Writing Prompts Archive/12/Étoileaux Charbonnier

*“Fury’s tits, it’s windy today. You’d think we were at Camp Cloudtop.”*

*A ginger head of an elezen poked inside the tent. The man hurried inside, closing the flap behind him. Charbonnier glanced up from where he had been reading a report and was met by the familiar lopsided—if a little unsettling—grin of Paulemont, his closest friend among the knights of Durendaire. Half of the man’s face was paralyzed and mutilated from a close-proximity explosion—a grim reminder of what the so called heretics had been willing to stoop down to in order to claim lives of young and inexperienced graduate-knights. Where the man’s right arm was supposed to be, there was but an empty sleeve of a tunic that had been tied to a knot to hide the useless stub of a limb. The chainmail of the cheery knight rattled as he sat down and huddled by the dying flames for warmth.*

*“Toss a log, will you? You know I can’t relight it once it goes out.”*

*Setting down his magnifying glass, Charbonnier grunted in acknowledgement before complying. Once the temperature of the tent was back to a more comfortable level, he joined the other man on a woolen blanket. The wind continued to howl outside, occasionally making the ropes holding the tent in place groan under strain. The sounds of an unfortunate sentry’s footsteps scrunched on the virgin snow.*

*“What’s eating you?”*

*Startled out from his musings, Charbonnier raised an eyebrow in question. “What?”*

*“You have a tell. Whenever you’re not happy about something, you start tousling your hair. I’d say yours is ripe for a falcon to make a nest in.”*

*The duskwight immediately ceased touching his scalp and crossed his traitorous arms, lips curling to an annoyed snarl. “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with. The Temple Knights have it well in hand.”*

*“Maybe they do, but it’s obviously something that’s got you on the edge. Come on, have we not been through enough together? You know you can tell me anything.”*

*One glance at the man’s face and arm was enough to summon the familiar feeling of suppressed guilt. They had been through much. It could’ve easily been Charbonnier that had attempted to untie the corpse of their captured spy from a tree. Little had they known their respect for a fallen comrade would be taken advantage of so heinously.*

*With a sigh and a withering glare that was promptly ignored by the Ishgardian, Charbonnier rested his chin on a poleyn-covered knee and stared into the dancing flames.*

*“It is a personal matter, one that does not concern Durendaire nor their military.”*

*“Do I have to pull ‘a Commander’ on you to make you talk?”*

*“You are not my commander, Ser Paulemont. Nor do you have her”, he swallowed thickly and hurried to correct himself, “his wit.”*

*Thankfully Charbonnier’s slip up went unnoticed due to him sitting on the side of Paulemont’s injured ear.*

*“But I can pull your heartstrings with a pity party until you cave in.” The ginger’s distorted smirk was full of self-irony. The man hated being at the end of pitying looks and relying on others to do simple daily chores. The only good thing about his disability was the maid servant Lord Soleilmont had hired for him as a reward for his deeds during the war. The girl did not judge Paulemont nor ridicule him behind the knight’s back. Charbonnier would know. Rina’ta was a friend of hers.*

*Rolling his coal-like eyes, the duskwight tossed another log to the fire and took a moment to think how to put his thoughts into words. The other knight waited patiently, leaning lazily against his good arm.*

*“You know of the Crystal Arrows and the operation to free the slaves within one of the supposedly abandoned mines in western Coerthas, aye?”*

*“The one you ran off to without telling me first? Sure do.”*

*Charbonnier pointedly ignored the sarcastic remark. “I had hoped to find leads that would help us unearth the root of the problem; the Aurum Vixen. Not even the inquisitors could pull much worth mentioning from the hired men we apprehended.” Sighing, he rubbed his aching eyes. Sitting so close to the fire was already taking its toll on his vision. “All that hassle to keep them alive for questioning.”*

*“You think killing those slavers would make things any better? To make you feel any better? This way they will be forced to answer for their crimes.”*

*The duskwight’s neck nearly cracked from the abrupt turn of his head. “The only justice those scum deserve is death.”*

*“I don’t disagree with you. But you’re not a judge, a jury nor an executioner, Charbonnier. It doesn’t fall on our shoulders to make that call.” Paulemont leant forward, shrugging in that strange unbalanced way of his.*

*Thin brows furrowed, the bridge of his nose wrinkling in anger. “It shames me that we must ally ourselves with outsiders to weed out the problems from within our own borders.”*

*“But those outsiders are you friends and allies, are they not? Hells, sometimes it feels you spend all your free time with them. Surely it’s not so bad when you have a trusted ally and a close friend at your side.”*

*The crease of his brows smoothened as Charbonnier looked into the unassuming and warm brown eye of Paulemont. “Aye. You are not wrong. Were it not for them, much would remain undone and my worldview be as narrow as it was during the war.”*

*Again that strange, freakish lopsided grin. “Exactly. So don’t mull over it so much. Just accept the help graciously—without pretense, might I add. You know the knights are spread thin and all of Ishgard’s concentration is rebuilding from within before we can move and do the same for without.” He let the words sink in for a moment before adding in a carefree manner: “Besides, I can’t watch your back anymore. You have to find someone else to do that for you. I can babysit the recruits in the meantime.”*

*Charbonnier cracked a weak smile. He knew Paulemont was putting up a brave front. The ginger was his oldest and only surviving brother-in-arms and he knew the man better than he sometimes knew even himself. Clasping the other elezen’s shoulder, Charbonnier gently headbutted him, not shying away from the marred hairless side of his forehead.*

*“Thank you.”*