Gilded Bay strength before weakness

The wind cast a strong gust toward him, carrying the scent of a familiar figure. The pallid knight froze in his place and turned sharply toward a distant, pallid shape. Even from there, he could see the honey-gold glint of a single optic. It was a surprising instance to run into his brother. For all of his trekking, Guildenstern had not imagined that he would cross paths with his burly sibling. There, in the wilds, he thought that it made more sense. Rosencrantz was a competent man with the tendency to find himself in peculiar places. The way that the terrain seemed to cut an imposing figure – from the earth up – was something that fit the one-eyed berserker considerably well.
 
Guildenstern did not move to approach his sibling. Instead, he allowed for Rosencrantz to close the space between them. The burly specter regarded his blood with an even stare – an expression that was entirely unreadable – and a stiff frame. It didn’t take long for the man to enter the bay and to draw close. When he finally stood a few steps from Guildenstern, the colossal figure drew his crown upward and nodded curtly. There seemed to be the remnants of a familiar smirk that had curled his dark lips upward. It vanished just as soon as it had arrived. The ghostly figure was known for being stone-faced through anything. All his life, his even nerve had granted him a rare ability to maintain total control, no matter the scenario.
 
“I should like to say the same for you, but I am not at all surprised to find you in lands such as these,” the rough baritone of a true vagabond sounded. There seemed to be a haggard breaking of his voice, worn from lack of use. In this moment, Guildenstern turned his crown to the lapping sea water and the burning rays of sunlight from overhead. It was appealing despite its foreignness. The knight had never found himself among such vast and ever-changing life. It seemed that the territories that stretched beyond his vision were varied. There was a chance that he could trek miles across one terrain and find himself in an entirely different setting in no time at all. It made sense that the ground where they stood would attract the attention of many others.
 
A single ear flicked sideways, splaying atop his head, before the pale knight turned his sights back to his brother. Curiosity begged him to ask questions. Guildenstern ignored the prying thoughts, suffocating them beneath the ones that were most important. “How long have you been here? How long will you stay?” he asked of his sibling. The voyager could not deny the scent of others on his sibling’s cloak. It seemed as though Rosencrantz had found a group. The stoic wanderer did not know how deeply that pledge was felt, but it was of interest to him.