The road that leads to this secluded fortification is broken and in ill repair compared to the site itself … but that serves to make it all the more inaccessible. It is located far from Rephidim, surrounded by wilderness that houses training grounds for the order, as well as the best which the Temple Guard has to offer, who at times take part in exercises in these parts.

A wagon, pulled by a team of two Dromodons, rolls along, the broken bits and dips frequently jolting the carriage's sole occupant, though the Rhian driver seems to pay no notice.

Arkold grumbles and bangs on the inside of the carriage, "You there! Can you possibly make this ride any more uncomfortable?" he yells at the driver.

The horse spits to one side, then whinnies, "Sure thing!" He laughs, then adds, "Don't worry. We're almost there."

Arkold chuckles to himself, feeling a bit better after being pulled out of a gutter the day before. He comments to the driver, "All this, and humor too?" The comment is meant as a joke.

A scream of an eagle cuts across the sky … but with a volume and pitch that hints at a particularly large one. Outside the carriage, the source can be seen – Five giant warbirds soar toward the fortification, bearing black-armored warriors.

The horse yells, "Life is a bumpy road! If you can't laugh on occasion at the bumps, you'll always have a sour face!"

The horse looks toward Golgotha, though, as it looms in view. He spits to one side again, and doesn't grin right now. It's kind of hard to crack a joke about THAT. Not within possible earshot, anyway.

Arkold, startled by the sudden scream look out the window to see the mounted warriors. Again he comments to the driver, "So true! Amazing these warriors, no… ?"

The horse bobs his head, not talking quite so loudly. "Yeah. Amazing." He prods the Dromodons to pick up their pace a bit, to cover the last stretch a bit more quickly.

Arkold notes the horse's reaction and decides to quit the friendly chatter, and just enjoy the view… He so rarely gets out of the city.

The carriage slows down, coming to the guarded gates. "This is as far as I go," the Rhian hollers over his shoulder. "No unauthorized carriages allowed past this point. And I'm not about to pretend I'm authorized."

Jupani guards stand at each side of the gate. Just as in the Temple Guard, the wolves tend to dominate the composition of the Knights Templar.

Arkold steps out of the carriage and reaches into his pouch to gather the agreed payment and something extra which he hands to the driver saying, "Here is your payment, and some extra."

The driver nods. "You wish me to wait here, for the ride back, or do you have other arrangements?"

Arkold looks over at the gates, then to the driver, "Best wait here, I shouldn't be too long," he answers.

The Rhian nods, and settles back in the seat. "Guess I'll have me a nap, then."

Arkold nods and turns from the driver and walks towards the gate. As Arkold approaches the guards might notice he has, amongst other items, a Templar's sword in his belt.

One of the guards eyes Arkold. "Halt. State your name and your business," he barks.

Arkold stops and gestures to the sword, "I have come to return this sword, and state my thanks, to the Champion of Roses," he says as eloquently as his noble upbringing has taught him.

The guard nods, but demands, "State your name."

Arkold answers, "Arkold Volkenheld."

The guard nods, then directs the others, "He may pass." The gate, wrought of unknown material (Ivory, perhaps?), parts way just enough to let Arkold through with a reasonable amount of elbow room.

Arkold nods and begins inside the gates, looking carefully at the design and craftsmanship of the gates and fortress itself.

The gates are, by all appearances, each crafted from a single piece of ivory or some such. But no horn could possibly grow like this – not without some sort of outside influence, by magic, or by craft.

Arkold continues through the gates and inside, quite amazed by the place and its overall impressive appearance.

Warriors head about, this way or that. Nobody simply stands around, looking idle. The ages vary greatly. Some of the squires are mere children. And, as Arkold has observed the night before, at least one of the Knights Templar wasn't much more than one, either.

Arkold once inside looks around and whispers to himself, "How grand… now… where would the Champion of Roses be… "

About the main grounds, there are several towers and smaller structures, many of them bearing windows of stained glass, with different emblems.

The Knights Templar are recognizable for travelling in groups – sometimes in full Lances of four – with capes of matching color.

Arkold hmms and decides to ask someone, he walks up to the nearest person who does not look busy and asks, "Excuse me, where might I find the Champion of Roses?"

There are also a few squires heading this way and that. Some of them are of races that would never be able to become Knights Templars, let alone Champions. However, there is still a certain prestige in even being able to be a Squire, and they can at least be assured of good positions within the Temple Guard hierarchy in time.

One such squire looks back at Arkold. An Eeee. He looks a bit fretful. "Champion of Roses?" He points across the way, toward a tower with a stained glass emblem of a rose on it. "Maybe there? I heard she went on a long trip, though."

Arkold can't help but wonder what it would be like to work and live here. He nods to the Eeee's reply and thanks him kindly, and with that he walks off towards the tower.

The "tower", upon coming closer, looks more like an arboreum than a fortification. It is not unique in this aspect – a few of the other towers (with appropriate motifs) have gardens of their own.

Of course, there are all sorts of roses.

The doors are left wide open, the interior well lit by sunlight that streams in through panelled glass.

Arkold stops when he walks inside, this was not quite what he expected… But it fits, he thinks. He wanders through the 'tower' admiring the fine roses of the likes he has not seen since he last visited another noble's house who was known to keep rare plants.

A pool in the center of the room requires one to walk to one side or the other, its mirror-like surface bearing a few flowered lilies. Flashes of light reflect off of fish darting about below.

Arkold walks slowly around the pool looking at all it has to offer, he's not really in a hurry and decides to take his time though this garden… Not having felt so peaceful in some… Strange he thinks, to feel so peaceful in a place like this.

On the other side, the light is filtered through – should one be surprised? – rose-colored panels of glass, the blunted rays falling upon a shrine set in the middle of a tiled floor, the tiles forming a mosaic that blends a stylized rose with the emblem of the Bounded Star and Anchor.

From this circular juncture radiate doorways that lead into what presumably would be smaller chambers – five of them, going to the west, northwest, north, northeast, and east.

Arkold stops right before the rose design not wishing to walk over it, he looks about at the doors… and decides north to be his choice. Upon walking up to it, he knocks once.

There is a very long silence, save for the sound of trickling water somewhere in the gardens, and a wind blowing outside the structure. Clouds drift by, tinted rose by the panels.

*tap* *tap* *tap*…

Footsteps echo on tile.

Arkold waits for some time, not knowing if the silence is merely what he should expect from the Champion considering his last meeting, or if he has the wrong door. He decides perhaps there is just no one there, and walks over to the northwest door but stops upon hearing footsteps, he calls out, "Hello?"

Arkold's call is not answered … save for the continuing approach of footsteps. An armored Kattha walks around the pool, a magenta cape billowing behind her. By the ornamental armor, she is evidently the Champion of Roses.

Arkold turns to face the knight and, not sure how to address her he only asks, "Milady, Champion of Roses… ?"

The Champion stops and nods ascent.

Arkold looks about, he seems somewhat nervous, "Lovely garden, I have not seen one so grand in a long time… " He looks to the Champion, "I came to return this… " He gestures to the sword on his belt.

The Champion looks at the blade, then holds out a gauntleted hand to receive it.

Arkold removes the sword from his belt and hands it to her.

The Champion takes the sword in hand … and then just stands there silently.

Arkold looks around a bit more, then back to the Champion, "I also came to thank you," he says quietly.

The helmet nods once.

Some trees in an orchard just outside the panelled windows sway a bit in a strong breeze, the shadows dancing across the tiled floor.

Arkold umms, and reaches into his vest for something… thinking her gaze is quite effective.

The knight makes no visible movement. She might as well be a statue.

Arkold pulls out a case and hands it to the Champion of Roses, he speaks quietly, "Here."

The Champion sets the sword onto a marble (a rose marble) pedestal nearby, and takes the case, looking back to Arkold.

The case contains a metal rose with bronze rose-petals with a metal stem.

The Champion's head nods once.

Arkold nods to the Champion, saying, "For you." He still seems nervous, somewhat awkward.

The Champion nods her head again, and closes the case.

Arkold looks around once more, "I guess I should be going then… " He looks at the Champion once more. "Thank you," and begins walking out.

The Champion says nothing to the departing Jupani … but only watches him as he leaves.

Arkold stops once to kneel down and smell one of the roses, then proceeds out of the tower.

Outside, the stillness of the air is replaced by a vigorous breeze. There aren't as many walking around outside now. They must be inside, tending to whatever duties Knights and Squires tend to.

Arkold continues walking out, as silent as the Champion he just left… He does not look around as he did when he entered, but heads straight for the exit.

At the gates, the carriage is still awaiting. The Rhian's snores can be heard from a fair distance, though the guards look as if they pay it no mind.

Arkold walks towards the gate and reaches the guards, looking at each of them in turn. He proceeds to his carriage.

The horse continues snoring, even as Arkold reaches the carriage. The gate closes once the Jupani noble passes.

Arkold calls up to the sleeping carriage driver, "Wake up, I need to be going."

*SNORT!* "Wha? Huh? OH! Right! *snk* At once!"

The horse clatters to a more upright sitting position, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Arkold smiles, "I'm finished here, let's head back into the city," he says, walking toward the carriage door.

"Onward to Rephidim City!" yells the horse, as he grabs the reins, and prods his Dromodon team out of their meal-taking. He waits for Arkold to board the carriage, then prods the Dromodons into action, wheeling around to go back down the mountain road.

Arkold thinks to himself about the Champion of Roses and wonders, in all that armor and coldness, if she realy enjoyed his gift. Perhaps he'll never know.