irene’s blessing. Maybe if you’re bad, then you won’t.”
Laurance shrugs his shoulders up, allowing his gaze to linger on Garroth’s shiny helmet for a little while longer before staring off past the small window panes in the rickety door. “I’ve never been heavily religious, so I can’t say. The stories of Irene and the Divine Warriors have spread far and wide, do not get me wrong, but what exactly merits a good person?”
Garroth keeps quiet, which allows Laurance to continue. “Is it their needs, their wants? What if a man repents for his terrible actions towards his loved ones? Should he be allowed Irene’s power? While the idea of religion is in good faith, it’s the execution that leaves me confused. Why use the good word of Irene to become hateful?” A soft, much more awkward laugh leaves Laurance, and he stares at the dark floorboards. Something comes over him, almost like disappointment. But why? “I guess you can pray all you want, but it’s never guaranteed that you’ll get the results you’ve been hoping for. Or maybe your results will come, just not in the ways you expect.”
A tense silence fills the room as Laurance stares at Garroth, waiting for a response. Irene, he wishes he could see past that helmet and read whatever was on his face.
Either way, Laurance is patient. He knows his beliefs, and he’s willing to allow them to be challenged if someone disagrees with him. Though, sometimes people become too enthralled in the antics of religion.
“Thank you for answering truthfully,” Garroth finally says. “I appreciate it.”
“No worries.” The corner of Laurance’s lips turn up into a smile.
Eye contact is important, it shows respect. There’s nothing weird about staring at the lips, cheeks, freckles, eyes, of a fellow guard. Garroth is not being weird about this. He knows he not the greatest at speaking to others regarding matters that don’t involve a guard’s duty, but this?
He wasn’t sure if Laurance was being overly nice, or if he was absolutely butchering this entire interaction.
“So, what do you say to a date, eh?” Laurance returns to the original topic of conversation.
Garroth clears his throat once more. He feels more inclined to be kinder. “Laurance, please. You’ll have to find someone who’s worth pining over. You don’t even know what I look like beneath the helm.”
“I can find out, can’t I?” Laurance inches closer to Garroth, but his back is already against the wall. He swallows thickly. “I can imagine what’s beneath that helmet of yours.”
“Trust me.” Garroth’s voice cracks but he tries to keep his composure. “I am not what you are imagining in your head.”
“Are you saying you don’t have a beautiful smile? Come on, my sweet.”
Garroth cringes but that doesn’t deter Laurance. The smile on his face grows even wider, and before Garroth knows it, his back is pressed against the wall, Laurance looking up at him with a gleam in his eyes.
“I’m sure you can keep the helmet on. I’m into that.”
“Sir Laurance—“ Garroth blushes furiously. “I swear to Irene—“
“—That I’ll be the first to take off that helmet and show ya around Meteli? Take you on a nice candlelight dinner? Watch the stars?”
“I will silt your throat, Zvahl. Take a step back.”
Laurance blinks, clearly not expecting the threat. Garroth seems to not expect it either, because a quick apology boils to the surface. But before he can spit it out, Laurance winks.
“Hot. How do you feel about coming back to Meteli with me for a night? I’m sure Lord Aphmau wouldn’t mind.”
“In Irene’s name, Laurance—“
“I’m not hearing a no,” Laurance sings. Before anything else can happen, the shorter man backs away from the guard, smile dropping. “Alright, alright, fine. But you know where to find me if you want to test the waters. I wouldn’t mind showing ya how to steer the boat.”
“…Thank you for the offer,” Garroth sighs. What does Aphmau even see in him? Aside from his stupid banter, nice smile, beautifully tamed, long hair, his need to care for people of his village—
Garroth immediately shuts down that thought.
“But I’m not interested currently,” Garroth finally finishes.
“Does that mean you will be interested in the future?”
“Keep dreaming.”
“Oh, the guard has a sense of humour!”
Garroth shakes his head, finding himself smiling. Thank Irene Laurance cannot see it.
“I’m heading back to Meteli. I’ll see you, Sir Garroth.”
Garroth can’t find the words to describe his feelings. Laurance is just like that— flirtatious. It’s not like people haven’t flirted with Garroth before, but Laurance had actual charm, which is something Garroth couldn’t say about his past admirers.
There’s more to Laurance than meets the eye. Garroth knows it.
“…Yeah. Safe travels, Sir Laurance.”