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More people began to trickle into the room, and with all that was going on, Dillon sighed and closed the book, resigned to the fact that his questions will go on unanswered for now.

Replacing the book on the shelf, he watched uninterestedly as the flirtations went on, casting sideways glances at Llyr from time to time. Unfortunately there was no one in this room to save him.

Two more would tumble in, injured and bloodied. They didn't seem to be in any mortal danger, and so he wasn't all too worried, however he did mind the fact that the blood might get onto the books and parchment in the room.

As far as he knew, they were all intruders into this place, and making a mess wasn't going to go down well with whichever superior resided here.

“Take this,” he called to the two injured men, tossing over the tattered halves of his scarf. It wasn't going to be of much use to him any longer, as he'd figured.

"It's nice to meet you, Ruth." Estel gave her a brief curtsy.

When Hollandaise and Roland (and his entrance made her jump; she'd missed noticing him somehow) came over to offer aid, Estel backed away from the two injured knight-apprentices, moving to the war table and pulling out two chairs for them. "Sparring without practice weapons? That's awfully reckless of you. I'm glad you knew when to stop." And then, because she couldn't help it, she had to know: "Who won?"

She dragged the chairs closer to Shun and Johan. "Sit down," she insisted, voice firm.

She was glad that the others were stepping in to offer their help. And there was someone else she'd have to greet... but getting these two treated came first.

He gave Ruth as solf smile as she bow to him and Estel. However that smile fade away as Shun walked into the room. "Shun?!" Shayne called out in surprised as he saw how bloody the dark haired guy was. "A-Are you okay? You need to take better care of yourself!" He told him as he torn one of his shirt sleeves off and wrapped around Shun's arm.

Dillon was given a slight smile.

"A pleasure," said Llyr, bowing to both him and to Estel, as well as her companion; but the arrival of the loud one with the golden hair drew his attention away momentarily, and Llyr blinked slowly over at him, trying to discern whether there was a reason for the booming voice or if he was simply made that way.

It became rapidly clear that he was simply made that way.

"Erm," said Llyr to the one with the deep voice, his eyes flitting back and forth. "Yes...I suppose so."

He wasn't quite sure what to think. He looked back at Dillon and his book.

"I'm afraid that most of these texts are in a language I do not understand," said Llyr fretfully, sliding his fingers along the spine of the book in his own hand. "Do you know anything about what they speak of? I assume we are all here for the same reasons..."

"Oh."

The disappointment was palpable. It sagged his large, impressive form until he looked like a sad, yet somehow still devastating beast of a man. Even his hair blew just a little less in the non-existent wind.

"Well, sparring. That is something, at least. Practice makes perfect, after all. I'll need to check that out as soon as - I - "

He was struck dumb with surprise as his eyes caught the vision that walked in, blew right past him and the other friendly knights chatting away with one another, and sank down with the books instead. He gazed in wonder at the black haired angel that had just struck him into silence, which was a feat in and of itself, all things considered. His mouth gaped, as he just stared, and stared, and stared. A loud ringing noise began to flood his ears, finally knocking him out of his reverie to remind him that breathing was necessary for survival.

"By all the angels in heaven." He breathed out, pushing (a little rudely) past the group he'd managed to sequester in mere moments. He all but floated to the woman on the ground, as she fussed with them like some tiny, gorgeous little worm digging through their useless pages. Think, he told himself. Say something. You've woo'd a thousand women, this is no different. Say something.

"Books." He blurted out, followed by an awkward bubble of laughter. "Am I right?"

Johan was relieved that a good number of those in the room seemed to be somewhat prepared to assist them. Sans one overly boisterous Knight-Apprentice. He caught the other half of the scarf thrown to them with his good hand, nodding thanks to the young man who'd offered them.

"Please see to Shun first." he asked the scarred blonde man and the brown haired man, as he sat obediently in the chair provided by the black-haired woman. He glanced towards Shun at her question. Johan wouldn't say anything if he didn't. "I'm far more interested in who will win the larger conflict at hand, my lady. Sparring is simply a means of learning from one another. Not a contest."

He wrapped up the cut on his wrist first, as it was the shallowest of his wounds, and then carefully shrugged the injured shoulder out of his cloak and tunic. It hurt like the blazes when the air hit it, and Johan was suddenly grateful for the chair.

Johan nodded to Shun.

"A very effective hit, this one."

Sir Hummingbird pushed past her rudely and Hollandaise turned. Oh, of course. He had chosen his next victim. "Take care not to beat your wings too hard, Sir Hummingbird," she hmphed and promptly ignored him. ...sort of. She kind of wanted to see if he was successful.

With that, she leaned back against the books, idly turning an arrow over in her hands.

Things seemed to settle themselves over there, as plenty of attention was being given to the two wounded men. Finally, he could turn his attention back to the more important things.

“Most strange...” he muttered, leaning over to look at the book in Llyrs hands. “I, too, cannot discern nor decipher any of this - ” he paused, slightly conflicted over the idea that he could not read – was that something that disappeared along with his memories?

A quick glance at the rest of the books of the shelves reassured him that he could still understand written language, and he hurriedly pulled another book open to see if it was the same for this. Book after book yielded the same result, and Dillon was left with a perplexed look on his face.

“I do believe we have all come together for the same reason, and in that case, might this be the result of the enemy that we fight? ”

He had noticed that there was another lady in the room who had taken to the books amidst the commotion, though now having attracted the attention of that certain Sir Robert too.

“Ah, I am sorry to interrupt, my lady,” he greeted, eyeing Robert with no great threat, “But were you perhaps able to gather anything from these tomes?”