[hider]Roll for deception = 6 + 1 = 7[/hider]

Sylvaine had had enough of travel, at least for a few days. Having a storyteller for company on the road had certainly helped to ease the boredom of ceasless trudging along some path or other, but the novelty of this luxury had somewhat begun to fade. What she wanted was a proper bed to sleep in, a proper cooked meal to eat, and proper drink to get drunk on. They had all that in Greybridge, so naturally she wanted in. What she didn't want, however, was to upend what was left of her meagre purse into the long-fingered paw of some blackmailing bureaucrat. He would not be getting ten lordling out of her anytime soon.

The notion of looking for another crossing a hundred miles or so downstream was, however, equally distasteful. Cillian was pleasant enough for company, no doubt, but Sylvaine had reached her limit when it came to hiking. Just the thought of campfires and wet bedrolls and endless, tedious marching made her wrinkle her nose in disgust. She would not be going wandering anywhere anytime soon.

That left her in a bit of a pickle. What to do? She looked across at Cillian, who seemed to be thinking the exact same thing. Their eyes met, and she raised an eyebrow. He gave no immediate reply, so she shrugged and made for the notary, pushing past a few disgruntled farmers. One turned to confront her, but put his anger aside when he saw the steel on her hip and in her eye. 

"Good sir!" she exclaimed, hailing the man, "I do believe that a man of your stature and character would not demand such a tribute of an old ally of the township!" She walked right up to the armed men, a mask of calm and careless charm on her face, and gave a short bow. 

"de Vermeille is my name, Sylvaine, daughter to none other than Rainier de Vermeille, commander of the Blue Blades, who fought for this settlement during the border skirmishes of yesteryears. We were made kin then, we were told, for our service to the people, and would always be welcome when in need of a haven. Well, I am in need of such a haven now, as is my minstrel. A man of your nature would not go back on such a promise, would he? I, for one, would think not."

She beamed at the notary, awaiting his reply.