Season: Fall
Time Of Day: Late Afternoon, Sun is beginning to set
Weather: It is cool outside, the wind is moderately blowing, wisps of clouds roll through the sky
Setting: Apon a high and rocky cliff lays a towering castle that was cut from the stone and a single narrow winding path leads to the gates that surround the castle. Below the castle lays a narrow beach and the ocean. There is a small village that looks towards the castle, grim and bleak with barren fields that have already been harvested and thatched roof buildings dotting the land scape. A dense forest rumored to hide evil beings encircles the south, east and west of the village on top of a crested hill. The road cuts through the village and to the woods.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Will you be venturing out this evening M'Lady?" a raspy old voice asked as the Lady Amalthea gazed out over the ocean from the outlook of her room high within the castle walls. White hair whipped in the wind, amethyst eyes seemed hollow even staring at the marvels below, and pale flesh seemed to move not with each shallow breath she drew through her thin nose.

"I will," her willowy voice answered quietly as long fingers curled against the roughly cut stone of the ledge that separated her from the oblivion below. The older woman nodded, straw matted colored hair being brushed back from warm brown eyes and a large nose. "Molly, who am I?" The lady asked as she stood there unmoving.

"You are the Lady Amalthea," Molly answered. Amalthea gave a short nod before turning and gathering the folds of her lilac gown between her thin fingers as she moved back into her room and through the castle. The way she moved on soft shoed feet was with poise and grace befitting what she truly was even though she remembered those days not. Each turn of her head, sway of her hip and flash of her neck gave her away to any that knew what a unicorn was but none did anymore, for she was the last.

Fletcher hated being outside of Queensport. Tiny villages had less people to rob and less nobles to be made less rich. He was attracted to this tiny village as a way of a vacation. He figured that it would be good for him to get away from the madness of the city. He needed to keep himself sane if he was going to get his mission done.

So that was why he was standing in as a bartender at a local tavern of this castle town. It was a tiny village but it did not really matter him. He figured that he would make a great bartender since the locals seemed like they did not get a lot of new blood around here. So they were telling him all their secrets. His mentor had taught him to trust drunks since there was honesty in alcohol.

The sun was just beginning to set as Carver rode into the small village, casting his gaze this way and that. He spotted a group of farmers pushing a wheelbarrow and called out to them, "What ho, friends! Keeping well?" The men simply turned their gazes downward and did not respond, hurrying on their way.

Carver sighed at that. It seemed men in armor were seldom trusted in these parts - doubtless the result of a few despotic nobles abusing their power to rob and injure the commonfolk. These were no true knights, Carver was sure of that. He wasn't sure how, but he knew that the world hadn't always been like this, grim and cynical and dark. This was not the way it was supposed to be...

The knight shook his head clear of those thoughts. These episodes of contemplation did no good for anyone. The world was the way it was, and it was the task of any true knight to improve it. "On then, August. Let us see if the folk of that castle have any tasks for a knight and his noble steed." Carver clicked his tongue and the horse broke into a trot, then a gallop, carrying him up the winding path, towards the castle on the cliff.

Mira was staring at her own reflection in a small mirror hanging on the stone walls of her room. She gently combed her hair, the color of bright copper which shone in the light of the setting sun. It had been a quiet day at sea, there weren't many oysters who allowed themselves to be found. The ones she managed to retrieve did not hold any pearls so she planned to sell them at the tavern this evening, as a salty snack to the customers there. It took her some time but not long after she settled in the small village she had build a steady customer base. The palace, the market place and the tavern were her main clients. The market place usually took all of her shellfish, but there was no market today.

After she finished combing out the tangles from her hair she put down her comb. It was a beautiful piece cast out of silver with swirling vines and flowers along the edges. She couldn't remember where it was from, or if perhaps someone had given it to her. She twisted her locks into a braid tying the ends with a strip of fabric. She wore a simple peasant blouse, a bodice and a long dark blue skirt. Mira looked out of the window to see the sun starting to sink into the ocean. She had to hurry if she wanted to sell some of her wares this evening. The young woman left her room and made a quick stop at the basement of the house where the tenant kept all the supplies. Her freshly caught oysters were waiting for her return. She arranged them into a prepared basket and grabbed a bottle of vinaigrette as some like that as an accompaniment.

It was busy as always in the small tavern of the quiet town. One may wonder if the empty streets were caused by the bustling crowd inside. It looked like most of the town came to unwind with a drink and tell tall tales. Mira still could not get used to the loudness inside and it made her long for the quietness of the sea. But there was work to be done. She walked over to the bar to greet the bartender, shocked to find a new face. She raised her brows in surprise, well that was certainly unusual. He didn't seem to notice her right away as a couple of customers kept him occupied. It gave her some time to take him in. He looked to be around her age, with shaggy brown hair and he wore a peculiar kind of attire for a bartender. Which made her doubt this was his dayjob. Maybe he was just passing through.

She placed her basket on a stool next to the bar and waited for him to come her way. Mira offered him a rare smile, yet it did not fully reach her eyes.
"Good evening, is Faflon not here tonight?" She asked, looking around for the owner of the tavern. A man often as drunk as his customers. He had quite the striking visage and was hard to be missed. The presence of this stranger had almost answered her question already. Faflon was not the kind of man to deny himself a good time, he was probably with his wife and children. If he'd been here she would have heard him.

Mira returned her attention to the bartender. He was intriguing and she wondered why he decided to spend his evening here. For Mira it was an interruption of her daily life and that made her curious.
"I'm Mira, I sell oysters here, Faflon knows of me so don't fret yourself"

From the top of top of the spiralling staircase weathered fingers drummed against the cold stone. Empty eyes watched the Lady Amalthea move with unknown grace through the open foyer towards the worn wooden doors of the castles main entrance. He pulled against the long tuft of hair, crooked teeth emerging from behind cracked lips. How he did love to watch the woman but not for the reason one may think. He was one of the few that knew what she was and he held that knowledge close to his icy heart. For nothing in the world brought him happiness but the vision of the unicorn, no matter the form it took.

The doors opened of their own accord for the Lady Amalthea as she drew a ragged navy patchwork cloak over her shoulders and slipped out of the castle. Silent feet fell along the cobblestone courtyard as her ivory hair whipped in the salt sprayed air, the scent carried heavy and she breathed it it in as she stepped past the two scraggly armored guards at the open gate and proceeded in a dream like fashion down the narrow winding path.

Wally had been taught by his mentor that drunks tended to speak the truth. He had lived by an ancient saying that had helped thieves and others of their trade for most of time. "Wine enters, secrets exit." as the phrase went. He had lived by this phrase for years and it usually brought him great secrets. Except for right now. Currently he was learning about the many different ways that one could cook fish and still have it be fresh and light. Wally was wondering if he could throw himself off the nearby cliffs now or later. He was thinking about this as a woman walked into the bar. The night seemed to be turning up now.

Wally clearly did not match with his surroundings. His clothes looked like they were trying to be like the local peasants but they did not fit him very well. They were a bit too tight for comfort. The clothes clearly were not his. The brown rough shirt was just a bit tight but he could still fight in it and the clothes hid his daggers. Wally preferred his thief outfit but he did not care about how he looked. Except maybe in front of pleasant company. Wally did have a bit of a weakness as it were.

He returned her smile but his seemed more natural. "Faflon... Oh right him. I think he is sleeping off his drinks. " He said smiling at her. "It is so nice to meet you, Mira. I'm... Wally." He said figuring she would not like calling him Fletcher. It was the polite thing to do. Wally looked over at her oysters and fished out a few silver pieces. Wally handed the coins to her as he grabbed two of the oysters. Wally started to eat them raw. "So what do you do around here other than sell oysters?" He asked as he looked right at her. Wally had to admit there was something up with the girl. He could not tell what it was.

I watched the reflection of fire glint on my visor as I stared down at the helmet, dwelling on the days' events. There really wasn't much, all things considered. All of the time spent walking had blurred together into a dull ache in my legs. It was fortunate that so much was left out these day or I was certain I would have died of boredom. The woods were surprisingly peaceful since the run-in with the highwaymen the other day and I had to do my best to find my own entertainment, even if it meant making the best of a bad situation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I certainly cannot stand being so alone in a place like this!" Kaitra croaked in her best 'old man' voice before barking back almost imediatly in a gruff accent, "Oi now, nothing to lose your head over, geezer! You still have us." She began a laugh for only the briefest of instances before furrowing her brow and scratching a bit of blood off of the helmet's visor. "Codger...codger...the mercenary said Codger, not geezer..." she grumbled, reaching over and taking the tattered scarf from the dead mercenary to finish the job before tossing it in the fire. The motion had pulled her setup over; the decapitated corpse of the mercenary left kneeling with their hands laced to hold their head and set up in a macabre fashion to look into the fire.
She held the helmet up with a smile at her work polishing the black steel. "Tch, foreigners unt zeir funny accents" she chuckled, setting the helmet down beside her to set her associate back up in position. Kaitra's smile slowly faded, looking around the fire at the old man and the other female mercenary who was set up in the same way. The woman was harder to put back together since she was one of those leather-armor types that took a hefty hack through her collarbone and down past her sternum. Their face was messily caved in from an excellently aimed shield-pitch and Kaitra couldn't help but lock eyes with them to the best of their ability. "No! Iz why you are dead! Hello to you too!" The half-elf barked, standing to address them before angrily kicking her work over in a bloody mess. "Unt do not look at me like zeht...iz bad for the neck" she sighed, not up for laughing at her own joke as she quickly packed as much of their supplies in a spare bag as she could.

The old man shakily held his cup of now cold stew in one hand, holding his daughter close as they looked into the fire. "C-ca...can we leave?" the girl spoke, her eyes darting from the Black Knight's lightly pointed ears to the fire, trying not to make eye contact. Kaite replied with a sigh as she stood, slinging the pack over her shoulder as she strolled back from the tent. Looming for a moment, she swiftly picked up her helmet and fixed it to her head before simply walking off without a word.

News by the means of this old merchant and his daughter would be brought to the village. News of The Lady in Ebony Steel that had spared them but brutally slain their escorts for seemingly no reason other than for a few days of provisions and a fresh set of clothes. This wouldn't be the first instance of such a story, though it is the closest to the village, yet. Guards had been reluctant to go chasing such an individual due to civil duties and the reduction of bandit run-ins.

The muck of the forest clung to Mazen's boots as he stepped through the dense foliage onto the winding path that lead to the nearby village. He had come to this remote area in the hopes of making contact with more of his people, but he'd had no such luck. As he walked, sending quick glances into the shadowed recesses of the forest to dissuade predators, he once again examined the amulet clasped about his neck. The characters inscribed on it were in the tongue of his people, which he hadn't had occasion to utter aloud in a long time. He had no desire to do so now.

Replacing the amulet beneath his breastplate, Mazen continued along the path until the trees thinned and the village was ahead of him. Nothing about his posture changed as he approached "civilization," to him traversing a village of humans was no different than stalking through the woods at night. His experience told him he would not be welcome in the village, but he didn't care whether humans welcomed him. The village hounds began barking one by one as they scented him, as if he were a wolf threatening the flock. Ignoring them, and the gasps of the few villagers who saw him, he made his way to the building he had identified as the tavern.

Swinging open the door, he stepped boldly into the midst of the laughter and clatter of tankards. However, even his imposing aura of confidence wasn't enough to halt challenges. A burly villager stood up as if to accost Mazen, but after meeting the dark elf's baleful red eyes he sunk back to his bench with trembling knees. His dispassionate gaze raked over the patrons as he took in the room. Deciding on a destination, he made his way to the bar and sat down. His sensitive ears tracked everything that occurred behind him as his fingers tapped the surface of the bar rhythmically, itching to grasp the hilt of his blade.

Soft humming accompanied Ein as she strolled through town, the wooden wheels of her cart trailing deep tracks as she went. Inside, stacked against the wooden walls were nearly a dozen baskets, most filled with stray leaves, wilted petals and other remnants from today’s crop. Not for the first time that day, Ein felt proud of how popular her arrangements had become. Today especially, the townsfolk seemed exceptionally eager to go home with one of her bouquets, and she partly felt bad for not having prepared more. She wondered briefly if today might have been a holiday, and if that’s why flowers were in such high demand. Humans had so many after all, and it wouldn’t be the first time that Ein forget one. The dates went by so quickly, it seemed, she couldn’t imagine ever keeping track of them all. Regardless, she was simply happy to see them all go to people who’d appreciate them.

Loud, drunken voices had Ein slowing her cart down for a moment as she passed by the local tavern, her sharp ears curiously picking up on the slurred but overpowering conversations that slipped through the doors. A small but entertained smile pricked at the edges of her lips before she began moving again, a brief thought to the damages the drunken fools might cause tonight running through her mind. People here always enjoyed a good, loud night, which partly why she was happier living so far outside of town.

That, and the view, of course. Her little cottage was about a mile into the forest, tucked between a small hill and a line of thick pine trees. On her own, it usually only took her a few minutes to reach town, but with her cart, the trek usually took longer. Not that she minded. She admired the thickly wooded environment while she moved, feeling a cozy sense of familiarity wash over her as she headed towards her home. The soft sound of her humming was all she really needed to keep her company during the walk, the sound filling the quiet atmosphere with life.

Carver pulled back on the reins as August brought him up to the path towards the castle. Haste was all well and good, but it would not do to go galloping up such a winding and steep road - certainly not with the cliffs nearby.

As his horse picked his way up the path, the knight cast his gaze out at the surrounding area. The ocean was wide and blue. The forest was deep and serene. The castle was magnificent, and clearly ancient, and somehow... familiar?

Black wings beat the wind into his face. Teeth like swords, breath like a furnace, eyes wild with hatred. It perches atop the tower and roars a challenge to any man who would slay it. But there are no men...

The knight shook his head clear of the vision. A flight of fancy, nothing more - perhaps a tale he'd heard of some similar castle, half-remembered. If he'd learned anything in the past few months, it was that there were no such monsters; this was a world of mortal men, and mighty deeds.

Peering ahead, he got sight of a shape coming down the path towards him. A woman, almost shimmering by some trick of the light. She moved with more grace than the knight would have believed possible. She was lovely.

"Hello, my lady!" he called out to her. "I am Ser Carver, knight errant in search of a noble quest. It is my honor to make the acquaintance of one so lovely as yourself, though I must ask - is it safe for you to be wandering alone at this hour?"

Soft falls of petite feet came to a slow halt as the figure seated upon a steed approached. It was peculiar to the Lady Amalthea to see any on the winding path between the castle on the cliff side and the village which resided far below. Few ever traveled the road that joined the two. King Hagard was not known for his warmth and welcoming nature, preferring the solace such distance granted him.

Glistening white hair flickered in the winds as a slender fingers tipped with thin nails grasped the worn cloak to hold it closed against her frail looking form. She stood there, perfectly still observing the new comer. He seemed familiar, like a vision from a time so long ago. Or perhaps it was something about him that reminded her of the dreams that plagued her evenings. Either way, the flash of familiarity was vanquished from her mind as quickly as it had come.

Ser Carver introduced himself in a genial fashion and she nodded in response but his question caused her thin white brow to arc; a perplexed expression falling over her delicate features, as if she had never considered the possibility of danger or even hour of day before she had left the assumed safety of the Castles walls.

"Why would it not be?" the Lady Amalthea asked in a willowy voice that caught on the air to be carried to his ears. The hand which did not hold her cloak taunt to her reached up and swept her silken bangs back, tucking the loose strands behind a tiny perched ear lobe. A flash of lilac and violet star marking being shown from behind the bangs for a brief moment.

Her head tilted to the side as she looked at him, her sea colored eyes, large and deep seemed to take in no light and reflected nothing back as she awaited an answer to her inquiry.

Amon stepped from the merchants boat into the port of the seaside town. It was relatively late in the day so the docks were almost abandoned. He could hear a raucous din coming from one of the buildings and he guessed that the dockers could no doubt be found there. They're probably boring the poor ol' barkeep to death thought Amon.

As he started to walk across the quiet docks, Amon noticed the odd looks he was getting. His foreign garb made him stand out like a sore thumb, so he pulled up his hood and walked slowly trying not to draw attention to himself.

Now, he thought where can I find a quiet spot? As he walked Amon passed a lady selling flowers to the locals, she provided him the perfect distraction and he was able to walk past without being noticed. Looking over his shoulder he darted into an alleyway and making sure he wasn't being watched took out his scrying glass.

The small object sat in the palm of his hand, the black leather of his gloves playing against the familiar edges and runes. The scrying glass was shaped like a flower of sorts, the centre was hexagonal with six triangular petals each bearing a single rune at the edges.

Amon breathed deeply before clasping the scrying glass, he started to utter an incantation under his breath. He closed his eyes and his back arched.

Before him a man, not in his place... his purpose strong but unknown, his cloth and role new.

Amon gasped his eyes darting open for the briefest moment before closing once more.

A rider, he was honourable but confused... he was not like the first... he sought purpose reason.

Amon's eyes opened once more and he inhaled sharply as his eyes closed again.

A lady, elegant and nimble stood before the rider... she stood above the town looking down... knowledge he could sense it about her, it swarmed around her...

Amon snapped back into his body gasping, he breathed heavily and placed the scryng glass now red hot into its black case before reattaching it to his belt. Amon looked about once more, and immediately saw the castle looming over the town he now stood in. He wondered... might he find the rider and the lady there, or would he be better served finding this man who was out of place? Amon, after a moment's thought resolved to try and kill two birds with one stone and set about making his way towards the castle, trying to make sense of what his visions had shown him.

After the stranger had introduced himself as Wally he exchanged a couple of pieces of silver for her oysters, she quickly took them and slid them into a pouch tied at her waist. A few lose coins were easily lost in the crowd if she let them sit in her basket in full view. He hadn't even enquired after the price, so he must either be very hungry or he had enough coin to freely spend as he wished. Mira wondered about this as she watched him enjoy his seafood. Oysters were a delicacy to most, it was a rare and expensive thing, an acquired taste. It was even said they were a powerful aphrodisiac.

When he returned his attentions back to her Mira began to feel slightly uncomfortable. She was often awkward in conversation, finding it hard to behave like herself. Truthfully she didn't feel like sharing the company of other people, men especially. She preferred to be by herself with her own thoughts. Her few hours of selling her wares and a daily stroll through the village was enough for her. Aside from that there wasn't much else she did, not anymore. The times were her days were filled with purpose had gone when he left her.

The young woman moved her braid over her left shoulder and started to fiddle with the fraying ends of the strip of cloth she'd used to tie it.
"I've just recently moved here, I go where work takes me I guess"
"This is a quiet town, nothing much happens here" She spoke about the town as if its quietness was a relief to where she'd lived before. It was peace she was looking for when she left her old village behind and it seemed she'd found it here.

Wally seemed like a very nice young man but she had other customers to see to and a lot more oysters to sell before they were not worth selling anymore.
"Have a good night Wally, it was nice to speak with you" She said with a small smile. Mira retrieved her basket from the stool to her left and made her way back into the crowd.

Spending the majority of the evening in the forest, Otelia was having a wonderful time. At this time she was storing away what she had into her pouches and enjoying the weather. Many wanderers had passed by and people watching was one of her favorite past times. Not everyone who wanders into this place leaves though. Most of the time it wasn't even her fault, the forest is just a dangerous place in general. She wasn't the only person to hide, and then there's the wildlife. Most of the animals don't like humans. She completely understood where they were coming from, but there was the occasional intruder who caught her attention.

On one particular instance, a dark elf had actually trekked through the forest. She watched him as he moved on towards the village, though he didn't seem to be bothered by anything. Otelia thought as he went out of sight "Oh, the villagers are going to love him!" Thinking of the village she realized it was getting late and she should head back. In the mornings villagers tell her stories while she prepares their medication. Most are stories of valiant efforts whilst in a drunken stupor. Looking for her next source of entertainment Otelia waved to random locals as she entered the village.

As Amon made his way back through the town he noticed more and more locals going around in different levels of drunken delirium. The majority of the towns folk seemed to have participated in some drinking competition much to Amon's displeasure.

Amon didn't like drunk people, they were always too stupid to be worth talking to, either too dimwitted to understand him or too far gone in a haze of intoxicating alcohol. He pressed on trying not to run into any of the revellers, as he made his way through he noticed a figure who seemed to be apart from the rest of the crowd. She certainly hadn't been drinking Amon could tell by the way she was walking for one thing, but also the way she carried herself suggested that she was typically above such behaviour.

He made a mental note, doesn't fit in that one... she seemed to be carrying some herbs and the like which wasn't to out of the ordinary. There was something though, he couldn't put his finger on anything in particular but he made note of the women anyway. He was always making little mental notes like that, though usually they didn't amount to much, but a couple of times they'd paid off in the past so he continued the habit.

Amon continued his walk towards the castle, as he drew closer to the hill he saw how exhausting the climb was going to be, and wiping his brow set about climbing the hill. He considered using his powers to aid his weary muscles but decided against it, he remembered one of his old mantras.

'People fear that which they do not understand, that which they fear is subject of inquest or wrath'

Both of those things he could ill afford at the present time, and so he set about climbing the hill. Eventually amid a fair bit of panting he reached a point in the hill where he could see two figures talking. One figure was on a horse and wore armour that glinted with light, but it struck Amon that it wasn't merely the light of the setting sun which was almost gone from the skies... no there was something else.

His left hand almost unconsciously reached down towards his scrying glass, the case warm to the touch even through the case and the leather of his glove. As he walked ever closer he became certain these were the two figures he had seen, the lady and rider. He wondered what quirk of fate had led him to them? The rider by the look of him was knight... but the armour it was ancient... an old design many centuries old in fact and yet it glinted as though it were freshly forged.

The lady too was dressed just like in his vision, he could see even as he closed the distance that she was beautiful. She seemed to have some innate elegance about her and yet she seemed solemn, withdrawn even, quite at odds with her pleasant aesthetic that seemed to radiate grace.

As he wondered closer he lowered his hood and as he drew closer still he called out to the figures. 'Good evening Sir Knight, Good Lady. Might I inquire as to who is the lord of this castle?'

Attention and memory failed the Lady Amalthea as it always had since the magic of a bumbling second rate pick pocket had transformed her from her once mythical state to that of her current form. The question that had left her lips had all but withered and died from her mind as she stood there looking at Ser Carver upon his steed.

Then a voice caught what little attention was left within her and her gaze swept from him to the new comer with a poetically graceful turn of her slender neck; hair sweeping over her shoulder and falling to points past the back of her knees. Another stranger on the road to the castle, this was an extraordinary evening, or at least it would have been if she could remember the last time even one crossed the narrow path.

"King Hagard resides behind the walls of the castle," she answered quietly. Few names and people did she remember but Molly, her servant, and the King were two that seemed to always be there. Yet it was not luck that gave her such strong memory with their names and faces, there was a far more mythical reasoning behind it. They knew what she was so it clung to her heart without knowing why.

Her pale lips fell silent after answering the question and she stood there, perfectly still. Only gentle flesh and the wave of hair in the wind gave away that she was more than a porcelain statue. Not even the the rocks beneath her soft shoed feet moved nor did her toes to grip them. She just stood there, statuesque in poise and appearance.

As the lady spoke, Carver was almost awestruck by her grace. She seemed as though she did not belong in the world around her - she was a statue given motion, a relic of a bygone, more beautiful age. More than admiration, the knight felt something strange for her... kinship?

Behind the helmet, Carver furrowed his brow at her words. "There may well be unsavory characters in these parts, milady, the sort that emerge after dark. Such a fair maiden as yourself would seem imperiled..." he held up a steel hand. "But, perhaps I am presuming. Doubtless you know the region better than I."

That was when a new figure approached, hooded, wearing a sword at his belt. A strange taste entered the knight's mouth as he approached - a sort of dark, metallic tang. Perhaps he was getting ill - that would certainly explain all the odd feelings he'd been getting today, though come to think of it, he couldn't remember ever having been sick.

"Hail, traveler. A fine night to you and yours." He turned back to the lady as she spoke of the castle's master. "Ah! A castle for a king! Tell me, does your liege have need of a fine knight? Is there any task he needs completed? I seek a noble quest to dedicate myself to."

The creaking of wheels on a cart. The hum of a girl. The deafening silence of the forest which ebbed in like the midnight tide as chirps and rustles of critters gave way to the hush of wind through the trees...and the metal of a sword dully chiming against rocks in the trail Ein was taking.

------
"-anything?" a patron slurred, having moved to the table of an old man who sat alone, his daughter nowhere to be found. "Well, she made fun of me and my guards" the man sighed, turning the cup of tea in his hands. Sighing, the patron took a drink and looked around the bar. "Well...ehrm...at least you got your money back?" the patron chuckled which made only the faintest of smile twinkle in the old man's eyes, doing his best to look on the bright side of what he'd witnessed. "Ah! Yeah, see? It's not all bad. Be glad it wasn't any other bandit" the patron laughed, giving the old man a jarring pat on the back.
"Somehow..." the old man began before shaking his head, a lack of confidence in his words that piqued the patron's interest. "Say something?" he asked, the old man looking up to meet his eyes before saying, "What kind of bandit has no use for money?"
The question made the patron frown, lifting their mug once more before hesitating to inquire, "Black armor, you said?"
------

The knight strolled some unseemingly short distance behind Ein. With one hand resting on their thorned hip plate and their left holding a sword loosely enough to clank the flat of the tip through the rocks and dirt of the beaten path as they followed. They didn't seem in much hurry, certain that the one they were following wouldn't be able to outrun them and keep their cart.

Kaite had found it curious that a girl would be wandering the woods with a cart by herself. There weren't many reasons to explain it since sane people clustered together in town and a residence in its outskirts would suggest shady behavior. Their first and strongest notion was that the girl was smuggling supplies to some kind of bandit hideout. The armor did its work to paint the girl as a mule not worth being trusted, unconsciously quickening her pace just enough that Kaite would come into earshot. "Iz bold of you...wanderink zee forest alone" she called in just over a normal speaking voice. With that, they noisily scraped their sword forward and swing it up to rest on their shoulder. "You know zeht zeir iz bandits in zeis parts, ja?" she inquired in her thick foreign accent, continuing to follow Ein though keeping their distance, visor closed to obscure their face.

"Do I?" The Lady Amalthea responded to Ser Carter's statement of her knowing the region better than he. Her voice and question though were not directed at him but to herself.

Did she? A slender finger tapped delicately against dusty pursed lips in thought trying to remember about any dangers or anything about the region at all. Nothing came to mind but that did not mean much in her bewildered and foggy mental state. A phoenix could be residing in the tallest tower of the castles narrow keep and she would not remember.

More questions followed and broke her fragile concentration and her deep eyes lifted to meet his through the slit of his helmet, as if she was peering into his soul though she would not even if could recall how.

The single digit that had been tapping against her lips stilled to them as the lips relaxed. She thought a moment again before the finger lowered and hand slid back beneath the tattered cloak.

"I do not know," she admitted through parted lips that formed each syllable as gracefully as every other movement she made. "Perhaps."

Her head turned slightly towards the village and then back towards the castle. Why was she out walking? She had forgotten.

"I should return to the keep," the Lady Amalthea said absentmindedly to the two men before her.

Ein could hear the stranger approaching long before they appeared onto the path, the unmistakable dragging of a sword making enough ruckus that she was sure anyone within a mile of such a silent wood might have heard them. She made no move to acknowledge them while they followed though, content with leaving them to accompany her in silence, aside from her humming that is. Ein smirked a bit while listening to the stranger’s steps. After a moment, their pace sped up ever so slightly.

"Iz bold of you...wanderink zee forest alone"

A thick but unfamiliar accent, Ein noted with interest, and listened as they finally lifted their dragging longsword from the ground. The threat in their tone was clearly there, though the brunette made no sign of noticing it. Had they meant any immediate harm, they’d have hacked off her head already, she reasoned calmly, and continued to hum softly.

"You know zeht zeir iz bandits in zeis parts, ja?"

Ein made no attempt to hide the smile that smoothed over her lips, her humming finally stopping as she turned to glance back at the stranger.

“Yes, I’m aware.” She offered only a simple expression before turning forward again. “Quite the scary bunch, they are. Certainly no one I’d want to trifle with.” She continued casually, her tone smooth like she were talking to a friend and not some armor-clad stranger. “But I haven’t much to worry about, unless they were interested in stealing flowers.” She finished matter-of-factly.

By now, the silhouette of trees were all that Ein could really make out beyond the path. The late afternoon sun became greedier with the light it shed, and slowly, the gaps between the branches and the sky began to blur. Ein was aware that at this pace, she would eventually come upon her home, but she was a bit less inclined to do so now that she had company. Casually, she began to veer off the path, wheeling her cart behind her confidently and suredly, and away from her house.

“You perhaps,” Ein began after several yards, peeking back at the stranger with another simple stare, “wouldn’t happen to be a bandit yourself, would you?” she inquired in a light tone, curiosity all that was evident in her blunt question.