[As Allura steps through Sylvain's mirror, all the light from the hall blinks out instantly. She'll find herself in a tiny encampment in a dark forest, with dim light only coming from two tents. Clearly, the inhabitants of this little camp are trying to stay hidden and secretive, and the two lit tents will surely put out the light as soon as their work is through.
Moments later, a horse and its rider, both in heavy, spiked, black armor - the rider carrying a familiar, glowing, twitching lance, thunder into camp, and the rider - Sylvain, though he looks more stressed, more tired, more gaunt than usual - is dismounting before the horse has come to a complete stop, handing off the reins to a waiting soldier as he strides quickly into one of the lit camps. By the light of both the lance and the tent, it's revealed his armor and the lance itself are both covered in blood, indicating wherever he'd just come from had been a mess of a battlefield.
He doesn't even seem phased by it.
If anything, it just prompts him to remove his armor quickly once he's in the tent, so it can be cleaned and maintained by a waiting page while he sits at a field desk, another soldier standing by and waiting to speak.
"Michel, report."
"Rémy's battalion hasn't returned yet, sir, and it's not looking like they will. Galatea has capitulated in exchange for the safety of their citizens. Duke Fraldarius is still searching for His Majesty, and the Margrave has successfully pushed back the rising insurrection in Sreng, for now."
Sylvain - the one Allura knows, standing to himself and watching from the back of the tent, finally speaks up as the past-him they're watching begins to write a series of letters.]
This is... part of a dwindling front-line force against the Empire's invasion. Galatea is the territory one of my closest friends hails from, and Duke Fraldarius is Felix's father. He never gave up on the idea that Dimitri was still alive, even when everyone else was beginning to... or had, already.
The Margrave is my father. Gautier is a border territory, that fights off and on with invasions from the Northern border. They took advantage of the Empire's advance to strike harder, and more often.
[He figures it's better to explain now, up front, when there's little to see, little to listen in on, because leaving her in the dark... feels as though it would be worse. Cruel, even.]
>> Allura [cw: war, loss, grief, suicidal ideation]
Moments later, a horse and its rider, both in heavy, spiked, black armor - the rider carrying a familiar, glowing, twitching lance, thunder into camp, and the rider - Sylvain, though he looks more stressed, more tired, more gaunt than usual - is dismounting before the horse has come to a complete stop, handing off the reins to a waiting soldier as he strides quickly into one of the lit camps. By the light of both the lance and the tent, it's revealed his armor and the lance itself are both covered in blood, indicating wherever he'd just come from had been a mess of a battlefield.
He doesn't even seem phased by it.
If anything, it just prompts him to remove his armor quickly once he's in the tent, so it can be cleaned and maintained by a waiting page while he sits at a field desk, another soldier standing by and waiting to speak.
"Michel, report."
"Rémy's battalion hasn't returned yet, sir, and it's not looking like they will. Galatea has capitulated in exchange for the safety of their citizens. Duke Fraldarius is still searching for His Majesty, and the Margrave has successfully pushed back the rising insurrection in Sreng, for now."
Sylvain - the one Allura knows, standing to himself and watching from the back of the tent, finally speaks up as the past-him they're watching begins to write a series of letters.]
This is... part of a dwindling front-line force against the Empire's invasion. Galatea is the territory one of my closest friends hails from, and Duke Fraldarius is Felix's father. He never gave up on the idea that Dimitri was still alive, even when everyone else was beginning to... or had, already.
The Margrave is my father. Gautier is a border territory, that fights off and on with invasions from the Northern border. They took advantage of the Empire's advance to strike harder, and more often.
[He figures it's better to explain now, up front, when there's little to see, little to listen in on, because leaving her in the dark... feels as though it would be worse. Cruel, even.]