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Winter hung on. A bit like an over-inebriated guest who just will not put the flask down despite all hints to the contrary. The weeks since that magical day at the cusp of the new year had been bitterly cold. It didnt bother Cyn any more than it seemed to bother the other men around the [[sword]]. Eleven men at all hours, a ring of steel and vigilance to ensure the sanctity of that place. The sign of the king. The sign of a new age. Of hope. The clothes he had bought, though they sometimes made him want to hide in shame at their gross presumption, were at least very warm. Coming to [[London]] had changed everything. Suddenly he had a new family, full of heart and warmth. He had a new Lord, a man who seemed honest and good, but for whom Cyn had difficulty finding room in his soul. He would always do his duty, as his Majesty [[Meliodas]] had taught him, but how could he put this unknown man before his family, or his foster father? He angled his [[shield]] slightly, admiring the vibrant red the herald in [[London]] had found for him. Dark, but warm. Full. He was one of few men in the circle to bear his own [[shield]]. He didn’t quite know how to feel about it, but he would bear it with pride in his family. It was disconcerting to know that everything he did while bearing it would reflect on them. So much responsibility. So many things expected of him. He barely knew where to start, if he’d be enough, if he could do all the things they wanted. But he would try. These people, that he unexpectedly loved to breaking, had been through so much. They needed someone to fight for them. Not everything was good. Oh, another one! No, good man, you cannot approach any further. No, just like the [[hundreds]] of people before you, not even a little peek or touch, no piece of stone nor hilt for luck or remembrance. Ah, yes, the flung piece of fruit, easily deflected off the [[shield]], and the insult of “nob”, harder to shake. Was he a nob? Probably yes. Was that a good or a bad thing? He didn’t really know. He was almost grateful for the recurring interruptions, a man could go a bit funny thinking too much. Now where was he? Oh yes, not everything was good. Relating to his new brothers in arms was unexpectedly difficult. The people of [[Salisbury]] were very different to those of his homeland, [[Lyonesse]]. He’d tried, but he still couldn’t stop thinking of it as his actual home. They were so consumed by their hate for the [[Saxons]], it made them hard and ugly. Thoughtless, cruel. The little worm that had been planted that day on the beach when the [[Irish]] had brought ruin to the peasantry wiggled and burrowed deeper. It made him feel sick inside. He was truly afraid of that seed within him for the first time, seeing how it twisted such good men. It wasnt just the hatred, the unwillingness to see aught but enemies or vengeance, but also those knights who were to be his brothers in truth. Those of the [[hillfort]] hundred. They had, barring his revered uncles and his newfound friend [[Brynach]], been standoffish. His father had been feared and tolerated more than anything, and they were unsure of him as a result. Ah, another challenge to overcome. His thoughts turned again to the arena that day. To women being herded into an open space and their deaths, to cheering and the vast ranks of the best knighthood [[Logres]] had to offer. None of whom had lifted a finger. That day he had felt inadequate, small, [[who was he]] to challenge that to which men like sir [[Cadry]] and Sir [[Maelgwyn]] consented? The face of one girl, dark haired and red eyed from crying, came back to him again and again. She reminded him too much of Kathryn. He pulled his thoughts away from that road, far too tangled. No. Step. Back. Ah, he’d frightened the poor man half out of his wits thinking such dark thoughts. He released his [[sword]], clasped the mans’ shoulder. Tilted his body aside just a hair, there, see? There it was. Yes, wondrous, no? Indeed, indeed. A good day to you, and no harm meant, Ah. He had to be better. Had to. Had to speak his mind and stand up when even the greatest knights would not. No, no good man, you cannot approach any further…
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