Cell 1
Castle Anvard

Lanisen is curled up on his cot, wrapped in his blanket. Solitary confinement does not agree with him: the dark shadows under his eyes look fairly ghoulish, especially in contrast to the sickly pale hue of his face. He looks as though he has lost weight in the last two weeks.

Tyren is, surprise surprise, stern and stoic as he has a word with a guard and strides into the cell – though it seems a shade more defined this time around, if that’s possible.

Lanisen, having looked up at the first noise from outside the cell, shivers and uncurls himself resignedly, standing and bowing. He doesn’t look at Tyren.

Tyren says, “And here we are again, it seems.”

Lanisen just nods, head still bowed. “Didn’t figure you’d be back.”

Tyren says, “I am not one to neglect my duty, regardless how I feel about it. I may have overreacted myself as well then, however.”

Lanisen doesn’t respond immediately. “I’m sorry,” he says after a moment.

Tyren simply nods once, accepting the apology.

Lanisen hunches his shoulders a bit under the blanket, obviously freezing. He coughs into his elbow, the sound not particularly violent, but ragged and tired and phlegmy.

Tyren sighs a bit. “Still have that cough, I see. Or hear, rather.”

Lanisen shrugs slightly. “Had worse,” he says hoarsely, and muffles another cough. “‘S just it’s so cold…”

Tyren says, “Still something to mention to Adrian.”

Lanisen asks, “How’s Loc doin’?”

Tyren says, “He continues on. And is concerned about you. I told him I’d pass that on.”

Lanisen repeats, “Continues on, what’s that mean? Is he doin’ all right?”

Tyren says, “Yes.”

Lanisen waits a moment, obviously hoping for more information, or something. After a moment he seems to sag. “Oh. That’s good… ok. Thanks

Tyren simply nods again.
Tyren says, “I take it you’ve had a bit more time to contemplate things alone?”

Lanisen adjusts the blanket, folding his arms over his stomach. “Yes, sir.”

Tyren lifts a brow slightly. “Any conclusions?”

Lanisen stiffens slightly. “Not really, sir,” he says, looking at the ground. “Just… thinkin’ where I went wrong, what it was I should’ve done instead.” He coughs again, his shoulders folding forward. He breathes shakily and swallows several times when the fit has passed, then adds, not looking up, “I’m not sulking, sir.”

Tyren hehs. “Thinking generally precludes sulking. Glad to hear there’s at least more of the former than the latter now.”

Lanisen doesn’t say anything for a moment. “The King came,” he says abruptly after a pause, his voice cracking.

Tyren says, “Yes. So I have heard.” to you.

Lanisen glances at him. He takes a half-step to the side as if to start pacing nervously, but he stills. “What… I mean… did you hear anything else? If…” he asks, his tone almost pleading.

Tyren lifts a brow. “Was there something in particular you wanted to ask? And do bear in mind that even if I do have the answer, I may not supply it. My duty, after all, may prevent me from doing so.”

Lanisen stares at him, then rubs his temple with the heel of his hand and looks away. “I… no. Never mind, ‘s not… I mean… yeah.” He hesitates. “What’s he gonna do with me? An’ Loc? Did he talk to Loc too? What…?”

Tyren’s voice remains even as he replies, “As to His Majesty’s decision concerning you, as far as I know he has yet to decide. I doubt as well that he would relegate it to me to inform you when he does – that would be the steward’s job, if he does not tell you himself. As for Loc, yes. He has spoken with Loc as well.”

Lanisen swallows hard and nods. “Thanks,” he manages.

Tyren nods once. “Speaking the truth, I have found, is a far better road than the alternative.”

Lanisen doesn’t look at him.

Tyren says, “Difficult, at times, but the best path is hardly ever the easy one.”

Lanisen says without sarcasm or insolence, “‘M sure you’re right.”

Tyren hehs. “Besides, the truth always makes itself evident sooner or later. I see no point in hoping to completely hide it – the efforts will always be countered at some point.”

Lanisen says, “Yes, sir.”

Tyren merely gives another nod to this, saying no more. For the moment.

Lanisen turns away from Tyren, covering up another hacking, wheezing cough.

Tyren sighs, shaking his head a bit as he observes the spectacle, for that /is/ what it is.

Lanisen leans a fist on the wall as he finishes clearing his airway and takes a couple of deep breaths before turning back toward Tyren. He looks somewhat paler.

Tyren frowns. “Clearly this is affecting you more than just a simple cold would.”

Lanisen shakes his head. “Told you. Get this every year. Ain’t as bad as it looks.”

Tyren says, “Sounds vaguely familiar to how I usually respond to any wounds I’ve taken in the line of duty. Lot of times they’re worse than I’d like to profess.”

Lanisen says, “It ain’t that bad. Couple of days or maybe a week, I’ll start spittin’ up nasty stuff, an’ then it’ll all be over.”

Tyren says, “Even so, another mention to Adrian certainly can’t hurt things. I shall see to it.”

Lanisen shrugs. “He’ll tell you the same thing I did.”

Tyren says, “Then I shall accept that if that is what he deems. He is, after all, the expert in the field.”

Lanisen refrains from rolling his eyes, but barely.

Tyren does lift a brow at this, but if he bristles any further than that it is unseen.

Lanisen retrieves his blanket and wraps it around himself again in lieu of snarking.

Tyren says, “Thicker one of those might help as well. I’ll see what can be done.”

Lanisen glances back to Tyren for a moment, something like suspicion in his expression, then lowers his head and mumbles, “Thank you, sir.”

Tyren does not let the glimpse of vague suspicion go unnoticed. “I /am/ only seeking your best interest, I hope you know.”

Lanisen replies in the same subdued tone, “Yes, sir.”


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