In the Wake of Giants

"What is with you?" The young man next to Janine suddenly asked in a hushed voice.

She lifted her head and turned slightly to him. She looked at him and struggled to remember his name. It started with a T, but she couldn't pinpoint the name just yet.

"What do you mean by that?" Janine asked back.

"I mean why are you so worked up about Sir Raban? I know we were assigned partners, but you're acting as if you don't want him to be cleared of his name." He reasoned.

Janine narrowed her eyes at the accusation. She fumbled at what to say, but her default reaction towards the others was aggression.

"I'm not! I want him to be off the damn step and out of the cage! I want that damn Hunter out of Amastad. Things were fine before he got here," Janine retorted.

Her fellow knight scoffed slightly. "That may be true, but you're not helping him get there. All that shouting is going to get you and us in trouble, so stop acting like an infant."

Janine gasped at the response. Did they not care about him the way she did? Or were they just eager to see if Greaves was right or wrong?

Was she really acting like a child, speaking out of turn and arguing with her superior? Leaving emotion at the door and coming inside with professionalism? Act like a true Knight? She supposed most would think yes. Janine couldn't tell at the moment; she sat with a slew of emotions whirling inside her, and none of them positive in the slightest. She strained to keep the tears within her eyes while the Knights ushered Raban into the silver-riddled cage. If it was anything like the chair, then Raban would only have about ten minutes before he was forced to shift. Whether he could control himself after that she didn't know. She just… had to have faith in Raban to be able to control himself, but even then some things were just out of our control.

No, she shouldn't think like that. Raban had control. But did Greaves have the control? Would he just bide time and bank on Raban succumbing to his inner wolf? She listened as the Hunter started lecturing about wolfsbane.

Or would he hasten the torture and coat Raban with the deadly wolfsbane?

She felt that Greaves would love to just make a monster out of Raban, forcing the actual wolf out of him with the mixture.

A grimace spread across her face when Sir Kiegal jumped into the conversation.

"Now what effects does this mixture have on werewolves? Is this the same mixture as the one you gave us the last time?" He asked stoically.

She sighed softly as the man kept talking. Back to square one, only they might get to square two sooner than they had hoped. Just like before, the young woman's eyes were transfixed on Raban's frame, as he stood trapped in that cage like an animal. It was so demeaning, seeing a man like Raban locked as such. If it was just a normal jail cell she wouldn't have thought too much about it, but Greaves probably wanted to make it as humiliating as possible.

She tilted her head when Raban began to take his chainmail armor off, the sounds rattling and clunking in his cage. What was Raban going to do? Was he just accepting the inevitable and waiting for his body to change? She silently cheered for him to hang on, like last time.

'Just wait, Raban. Don't give up so quickly. You can do it.'
 
Raban straitened his tunic as he stood within the cage that now stood as his prison until he was let go or taken to be dealt with. That's even if they would bother with the latter idea; it was easier to kill him in the cage than out of. Out of it, he had more of a chance to escape. He was against time, the longer he was locked inside the cage, the more sluggish he'd get and the more pain he'd feel.

So it was that Silver was not Raban's favourite of precious metals.

He flex his fingers, controlled his breathing, thought of Janine, Cadfael, his own tenure; all the good he had been able to do whilst he had served with the Order. It helped stave off the pain and ache from the silver as he listened to Greaves and Kiegal talk on the other side of his bars.

Greaves looked at Kiegal and tilted his head, "Same mixture as the rest. You see, werewolves are very reactive to Wolfsbane. Gets their bloodlust up, does something with the venom, even in proximity. Has to be close proximity. The silver only kills if you shoot or stab them in heart; otherwise it makes them sluggish... makes them slow. This mix gets the wolf out but lessens their danger. MEaning; easier for you and your Knights to finish them off without getting bit or scratched."

"Would you like the honours, Sir Kiegal? After all, Sir Raban is... or perhaps was one of your own." Greaves offered the vial out to Kiegal.

Raban eyed the exchange with a frown, the move was undeniably bold and confident but rather mean in the measure. No Commander wanted the organisation they lead to be tarnished or embarrassed by one of their own much less have a personal hand in exposing them. He moved closer to the bars, wincing as the silver sent another wave through him.

He looked through the crowd and found Janine, he gave a small smile before he looked back at Kiegal, who was looking to the offered vial with a frown. Raban weighed what he was about to do and knew it was a risk but it was either admit freely and show himself or have the wolfsbane mixture throw at him and he remembered how excruciating that was. Not unlike Chestnut's explanation of being burned alive before all your nerve endings were fried and then suffering in silence. Either way, his career was over and admitting might sway Kiegal to a more favourable outcome.

"Or perhaps, Sir, you could just ask?" he looked at Kiegal alone as he spoke.

Greaves looked at him and tilted his head, "Ask? Sir Raban... you do realise what you're in there for, don't you?"

Raban rounded on Greaves with a vehemence he knew Kiegal wasn't usually so privy to, "I wasn't talking to you, Mr Greaves. Unless my eyes deceive me and you happen to be a distinguished Knight and Leader of the Order? No? I thought not." He looked back to Kiegal.
 
It was so nerve wracking, watching Raban stand helplessly in that cage of his. Eyes scanning the rest of the knights, Janine took quiet notice of their attentiveness, but to tell if they were focused on Raban or the actual lecture it was impossible to tell. She certainly wasn’t listening to Greaves prattle on about wolfsbane. All she needed to know was that it was dangerous to werewolves, and that meant Raban. Anything else, she could study in her free time. She didn’t like the questions Sir Kiegal was giving to the Hunter - to her it showed that he was actually taking in what Greaves was saying, which she disliked greatly.

The hunter then offered to give the older Knight the vial of wolfsbane to expose Raban with. She watched as her superior tentatively took the bottle, seeing the slight hesitation in his actions for some reason. Did he not want to take the bottle? Perhaps he was considering not exposing Raban?

Her eyes went back to Raban just in time to catch him smiling at her for a short time, which puzzled her. With a frown, she tilted her head; what did that smile mean? What was he planning?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

Watching Mister Greaves demonstrate and lecture about the wolfsbane gave him a miniscule reprieve from dealing with Raban. He was able to sense and see the older knight’s bodily reactions and felt his heart sink with regret. It seemed as if Raban was indeed a werewolf, and was just a matter of time before he’d become the wolf within him. A vicious beast. It was a shame really. He really liked working alongside the man.

He was going to miss his colleague. He was shaken out of his thoughts when he was offered a vial of the mixture, body straightening out as he reached out to grab it. He felt himself hesitate before it even registered to his brain, finding himself not as willing to grab the vial as quickly as he thought. Why? What was wrong with him? He looked up to Raban, contemplating on pouring the vial when -

"Or perhaps, Sir, you could just ask?"

His eyes widened at the suggestion. Ask? Ask who? Raban? He pulled the vial closer towards his chest at the words that came out of Raban’s mouth, angling his head a bit with confusion. Greaves seemed to have the same amount of confusion in his head, if not more, questioning the man of why he was in the cage in the first place. The statement was met with a face and tone from Raban that Kiegal could not recall witnessing - a rather intense expression full of passion and defiance that he never knew Raban had. He spoke his words towards the Hunter, venom and, dare he say it, anger, in them before turning to the head Knight once more. What was Raban asking for? Permission? Against his better nature, the man cocked a brow with what he could only describe as curiosity.

“You have my attention. Ask you to do what, exactly, Raban?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

Greaves handing the vial to Sir Kiegal was horrible to watch. She squinted, not wanting to see her superior contemplate on whether to slather wolfsbane on his own Knight. She shook her head, begging for something to come out of this.

Then the request left Raban’s words; she couldn’t help but to gasp softly and widen her eyes. Ask him? For what? What was Raban planning? She shifted in her seat as anxiety gripped her again, wondering if she could do anything to stop what she feared might happen. But she already knew that she couldn’t do anything, at least nothing short of beating up everyone in the room and freeing him herself. She tilted her head in confusion, trying to figure out the motive of such a question, but grasping at nothing.

‘Damnit Raban, what are you doing?!’ Janine screamed in her head. ‘You’re going to get yourself in trouble!’
 
It was satisfying to watch the dumbfounded expression cross Greaves' features at his words. He wondered if Greaves had known his kind could be born, not just made and he found out himself doubting it. Course, this was risky... Greaves would know now of his kind's existence but the fact he'd be changed either by choice or by force didn't change what he was. The difference was that if he could show Kiegal he had control over what he was than he had a higher chance to survive this.

He'd be out of the Order; of that he understood and accepted only too readily and likely face a life of being an outcast from Amastad but it was better to live than be executed by the same Order he had sworn to serve. He just hoped Janine understood and guessed his reasoning in what he was about to do and given what she had done just now with Kiegal in trying to perhaps stall or stop this altogether... maybe he wouldn't have to face exile entirely alone.

Kiegal seemed taken aback and Raban wasn't surprised. He was sorry that Kiegal was having to even go through any of this but that was the risk he took in being the Order's leading Commander. The man was an exemplary soldier and a good man, one Raban liked a lot as a colleague and proud to have served under all these years.

He smiled to Kiegal in what was both an apology and acceptance of a truth he could no longer deny. Kiegal knew what he was now... he just didn't yet know the complexity of what he was.

"I have served this Order since Sir Cadfael took me under his wing all those years ago. He gave me a brotherhood, a family and friends I am proud to serve alongside. Cadfael knew my truth, my whole truth as he did my history and I know he would ask you now, Sir, to keep an open mind."

For Raban, it was important to start his meaning with these words, for context before the change. It gave no pleasure to bring Cadfael's name into it but the old man had expressed permission to do so. Perhaps his foster father believed his name would carry weight, Raban wasn't sure and hadn't fully understood at the time. He understood more now, Kiegal and Cadfael had both served alongside each other in the city which perhaps the former being senior to the latter. He wasn't sure, he never did inquire into Cadfael's age.

He stood back and inclined his head before he called on his rage, anger, pain.. these emotions that he always kept a harness on as much as possible. His form answered the call, his frame growing in size at his own will. Skin turned black and disappeared under the fur that grew outwards, his nose and mouth elongated as his ears rotated back and grew pointed. Raban heard the gasps and cries of the Knights in the room, especially by those that still had not believed he could have been what he was accused of. It was not long before he was as his true self.

Raban still felt the effects of the silver, but a made werewolf would not be able to transform by silver alone. Greaves took a step back and away from the bars, as if caught entirely off guard for once in his life as he stared at the werewolf in the cage.

"Th-that's not... possible."

Raban looked at greaves and flicked his ears back before he chuffed and licked over his wet black nose, looking back to his Commander. His cocked his head, the stunned look on Kiegal's face would have otherwise been a hilarious picture but this situation was far from a comedy in the making. He saluted Kiegal knowing that no made werewolf would make such a gesture of recognition.

He had his humanity and that was clear to see before he turned and then sat down in the center of the cage even though it was bloody uncomfortable. He picked up the torn remnants of his tunic and breeches and sighed ruefully as he inspected them. He had forgotten to remove his tunic beforehand, that was annoying to say the least but even as Kiegal and the rest of the room stared at him, he folded the torn garments. Another mark of his humanity. What did a werewolf have need for in folding clothes?

"Oh ho! His face! He's stunned! Hrah! Take that your fishy bastard! Woo!" Raban winced at Chestnut's elation that rang loud inside his head. Unlike himself, she had no qualms in enjoying people's pain or misery or situations like this as though it was fun entertainment. Her kind were not so held by social graces.

Raban looked at Kiegal knowing the man would undoubtedly have question. Greaves probably had them to. Raban was aware just how rare he was for his kind. As far as he knew, he was the only one in Amastad nevermind out of the surrounding area completely. He just hoped Janine would forgive him after all this.

"Unlikely, but this is worth the wrath. Poor little hunter,"
 
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This didn’t feel right in Janine’s chest. Raban was planning something and she didn’t know what. Her ears pricked as she heard the caged knight begin to speak, bringing up his past: Cadfael, his youth, his upbringing. Was he going to try and explain that he was good? But instead of just explaining, he did something utterly unexpected.

She was forced to keep quiet as Raban lifted his head and called forth his inner wolf. Without skipping a beat, he steadily transformed - fangs, fur, body, everything. The room was filled with a collective gasp, followed by concerned murmurs and accusations. Despite being the only one who knew about Raban being a werewolf in the first place, Janine’s gasp was just as genuine as everyone else’s. While everyone was shocked about him being a werewolf in general, she was shocked that Raban would actually shift in front of everyone. In front of Greaves. What was this supposed to do? He can’t defend himself if he’s accused of anything and he can’t explain anything if he needs to clarify. However, she couldn’t help but smirk a bit at the Hunter’s verbal declaration of this transformation being impossible. She narrowed her eyes, snorting at the dumbfounded man.

’It’s possible for Raban you sadistic asshole.’ Janine mentally snarled.

Her heart pounded in her chest as Greaves and Sir Kiegal backed away from the cage, shock and astonishment painting their facial expressions. They never saw this coming, that’s for sure. She had to assume that he never knew about Werewolves like Raban. How many of Raban’s kind were there, really? Her head even tilted when Raban saluted to Sir Kiegal, something that not even she saw coming. It was weird, even for her, to see a saluting werewolf in a cage. The sound of glass dropping startled her, however. She jerked to see the vial of wolfsbane shattered across the floor. Apparently Sir Kiegal was so shocked he dropped the vial. Wariness and anxiety gripped her now, seeing the most deadly mixture for werewolves now just out in the open. She hoped that it wouldn’t affect Raban too much since it wasn’t directly in front of him, and that he would control himself if anything happened.

The only silver lining in this situation was that his humanity was still intact. He must’ve figured that this was his only saving grace. He grabbed his armor and folded his torn clothes, which, strangely enough, made her sigh inwardly. Now she had to go to his boarded room and find a pair of clothes for him to wear. Before she could wonder the thought, the voices of the other knights crept to her ears.

“Who’s Cadfael?”

“Who cares, there’s a werewolf in here!”

“Damn! How could we have been so blind?”

Janine looked around at the shocked and betrayed faces of her fellow Knights. She sighed, she couldn’t tell them how to feel, but she knew that their emotions would be negative towards Raban. She didn’t want that to happen. Not to him.

Her eyes drew towards her leader with nervousness. What was he going to do now?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

A werewolf… that shifted on his own accord? In broad daylight?

Sir Kiegal was utterly stunned, seeing his comrade literally change from man to wolf in front of his eyes. It was impossible… Wasn’t it? But yet it was happening in front of him. And what’s more, there was nothing he expected to happen - no snarling, no barking, nothing that made him want to fear Raban.

The salute Raban performed made his limbs weak. The vial dropped from his hand, shock apparent on his face. What the hell was going on here?

“You… Were a werewolf this whole time, Raban?” Kiegal asked in disbelief. Cadfael… He remembered him. The man that was stubborn and wise, stern too. But he had remembered him to be an advocate of the rules of the Order as well. So what happened then? His mind reeled as he turned to Greaves, who looked just as shocked as him. Apparently he didn’t have any answers for the multitude of questions he wanted to ask. Who had the answers? Why didn’t he know for this long? How was Raban able to hide this from him? In a sense, he was lied to.

“Sir, what are you going to do?” a Knight asked.

“What kind of question is that? It’s obvious what he has to do,” another snapped.

“But look at him! Sir Raban is -”

“It doesn’t matter! Sir Kiegal you have to -”

“Nobody is going to tell me what to do!” The Knight said in his commanding voice again. The knights had silenced themselves. Eyes attentive and wide as they faced their leader. He put his fingers to his eyes and rubbed them, a growl coming out his throat before he spoke.

“You listen to me and you listen good, Knights. I am the one who decides what to do here, not you. I don’t care what you think is right here. Now, in the light of this revelation, I am the one who comes to a final conclusion, not you. And, if you can remember, these things are not to be spoken of outside of this building. This is to ensure that there is no panic. If I hear, see, or even think that any one of those citizens out there even has an inkling of a werewolf in the city, I will find you, strip you of your Knight ship, and suspend you indefinitely for disobeying authority and spreading fear among the citizens of the city!” Kiegal raised his voice in that last sentence. He paused for a few beats, scanning the crowd to ensure his words settled in their brains. He could not have a panic in his hands. Not now. These affairs, while concerning everyone, also were, as a whole, Order matters. The public didn’t have the absolute right to know everything that happened within these walls, even if this building is, technically, built for the city.

“Do you understand me?” the Commander asked.

“Yes Sir!”

“Are we absolutely clear?!”

“Yes Sir!”

The Knight hmphed. “Thank you. In light of these events, your duties are relieved until further notice. Everyone is allowed to go home. This burden falls upon me, not you,” the man said with a shake of his head. He watched silently as the Knights turned to each other with nervous glances before hesitantly standing and moving to the doors. He felt their tension from various sources of stress, but there would be a lot more of it if they didn’t listen to his commands. He spied the eyes of Janine as she slowly walked to the doors. They seemed to be locked on those of her former partner-now-turned-wolf. He could only imagine her grief in this revelation. How betrayed she must’ve felt.

He can somewhat relate.

Her eyes drifted to his and she flinched before walking out the doors with haste.
When he was sure everyone was out the building, he groaned as he rubbed his face. Turning to Greaves, he narrowed his eyes at the man.

“I suppose you don’t have any answers about this? Do you have anything to say about events like this?” Kiegal asked as calmly as possible.
 
Despite his choice to change willingly in front of everyone of the Order, mostly just to spite Greaves and forego the absolute pain that Wolfbane caused him, he was harrowed by the reactions his change brought. He had accepted that people would see him as a betrayal of their Order, that he was no longer human, that he no longer had a right to live as they did.

Greaves and Kiegal had both stepped back and he imagined the rest would have done too if they weren't already sitting down. Still, in a way, he felt a relief lift from his shoulders. No longer did he have to hide as much from these folk as he used to. Course, they could still have him executed for being what he was, but that it was not longer something he had to keep a stoic secret to was something of a relief.

He looked between Greaves and Kiegal with no discernable rage or viciousness he knew a normal Werewolf would exhibit. IF he was, he would be raging at the bars, drooling and snarling as much as he could whilst the silver slowed him down to a mess on the floor. He could feel the silver's effect on hims till, it was making him lethargic and tired. The desire to sleep was growing stronger by the second.

He watched Kiegal as the man reacted and took it in that one of his most senior knights was what his Order was tasked to protect Amastad from amongst other threats. He knew he had placed Kiegal in a difficult position but it hadn't been something he could have helped.

Kiegal spoke to him and his furry shoulders sagged before he nodded in reply. It was clear Raban was able to understand Kiegal and recognised Kiegal, something that no ordinary werewolf was capable of. It was clear he was rewriting the Order's understanding of his kind just by being in this cage before his commander.

He glanced as the other Knights began speaking up with questions applying pressure to an already heavy plate. There were so many questions that Raban knew he would be asked and he hoped Kiegal could wait awhile before he was able to change back.

It seemed things were getting a little too much for Kiegal to keep all his Knights present throughout this and Raban could not blame him. There was fear, confusion, irritation, anger and worry that had filled the room. He watched as they left, the expression on his wolven face somber and regretful. They were good Knights, good men but even as he acknowledged this, he only cared about Janine through this.

She caught his gaze and he nodded gently to her in what was so slight a nod that it was easily mistook for a simple head movement. Raban shuddered again as another wave of pain and lethargy road over him and he fought against the feeling. It was horrible but he couldn't do anything to change that until he was freed from this cage.

-----------

Greaves stood in wonder and fear, if there were more like this man then humanity was even more trouble that they realised. Anyone could be a wolf and could nothing of the usual signs away. He rubbed his jaw as he watched Raban inside the cage. The silver was doing its job marvelously, the werewolf's movements not quite as swift as they ought to have been and there was pain too.

However, there was also recognition in those eyes and the werewolf had saluted and folded clothes. Qute the little mystery.

"I... Well... Hm... He cannot be a common occurrence; I would have come across one by now... Nor have I heard of any other hunters finding werewolves that can turn at will. He requires further study," he said, not taking his eyes off Raban.

The werewolf looked at him at the mention of study and seemed to show disapproval.
 
Raban’s ultimate reveal didn’t seem to go overly well, as feared. Knights tried to dictate Raban’s fate, but Sir Raban immediately shut them down, speaking with an anger and authority even more intense than how he came at her earlier. Janine couldn’t quite read exactly how he felt about Raban outside of the obvious aggression, but it couldn’t have been good. Seeing everyone else suddenly hush up and hold their tongues gave her some level of assurance that his secret would be safe, but not everything was guaranteed. Still she couldn’t jinx Raban, and she held her mind’s tongue about the other knights. As everyone was sent outside to go home, Janine naturally drifted her eyes to Raban in his cage, mentally wishing him luck now that he would be alone with both Sir Kiegal and Greaves by himself, in his wolf form. He nodded to her too, as if saying he was okay. Okay was a relative word in this situation. But she had to deal with it.

’Damn you, Raban. Please be safe.’

Feeling eyes on her, Janine turned her gaze to Sir Kiegal and realized he was watching her. With a gasp she hurried out the building, truly leaving Raban alone with two dangerous men. Once outside she sighed heavily, wanting to just cry in a corner after a super stressful meeting. This was way too much emotion than what she was used to emitting. Being worried was exhausting.

The sounds of neighing caught Janine’s attention, and she looked up to see Venus upset at the small crowd surrounding Chestnut. The fuck?! She rushed over to the horses and pushed the other knights out of the way. Why couldn’t they just leave like they were told?!

“The fuck do you guys think you’re doing?! You dare mess with Raba - Sir Raban’s horse? During a time like this?!” Janine nearly roared. The knights that weren’t involved watched the unfolding event for a few seconds before hurrying out of the courtyard, not willing to be the subject of Sir Kiegal’s wrath anymore.

“Tch, this isn't about you, Janine. This is about him,” the knight said as he pointed towards the Order building’s doors. He isn’t the Knight we knew, you see that now,” he said with a shake of his head.

Janine narrowed her eyes at him and lifted a lip in a snarl. He dared to denounce Raban as his superior, as a higher ranking Knight? The absolute nerve! She strode over to him and punched him in the face, the force crumpling the man to the ground as he collapsed. The other knights gasped and rushed to her, but she turned with such a look in her eyes they backed away. “Get this through your fucking skulls. You don’t ever destroy another man's horse, let alone the horse of a man of high ranking such as Sir Raban. How would you like it if someone crippled your horse behind your back? Have you no shame? No respect? No honor?” she asked in disbelief. She’d seen these immature knights do silly and ignorant things before, but this? This was an outrage!

The knight that Janine punched got up with a grunt, nose now dripping with blood. “But this isn’t about the horse, this is about -”

Janine interrupted him with a small growl. “The man whose name and situation shall not be discussed outside,” the enraged woman said as she steadily walked towards him. He backed away with hands raised and eyes widened. “Sir Keigal was explicit about this fact, was he not? So you want to risk being the subject of his wrath? Hmm? Do you want to be kicked out of the Order just because you don’t want to keep your mouth shut and wanna fuck with other people’s horses?!” she snapped again.

The knights backed away from Chestnut as Janine’s voice rose. She turned to the others with a huff. “If I ever see you near this horse again, I won’t come to save you, because that horse will gladly and happily stomp you into the ground as if you were measly insects, and if she kills you, I won’t shed a fucking tear. Now fuck off!” Janine hissed. The knights nodded their heads before quickly backing away and fleeing to their horses, leaving the courtyard with haste. After a minute, the courtyard was empty, leaving only Janine, Chestnut, Venus, and Greave’s horse in the yard. The anger steadily dissipated, letting all her sadness come flooding in as she walked back to Chestnut.

“I’m sorry Chestnut. I know you could’ve handled yourself, I just couldn’t let them disrespect you and Raban,” Janine said as she patted her shoulder. “It’s so weird. Yesterday was the best day ever, and now today, everything about him is just exposed. Today just might be the last day we’ll see him alive.” Tears welled in her eyes at the very words she said aloud. “Sorry, I know how you are about our emotions and shit, it’s just… hard, that’s all.” She said with a small sniff. Tears streamed down her face as she looked back at the building. The building that held her only friend captive like a dog. She couldn’t stand to look at it anymore.

“Chestnut, I’m going to take Venus home and have her rest. You can come with me to eat and rest too if you want; I'll always have enough for you to eat. But if you want to stay here on your own, I also understand. What do you want to do?” Janine asked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​


Kiegal stood straight as he turned to Raban. He looked sluggish, probably due to the effects of the silver cage. He sighed, his brain trying to gather all the information he needed to make his decision. As Greaves spoke, it was more and more obvious that he had no clue that Raban was even a possibility. In his last sentence, he and Raban happened to make similar reactions. ‘Study’? As in observing him? Or something else more sinister?

“Mister Greaves, what do you mean by that? Your job has been completed has it not? You’ve rooted out the werewolf in our midst, and he is also captured. I do not see a need for any other course of action, besides the obvious, don’t you?” Kiegal asked with a raised brow. There was too much stress on his plate keeping this discovery under discretion without this building becoming some sort of lair for…. Werewolf experiments.
 
Raban's ears drooped a little as he watched the interaction between the vastly two very different men before him and wondered if all of this had been the right decision; to follow his promise and faith in the Order and to Cadfael. He thought back on the man, remembering his features as if it were only yesterday. The man was tall and decently built, moreso for agility than strength, had greying white hair that was always brushed back and kept short along with a beard that was never allowed to get very long, a centimeter at most had been the longest Raban remembered seeing him with.

Everything had its place and a time for everything and Raban could not recall any time the man had simply let loose and relaxed as he and Janine had. The man loved reading and writing in the hours he had free. He might have had a spartan childhood compared with other kids his age, but Raban was grateful for Cadfael coming into his life when he had. He had taken on the role as his father but never claimed that he was now Raban's father. He was treated with respect and attention. He never went hungry or cold. Everything his parents had either been unable to or didn't care about.

The wolf took to brooding, his triangular ears the only indication he was still listening to Sir Kiegal and Greaves. It was only when a word of Demonic burned inside his mind that he became aware of what was happening outside and he looked in the direction of the commotion.

-------------------------------------------------

Chestnut was in a foul mood.

Her Little Wolf was in a cage with a fate that rested unknown on his shoulders and she could do nothing to help him. If it wouldn't have upset him, she would hold no qualms about burning the place down. She stamped a hoof and snorted. She raised her head when she heard movement, her ears facing towards the sound before Knights streamed out and filled the courtyard. She snorted; they had been kicked out. Had they really needed to have been present for all of this.... it seemed to invite chaos.

Her large eyes blinked as she viewed them. Some were morose, others somber and there was a group coming towards her with intent on their faces. Anger too and she realised they were feeling betrayed. She huffed, they were being childish and ignorant. If these meat sacks truly realised just how filled the world was with demons and other creatures of the night alongside this entitled human race, they might have been more understanding.

However, humans had thought themselves the masters of this world they shared and seemed to fear and hunted everything else they deemed inferior or out of their accepted version of the world. Chestnut had no interested in understanding them as a species. She only cared about one of them. She snorted, that wasn't quite true... Janine had entered their lives and Chestnut had warmed to her. Perhaps it was just the demon half of the woman but Janine had spunk, a fire that burned.

She blinked again as she felt hands on her flanks and the saddle. "MEAT SACKS! I WILL BURN YOU!" Course, all they heard was her snickers and whinnies of alarm as she half reared and then pawed the ground testily. She sensed movement and saw that Venus was getting upset by the Knights trying to manhandle her. For some reason, this made her even more annoyed. She half reared again, her lead rein not allowing her the give for a full rear. She would normally buck them off but she knew that would not help Raban's case at all.

Ears shot back as she turned her large head and bared her lips at them. Course, not all of them were versed in equint social meanings. However, she was saved from falling to temptation as a female voice yelled at those surrounding her, taking charge of the situation that would have made Raban smile. She could have laughed and danced as Janine punched one of them. Seeing that felt good.

The knights eventually took Janine's hint and she let out a furious neigh at them too, stamping her hooves irritably before they all disappeared out of the barracks. She looked to Janine as she returned to their sides and chuffed gently to her. She listened, her head turned to Janine in attention before she placed the flat of her forehead against the woman's arm to convey what they shared. She had agreed with Janine on the whole affair, but they were here now and she was also understanding of why her Little Wolf had chosen this. Greaves hunting them after this if he did survive, they could handle but she knew what the Order meant to Raban and having them hunt him would ruin him.

Janine then spoke of leaving and offered her place instead of her. Chestnut didn't want to leave Raban but he wasn't going anywhere for a while and he would know where she was regardless. At least by going with Janine, she could keep him informed. Chestnut nodded and pulled on the lead rein that held her to the post. Now with the other Knights no longer there to require a pretense, she pulled the leather free. She would come. She nodded this. Janine could probably use the connection Chestnut provided in terms of communications.

----------------------------------------

Greaves blinked, staring at the other as if the reason wasn't already obvious, "A werewolf that can change at will? That can be in this form willingly and during the day? What else is this specimen capable of? We need to find that out. "

The hunter looked back at Raban speculatively and shook his head, "This changes everything, Sir Kiegal. It means you could have a whole pack in or around Amastad and you're none the wiser. This Cadfael who took him in... Who's to say he wasn't one himself, thus why he brought a werewolf inside your Order."

He looked back to Kiegal expecting to see understanding, acknowledgement and a solution to the wolf in the cage that now glowered at Greaves despite his sluggish state.
 
Janine waited for Chestnut to make a decision on where she wanted to be - she deserved that much. She may or may not want to admit it, but Janine felt that Chestnut was feeling more emotion than she might want to admit. Of course, she could just be reading too much into it, but that was okay. After all, they were both at risk of losing the same companion to the organization he was a part of his whole life. Once Chestnut nodded her head, it was then Janine knew that she made her decision. As the demon horse untied herself, Janine nodded her head and walked over to Venus to untie her and mounted her. She walked over to the entrance of the courtyard and waited for Chestnut to come along; once she was close enough, Janine grabbed the reins and semi-tied them to her saddle.

“Don’t worry Chestnut, this is just to keep up pretenses.” Janine quickly said as she looked out to the crowd. When there was an opening, she walked out to the streets of Amastad, finally leaving the place that she was steadily disliking more and more by the minute. She just needed space. And she was happy that Chestnut came along as well, cause perhaps she’d need the space as well. She then began the way back home, heart and head heavy with thoughts as they left the courtyard.

When Janine finally got home, she looked at her home with a sigh. She didn’t want to go in, but she was beginning to feel the bothersome heaviness of emotional exhaustion. She dismounted Venus, untied Chestnut’s reins, opened her gate and ushered both horses into the stables. She did her best to keep the stables clean for Venus, so she hoped that Chestnut would appreciate her humble stables. She took the horse equipment off both the horse’s bodies and hung them up before preparing their meals. Hay and oats were the usual dinner, but for this day, she decided to add an apple and two carrots to both the mare’s dinners as treats. She felt that both of the mares deserved to be spoiled after a stressful day.

“Alright, there you guys go. I’d stay and make sure you’re alright, but I’m a bit tired myself. I’ll see you guys in a couple of hours, I hope.” Janine said to Chestnut and Venus, but more to the former than the latter. She walked out of the stables and walked in her home, where her mother, while overhearing the early arrival of her daughter, was still shocked at her returning to the house, only to fumble to her room. Sensing great distress, the woman asked Janine what the matter was. All the emotions came flooding back out as she thought about telling her mother, but she decided against it. Managing to delay her mother, Janine felt even more exhausted than before she got in the house, and easily fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~​

Kiegal blinked at the Hunter’s explanation, and he saw the reasons clearly. As Commander of the Order in this city, he had to keep everyone safe. This did indeed change how he saw Werewolves as a whole. How many of his specific kind were in the world? In this country? In this city? Were they dangerous? He frowned at the thoughts that swirled in his head. But even then, some part was bothering him. It didn’t help that Greaves brought back Cadfael's name in the equation. The name irritated the Knight: why did that man bring in Raban as his squire? Did he not know the repercussions of his actions?

Even so, Kiegal didn’t like the idea of Sir Cadfael as a werewolf, and frowned at the man as he spoke his name. He doubted Sir Cadfael was a werewolf, but then again, he doubted Raban was a wolf as well. He was willing to lock a man up in a cage filled with silver, he was willing to expose him as a werewolf, and he was willing to execute him if it meant protecting the humans of the city. But the thought of a man being experimented on in his proximity…

He was not the kind of man who poked and prodded at things he’d rather not get into. Some would call it cowardice, others, possibly foolish. Something in the back of his mind didn’t want to go through with Greaves’ request, though he also wanted to know what else Raban was hiding from him. He groaned as he rubbed his hands over his face.

“Greaves, I understand your concern, and appreciate it, but I am not willing to let this drag out any more than I need to. We already found the one we were looking for. We only had one sighting, and one only. I will not cause more unnecessary panic with lengthy searches and contraptions or whatever that would be planned. Personally, I am not a fan of certain methods of questioning. This is stressful enough with just one man.” Kiegal said with a stern voice.

He sighed as he walked towards the cage, scrutinizing over Raban’s wolf form with unreadable eyes. Perhaps there could be something he’d distract the man with? A sort of compromise?

“I doubt Raban had anyone else in his stead. From what I know he is alone, more or less. How about this, Greaves? You can go off and discreetly observe those you think might be a werewolf, whether by association or by coincidence. Once you’re certain, root them out and bring them in - quietly. From what I remember, you rooted out Raban rather immediately, on the first day you called Raban in if I can recall. You can ask the Matron for any records of strange recovery events again if you want. I’ll give you a week to do this, and if you don’t find anything, then it might mean that your duties are done for this city. Does that sound fair to you?” the Head Knight asked as he turned to the Hunter. He hoped this was in a sense. If there were more wolves in the city, he’d rather do it quietly. And besides, it would give him more space to think more properly about his situation.
 
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Chestnut turned slowly as Janine went to retrieve Venus. She felt bad for leaving Raban behind but knew he wasn't alone and he was happy for her to be with Janine rather than be vulnerable out in this courtyard.

"Stay strong, Little Wolf."
"Always."

Chestnut looked to Janine as she took her reins and tied them to Venus' saddle and gave a brief nod of her head before they left the courtyard and walked back through the streets for Janine's home. It felt odd to walk back without the weight or proximity of Raban but this was preferable to staying in a place she didn't understand or liked all that much. She never really had but she had understood her wolf and she respected his choices.

One of few meat sacks she did respect.

The sorrel demon-mare waited for the gate to be opened before she walked through of her own accord. It was one reason she gave Janine respect amongst others. Not only was Janine a fellow demon but she treated Chestnut as an equal. Few humans did such a thing.

Chestnut watches as Janine sorted out their bedding and feed and she touched the woman in the left shoulder at a free point to show she was here for Janine in as much as she was for Raban. This wasn't easy on either of them, Chestnut realised.

----------------------​

Raban huffed and laid his ears back against his skull at the suggestion Cadfael was a werewolf. The man had been undeniably human and Raban doubted the man was anything but human. He didn't much like the notion of being a subject of study for the Hunter either.

Undoubtedly, Greaves would enjoy that chance to experiment on him and Raban wasn't going to give him the satisfaction if he could help it.

Raban glanced to Kiegal as the Knight spoke and watched as the man approached. He met the man's gaze steadily despite the drugged state the silver was giving him. His legs felt like lard, soft and malleable yet heavy under their own weight.

-----------------------

Greaves frowned somewhat as Kiegal denied him his chance to study this strange new kind of werewolf. A failing of his duty as Commander of the Order in his mind but he felt he had pushed the old man too far already. perhaps he could change the man's mind later if he found others hiding in the city or surrounding areas.

Greaves sniffed, "Raban gave himself away when he sat in that chair. I had no idea he was one till then. His medical file only helped to confirm it."

He scratched his scruffy jaw a moment before he grunted, "I suppose that's fair, Sir Kiegal. I shall hope there are no more than this one but if there are others hiding that survive my week of checks... " Greaves shrugged. "As I said, I hope he's your only threat hiding in the city."

Greaves spoke in a surety and gazed on Raban who gave a groan of pain. He watched as the werewolf's form shifted and contorted. Greaves pulled a face of utter disgust as wolf became human again and curled up into a sluggish ball. The silver was doing its handiwork and that was a good thing.

He looked back to Kiegal, "I know the decision rests with you and the Order... but I don't recommend letting him live for too long. He is a threat closer than any dragon."
 
Keigal kept his arms folded as Greaves explained his findings to be accidental. In that case, he was extremely lucky. No matter, the outcome was still the same. He nodded his head and sighed when Greaves consented to his deal. He did hope that there weren’t any other werewolves in his city, but if there were, he had confidence in the Hunter.

A groan of pain brought the Knight's focus to Raban, who had been forced to shift back into a human again. He frowned at his naked form, immodest and pitiful - an image far from what he had been used to seeing out of Raban. He felt a twinge of pity and guilt deep within him, but he shoved it down and cleared his throat.

‘So sorry about this, old boy.’ The thought made Keigal blink at himself. Why was he feeling this way? Why couldn’t he just do what he needed to do?

Keigal kept his arms folded as Greaves explained his findings to be accidental. In that case, he was extremely lucky. No matter, the outcome was still the same. He nodded his head and sighed when Greaves consented to his deal. He did hope that there weren’t any other werewolves in his city, but if there were, he had confidence in the Hunter.

With a groan, Sir Kiegal turned his body and walked down the short steps, away from Raban and Greaves. “I need time alone to think about my decision. It’s been a tiring day. You may stay a little while longer if you wish, but no funny business, please.” the older Knight said just as he opened the door. Greaves then warned him about Raban and the danger he posed. “Yes, so I’ve been told,” he replied with a sigh. He closed the large doors and went to his horse, soon to ride out of the courtyard and do his home. He had a lot of thinking to do, and he needed to rest if he needed to come to a conclusion.


~~~~~~~~~ A few hours later ~~~~~~~​

Kiegal had gotten up from the sounds of rolling thunder. He sighed while looking at his surroundings; it turned out that he was in his chair, not even making it to his bed. Not that he could have a complete rest on the matter. This situation was making him think a little more than he anticipated. Raban, a werewolf, and he was operating under his radar all this time. Why? What was he hoping for out of this? Did he not know what would happen to him if he was found out? Or did he think he wouldn’t get caught? A growl rose from the Knight’s throat as he rose to his feet, wondering what to do about Raban. He’d been a beast of the night all this time, for who knows how long, and yet, he couldn’t have a definitive answer for the man.

Was this too big of a duty for him? Not like he had anyone else to talk to about this.

Or didn’t he? He recalled about a few retired Knights of the Order. He saw them every now and again, talking about simpler matters, but knew that they sometimes busied themselves with Order affairs thanks to their knowledge and wisdom. Raban hummed at his idea. Would they even want to talk about Order matters? He knew they had retired just about 20 years ago, but even so, they’ve been approached by members in the past before. He sighed, not seeing the harm in asking from outside perspectives. He got himself dressed and sent out towards the tavern, hoping he’d find them and lend their wisdom to deal with his problems.
 
Greaves pulled his gaze from the human ball inside of the cage and looked back to the Commander of the Order as he walked away from the cage and down the aisle back towards wherever it was he was going. Greaves turned his back on Raban and thinned his lips a little. No funny business, whatever that meant but Jedidiah nodded his acknowledgement watching the older man leave.

He was left alone with Raban in the space of the large hall and he turned back to looked at the male in the cage. As far as werewolves went, Raban made for a good specimen and one that had clearly avoided detection for some many years before he had arrived in Amastad. Raban's back was turned to him, undoubtedly as an attempt of keeping modest but it was curious to see the extent of the silver's work on the man's skin.

Raban looked pale as if stricken with fever, the image further cemented by the shudders that ran through the limbs. His hair appeared damp and his breathing was noticeably laboured.

"I should kill you now, by rights... but that would not end well for me, I don't think. You've hidden yourself away rather nicely over the years... How are you different?"

Greaves waited but was given no response even though he could tell the man had heard his question.

"Not answering me won't help you, wolf."

He sighed irritated as Raban ignored him the second time.

"All right. Keep your secrets. Eventually you'll beg to be let out and you will have to then."

---------

Raban waited till he heard the door slam shut before he chanced looking over his shoulder. The effort was a struggle but he wanted to be sure he was alone in the hall before he sagged back down. It was too bad the man hadn't tried, there was justice left to be done in Greaves' methods. The incident with Janine in the Infirmary not withstanding. He remained huddled in his ball in as much as his remaining strength would allow for him as he thought over Greaves and Kiegal. Raban just hoped he had done enough to stay his execution. His fate was out of his hands or influence now. He had used the last of that by changing willingly in acceptance of what he was to Kiegal. At least Chestnut was safe. He didn't have to fear for her, more the men that had nearly cut it too close without Janine's intervention. Last thing he wanted was bloodshed on his account.

----------

Rain pelted Amastad, churning the streets into a mud-filled mire that threatened to swallow every boot or hoof that dared step through it. Main thoroughfares fared better since they were lined with cobblestone but the rain made them slippery underfoot. There was a slight cant to the rain as the wind blew into the city from the north, the water cold to the skin for anyone caught out in the slog.

Yet life continued on regardless of the weather. It just meant people were more in a hurry. Some townsfolk staved off the cold by staying at the tavern where it was warm through the fire in the hearth, a good supply of decent ales or mead and good, solid company with whom to enjoy it with.

So it was for a couple of old soak huddled in one corner of the tavern already supplied with ale. Both were old yet looked to have seen tenure in some organisation of a past strength. One shifted underneath his cloak, adjusting the cloth over his shoulder before he took a measure of his ale, the rim of the tankard rustling briefly against the groomed white moustache. Steel-grey eyes danced over the hall of the tavern, making note of how many were inside and where, gauging people within before he regarded his own tankard once more.

Reginald Lowe shifted in the rickety seat even as another loud clash of thunder shook them from overhead, "Don't think that's about to let up soon, I wager." He wasn't sorry about being in the tavern for longer. It was warm and dry but his old bones creaked and ache from past injuries. He blinked as the door opened and remained open longer than was wise.

"I say! Close the door!" he exclaimed and shook his head to his companion.
 
“Hm, yes the rain does seem to be a bit rough tonight. Just started raining not too long ago, too,” said Reginald’s companion, Gerald Lyman. He picked up his cup of ale for a sip before setting it down with a grumble. “I wish it would go away though. I don’t like the rain anymore. Means that trouble is always close by,” the man said as he picked up a second cup next to his scarred arm. He sipped the liquid inside, relishing the cleansing taste of water.

“But I suppose it can’t be too bad, sitting here where it’s warm. And can you stop scanning everyone? What are you doing, taking attendance?” he asked half jokingly as he nudged Reginald.

He looked up when the tavern’s doors abruptly opened up, making the inhabitants turn their heads to see the new potential customer. Reginald of course was the first to speak up, as per usual. He chuckled, though he did wish the door closed quick enough. He can have all that cold air ruin the warmth and comfort that had built within the tavern. “Yes, you tell him Reginald,” Gerald said just before he sipped his water. When he put his cup down, he was able to see who had come through the door; he made an audible grunt in surprise when his elderly eyes finally focused enough to let him recognize the man walking in. Was that who he thought it was?

“Well what do you know? It’s the old current Commander of the Order. Didn’t think I’d see him wander himself in here, given his dislike of drink,” the old man said as he stroked his beard. Soon enough, the Knight spied the two elder men and approached them; Gerald noticed his serious and troubled face and hummed curiously. In the times he’d seen and observed Sir Kiegal, he always noticed how serious and professional he was. Rarely any hesitation or second guessing with the man.

Now, he looked nervous. Hesitant. Tonight might be an eventful night, just as Amastad had been rather eventful these last several months.

“Excuse me, Sirs. I know this isn’t the best time, and I didn’t mean to interrupt your peace, but I have come to ask for your wisdom and advice,” Kiegal asked as he bowed his head a little. Gerald turned his head to Reginald, his eyes portraying a curious look in them before he raised a brow.

“Why of course, Kiegal. Sit, we weren’t really occupied with anything,” the man said as he invited the middle aged Knight. When Kiegal sat down, he readjusted his warm cloak before leaning back.

“What seems to be the problem? You look troubled with yourself.”
 
"Mhmph," Reginald agreed, rain always meant trouble. It didn't matter how much time had passed, it had been trouble then and it meant trouble now. Rain often came with a coldness that made old injuries ache and complain. Getting up was always the worst part of when it was cold and he wasn't looking forward to winter. He hated winter for the stiffness and aches alone nevermind the inconvenient weather.

He snorted, "Don't tell me you don't have residing habits from the 'good old days'," he quirked his long, bony fingers that were warped with wrinkles before he took up his cup and drank from it with a smirk of bemusement. Reginald, or Reggie to his close friends and what remained of a dwindling family, smiled and nodded. The warmth was certainly preferable to the outside where it was wet, cold and miserable. Even the people looked miserable outside.

A warmth that had been spoilt by the blast of cold that shot through the opened door.

Reginald was old enough to be cranky and veteran enough to earn his sour mood whenever a door was opened or some hotshot tried to be bigger than their boots. His view of who was behind this mark against the wall was momentarily hidden from his view as he took another swig of his ale and his ears quirked as Gerald heralded the Order's current Commander, a man who was equally running equal to being an old soak like themselves by some years.

"Him? Here? Hush, you'll knock me over with a feather," he intoned, as if disbelieving truth to be a joke. However, sure enough, the recognisable well-groomed salt and pepper features of Sir Kiegal came into purview. He was making a beeline for their table and Reginald wrinkled his nose in thought. What was the man doing in a tavern of all places?

"Must be dire if he's in this place," he remarked airily before he shifted his leg and stretched it a little. He wished these seats were a little more comfortable. Being so tall came with its own problems in later life. He regarded the Commander for a long minute; the man had gained a few more wrinkles. That was for certain. Yet, he had an expression of hesitancy and nervousness that was not characteristic. He always had recalled the man to be a sure-footed individual who could process information and dealt with it quickly and accordingly. Few Knight were of the same caliber.

He snorted, an otherwise dying breed, he mused.

Reginald shared a glance with Gerald as Kiegal expressed his reason for coming here. That wasn't your everyday with Kiegal, so Reginald knew this was something serious. More serious than what Kiegal could usually deal with alone. He caught the server's eye and signalled for another cup of water, doubting the man would change his mind over a good ale.

Kiegal frowned and seemed to struggle with his words causing Reginald to raise a brow, "Come on man, we're not getting any younger, you know." Reginald spoke.

"I have an issue regarding one of my longest serving Knights,"

"That can only mean Sir Raban... How is the old bean? I've not seen him in here lately, busy saving Amastad again?" Reginald raised a brow. Raban was a known face, even to him and Gerald although he had given up on taking bets when Raban would retire.
 
Gerald nodded his head at Reginald’s quip about Raban. Yes, he knew of Sir Raban’s position, and the respect he’s earned as a result. Not to mention how genuinely nice he was as an older Knight. Not many members of the Order were friendly, and those that were, lost some of that part of their personality, if not all of it. Some folks would argue that he himself was in that category, but really he was just over those younger men boasting and tooting their own horn with little to back it up.

“He’s probably out scouting for that dreadful dragon. Nobody’s more diligent when it comes to things like that,” Gerald said with a short chuckle.

Sir Kiegal cleared his throat as a woman served the cup of water to him. Taking the cup in hand, he shook his head. “No, not really. He’s… well…”

Gerald tilted his head with a grumble. The situation must be worse than they thought. He’s really hesitant. “Now come on, it can’t be that serious.”

“I’m afraid it is. Months ago, when that dreaded dragon invaded Amastad that first time, something happened at the same time. Some of the brigade said that they saw a specific creature in broad daylight. A werewolf.”

Gerald cocked an eyebrow. A werewolf? In broad daylight? At the same time the dragon was spotted? Sounded interesting. Impossible, but interesting. He was already tuning in as he adjusted his clothes.

“We started an investigation not too long after that. It took a while, but today the werewolf was confirmed.” Sir Kiegal sighed, looking down as he mentally fumbled with his words. He looked back up with a frown on his face.

“The werewolf is Sir Raban, Sirs.” the Knight said with a defeated sigh.

The words were spoken low to avoid being overheard, but the words were loud enough for Gerald and Reginald. Gerald choked on the cup of water he was sipping on, coughing and hacking as he sat hunched over on his chair.

“Sir Gerald, are you alright?!” Kiegal gasped as he jumped out of his seat. The man raised a hand, halting the worried knight as he forced the water from his windpipe. After a few more moments, he felt the immediate danger tamper off, allowing him to breathe as he gasped for air. He suddenly noticed that he was being watched by the whole tavern, and he looked around with slightly angry eyes.

“No need to keep gawking at me, I’m alright! You can get back to your conversations and whatnot!” he said with an irritated huff. He waited until the situation died down before he turned to Reginald. “I’m fine. I guess this just means I’ll have to stop drinking for the rest of this conversation,” he mused between the sounds of him clearing his throat.

He then turned his attention to the worried Knight before them. “Well then, now that we have that out of the way, We have this to worry about. Sir Raban is a damn Olf-way, who would’ve guessed?” Gerald asked with a sense of amazement and wonder. He sometimes used a strange language he made up around Reginald when it came to certain Order matters and terms that he didn’t want the common ear to hear. It was how he kept their affairs rather safe. It unfortunately made him look a bit crazy to the public eye, but he didn’t really care. And he never in a million years would’ve guessed that Raban of all men was a werewolf. How was he able to hide that all this time?

"Although... It is a bit concerning... Really quite unbelievable." He turned to Reginald with a slightly concerned look, gauging his reaction to the shocking news as well.
 
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Reginald liked Raba as a Kight. The man was courteous, respectful and never answered in speed... always measured and filed his thoughts in order before he spoke. The young knights of today were far too concerned with the prestige of what they were rather than thinking about what they were and represented to everyone around them. Like it was some deserved title handed down through nobility. Raban was part of a breed that was dying out as a Knight but he hoped some of the younger ones had grown to want to emulate the man. Like Kiegal, Raban set a good role model.

He nodded in a level of agreement with Gerald, that dragon was a problem. An old problem that answered the legends and become a nuisance in the process but the tall, thin veteran glanced towards Kiegal and let the Commander speak and arched a brow. Kiegal never usually allowed himself to be this open or visually nervous or hesitant. This was serious then, and about Sir Raban, whatever that could mean. He sipped his water as he listened, sitting a little straighter despite the complaints of old bones.

Reginald blinked and regarded Kiegal with a knitted brow. A dragon was one thing... they were a known constant over the years the Order had been in service to the city of Amastad but a werewolf? That was a new unknown... Well, not quite, but had he heard the Commander right... In broad daylight. It seemed too fantastical.

He stared openly with a disbelieving frown as Kiegal told them the werewolf was confirmed to be Sir Raban and Reginald Lowe tilted his head, thinking it through for a moment. He glanced at his companion as Gerald choked and unlike Kiegal, he remained content to sit in his seat still but he didn't keep an eye on his friend. That was until he got a grip over his body and berated the room for watching. Reginald grinned to himself, wrinkles forming on his thin face before he nodded, "You and me both, my old friend."

Reginald tended to favour letting Gerald get into the talking, the man was a quick wit even if he had gotten a little cooky into his old age but then at such age, who wasn't? He grunted, nodding, it was a strange and unwelcomed spot of news. No wonder Kiegal had sought advice from two old soaks in the tavern. Reginald was used to the odd quirks of the language Gerald used and nodded, it truly was a strange happenstance.

A werewolf in the city was dangerous... but Reginald had no news of random attacks at night from a beast unknown. There had been no screams he could recall outside of the Dragon's attacks on the city walls. If Raban truly was a werewolf, how had he survived all these years and gone unnoticed and unhindered.

"Quite," Reginald replied after a length of thought and nodde to Gerald, "Most unbelievable and yet it must be the case if you're in here, Sir Kiegal, of all places. Quite fantastical. For him to have hidden such detail from the Order for all this time... Remarkable. Say Gerald... wasn't he under the wing of the late Sir Cadfael? Weird coot," he muttered.

It was then Reginald remembered something Kiegal had said that had caught his attention as he had listened and looked back on the Commander with a blunt gaze that some might call piercingly inquisitive.

"Hang on a bloody minute, did you say 'in broad daylight'?"
 
Gerald turned to Reginald as he leaned back a bit. He cocked his head to the side as he tried to delve into his memory, searching for Sir Cadfael in any sense of time. “I believe so. I’ve only seen him a handful of times, but whenever I did see him, I recall him being a rather stern man, one who was very strict with rules and whatnot. But he did have this small affinity with mercy. He sometimes preached that it was the duty of a Knight to show mercy when needed. But still, even so, someone like him taking in a werewolf and teaching them the ways of a Knight? That within itself sounds impossible to begin with."

Kiegal knew the men would be incredulous to his claim. Sir Reginald’s question about the werewolf sighting in daylight only strengthened the notion. He nodded his head. “Yes, I didn’t believe it myself. I was skeptical the moment I heard it. But several of the members mentioned seeing something large and wolfish attacking the dragon. Nobody even fully saw it. I almost dismissed it, but I couldn’t turn down the possibility of anything dangerous being inside Amastad.” He said as he looked up to the two men.

Gerald shook his head. As fascinating as this was, he knew this was a bold and dangerous thing to claim. “Impossible, we all know that they don’t show up during the daytime. Are you sure your information is true? Perhaps a case of mistaken identity?” Gerald questioned.

Kiegal shook his head. “Believe me Sir, I was hesitant the whole time. But then the signs were showing up: his aversion to silver, his weakness when we locked him up in a cage surrounded by silver. But that’s not the most shocking part,” he said before he took a sip of his water.

At this point, Gerald was intrigued and concerned. Something more shocking than a Knighted werewolf being witnessed in broad daylight? What else could there be?

“Well don’t keep us waiting, boy, this is way too interesting to keep halted,” the man said with a smirk. Of course his love for the improbable and storytelling was beginning to leak through. Yet another unbelievable story to store within his aging mind.

Keigal nodded as he set his cup down. “He wouldn’t deny anything. He just stood there and accepted everything. He even asked for permission to shift in front of me. Of course I had no idea what he was going to do. But then, he changed right in front of me. Right there in the cage. During the day. In front of the whole brigade.” Kiegal said with a tone of confusion and wonder.

Gerald was very happy that he didn’t pick up a cup this time around, as he was sure he would’ve choked on his drink again.
“He did?!”

“Yes Sir.”

“In front of everyone? In the cage?”

“Yes.”

Gerald hummed as he put a hand to his chin. “Then it could’ve been because of the silver. If memory serves, silver forces them to change, correct?”

“No sir, that's Bane. Silver just weakens them. He willingly shifted in front of us. And the biggest thing was that he was sane the whole time. No rabid snarling, no senseless barking, nothing. He even saluted to me after he changed. He was still the same man that we knew, just in a different form.”

The words echoed in Gerald's head for a few seconds, and as he leaned back he smirked with a bewildered huff - well now he’s heard of everything. Werewolves with the power to change willingly at any given time, and staying sane while in their other form. If this was true, then the shifting in the daylight was entirely possible. It wasn’t like they were certain creatures of the night that couldn’t be in the daylight to begin with.

This discovery changed everything they knew about werewolves.

He turned to his companion to see what he was thinking. He knew this would be just as much as a shock to him to hear of this kind of news; he was always keen to facts when it came to things like this.
 
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Reginald nodded as Gerald affirmed his beleif and added more besides, much he could also agree on as well. Cadfael had been a stickler for rules, if Reginald remembered rightly, the man was a firm advocator in discipline of the self. Yet, it was no secret he had taken an orphan boy under his wing and trained him up as his squire. Cadfael might have been one for rules and self-discipline, but the man did have a heart under the armour. Perhaps that had been why Cadfael had taken him in... After all, surely Cadfael had to have known his charge was a creature of the night, a beast of the shadows. That raised more questions.

"Mhm, firm and fair, you're quite right... Seems even the most upright of us have secrets to keep," he muttered disapprovingly. Secrets were just fine until they lead to this very situation and landed others in the stink. Secrets were like that.

Kiegal spoke and Reginald nodded, the man was fulfilling his duty as was expected of every Commander of the Order over its history. "Could have just been a foolish wolf, the normal kind," Reginald muttered but with the air of one who didn't believe that for a second either. Multiple accounts of seeing this wolfish creature and Kiegal seemed to infer there was only the one. Wolves never hunted bigger game by themselves, their strength lay in the endurance of the pack.

Reginald's brow shot up high once again as Kiegal talked of the aversion to silver and weakness, active in daylight and then suggested that something more alarming was added in this mix. He sat forward, keenly interested in this tale. It was certainly a good one if it had not been told in the seriousness Kiegal was telling it in. He fully seemed to believe that Sir Raban, a long standing Knight of some reputation to always have time for others and care in his duties, was a werewolf.

The tall lanky old man blinked and then scoffed in disbelief, "What?"

Gerald seemed just as incredulous at this news as they listened in intrigue. That Sir Raban did not deny what he was and shown it to all was something he found a little harder to believe but perhaps the man felt he had been left with little choice but to. This was not an everyday occurance, Reginald could not even recall the last time the Order had hunted and had a werewolf executed. The event was rare in itself, and perhaps the dragons had something to do with that but a werewolf that could change at will was something he readily understood to be even rarer.

A werewolf that could turn at will and not lose their humanity in the process? He scratched his jaw and realised the dilemma Kiegal was facing. No wonder he had asked for their input. Glancing at Gerald and scratched his jawline again, his mind processing everything the man had told them. If Raban could control the beast inside him... then it made a little more sense as to why Cadfael had raised him into the Order and why Raban was one of the longest serving Knights within it.

"Huh, I'll be..."

"Well, I can see why you're reaching out for the advice, Sir Kiegal. It's a certainly a nasty onion to deal with," he nodded. They all understood the official line when it came to supernaturals, especially ones that lost their control. It was a sad and troubling truth but it happened so rarely that most never contended the issue. However, Raban was not just a werewolf, as it turned out but also a Knight and one that had, if Reginald recalled the records correctly, devoted his life to his expected duties.
 
Kiegal nodded his head at Sir Reginnald’s statement. He never thought he’d have to go through this kind of thing, with how rare werewolf sightings had been in Amastad. He sighed as he clenched his drink.

“Yes it is, sir. I’m conflicted because I’ve worked with this man for years, and I’ve trusted him to have my back with my life. I just…” Kiegal groaned as he turned away.

Gerald turned to Reginald with a frown of his own, amazement now giving way to concern and seriousness. Sir Kiegal was faced with a real dilemma, and it was something he’d never gone through himself. Even so, he was asked for advice, and he sat back as he bowed his head, putting himself in Kiegal’s shoes. With his mindset, he already had an answer, but he wanted Kiegal to go through the motions and come up with an answer himself.

“Tell me. You said you trusted Sir Raban to have your back?” Sir Gerald asked.

Kiegal nodded his head. “I did.”

“Well it’s entirely possible that Sir Raban went through these lengths because he has faith in you as well.”

Kiegal blinked at the response. Faith in him? Whatever did that mean? “Faith, sir?”

Gerald nodded his head. “Yes, of course. Why did he not run off?” Gerald asked as he leaned forward.

“I made it mandatory for everyone to come. He had no choice -”

The old man scoffed as he waved a dismissive hand. “Bah. The man has free will, Kiegal. Knight or not, he could’ve packed up and left without a word and nobody would have been the wiser. But instead he came forward and allowed himself to be detained and put inside a cage, and even asked you to witness what he was, regardless of the situation he was in. I may not know everything, but I should know a thing or two about trust and respect in one another.” the old man said as he flexed his fingers a few times, feeling the ache in his arm as he rotated it. Damn bones and nerves and whatnot.

“You may not know this about me, but I was a bit of a rule breaker in my youth. Always tried to find a way to bend the rules and challenge them, and I must admit, it got my ass in trouble a lot. Reginald had to bail my ass out more times than I can count, the old coot,” Gerald said with a hearty chuckle. He blinked at Kiegal, who was trying to understand where he was going with this angle. He sighed with a shake of his head. Of course nobody understands where he goes with his conversations on their own, always have to be directly told. He gave a small smirk.

“Over the years, I’ve learned that while most rules seem to be solidified when backed by authority, some rules are inherently flimsy through circumstance. One case may or may not be the same as another. You may find this corny or unrealistic, but I am one of the few Knights that still suggest that you listen to more than your head and the rules that are shoved in them. Knights are supposed to be known for their hearts as well, not just their swords.”

Kiegal frowned at the words of the old Knight. Known for their hearts? It puzzled him a little. “Sir, what does this have to do with Sir Raban?”

Sir Gerald sat back with his arms crossed. “I believe that Sir Raban wanted you to see what he was, besides the obvious. Yes, this puts you in a difficult situation, but we must remember that he was raised to be a Knight, and not by his own fault. I won’t pretend to know everything about the man - you know more about him than I do - but I will ask you to think about all that you’ve been through with the man. The troubles you’ve been in, the dangers you’ve been in together, and the orders that he’s followed under your command. Think of what you’ve seen in him up until now, and decide if that’s changed.

Know when to listen to your head and to your heart. You don’t just have a brain you know,” Gerald said with a nod of his head as he took another swig of his drink.

Kiegal lowered his head, trying to take in all that was said. Sir Gerald wanted him to think about it more? That’s what he came wondering if he’d give a different answer. He turned to Sir Reginald, wondering if he had anything to say.
 
Reginald was sympathetic towards Sir Kiegal's predicament. It was a dilemma that no Commander or Knight wanted to find themselves in but the hands of fate was seldom kind. However, Kiegal had the unique position of directly being able to affect the outcome and he wondered if Kiegal realised that. Gerald seemed to be on a similar line of thought as he frowned towards him and Reginald arched a brow in return before looking back to Sir Kiegal.

He smiled to himself as Gerald questioned Kiegal regarding the matter of trust and faith. Both were important for any person to keep. Unsurprisingly, Kiegal didn't seem to follow the same line of direction Gerald was pointing Kiegal to quite as swiftly as Reginald had realised. After all, Gerald had a strong point. From what he had known of Raban, the man seemed the type to follow the Order and to follow the code. Raban never struck him as the kind of man who would run away from a problem and that fell into line with what it meant to be a Knight of the Order.

Gerald spoke of his own past and the trouble Reginald had saved him from. He gave a chuckle of amusement at that and nodded, affirming this to be the case. "Quite the troublemaker, our Gerald."
He listened as Gerald went on and rubbed behind his ear as his companion began to was lyrical in his usual way. Reginald was used to the way Gerald spoke and conveyed meanings but for the uninitiated, it was often confusing. Thankfully, Gerald explained it in a plainer meaning that Kiegal seemed to actually grasped.

He found Kiegal looking at him expectantly and he cleared his throat, sitting up slightly with a grimace. Getting old was not fun. "The man clearly has meaning to you, Sir Kiegal and from the sounds of it, he's done right by you and the Order. Likewise, I don't know him particularly well. Have a conversation with the man, get his side of the coin... You're in a rare position to ask a werewolf their point of view. Not many Knights have that luxury nor does the werewolf usually have the position of knowing what they are."

"Go from that and as my comrade has said, go with what your heart and mind tells you," Reginald nodded.
 
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