Noble deeds

Takes place in Mead during the Grand Tourney, summer 1235.

Mordreaux

The king's birthday was a glorious, happy occasion, at least as much as the clamour of the crowd told Mordreaux. It was a beautiful summer's day with so much to do and enjoy, and Mord let himself be carried on the general mood as he leaned against a thick post with his eyes closed and his arms crossed.

His illusionary disguise came to him easily today: his hair looked shorn in a handsome short style, and he sported golden eyes and a beard today, to look as different from his wanted poster as he could. He toyed with a scar across his nose at some portions of the day, knowing he and his husband wouldn't pass the same people twice today. He merely enjoyed the look of it, of being the roguish dastard to his beloved hero who'd defeated him today at the tourney.

It'd been a near thing. The two of them had always been neck-and-neck in their capacity for violence, and Mord took his defeat with grace, laughter, and whispered promises of what reward Lugh could take from him once they ambled on home.

But despite that, it was by Lugh's insistence that he wait for something Lugh wanted to fetch. Mord couldn't keep the smile from his lips at the thought of it, knowing his thoughtful nature, and just let himself bask in the moment.

As much as he knew moments like these would never last, it was nice to enjoy them as he could.

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Lugh

Some time passed under that pleasant afternoon sun, but before long Mordreaux could sense that familiar void cut its way through the moving crowd. Lugh - or Ywain as he was known that day - in turn grinned softly at the murmur of thoughts and feelings that greeted him, offering his partner a horn of foaming ale. "A gift, ser Lothric. Our fight must've left you parched in that fine armor of yours," He said with a straight face, bar the familiar glint in his uncharacteristically dark eyes, before he let all his supposed severity melt away, stepping close to plant a secret kiss on Mord's brow where the circlet usually rested.

"I hope it is to your liking, a peasant's drink as it may be," He murmured only for his 'rival' to hear, giving an appreciative look at the dark suit of armor Mord was wearing, made all the more handsome for the marks it bore now from their ferocious fight.

With a casual exchange of cheers he nudged Mord's drink with his own cow horn, downing a mouthful before continuing with a sigh. "I forgot what lines are like at places such as this, though never have I seen this many mages in one place apart from Namarast." He mused as his thoughts momentarily returned to the jeweler, and the odd sensation that had stirred to life around them, brushing away a drop of ale as it ran over the scar on his lower lip down his groomed chin.

The light beard was one of the few things familiar about him today, his features somewhat softened all around; his eyes dark like that of the fey; his hair long and loosely braided as it rested on his armored shoulder. It was a look much more suited for Mord, though he could hardly complain when it was their illusions that had made all of today possible, the breathless look on Mord's face as he had pushed him to the ground with his boot seared into his mind now.

"So, spy anything curious from your humble post?" He softly inquired, keen and seemingly in good spirits.

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Mordreaux

Mord took the offered gift with a smothered grin of his own, love swelling silently in his chest at that kiss to his brow.

"You and your love of peasantry," Mord teased back, alluding not to the ale that he drank from too, eager to get some of the dust from his mouth, but their teasing back and forth from when Lugh had taken his crown away for a night and day. It wasn't in Mord's habit to give thanks for gifts like this, but his gratitude was easily read to Lugh's eyes as he leaned his shoulder against his.

He raised his chin to Lugh's last question, sighing comfortably. "Mm....they're celebrating their fortieth anniversary just there," He gestured to an adoring elderly couple sitting and laughing under a festive set of poles. "They're speaking of his constant brush with the constables when they first met. There, to their left, is a youth who just won one of the junior competitions in archery, and is thinking of giving his winning arrow to his darling back home."

Then he glanced at a growing crowd down the major path and he had to peer with his chin up. "That way, they're gawking at a mage spectacle, which isn't entirely new. There's been some arrests today,  but that one...is..."

Mord's levity fell, and without a word, he handed his horn of ale to Lugh and hastened over, chasing a name he'd thought would have wisely kept as far away from a gathering like this, had she any sense left in her emptied head.

He pushed through the crowd enough to have a crushed view of the scene. A tusked, one-armed mage was calling to the crowd to calm down now that the dangerous mage Lasair Andraste was arrested and in good care of the Order, and there stood Vilas, ushering Aristedes' descendant into a prison wagon.

"You-!" He bit back to himself, burning with the fact that Vilas was the one ruining the plan he'd so carefully arranged. If she was on her way to Namarast, neither he nor Lugh could follow safely. Mord took a step forward, only to feel his arm yanked two steps back in the midst of the crowd.

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Lugh

"Don't," Lugh grunted with heavy calm, his eyes trained on another man altogether. His grip was tight enough to be felt through the armor as he pulled Mord further back, narrowly avoiding Málmr who walked through the crowd and past the two knights. Were it not for the tusked man, the two of them wouldn't need these disguises, and Medea would've never-

It took a shivering exhale to relax his shoulders and that protective, quietly furious hold on his beloved, sparing only a glance at the two hornfuls of drink merely floating right next to his hip before returning his attention to the scene wrapping up before everyone's eyes. They couldn't meet the lad here - not now, and especially not after what had taken place in Faline between the aggrieved blond and Mord. That couldn't be settled now, but Lasair's predicament on the other hand...

"Come, there's nothing to be done right now." At least they'd know where she'd be heading, but they could hardly leave the redhead in Grace's hands altogether, little love as the two other Patrons seemed to hold for all once touched by Fortune. Her being captured complicated the prophecy in other ways too, though never had it been the brightest of possible futures when it came down to the disgraced heir and Lugh himself, nothing but two winged beasts locked in battle for an unknown cause.

"He wouldn't recognize you," He ushered quietly over Mord's shoulder.

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Mordreaux

Mord's mouth twisted as he bit back everything in him that begged to be said, unaware of the danger Málmr posed as the warrior passed them both by. Mord knew that it was unwise to step into the fray with so many Order mages watching over their 'dangerous criminal' whilst so blatantly unaware that she'd been essentially declawed since last winter.

And Vilas...it would've been a good thing to interfere when the man couldn't recognize him. Mord wanted to check and see if his memory enchantment was still intact on him, but Vilas slipped into the prison wagon before he could dig deep enough, and the sound of the wagon doors closing was like a slap in the face.

All Mord could do was curse under his breath and follow after Lugh as they dispersed along with the rest of the crowd. Why Vilas, of all people? Why did it have to be him standing in the way of all Mord was working toward?

If this was karma for what he did to Vilas, Mord would bite his bitter laughter in Fortune's face.

He followed Lugh to a quieter area so they both could think, and as the noise of the crowd lessened, the thought occurred between them both to at least let Aristedes know. He was one of the Order, allowed safe passage into Namarast, and he was clever. He'd surely find a way to get Lasair free of her own mess.

They could hope, anyway. Mord asked Lugh to keep a lookout while he constructed an illusion that would fly out of his reach and beyond his focus in order to sing its warning to his old lover.

He only gave as much bitterness to the spoiling of the joyful moment as he could allow before drowning all the rest out in order to cast his spell.

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Lugh

Lugh slowly emptied his horn of ale while keeping guard, ignoring the constant murmur of Mord's thoughts in the back of his mind the best he could. They were more quiet now - a sign of the man focusing if not calming down just quite yet - and for the time being, that was enough for him as he kept his back turned to Mord, his eyes trained on the backs of the tents. None seemed to pay them any mind, nor could he hear any of the patrols approaching-

He gasped faintly, but the moment passed before he could utter a word. A wild mage slinked into view from between two closely pitched tents, their face familiar from the wanted posters scattered around the festival grounds. The mage only leered towards the two knights from under their brow, before pulling their cowl closer and hurrying to the opposite direction from the yelling that could be heard from the main path.

Lugh turned to look at his beloved just in time to see the enchanted bird flutter past him and disappear into the bright blue sky, the urgent message safely sent on its way. His look of relief was quickly washed away by a softspoken murmur, barely heard over the storm of noise coming closer, "Veil us, love. Someone wasn't as lucky with their disguise, it seems."

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Mordreaux

Mord barely had time to frown in surprise before trusting his judgement and hiding them both under a veil that hid them amidst the tent fabric, sight unseen. It took him a moment as he shifted from enchantment to illusion to reading what these newcomers wanted, but when he failed to know who they were chasing and failed to care beyond keeping him and Lugh out of their crossfire, he used their own mental image of their prey against them and sent those Order pursuers in the entirely wrong direction, far from him and his husband.

"That's too much trouble all at once for one day," Mord murmured once it was safe to drop the veil. Lugh had pulled him close against the nearest tent, and Mord softened into taking the advantage by wrapping his arms around his love's waist. "Especially for trouble not caused by you and I."

He was curious though if that chase had been at all related to Lasair's capture, and he wondered aloud what they'd been so ardently chasing.

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Lugh

He could do naught but grin at the fond comment, that wolf so often hidden behind his sheepish smile now showing itself. Mord wasn't wrong. "None could compete with you and your tricks, even if they tried," Lugh murmured back, lightly grabbing Mord's belt as he returned the relaxed embrace with his free hand, exhaling amusedly at the sound of steel clinking against steel. With a hand resting in the small of Mord's back, he continued more wearily, sighing as he handed over the half-full horn for his love to drink down and be rid of, answering to that wondering question, "But as for them and their hunt, I couldn't say, love."

"The unicorn is still on the loose, too." Or at least, was. Beyond the vision they had failed to gather any clues of the person behind that fantastical sight, or how they might play into their plan to deal with Morgan. One way or another the unicorn would find its way to the mirrored realm, but on their own? Likely not, and it was with that goal in mind he joined Mord's silent wondering, looking towards the direction the Order folks had run.

They could be anyone. Even a wanted mage, just like the two of them.

"Perhaps they're drawn to trouble as well. Care to do a bit of sleuthing together?" They wouldn't give chase to that lot, but something was amiss, making the air stir despite the festivities carrying on all around them without a hitch by the sound of it.

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