Recon

[sweetless]

[He feels like something akin to a stray dog as he follows silently leads Claude through lands that he knows like the back of his scarred hand. A tree etched with children's initials, cloisters of thick trees that hide perfect ambush spots, divots in the ground that caused plenty of stumbles.

He gave up this land, before he even realized what he was doing, really. And everything that went along with it. His title. His name. His expected obligations. He chose to become a sword rather than a shield, even if the family relic still hung off of his back like the last stubborn piece of his old life that he couldn't bring himself to shed. But it wasn't all sentimental. It was simply logical. It was strength. It was power. It was aid in a battle, and what soldier would throw that away just because of some silly sentiment.

Still, it was hard to ignore every emotion that being back here set in him. He didn't regret it. His gaze shifts briefly back towards Claude, the leader he's chosen to follow over the one he was expected to. No. He doesn't regret it he decides as he watches Claude trudge through thick snowfall with that same easy expression that Felix can't read for the life of him. He may not always understand all of Claude's plans, honestly, he may not even know the man very well for all the layers of costumes he wears, but he can appreciate his goal, what he's trying to do, the world he's trying to make.

Though, really, Felix's agenda isn't that noble. As long as the world is in chaos, he has a place in it. He has no idea what he'll do once there's peace. Petty squabbles that aren't worth his skill. He'll grow dull without a challenge. He'll rust and become useless. A fate he'll deal with another day. For now he's got a place at Claude's side. Even if it didn't start that way. Even if it doesn't end that way.

He pauses in his steps a few hundred feet away from where he knows the clearing is and once again turns his attention towards the archer.]

What exactly are we looking for again? You don't really think my-the Fraldarius army is going to fall here, do you?

Comments

[sweetless]

[Felix glances around the cave at the word cozy, as if trying to see just what exactly Claude found comforting about this place that he didn't. It'll do. It's deep enough to keep the snow from hitting them, dry enough to sleep. And if he digs around in the darker recesses of the cave maybe he can find enough leaves and debris to start a fire. Flint is something he carries with him. He's lived up here long enough to know the importance of being able to start a fire, after all. And what magic he knows now is only because of the academy. Though with his subpar control and only lightning at his fingertips, he's just as likely to zap Claude as he is to start a fire. So...more natural solutions it has to be.]

Whatever.

[And he slips his own bag off his back, letting it drop near Claude.]

If we leave early enough, the closest town is about three miles away. We should reach it with plenty of daylight left. [And with enough warm blood coursing through Claude's extremities.

Well, no reason to procrastinate on the fire, so he moves as far back along the edges as he can, moving to his knees as fingers blindly searching behind stalagmites for anything they might be able to use. There's little to be found however, and with a sigh, he settles back on his haunches, glancing over at Claude. Maybe he'd let him burn his cloak...

Or, he'd just have to go chop down tree limbs. No matter how wet it was on the outside, the centers should be fairly dry. It was just an arduous task, and one he was probably going to have to tackle alone. At least he knew his blade was up to the task. And after a bit of warming up, his hand would be too.]

The fire might take a bit.

[failnot]

[ three miles would've been doable even at this hour if it hadn't been so cold. if they hadn't been walking all day, trading pieces of conversation to avoid the white noise of the winds whipping around their ears. claude would've been more than willing to put up with another three miles of trekking into the snow if he could honestly feel his fingers or toes, if he wasn't valiantly fighting off the instinctive need to curl and preserve body heat. ah well.

he's staring blandly at the bags by his feet, his head feeling a little fuzzy (yikes), glancing up only when he hears felix speak. then he's all easy smiles again, his body relaxing into something unbothered, hand flicking out to gesture to the storm raging outside. he hasn't even opened his mouth yet and he already doesn't like the idea that takes shape inside his head, drilling itself into his thoughts. it's probably to felix's benefit that claude's a little out of practice in voicing his discomfort, or whining about it. he'd lost his right to that particular privilege years ago. ]

Oh, I figured. It'd be too good to be true to expect firewood to be lying around in a cave like this.

[ which meant they had to go out to where the trees were, probably with the intention of chopping down a few branches themselves. and if given the choice between that or squatting down in the snow and parsing it for fallen pieces of wood, claude would pick the chopping any day. it'd be more energy extensive, but ultimately less cold for how he wouldn't need to sink his hands into what'd feel like the abyss.

he'll probably need to use a sword for this, huh? good thing he's in the habit of always carrying one, his preference for the bow and arrow aside. ]

We might as well get this over with. Faster we finish, the faster we'll warm up.

[ and be at a significantly lower risk of hypothermia and the like. ]

[sweetless]

[He's utterly obnoxious, Felix decides, watching the way those almost absent eyes suddenly snap back up at him, almost too quickly animated. He doesn't like having to analyze people. And even if he was something he was actually proficient at, understanding Claude would take a master in the art.

But, while he won't pretend to know him, he does know what the cold can do, and he's seen it take down the sturdiest of men. The only training against the cold is living in it, and even he isn't immune to it's affects. It's cold. The wind is picking up with the setting sun, and the flurries are already getting worse. And Claude was already at his limit, words he...more or less already said.

So why the hell would he allow him to help?

There's a scoff as he stands up, before he tugs on the sleeves of his jacket to make sure they're covering his wrists, and settles the hood back over his head.]

You'll only slow me down. Stay here and set up.

[Waiting for a response would only open up the opportunity for an argument, or theatricals, neither of which he had time for. So he turns on his heel and heads towards the mouth of the cave, sword unsheathed just before stepping out into the storm.]

[failnot]

[ no, he's pretty sure he could still pull his weight. enough, anyway. just enough to make it worth both their while if he'd argued his point and went with him on a journey out into a sight that claude could only describe as torture.

only, would there be a point to that? he'd only tire himself out further, possibly end up with even more frostbite to go with the ones that he'd already acquired, and come down with something in the middle of unstable territory. appeasing his pride wasn't worth that kind of risk, and claude's long-since accepted the necessity of putting aside as something as fleeting (and useless) as pride to get things done, and get them done properly. not to mention, where would that leave felix? burdened with looking after the alliance's leader more than he already was, racking up claude's debt into proportions that claude didn't even want think about. and, also? it was dangerous. between the two of them, they could probably handle almost any form of aggression around these parts, but if their numbers were cut in half, if one of them was even more useless than dead? yeah, that wouldn't fly.

it's a thought that leaves claude to shake his head and acquiesce, to surrender to having to make himself useful in other ways. which, in this case, would be set up camp while felix braved the elements by his lonesome, hunkering down to unpack and set up a small (tentless) camp that was missing only the fire to sit at the center of it all. it's a process that takes all of ten minutes, tops, leaving claude with idle hands and a mind that'd perked up at the understanding that felix was out there, alone. his only guide, in the storm. his ally, alone. it's arrogant to believe that claude could be of much assistance in a situation built on snow and cold, but in everything else? hey, he's a pretty useful guy. he's bailed people out of tougher situations.

so as much as the fuzziness continues to nip at the edge of his thoughts, claude stays alert. awake and carefully stripping off his wet gloves to dry them on a (thankfully) decent piece of clothing that he finds in his (or was that felix's?) pack, readying their bedrolls against the walls, as far away from the wind as possible. and possibly hovering near the edge of the cave by the end of it, driven there by boredom and curiosity, both, considering the safety of melting mountain snow into boiling water, if that'd be safe. hmm. ]

[sweetless]

[Felix knows better than to wander too far from the cave, in case the snow gets so thick that he loses landmarks and direction. Footprints disappear just moments after making them, lost in a fresh coat of snow. It's true that Claude could probably help cut down the amount of time it takes to gather enough wood, but it's not enough of a difference to be the most beneficial use. Using him as a beacon was the better option. If he got turned around, well, he'd just have to depend on Claude to come up with some clever way of letting him know his way back. Or finding him.

He'd prefer if he didn't need it though, but it was a failsafe that made him feel a bit better about being out here alone. He stops at the first tree he finds that he knows his sword can cut down without too much effort and gets to work.

He's fast, but not as fast as he could be. Each strike of his sword sends a vibration through cold fingers, a burning jolt that warns him that he's pushing his own luck the longer he stays out here.

Still, he works until he's at least got enough to fully load onto his arms, and then he's walking back in what he hopes is the right direction.

The snow is worse now, visibility barely in front of his arms and he's starting to think he's been walking too long, too far, he should see--

Claude. Literally right in front of his face, and his eyes widen in surprise, logs tumbling out of his hands with the abruptness of his stop.

He definitely didn't expect him to be lingering near the mouth of the cave, assumed he would have been hidden in it's depths, as far from the cold as possible.

If he didn't know better he'd think maybe Claude was starting to worry about him.]

...Pick those up.

[Nevermind the fact that he was startled into dropping them in the first place, and he walks into the cave, letting the rest tumble out of his arms near the back wall.

He'd prefer to start cutting them open, carving away the wet bark so they could start a fire, but his hands are too cold to be useful at the moment and he immediately sheds his gloves, rubbing the digits together in an attempt to find heat in the friction.]

It's...bad out there. [He's so damn cold.]

[failnot]

[ he's about decided that melting (freshly fallen) snow into drinking water after a boil should be safe(-ish) when felix all but materializes at the mouth of the cave. which, on a normal day, should've been heralded by little giveaways like the crunch of snow beneath felix's boot, the cast of his shadow approaching the cave, the heavy rhythm of his breathing. but the fuzziness around his thoughts have yet to completely ebb, and so claude stiffens minutely at the sudden reappearance and the echo of wood hitting the ground near his foot, fingers sliding closer to the sword that he always kept at his hip.

it's not much, but it gives away enough. too much. but seeing how he'd also made felix loosen his grip around his load, claude's reasonably certain that there would be no comment forthcoming about his guard, about being jumpy. then again, it's been years since anyone could afford to be anything less, wasn't it? not with how scarce peace had become in the event of edelgard's war?

reaching down, claude gathers the stragglers and strides to where felix had deigned to deposit the rest of the load, crouching down. purposefully putting himself beneath the man to be able to glance up at his face, from an angle that most found less threatening. not that it took anything more than the absolute basics in extrapolation to know that felix was feeling like absolute shit. fancy that, claude was feeling about the same, and he hadn't even slid a single toe back out into that weather. ]

I think the word you're look for is terrible.

[ another quirk of a smile, if a little subdued. nothing more than a minor performance as he rises to fetch the blankets that he'd unraveled from both of their packs. he considers the hilarity of wrapping one around felix's shoulders for the duration of exactly two seconds before common sense cuts through to have him just... hold it out. he's not looking to start any undue arguments, here. at least, not until they got the fire started and roaring. ]

Here. You should warm up before trying to do anything else. I'll do the rest.

[ he can puzzle out what else needs to be done. after all, fire so rarely caught on anything so wet, did it? not even wood. ]

[sweetless]

[Felix isn't bothering to analyze anything other than the tips of his fingers, breath warm enough to bring that tingling pain of sensation back into them, a task he's entirely focused on, at least, until Claude is suddenly at his side.

He glares down at him, not appreciating the way Claude looks up at him. The angle does little to appease him, not after a lifetime of having to look up at others. Though to be fair, he doesn't appreciate being appraised from any angle. Unless it's prowess on the battlefield. But it's not. It's Claude looking at weaknesses. At a red nose. Cracked lips. Pink cheeks. Wild hair that he doesn't have the dexterity to tuck away just yet.

The words don't help. And for just a brief fraction of a moment his cheeks puff up in insult, before it's all exhaled on a scowl. Claude's not talking about the weather when he makes his comment. But it's one he can't argue with.

There's a grunt instead, eyes not bothering to follow Claude or his smile as he stands and moves away, eyes instead on the logs before them, at least until a blanket is being dangled in front of his gaze. He eyes it for a moment before sighing and taking the offering, immediately wrapping it around himself.

He doesn't move otherwise, at least for a long moment, as if considering whether he could leave this task in Claude's hands or not. For all the impressions the man gives, Felix finds him reliable enough. It's easy to see past the facade when he's had enough experience with that sort of actor growing up. He relents in the end, both because he could use a few minutes to warm up, and he's sure Claude is restless after leaving him here with nothing to do.]

Cut them in half, maybe there will be some dry surface we can use. [Details on what to do after that can come after he finds out if they've got something dry to use or not.]

[failnot]

[ cut them in half, down the width or the height? or so would be the question if felix doesn't explain himself immediately thereafter, making claude nod in understanding. he squats back down, back onto his haunches as he settles himself near the pile of wood, picking up one of the branches to flip it back and forth, noting its shape. it's only a second's worth of consideration before claude shuffles his sword free, flipping it around in his hand with more deftness than he might normally show.

a little bit of mystery, after all, went a long way. it kept people guessing, not to mention underestimating him. but seeing how claude had no intention of actively antagonizing felix, or driving him off into the arms of some mercenary army, he probably had some room for a little honesty. besides, the fact that claude was almost as clever with a sword as he was with a bow is a minor detail, nothing so important that claude felt any need to jealously guard it as a secret.

dragging the sword past the resistance of the wood is a little harder in practice, but claude makes due. he peers at the center, running a naked finger along its length. his smile deepens with another touch of honesty when he finds it dry (or at least, dry enough to use), tilting his gaze up at felix again. ]

Looks like we're in luck. So what's next?

[ probably something related to stripping off the wet bits to make the dry bits even easier to use -- or the like. it's nothing more than an educated guess, not worth voicing. seeing how he'd let felix take charge of how the fire would be run, he might as well let it continue. maybe it'll help ease the scowl that felix had been wearing earlier. ]

[sweetless]

[With nothing else to do other than think about the chill still running through him, bone deep in a way that a blanket wasn't going to fix, he focuses his attention on Claude instead, watching the way he handles his sword with a quiet attentiveness.

He'd much rather do than teach, and the sigh he gives at Claude's question is more about that than any irritation at the need to ask. The idleness doesn't sit well with him, even when it's a necessity.]

Cut half the logs into quarters. And then strip enough shavings to make a small pile. Then we'll need small pieces for kindling. The wet logs will burn if the fire is hot enough.

[Which meant layering. Lighting shavings on fires that would catch the smaller pieces on fire, which would then ignite the quartered logs, and eventually would spread to the larger ones, that would have hopefully dried some under the heat before the flames travel to them anyway.

Work that would go faster if he could help, but a flex of his fingers and the needling sensation that follows has him frowning and leaning back against the wall of the cave in momentary defeat.]

...I suppose you get to prove yourself useful, after all.

[failnot]

[ cut into quarters, done. the stripping takes a bit more focus and coordination with a full-length sword though, which has claude pausing to consider the direction before he's getting up into a kneel. it's easier when he has the log standing vertically, supported from the top with a hand while the other begins the stripping process, continuing this ever-arduous process of getting warm. though he did have to say, the cold wasn't nearly as bothersome when his hands were being occupied.

as for the pesky, needy thing that was his mind, felix seems to have that covered with his sigh and quip. it'd a lot more willpower than claude intends to use to stop himself from quirking another smile. ]

Wow. Coming from you, that's an absolutely glowing compliment. Really, I'm flattered.

[ annoyance is an easier displeasure to bear than the horrid cold that must still be nipping at felix's extremities, a state that felix gives away by his inaction. claude's happy to provide such a distraction until the other man found himself feeling better enough to join in on the chopping, or, more likely: taking over outright. which would leave claude to finish setting up some of the other things to start the process of getting them fed. ]

Though if memory serves, I believe I'd already proven my use to you [ and many, many others, ] several times over by now. Still, better a late acknowledgment than none at all, huh?

[sweetless]

[Supervising was never a task he wanted, and his fingers itch to take over. If Claude showed any less competency, he would have. But watching how he carefully follows each of his orders, the focus and attention that go into his work, well, Felix is properly distracted. He's not sure he's ever seen Claude so...earnest before. Even when he's helping "train" Claude in sword to sword combat, he can't help but feel like it's all a game. Like he's saying things Claude already knows. That it's all a battle of tricks rather than talent.

That's not what he sees now, and he wonders if Claude is simply too focused on survival to try and hide it, or if it is indeed just another trick. If it is, he's getting better.

But by the time he's done with the tasks Felix has set him up, Felix moves away from the wall, digging through his back for the flint before he starts setting the wood up the way he wants it. Yep, it's time to take over. He doesn't need to feel every nerve in his fingertips to do this part, after all.]

You think so, do you?

[Of course, Claude has proven himself. Felix wouldn't be here if he hadn't. After all, there's no blind loyalty from him. He's here because Claude is an efficient leader, one who's clever on the battlefield. And while Felix often feels like they're all pawns on a chess board, he has to admit that Claude treats himself just like another piece in the game.

It's better...It's better than following the Boar. Claude has his own duality that Felix hasn't entirely figured out, but it's not nearly as deadly as Dimitri's.

Random thoughts, apparently, as he finally starts the fire, and carefully tends to it until the flames finally lick at the larger sticks, and still burn.

With a sense of accomplishment, he sighs softly and sets back, letting his fingers play as close to the flames as he dares.]

...You've never had to set up a fire like this before, have you?

[And he glances over at Claude, as if he's learned some piece of the mysterious puzzle that makes up the Golden Deer leader.]

[[ooc: Sorry for the super long disappearance! It was a rough end/start of the year. But things are settling back now. No pressure if it's been too long for you though. I'd totally get it!]

[failnot]

( ooc: no worries at all! sorry for my delay as well. )



Oh, I doubt anyone could claim otherwise.

[ his wording is deliberate, easy. leaving nothing but implications for felix to craft his impressions, to take what he can (and want) from claude's non-answer. because the real one is slightly more complicated, specific to their current environment and circumstances. had he ever built a fire out of wood and flint before? yeah, sure. had he ever done it in the dead of (what feels like) winter, in the middle of a snow storm, working with wet wood and half-frozen fingers? nah. like he'd said: very few people could likely claim otherwise. ]

Unlike yourself, of course. You seem quite at home, working with wet wood and a flint.

[ leaving felix to the fire, claude rummages through the rest of their belongings to begin pulling out a rudimentary pot and kettle, small enough to feed just one. but the fire that lights under felix's (more) experienced hands looks just fine, and claude doesn't mind having second dibs if a cup of hot water or a can of reheated beans (and soup, if he could find it in their supplies) could help ease felix's mood that much further. he was but a follower until they arrived at that kingdom town, at the mercy of felix's good will and lingering loyalty to claude's cause. which is to say: what's the harm in fluffing him a bit? none, that's what.

plus the guy had gone out twice into the frigid cold, chopping down wood so that they could share a fire. as much as it'd been a decision based in logic (claude was operating on less-than-ideal settings in the cold, after all), it'd been a small token of kindness, a debt that needed paying. and claude didn't like letting those stand, not when he was in the business of collecting favours and cashing them in at opportune times, not, you know, the exact opposite. it's all self-serving in the end (or so he'd like to claim). ]

Are all Faerghus nobles raised with this kind of training, or are you just special?

[sweetless]

[Felix sighs at the response, lips pursed into a hint of a frown as he looks from the fire to what Claude's doing. There's no effort to actually look at his face though, he knows there's no need to. There'd be no tell, no twitch of anything for him to latch on to. It's a perfected art. If it didn't happen so often, Felix might not even realize that Claude is entirely sidestepping the question, while still giving an appropriate answer.

And then shifting the conversation to him.

Hmph.

But it's a topic he enjoys talking about, so...]

Yes. It's common to learn to swing a sword before bothering to pick up a quill. Nature survival was considered a necessity. ...Strength is all that matters in Faerghus. Even the Boar had nightly excursions in the woods, running through it in the cold of winter in full armor.

[As much as he actually enjoyed his upbringing, aside from the widely accepted notion that death in battle was somehow more noble than a death at bedside. He kept those ideals of strength.

But he also knew it's what would ultimately cause them to fall. A kingdom with no king was doomed. People fought for a ghost, and that was a quick walk to the grave. There wasn't anything other than old traditions worth fighting for up here, anymore.]

Don't they have any expectations for you in Leicester?

[failnot]

That they do. Far more than I'd like to admit. [ or acknowledge at all. some of those expectations were unavoidable, but those that claude could skimp on in the name of his other, more ambitious goal? yeah, they're getting skimped on. it wasn't as though the alliance nobility had the luxury to watch him when the empire was an ever-worrying presence at their borders. one silver lining of war, he supposed.

but again: that was nothing that felix needed to know, and thus, it's not something that claude would willingly volunteer. besides, if there was one (of many) things that felix didn't seem to forgive, it was laziness. or cutting corners, as claude would like to call it. taking shortcuts, turning the inefficient into something far more effective. things like his time wasn't anything that should be squandered on appeasing the nerves and the egos of the alliance nobility, after all.

felix doesn't need to know what claude chooses to utter next either, but give and take wasn't that bad of a practice to indulge in. particularly when there was a purpose to it. ]

Though I suppose compared to what my old combat instructor used to expect of me, the Alliance has been rather kind in that aspect.

[ the water boils, and claude tips its contents into a cup that he'd hand over without a word. felix can make his own tea, brewing it to the strength that he prefers to take it. as nosy as he is, he doesn't look so closely into someone's dietary choices unless he was looking to test a concoction or two. which, in this case, with felix? he wasn't. ]

Can't say I was ever expected to survive this, [ dead of winter, full of snow and biting winds, ] in nothing but armour though. What else passes as training in Faerghus?

[sweetless]

[Felix shakes his head in response, not honestly expecting to get anything out of a conversation with Claude, so he's taken by surprise when he is offered a piece of something. And it certainly serves to whet his curiosity. Combat instructor.

He debates chasing that little tidbit as Claude offers him the cup of hot water, but he doesn't take it, grunting and nudging Claude's hand away.]

You can pretend all you want, but I know the weather is getting to you. So, take it. I can wait for the next one.

[He picks up a stick and nudges at the flames, considering the question and the possible answers. Faerghus was hardly short on extreme training.]

I'll talk about mine if you'll talk about yours.

[failnot]

[ were they about to have a battle of wills? because felix might find his match in claude, who simply sets the cup down to where the man could reach it without straining. which leaves claude to go back to shuffling about, collecting more water to set on a boil before he settles himself back down near the fire, lashes going half-lidded as he considers the game that felix lays out, the pros and cons of entertaining his condition.

for, you know, about two seconds. he sees no harm in sharing tidbits of his childhood training, especially with a man that'd been raised so far outside of almyra's reach. sreng was what the kingdom of faerghust classically found most threatening, with a sprinkling of duscur insurrection here and there; almyra should be but a land beyond the borders of the alliance, a country of outsiders that felix wasn't tasked to repel from fodlan's borders. ]

Caught your interest, huh? If I didn't know better, I'd say that interest sounds a little personal. But I'll play along.

[ gesturing a hand forward, ]

Question for question. You can ask first.

[ it's always interesting to see what type of question someone came at you first, after all. kinda helped to set the tone of the conversation. ]

[sweetless]

[Felix's eyes narrow at the cup as it's set somewhere between them, Claude apparently deciding that he will not be taking the damn thing. And Felix could leave it there out of spite, cooling by the second. But it's a wasted effort, so with a sigh of defeat he reaches back out for it and pulls it into his hands. And for a long moment he simply sits with it, letting the transfer of heat soak into his fingers.]

Of course it's personal. We rarely put effort into things that aren't.

[Blowing on the lip of the cup he brings it up to his mouth, content with simple hot water for the moment, as he considers what question to ask first. There's probably a strategy here that could be had, but Felix doesn't bother with it. It's just not his style.]

What was the first weapon you learned to wield?

[failnot]

[ personal, as in felix was interested in claude, the person. but to specify might bring upon another kind of conversation that claude wasn't particularly fond of entertaining, so he lets that quip go without comment, head tilted in a way that betrayed his amusement. or maybe it's his smile that does it, a little deeper and more crooked than usual, less practiced in execution.

because that's interesting, isn't it? that felix would have a supposedly personal interest in him? to what purpose? how much of that purpose found its roots in felix's departure from dimitri's service? interesting, and a little surprising if it were true. ]

A sword.

[ his tone is easy despite the direction of his thoughts, as well as a huff of laughter that underlies his answer. it's teasing, almost, for how unaccustomed felix seems to be in this game waged with words; unsurprising, considering the man's forward nature, but it's still rather cute for how clumsy it sounds.

his turn: ] What other survival skills are the people of Faerghus expected to learn?

[sweetless]

[It's not an accusation he would deny, if faced with it, but it was something that would have to be brought to attention before he realized himself that his curiosity might be deeper than he's currently aware of.

For now, he's content to not consider such matters, because in the end it was just a trivial thing.

Though his lips purse at the teasing laugh that follows his answer, sure he's misstepped in the game somehow, or somehow hasn't lived up to Claude's expectations. And maybe he has, because while his question has only gained him a single word answer, Claude's question demands much more from him.]

Hunting. Foraging. Building a fire. Camping and building temporary shelter. Surviving the weather. Navigating. Fishing. [He shoots Claude a look with an arched brow.] Should I continue? Or is 'we're quite adept at surviving outside' good enough for you?

[failnot]

[ that's two questions, felix. or so claude would point out if he felt up to splitting hairs, but what would be the point? felix's attention was mostly on claude's training (what he was instructed in, and possibly who) which was harmless for as long as claude carefully left out the details, while claude had all to gain with this line of questioning. no need to rock the boat and end the game early, right?

so he'll smile, genuine if only in his amusement, collecting his share of the water to to warm his hands around. he'll steep the chamomile in just a bit, after he's finished trying to absorb the warmth of the boiling water entirely through his hands. ]

Good enough? Please, that more than covers it. Sounds like I'll be getting out of this situation alive and whole after all.

[ dependent wholly on felix's expertise, runs the implication. claude's enough of a survivor to probably be able to out-stubborn this weather in some way (maybe), but it's always reassuring to hear that he had a trained professional at his side.

anyway, since it just happens to be his turn again after felix's two whole questions that claude is generously willing to count as just the one, ] And how does the Kingdom citizens keep track of their navigation? A map could only help so much against weather like this.

[ blinding, white snow that did much to shield the landscape from showing anything remotely guiding. or was it just a matter of experience? (of the entire kingdom territory? that was hard to believe.) ]

[sweetless]

[Wait...that wasn't a question at all. Let alone two questions. It was an irritated rhetorical question. But Claude answers it, doesn't he? And...Felix lets out an irritated little noise at the realization of what he's done. He could argue, but in truth, it's a fault on his own part. He'll have to be more careful with his words.

He doesn't often find himself enjoying conversations, but this very quickly is feeling like a verbal sword fight. And he's utterly outmatched. It's surprisingly...interesting.

With a sigh into his hot water, he sets the cup down and reaches for the small array of tea options. It's an odd, accommodating, detail to pack on a trip like this, he thinks, brows furrowed as he finds the Almyran pine needles and sets it in his water to seep. Was Claude always this casually thoughtful?]

...Practice. Landmarks. If I'm on a trail I don't know, markers to find my way back. On a clear day, cuts in every few tree trunks works. If the visibility is weak, broken tree limbs are a better visual aid. Everyone has their own trackers, the better ones are the natural looking ones that most people wouldn't notice, unless you want to be followed.

[His eyes fall back to the tea.]

Why did you bring so many tea options?

[failnot]

[ makes sense. practice, landmarks, markers, trackers. habits borne of an unforgiving environment, drilled into the bodies of kingdom citizens. it's not something that claude can replicate, can't expect any alliance soldier to be able to replicate. best case scenario would be have a kingdom-raised officer in each battalion, tasked with leading their division safely through the wilderness of faerghus.

-- no, that's not true. best case scenario: the kingdom doesn't fall. that'd eliminate the threat of having to navigate these elements altogether. was that possible? at all? (more importantly: was it a goal worth chasing when their forces were already so thin, fractured as the alliance continued to be?) hm. ]

I make it a habit to keep as many options free to me as possible. Keeps things [ safe, ] interesting.

[ claude picks out chamomile for himself, intent on letting the bag seep for as long as possible. maybe he'll even just leave the whole thing in until he was finished with it. ]

Let's say you remained with Faerghus. How could I best get you to consider working with the Alliance?

[ against the empire, naturally. he doesn't think he'd need to specify that much, or believe that felix couldn't see the purpose behind that particular question. chasing the best case scenario wasn't always optimal for the resources that one had on hand, but testing the waters, seeing what is possible? that's always worth consider. options, as it's been said. ]

[sweetless]

Even with tea choices. [Felix shakes his head, not quite seeing the point of this kind of effort. Even if Claude typically had a plan A, a plan B, a plan K. Not everything needed back-ups. Idly, he wonders who Claude had planned to take if Felix had refused.

Or was he the one plan Claude couldn't change around? His question is certainly one that not everyone would be able to answer. Or maybe it is. They're not exactly complex people.

Still, he does take a moment to consider, eyes drifting towards the flames, watching them dance from the subtle blow of wind that reaches them even this far back. It's still cold, even with the fire, and he curls in a little bit more on himself, knees pulled to his chest.]

It's a kingdom without a king. They'll fight because fighting is what they know. But...they could use a higher purpose than that. Something or someone to fight for. Honesty and logic are your best options. And strength is a good gift.

[There's a pause as he tests his drink out. It still needs to seep, so he sets it back down.]

Do you have the resources to deal with Faerghus?

[failnot]

[ felix looks cold, almost as cold as claude feels. he's long-since resigned himself to the stiffness that the cold lends his fingers, flexing them into a fist before trying to have them relax into shapes that claude could put to use. his gloves feel even colder against his skin, and it doesn't take him long before they're coming off so that he can cradle his tea into the circle of his hands. the blanket around felix draws his eye, and claude finds himself dismissing the idea even before it finishes forming.

sharing body warmth was likely a last resort for the both of them. claude was open to it when it eventually became a necessity, but only then. flirting was one thing, but (sort of) cuddling? nah. ]

As an independent nation? Sure. [ the alliance troops weren't nearly as well-trained, but in terms of resources like food, weapons, and the like? sure. ] If it becomes the Empire's newest state, that's a little trickier.

[ short answer: no, they didn't. long answer: there were always ways around in war, whether it by terrain advantage, excellent leadership, better trained troops, divine intervention, and the like. but that was built around chance and probabilities, things like fate and luck and all the things that claude had no control over. none of that appealed to him. honesty, logic, and strength though? those were doable. to a certain degree. (honesty, huh. way to twist him arm.)

hence: this trip. this cold and miserable trip into faerghus, dragging along a man that he'd somehow convinced onto his side. felix is a strength that claude appreciates, and in current matters? for more than just that. for a guy that didn't seem to enjoy machinations and manipulations, he had some pretty interesting insights with a rather refreshing way of stating them too. there wasn't nearly as much guesswork around him, and claude... well. he knows how to appreciate an unusual (but good) thing. ]

And what are you fighting for by allying yourself with the Alliance?

[ he doesn't say with me. because this isn't personal. war never really is, unless one's name was edelgard von hresvelg. ]

[sweetless]

[There's a subtle pout to his lips as he considers Claude's answer, the confidence in which he states it. He had doubted it, really, that Claude would have the necessary requirements to bribe them when they have their own war raging. But he'd hardly be surprised if Claude had some sort of card up his sleeve.

He could spend the entire evening trying to figure out what that was, but unless Claude felt the sudden urge to be forthright with him, it'd be a futile effort. So he lets the idea go, instead watching the gloves come off of Claude's hands, stealing the warmth of the mug. It would only be a temporary solution.

And Felix knows very well what he should be doing. But doing it now when Claude seems to be taking this opportunity to suddenly get much more personal, well that'd just be awkward.

His mouth opens, but he stops at the last second. There's a very simple answer, which considering what he's been given in return, is what Claude deserves. And then there's the rather complex one.]

I wanted to follow my own path. Not my father's. Not my brother's. I want to fight, its all I know, but I can't fight for the ideals that dying is noble. I don't want to raise my sword for the sake of the already dead. How pointless. So caught up in what the dead would think that they don't consider the effect on the living.

[There it is, words he's said countless times, to his father, to Ingrid, to Dimitri, to other members of the Blue Lions. But none of them really listen, all eager to play the role of the heroic knight they all grew up reading about. He shouts, and they still don't listen. He doesn't expect Claude to be any different.]

Why did you claim the burden of your inheritance?

[failnot]

[ those are old words. not to claude, but to felix, spoken as if on rote. practiced words, if only by the nature of repetition, words that must've found felix's lips numerous times for how exhausted they sound. or irritated. in felix, those two states might very well be the same thing.

it leaves more questions than answers though, that's for certain. to whom did felix speak them to? (claude could hazard a guess, but that's all it'd be: a guess.) for what reason? what kind of situation and circumstance had lead felix to hearing that dying was noble? (death was death, after all, with all of its nuances painted on after the fact by the still-living.) that a sword should be raised for the already dead? or that the dead somehow mattered more than the living?

claude straightens, leans forward, his gaze made bright with curiosity. the questions linger at the tip of his tongue, and while he knows there were ways that he could speak them, maybe pry out more than his share of answers... he carefully refrains. felix was no politician, but he could be as tight-lipped as the best of them if he caught onto what claude was doing. too bad, and it was getting so interesting too. ]

... I suppose it's because people would listen to Claude von Riegan more than they might lend an ear to just Claude. [ a nobody in this political environment wouldn't even be allowed to edit a book, much less change the mindset of an entire nation. ] I have some useful blood running through me, so I'm putting it to use. Though I do find it rather interesting that you'd call it a burden when I'd call it an... advantage. Of a sort.

[ it's another careful answer, one that carves out what's safe to give back, something that'd do little in the way of surprising anyone that knew anything about him. even still, he keeps it truthful, loaded with the possibility for further questions, implications of a larger ambition afoot -- he gives as much as he's given, really. ]

And interesting as your answer was, I'd say most of us [ in the alliance, at least, ] fight for the living than for those that've left us. So here's what I can't figure out: what kind of future will this path find you?

[sweetless]

[Felix is caught by that bright look in Claude's eyes. It seems particularly unguarded, but he knows that's rarely the case with Claude. He's not sure why he's ever bothered to note that fact, and the realization that he watches Claude too closely too frequently hits him suddenly, like a ton of bricks, and he blinks at his self-realization.

And a moment later it's shoved away. He's always been observant. Even if it's usually more focused on technique, skills used in a fight. But then...Claude uses all of those nuances to his benefit, in war and out.

He finds it's hard suddenly to maintain eye contact, so with a huff, he turns his gaze away, stares angrily at his mug as he listens. And he can't argue. He does absolutely consider titles to be a burden, but he understands they grant freedoms and chances that not having one does not. Though simply claiming a role of leadership doesn't exactly seem like Claude's goal.

And Claude's words confirm as much. He's already got another question on the tip of his tongue, but it's not his turn as Claude's question reminds him.

He scoffs.]

Do I look like a fortune-teller?

[He doesn't offer to answer immediately, instead moving the mug into his hand as he scoots himself closer to Claude until they're nearly shoulder to shoulder, a conscious sliver of a gap set between them before he tugs the blanket off one shoulder to toss over Claude's.

It's easier not to meet those eyes when they're both staring in the same direction now.]

I've no idea what I've to gain in the end fighting for you. I don't even know ultimately what your objective is. I can't imagine when you announced yourself as an heir you thought you'd have to fight against the Kingdom and the Empire. But it doesn't matter. I'm a sword, all I need is a fight. But I'd also like to survive. Siding with you gives me a chance at both.

[Simple versions of deeper truths, that's the game they're playing here, after all isn't it? But it's true enough. He was raised to fight. He embraced that upbringing. He wanted to be strong. And maybe here with Claude and his Golden Deers they could use their strength to end the war before the casualties reached...

Reached people he'd like to protect.]

It's probably the proper chance to ask you what your goal is. [But instead he takes a sip of his tea.] But then I also said it doesn't matter. At the end of war is peace, what good is a sword then?