For You (manxman)

An absence

Nobody dare spoke a word at the grounds. They've been trained to never reply or say anything, especially when their commanding officer did not address them.

Their leader, Lord Reinhart, has a paramount influence among all military men, which also includes sea- faring soldiers. His heroic deeds, often exaggerated, have become the aspiration of ambitious men. His strength and combat tactics are the envy of every high- ranking officer.

So it is in their puzzlement to see the great man fall onto his knees, and face down on the ground.

"I apologize!", it was a tone they've never heard from him before, "I misspoke and deeply offended you."

Indeed, it baffles them.

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Quentin thinks that his year has been littered with misfortune. Thunderstorms destroying their crops, check. Bandits raiding their shed and taking the remaining bundles of wheat, check. Wolves infesting their territory, and killing half of their livestock, check.

And a new addition is...

A lord that is indecisive whether to offend him or not, check.

"Please, stand." He crouches down, and whispers urgently, "You are embarrassing yourself."

Roman remains in position, even as Quentin shakes him, "All the better for them to see my shame."

Whatever grudge he held got overwhelmed by Roman's sincerity. Quentin feels rather rueful at getting angry at him.

"Lord Reinhart," He starts, kneeling infront of him. He places his hand on the crown of the warlord's head, then softly as if he'll alarm the man, "Roman."

Quentin skims his hands until it stopped on his stubbled cheek, "Please raise your head, Roman."

He feels the click of the strong jaw under his palm.

Those dark irises landed on him immediately, even beneath the mud and unruly hair.

His chest hurts, and it throbs painfully, waiting to be acknowledged. Quentin felt breathless..

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It's like watching a tragedy unfold, Gared thinks.

He eyes his leader and the unsuspecting baron from the doorway.

He sees the shy glances, and gentle touches of Quentin, and the never-leaving gaze of the 

warlord.

They are like pubescent boys attempting to flirt.