[IC] On Winding Roads (Lillian & Derren )

[Derren Krenshaw]

"Alexi?"

Safely secluded behind doors of strong oak, a pale-skinned man hummed softly too himself. Dark hair hung down to obscure his face, defying the purpose of the crimson rope that tied it back at the base of his neck. Constantly shifting in his seat, one might catch a glimpse of the stubble on his cheeks and chin, matching the rings under brown eyes in the telltale sign of all work and no sleep.

"Alexi? Alexi!?"

The rythmic scratching of the quill accompanied by rustling parchment added melody to the man's humming lips. He toiled over a pair of works, illuminated by the sun glowing through his open window. Ink stained fingers moved, dragging the quill across the most recent page of one with sweeping, deliberate strokes, pausing only when he found need to regard the words of the other again. A task of translating, of copying over the original document into something it's owners could read. Even with such a short document as this, even for one who understood both languages as well as he, such work took time.

But he neared the end now, the final words set to be completed before the sun could sink to touch the cities heights. He resisted the urge to quicken his hand, drove away the notion that haste would be for the best. Translated documents were weak enough without the possibility of mistakes, and it wasn't as if he had to be somewher-

"Ale- Are you still in here? ALEXI!"

"What! What is it?" 'Alexi' jumped out of his seat at the sudden blows that struck his door, narrowly avoiding ruining his entire work. Stalking across the sparse trappings of his room, the work-weary scholar wrenched his door open with a tired scowl.

"You are, by his grace Alexi, what are you doing?"

"Work." Alexi stood tall over the well-dressed man before him, the bright colors and fashionable taste signifying a mix of wealth and favor. In contrast, Alexi wore his leggings loose and undyed, high quality wool stained by scattered spots of ink. His tunic was wrinkled and vest resting unbuttoned, it's craftsmanship all-but hidden thanks to his work. "I'm close to finishing this translation, Charles, what is it you need?"

"You to remember the rest of your work." The shorter, well-dressed Charles had matched Alexi's scowl wrinkle for winkle all the while. "If you are to make it to Avantshire in a timely manner, you need to be leaving soon. And IF you are to be leaving soon, you need an escort, or should the good Lord risk his work and money vanishing into the countryside?"

"I'm aware of the logistics, Charles, It is not-"

"It IS. Because the business day is drawing closer and closer to an end." The comment drawing little more than blank looks from Alexi, Charles' stern demeanor broke with a sight. "As a friend I should mention that if you do not head to the mercenary guilds soon, there will be no one to listen to your request. Do I need to also remind you what that would mean?"

"No, no. I think I get the idea." Alexi turned back to his desk, eyeing the unfinished translation for but a moment before giving way. Head shaking, he dried the ink and began storing both documents securely within his waiting pack. So long as the translation was complete before he reached Avantshire, there would be no problem. No that writing on the road was the best way to finish a document, but it seemed the only option left to him now.

"Alright Charles, take care of the room." Donning cloak and hefting pack, 'Alexi' Alexander Dumont turned back to his friend with a bittersweet smile. "With luck, I might manage to return, someday."

~-~-~-~-~-~-~

"Yes, Avantshire is the first stop.... Four, as many as six... Ah yes, I understand."

"Yes yes, leaving as soon as I can... Shouldn't be long over a year, but I am willing to pay a two-year contract and to- I see... No, thank you. Good day..."

Alexi's scowl had returned with all the grace and charm of a wild dog. The sun was cresting over the western sky, shadows growing long within the square he now paced throughout. A place of bustling commerce six days of the week, it was now the waning hours of business, where the good deals of the day had long been eaten up.

A fact Alexi was discovering all over again, as his conversations within the square always seemed to come back to the same answers. 'Sorry, but we don't know of anyone heading that way'. 'I'm afraid we don't have anyone available for such a task right now'. 'Terribly sorry, but I'm afraid most of the mercenaries in the area have already been hired'.

It was... discouraging. Nerve-fraying. Disgruntling and various similar words. But tedious and trying as it was, the facts remained that he still needed to get to the town, alive.

...Well, his documents needed to get to the town. Anything more than that was a bonus... a considerable bonus if the Lord found his efforts worthwhile, but a bonus nonetheless.

So with those warming and uplifting thoughts in mind, Alexi set about pacing the square once more, asking if anyone happened to know of a mercenary willing to escort a paying scholar to Avantshire and beyond.

[Lillian Thorne]

It was harder than she would have thought to return to the square. How long had it been? She asked herself rhetorically as she stepped into the place where all things began as the light slanted low over the roofs of the nearby building. A lifetime, was the only reply that fit. Nothing had changed she noted even as she felt that everything had changed, at least for her. Setting her jaw she took another step in, committing herself.

It was late, far later than was wise for someone looking for work and people had begun to close up shop. With hands that shook she reached up to touch her hair, making sure that the road hadn’t overly battered her tightly braided brown hair whose curls were in a constant state of near rebellion if not properly contained. Her hair was behaving itself, the braid was tight and neat, pulled back from her attractive, though not beautiful face. Her face was lean with high cheekbones and wide brown eyes and a straight line of a mouth that, when induced to smile, seemed to act like a miracle on her features, making them briefly pretty. Her nose, her nose ruined the whole effect. It was long and lean and had been in the past broken and grown in just a hair crooked. When she was younger she thought it gave her a fierce, professional look. Now though she worried it made her look like someone who didn’t know to duck. Which had been the case at the time, not as much just now.

She moved into the square with deceptive ease, her liquid strides belying the ache in her bones which were weary from the long trip she’d had to get there. That she’d had more than a few healthy pulls from the flask in her pouch helped. Just enough to take off the ache, not enough to slow her down. She’d get to the point where she no longer needed drink, just not yet.

She just needed to hurt a little less, have a few more nights of sleep where she didn’t wake up in a panic, trying to claw off the bodies of her fallen comrades who threatened to smother her alive. She shivered just thinking about it, how it had felt, smelled, tasted to be buried alive by the dead and left. Her fingers flicked to the pouch on her hip and then pulled away, looking around at the people still lingering in the square, wondering which were brokers, which were possible clients. None of them would appreciate seeing a flask to her lips. That was hardly something to engender confidence in a new hire. Bad enough she was a woman and had that much more to prove.

She paused when she saw him, a rumbled, ink-stained man speaking to all that passed by with a growing sense of urgency. He was not a broker she could see in an instant, his manner was all wrong and his mounting frustration was all but palpable. She took a step towards him and hesitated, hearing the words of Big George in her ears as he’d coached her through her first hire.

“Never take the first offer Kitten, let him pass and go for the next. It tells them you have choices. And if you don’t… Well walk away anyway, there’s a reason no one hired on with em.”

But Big George was dead, so much weighty meat over her back in that field and she had to weigh her options. There weren’t any other choices and she was honestly afraid she was about to lose her nerve. She’d taken too long to recover, her spirit was all but broken, but there were bills to be paid, mouths to feed and this, this was all she knew. Swallowing hard, pretending that she was taking in another pull of warm, steadying brandy she took another step towards the ink-wearer and then another until it seemed, almost by miracle that she was standing behind him. She heard his desperate words cast towards a man who was shrugging and looking smugly amused.

Avantshire, she’d never been there. Hadn’t part of this whole thing started because she wanted to see more of the world? Avantshire may not be exotic, but it was a start. A baby step on the road. She needed one of those.

“Avantshire, you say?” she said as she laid a slender, sword callused hand on his shoulder, schooling her face into an expression of mild interest as she put gentle pressure on him to turn him towards her.

“I just got into town but don’t mind heading out just as soon. We should talk, see what needs saying, maybe over something to eat. I know a good Inn not far from here and it would feel ridiculous to discuss such matters in a deserted square.”

She stepped back and folded her arms across her chest, posing for him, hoping the just recently polished off signs on neglect on her armor was not noticeable in the dim light of the square. Leather and metal, fit her like a glove and she looked every inch the seasoned warrior she once had been. The leather and metal on her legs showed good use and was recently tended to, that on her feet and hands were the same. The leather tunic with its bits of protective metal was new though, almost painfully so next to the well-worn face of the other parts. But then her last jerkin had been destroyed when she’d been gutted and nothing in the world could have induce her to try to save the garment even though this one cost her a pretty penny that she did not have.

“What say you?” she asked, fighting to keep desperation out of her voice. She would not lose her nerve, she repeated to herself over and over while she waited for his answer.

[Derren Krenshaw]

Alexi all-but jumped at the hand on his shoulder, following words voice unexpectedly from behind. He worked quickly to compose himself, turning towards the voice and hoping his features appeared more collected than he actually was.

Someone was actually expressing interest in escorting him, it would be heartbreaking to chase that away so soon.

He took quick stock of the speaker as he faced her, noting that -gender aside- a fighter she certainly appeared to be. She dressed neck-to-toe in layered armor, the wearing visible across each piece lending credence to the fact that she was versed in combat. Her tunic appeared new to his eye -certainly less worn than the rest of her armor- was she looking to replace more? Money would prove a strong motivation then… or she would decide that simply taking all he had was better than being paid a portion.

Of course, if he was so concerned over scenarios like that, he should have been more proactive in hiring a guard to begin with.

“Certainly-! Yes, yes.” A quick glance around gave a little extra weight to the woman’s words, the square growing more and more deserted by the moment. No respectable deal was made in the shadows of empty places, it would be a far better start to his travels to begin them in a more… proper manner.

Of course, if he didn’t collect himself, his travels might not begin at all.

“Discussion over a meal is probably for the best, you said it was nearby? I may know the place.” He moved to fall in step beside the armored woman, gaze glazing over as he drew up a mental map of the area…

...Before snapping back to focus almost instantly.

“Ah- My apologies.” Catching himself hopefully in time, Alexi paused to offer the woman a polite bow. “No matter how our discussion goes, I should introduce myself: Alexander Dumont, pleasure to meet you.”

[Lillian Thorne]

She almost walked away right then. Her nerve was close to breaking and he seemed odd, skittish and distracted and she wasn’t certain she was up to deal with that. She opened her mouth to excuse herself when her belly rumbled underneath her jerkin, demanding tribute. She’d lost a lot of weight when she’d been recovering, her gut had hurt to much to eat much and healing her massive wound had taken all of her reserves and she hadn’t had the funds to do much about that of late.

She didn’t have to agree to accompany him, she just had to get him to the inn, get him to pay for dinner and then listen. He seemed like the sort to be amenable to that. For all that he was ink-stained and rumbled, his clothing wasn’t cheap. Her mother had been a seamstress and as such she knew good work when she saw it. He could pay, for dinner at least. The rest remained to be seen.

When he introduced himself she pursed her lips and inclined her head politely like she would to any client.

“Respect can only raise your pay little cat.” Big George had said. “It don’t cost nuthin’ and you don’t have to mean it but it is always a good place to start from. You don’t have to keep givin it neither, but just start with it. Them that hires us likes that.”

“My name is Katherine Galt. The Inn isn’t far at all. Just a street over from the square. We could go to one closer but those are usually rowdier than the Locust at this time of night and we won’t get much talking done.”

Besides, she thought to herself, the Locust had the best food and she was starved. She began to walk towards the tavern in question wanting to see if he would follow or if he would sputter and try to steer her like so many clients did. In the dance and patterns of the job acquisition she was finding familiar ground and though she was only several steps from panicking there was some peace to be found in patterns.

[Derren Krenshaw]

"Miss Galt..." Alexi mused the name across his tongue, quickening his pace so she did not leave him behind. It would be a poor showing if he could not walk with her even to an Inn, much less during their travels should she accept. Now that he had gotten this far, it became imperative that he leave the best impression he could -such as it was. Katherine Galt certainly seemed sure and skilled, a practiced blade that would prove invaluable on his travels. Should she accept.

That was the catch right there. If she did not, he'd have nothing to show for his efforts but less money and less time. The chances of finding anyone in the square had been slim enough, it would be completely deserted by the time they finished their conversation. The thought that maybe he should have found someone more willing rising foremost in his mind as they walked.

But someone like that probably wasn't the kind you could trust. Haste was important, but he was looking for an escort in order to succeed and -ideally- survive. Failing and dying because he was robbed by the one he hired was an irony better left to story.

"The Locust it is then," Finding her pace, Alexi matched it, moving easily towards the Inn in question. "Better if we don't have to shout over a crowd to hear one another."

Not one to frequent the Inns of the city, Alexi decided to trust her likely experience on the matter. There were certain subjects he felt himself rather skilled in, but they tended towards the scholarly, or were connected to nobility. He knew the Locust wasn't a noble's court, at least, and most of the stories of the city were ones he already knew. So it was a safe bet to believe that, if Katherine said the Locust was the best place to go to, it was probably true.

And while he didn't know what he could do with the information, how true that turned out to be would tell Alexi a little more about the prospective escort beside him.

[Lillian Thorne]

He kept up with her, that was good. Not that she’d set a grueling pace. But he didn’t seem out of breath nor was he struggling as he walked at her side. She nodded, appreciating his willingness to accompany her. So often she had been steered by people who didn’t know what they were about. People who thought that coin gave them rights to dictate how a task was done, no matter that they’d hired her to do it. Presumably because they couldn’t. It was the frequent curse of the hireling in any occupation, but for her it was a double edged blade in that she was a woman and often the male client felt even more entitled to direct her at her work.

The Locust wasn’t far, as she’d promised, a few turns away from the main thoroughfare. Quiet music drifted out the front door when someone exited the tavern and she smiled, it seemed that Florie’s on again, off again lover Martin was on again. It meant the place was probably a little more crowded than she would have liked but even so it wasn’t going to be hard to talk. She strode forward and held the door for him, gesturing him in respectfully and looked around.

The Locust was pretty typical, polished wood everywhere, darkened by age and bearing the marks of being a well frequented establishment. The chairs mostly matched which said something about the number and intensity of bar-fights, or it said something about the endurance of the chairs. Either way she grinned when she stepped into the dim, quietly bustling place.

Behind the bar stood the owner, a broad, blousy woman with a surplus of flesh that somehow stopped just short of being unappealing. Her impressive bosom was well contained in a tightly laced bodice with mounds of soft flesh drawing the eye to the deep crevasse between them. Her hips and bottom were equally epic and when she moved things shifted and shook like great tectonic plates beneath the earth, movements so primal that many a man found it hard to look away. Florie’s face was pretty enough, curls framed a sweet and dimpled face and though she wasn’t particularly bright she was shrewd in her way and she could cook like no one’s business. The smell coming out of the big black pot over the stove was heavenly, making her stomach rumble again in protest. Florie’s stews were incredible and that was only one of the options.

“Galt!” she shouted when she spotted Katherine, it was accompanied by a wave that made several of the nearby patrons stop talking to watch the resulting shock-waves ripple over her expansive flesh. “Where you been?”

“In Dervishire, for a season or two.” Katherine called back, not wanting to go into the why’s of that in front of a possible client. She pointed to one of the back tables, a little further from the skinny red-head with a beak of a nose who was strumming his lute. Florie nodded at her and Katherine looked to her Client.

“Mr. Dumont, care to lead the way?” she asked and gestured toward the table.

[Derren Krenshaw]

"O- Ah! Certainly."

Alexi shook himself to attention once more, moving carefully along to the gestured table. Even if it was quieter than other Inns, the Locust was by no means empty. People joked and talked and yelled, or ate and drank, or simply lounged within the music strumming up from the red-headed bard. Lively was the term. Not crammed or crowded or overbearing, but in a way still 'full'.

How long, since he had been in a place like this?

While he couldn't help but glance around almost wildly as they first entered, Alexi managed to focus himself quickly as Katherine spoke. He needed to appear somewhat collected, at least, and hopefully aware enough so that if she did decide to escort him to Avantshire, it would be just to rip him off.

Though if she got him to the town first, it wouldn't be that terrible, just depressingly unfortunate.

He moved cautiously around the Inn's patrons and over to the seats Katherine had pointed out, recognizing many but knowing none. Names and faces passed in and out of the church day after day, his room on it's grounds and work spent in its archives affording him plenty of time to remember. But they were only names and faces, things found in passing and recorded without meaning. Few of those he actually 'knew' would be found in a place like this, most opting for far more opulent settings.

And those few exceptions, usually favored far, far less inviting ones.

"Shall we order first?" Reaching the table, Alexi took a step back so that Kathrine could sit first, offering a polite nod to accompany the question. "Given the scent, it might be easier to discuss business when we aren't distracted by our stomachs."

[Lillian Thorne]

She sat in the chair offered and did her best to wipe her grin off her face. It felt too good to be back, almost as if there had been no time away but grin’s weren’t professional. They did not convey the dour mercenary demeanor she knew she had to convey to command the pay she needed for this job. It was hard to keep one off though and inevitably as she sat down her face was lit up by a smile that transformed her face. But for the new set of scars and the people missing in her life, it felt very like she’d never left as she sat in the dim warmth of the Locust.

Martin knew his work and just the right level of music came from his lute, his voice was low enough to talk over and talented enough that one found one self leaning forward to hear more. He was singing a ballad just then, some love-sick drivel that Katherine would admit she loved only when deep in her cups. As he sang he looked to Florie who was making a point of ignoring him as she fetched a basket full of bread and a small crock of what Katherine knew to be sweet butter. Her mouth salivated as she watched the fleshy woman make her way across the room, through a field of pinches and swats.

Katherine looked back to her possible client at his mention of ordering and nodded.

“Yes, ordering first. Seems like a plan. The stew is incredible but if she has her meat pies or a ham, get one of those. Then we’ll talk.”

She looked up to gauge Florie’s progess and found the woman thumping a patron on the head with the crock, thankfully none of the bread was lost in the scuffle.

“Avantshire?” she mused aloud, her smile dimmed as she propped her chin on her palm and looked at him. “I’ve never been there but I have been to Graston which is but thirty miles north, I’m familiar enough with the area though clearly not an expert.”

Florie’s impressive shadow fell on the table and she put the basket of bread down. Katherine was too hungry to be truly polite and she was stuffing bread in her mouth and gesturing from Florie to Alexander, indicating that she should take his order first.

Florie for her part rolled her eyes and looked the ink-stained scribe, her eyes taking in the stains as well as the quality of cloth with the same shrewdness that Kat had.

“Welcome to the Locust, I’m Florie what can I get ya?” she asked. And then holding up a sweetly pudgy, dimpled hand she began to tick off items. “We have beef stew with field mushrooms and barley. We have some roast chickens left with mash, a glazed ham and creamed trout with citron.”

[Derren Krenshaw]

"Meat pies or ham?" Alexi contemplated the flavors in his head, offering Katherine a small smile. "I think I will."

The arrival of their host kept him from responding to the following comment, though perhaps it was for the best. They had both agreed to wait until after they had ordered, possibly until after they had their food and had begun to eat. No reason to force the conversation now in light of that, it would likely reflect poorly on him if he did so, anyways. She knew the area near Avantshire, the next-best thing to having been to the town itself. Not that he had options at this point anyways, but it meant that he truly, desperately needed to keep from sabotaging this meeting through simple mistakes.

And given the gusto with which Katherine dug into the offered bread, it seemed she wouldn't hear him if he had thought it a good idea, anyways.

So Alexi turned his attentions to the innkeeper Florie speaking beside them, keeping his eyes politely upon her own. While no priest, working on church grounds had caused their sense of propriety to rub off on him. Not enough to keep his hands from absently adjusting his clothing under the woman's gaze, hoping to somehow pull out the wrinkles or conceal the stains. But at least he was looking at her, rather than at her... well...

Well, propriety would fall to past habits soon, if he kept up that line of thought.

"I've heard wonderful things about the ham. I'll have that, please." His smile grew as he spoke, before his attentions turned towards Katherine across from him. "And... whichever catches your fancy, Miss Galt?"

[Lillian Thorne]

“Ham.” She said through a mouthful of bread which she managed to swallow, the sweet butter on it lubricating the process. She grinned impishly up at the barkeep, an expression that should have looked strange on her strong featured face but something about it simply softened her features.

“And some nut brown Ale please?”

Florie snorted and turned to take Alexi’s order before turning and swaying off, her hips moving with a slow unconscious grace that seemed as natural and momentous as the tides. Many eyes followed her and she took order along the way to the backdrop of softly romantic music that seemed to move her like wind moved a mountain.

With bread and butter in her gut to take the edge off of her hunger Katherine folded her fingers together and placed them on the table in front of her so as not to gobble up all the fine bread this man was paying for.

“So tell me about this job. Avantshire isn’t so far away you couldn’t just pay for passage in a caravan heading that way. So what gives?”

It was a simple enough question and it would hopefully engender answers to the host of other questions that filled her mind, questions that would be bombardment and off putting if she asked them of him. Who was he that he needed an escort? Why Avantshire? What was he doing looking so late for a guard when he was as like as not to fire a cut-throat who could smell the desperation coming off of him? What was it he did for a living that stained him so but gave him coin for hiring one such as she? And a great many more. She did not give them voice but they nevertheless took up much room in her head as she regarded him and not the bread she wanted to devour. Business first after all.

[Derren Krenshaw]

A ghost of a smile danced over Alexi's lips at the sight of Katherine's own grin, vanishing swiftly as she turned her attention back towards him. He took the opportunity to pull one of the remaining pieces of bread from between them, fingers tapping idly upon it's sides as he took a moment to ponder the proper response to her question.

"Security would be one reason, I suppose." He managed to keep himself from shrugging along with the statement. Confidence was necessary, not indifference. "I'm heading to Avantshire to complete a commission, and while caravans stress security and safety for all who travel with them... many people mean many more ways for things to go wrong. That's also one reason why I didn't hire a courier."

He also wasn't quite finished with the translation of the documents, but Alexi didn't feel like he should start talking about the papers in question here. Public locations -no matter how upstanding- were rife with wandering ears, and only Katherine was the one who needed to know the details of his trip. The documents weren't the same as spices or gold, but could still be valuable if one knew how to pawn it off. It's loss or destruction would also mean the loss of trust Alexi had managed to build up over the years, effectively destroying any possibility of continuing his work as a scribe.

And the loss of that shelter was not one he could easily overcome.

"The other reason is that, after my business in Avantshire is completed, I hope to continue travelling." The smell of the bread in his hands was enticing, but he resisted taking a bite for now. Katherine's question still needed to be answered in full. "There are a number of small villages between there and the southern sands that caravans almost never reach. I hope to travel among them for as long as I am able, after my commission."

The smell was too much. Having felt he had said enough to answer her question, Alexi chose to finally allow himself the bread held in his hands. It proved a balm to his otherwise-empty stomach, richer than his recent fare and leaving his mouth watering for more. He polished off the piece he had taken with quick, neat bites, resisting for now the urge to take another, but eyeing it about as often as he matched Katherine's gaze.

The stomach was a terrible thing to try and compete against, despite current importance. But their meals should not be too long off... and if they were, then the bread would still be there to help.

[Lillian Thorne]

A long term contract. She pulled her eyes up from the bread basket and looked to his face, trying very hard to keep still and let the storm of emotions whirling inside her from showing on her face. A long term commission was always a honey-pot if you could land one. Guaranteed pay, usually along with provisions meant you didn’t have to worry about too much else while you were working. Not as lucrative as a bunch of well-paying one-shots but those weren’t always forthcoming. Better to have a long-term gig that covered your needs. You wouldn’t get rich on it, but then so few of her kind ever did.

She swallowed and wondered if she had it in her to do such a thing? She wasn’t the fighter she used to be. She was out of practice and scarred in ways that did not show on her skin. She wasn’t certain she wouldn’t break along the way.

But, she told herself as she regarded this pleasant, ink stained man, it need only be a trip to Avantshire. He’d not offered her the longer bit, just mentioned it. That seemed wise to her, make certain they fit. Or make certain she didn’t slit his throat and make off with his pay more like. Her eye twitched. She hated people who were so low, so short-sighted and selfish that they made things harder for people like her who honored the code and lived by it with a word worth more than any noble’s.

“I see.” She said, not wanting the silence to grow thicker and awkward. “Avantshire and maybe beyond.”

She paused when the shadow of Florie blocked the light like a solar eclipse and waited for the ample woman to put the platters of food in front of them along with their drinks and, she could kiss the woman, a second basket of bread and sweet honey.

“Thanks Florie.” She said as she grabbed a fork.

“M’pleasure, Galt, Sir.” She said as before turning and swaying off.

Katherine pushed some greens on her plate well away from the meat and forked a small square of orange vegetation and popped it in her mouth, chewing delicately with manners ingrained in her by her mother who had been a seamstress to fine ladies and had been determined to gift her children with better manners than they would ever need. When she had chewed and swallowed she washed down her bite with a swallow of ale before speaking again.

“So what are the details of the first leg or the journey? When would we leave? How fast would you need to get there? All that fun stuff.”

Another swallow of ale washed down the dryness in her mouth that grew from growing fear as she realized that she was indeed going to do this.

“I can show you my chits if you like.” Chits, little bits of metal or glazed clay given as partial payment from clients of some repute to speak of service rendered. They spoke of skill and honesty and while she wasn’t drowning in them (not all hires handed them out) she had a respectable amount and some with well-known marks on them.

[Derren Krenshaw]

"Chits-? Ah. If you think it important then certainly, though I don't doubt your talents."

Curiosity warred with practicality, hands idly spearing meat and vegetables in a growing stack on his fork. If she truly had seemed untrustworthy, he would have walked out, desperation aside. Not to mention that throwing suspect on her abilities wouldn't necessarily lead to her choosing to help him. But who had she happened to work with in the past? It would be interesting if he recognized the marks on some of the chits she held, especially if any belonged to the nobles or courtiers he knew of.

Not that recognizing some of them would be a good thing... but again, desperation.

"As for the trip," Alexi eyed the stack of mouthwatering food before him, contemplating diving into his meal right now and ignoring the conversation. Good manners persevered in the end, however, and he managed to tear himself away from the sight readied upon his fork, and upon Katherine instead. "They say to allow three days, though with fair conditions and a good pace, we could likely make it there in as few as two."

With one hand, he began idly tracing an unseen map on the table between them, finger winding out an arcing line between imaginary points.

"We skirt the edge of the marshlands that way, small risk of boglings or the like in addition to the usual bandits or foul weather. Other roads go too far out of the way, or are footpaths that wind through the marsh itself..."

Alexi shook his head as he spoke, picturing the poor souls that had tread through that place to wear down even a rough path. A marsh was never a place you wanted to stay in for long, surprisingly easy to get lost in, with treacherous ground and territorial creatures.

"...So our best option gives two-to-three days. I'm on a... rather short deadline, so arriving within that time would be perfect."

Nope, the conversation could wait a little now. The food he had speared looked far too delicious, and finally he had to resign to hunger. He ate quickly and neatly, food vanishing down his throat seemingly as soon as he slipped it into his mouth. Eyes widened at the taste, and he allowed himself the luxury of a second mouthful, hoping Katherine would not find the pause offensive.

"That, is... exquisitely delicious Ham... Ah!" Right, there was still a bit left to say. "In terms of leaving, I would defer partially to you on that. Personally I would like to leave as soon as possible -tonight, even- but it's been some time since I traveled like this. Would it be better to wait until morning? Haste is imperative, but I suppose patience is a virtue, as well."

It was also something he was quickly losing the ability to afford, but that didn't need to be voiced. He had gone out to the square at the last possible moments, rushing on his own to find an escort instead of having listened to Charles input before. His position was desperate, but of his own making, there was no need to engender sympathy or pity by commenting upon it.

"I don't think I left anything out... did that answer you well enough?" Looking questioningly over at the one he hoped would escort him, Alexi's lips parted in a silent 'ah' as he noticed his still-winding finger. "I... do have maps of the area, too, and you mentioned being familiar with the surroundings?"

[Lillian Thorne]

Her face twitched a little at the mention of swamps, she had no love for swamps. Miserable places where it seemed everything in them, animal, insect or plant was out to make one as uncomfortable as possible. As if the place itself wanted to remind you that you weren’t welcome. When a place spoke so loudly, she tended to listen. So skirting the swamp suited her just fine.

She fished in her pouch for the chain upon which her chits rested, a decent collection for one her age if someone were in the know, but she suspected he was not in the know. Asking for chits was a mark of respect and eased both parties minds on the score of honesty, chits could be referenced in any guildhall for further confirmation, or so she’d been told. She’d never personally confirmed that they were, the scratches across the pages of any such record made her eyes burn and her cheeks flame.

That a great many of her chits were of well-known names helped her reputation considerably, critical for a female in the trade. That the most distinguished chit in her possession was from a babysitting gig with a reluctant bride off to marry the king’s nephew was not something she bragged about. A chit was a chit.

“Always ask for Chits.” She advised him as she slid the chain across the table to him. “It establishes that you aren’t green at this, even if you are, and it give the mercenary a chance to show off and confirm that he’s worth hiring. All those will be on record at the guildhall if you care to check.”

She joined him in filling her mouth with food and nodded at his appreciation of the Ham, Florie knew her way around a ham for certain. She used the time she chewed to consider his pacing. The thought of setting out that night made her stomach churn. She would do it, but she’d rather not. It had taken her far too long to get there as it was, to leave so soon…

So he was in a hurry, the why of that was important. Were they fleeing someone? Racing someone or simply scrambling to catch up because an absentminded lack of attention to dates? She suspected the latter but needed to be certain of a few things first.

“Are you all provisioned? If you have everything you need we could leave tonight. But if you don’t have everything, food for two, a mount and so on, you’d best wait until morning when such things can be acquired.”

That said she owed her mouth another delivery of heaven and so proceeded to wrap a slice of ham in a bit of still warm bread and then introduced it to her content to be silent for a moment mouth.

[Derren Krenshaw]

Alexi nodded in understanding, accepting the chits to look over while taking advantage of her speaking to continue neatly decimating the plate before him. He should have followed his curiosity before, his attempt at politesse only revealing how inexperienced he was at this. True, she had given him advice, and continued to speak on the details of their plan, but that wasn't nearly as comforting as one might think. She still hadn't actually agreed to escort him, not yet. It was entirely possible that she'd decline him at the end of their meal, leaving him more knowledgeable on how to convince the next mercenary he managed to find, but with even less time to find one.

Glimmers of sunlight through overcast clouds. One could never truly appreciate them when the threat of storm stood on every side.

He nearly choked on the ham in his mouth as he eyed the next chit, thoughts torn from pessimistic wonderings. The mark of the King's nephew... she had worked for Richard?

Pausing a moment to swallow his food instead of breathing it, Alexi quickly scanned over the chits once more, 'hmmmm'-ing in thought as he pondered Katherine's advice on deciding when to leave.

"I was prepared to leave tonight if necessary, everything should be in order... No." A few marks he recognized, but they were ones most should recognize. Notable merchants, a few well-known courtiers, one of the clergy? Others escaped his knowledge or memory, but the overwhelming impression was one of a skilled mercenary.

Which was wonderful, if she accepted. He wasn't quite sure what to think of Richard's chit, but then he wasn't sure if he really needed to think anything of it. Getting moving was more important, his current commission needed to be completed and delivered before he could hope to set out on his own travels.

"I never actually received confirmation about a horse." Charles had been far too focused on getting him out to bring that up. "So morning would be best. I can guarantee everything will be in order by then, at least."

Likely Charles had simply forgotten about telling him before, but Alexi wasn't going to risk rushing them out tonight, only to find he wasn't prepared, and ruining everything. No matter what decision Katherine made -though she did seem as though she might agree, hopefully?- leaving a positive impression was the best thing he could do. Angering or offending someone tended to make people want to talk about you, and it would be fatal for his name to be sullied in the eyes of potential escorts.

So he took another bite of ham, free hand pulling back another roll to wash down the succulent meat, as he waited to judge Katherine's reaction.

[Lillian Thorne]

He was impatient, but he was reasonable, that wasn’t a bad thing all in all. She felt a shiver of dread wash over her as she realized that unless he was paying shit for the job she was going to take it. As hungry as she was, as good as Florie’s cooking was, as soothing as Martin’s playing was she felt the food in her gut turn leaden and cold at the thought. She felt her nerves, already strained, begin to snap and fray under the pressure. She put her fork down and wrapped suddenly shaking fingers around her mug of Ale and busied herself pretending to take a sip. Her throat simply wouldn’t work.

Fuck that, she thought to herself. She was a mercenary, she was a sword for hire and this was all she really knew. She wasn’t going to lose her livelihood over a battle gone awry. She wasn’t going to be a scared little girl, even if she was absolutely terrified.

Forcing herself to fake a calm she did not in the least feel, she looked over at the ink stained man and knew that it was a good opportunity. Escort work, not war, not overt fighting. Not guarding a train of valuable goods. Just a walking a man through the wilderness who clearly didn’t know much more than the front end from the ass end of a horse. It was work as easy as she was likely to get, she only had to get him to Avantshire and then see if she wanted to hire on for the other leg, simple, easy.

And it felt like the hardest thing ever just then.

She flicked her eyes over to Martin who had strummed his way over into a humorous folk-song about a shepherdess who had gotten in over her head and who had to pay the wolf over and over. She scowled, narrowing her eyes at the skinny bard who paid her no mind as he kept on playing the lilting melody.

She pulled her eyes back to her prospective client and smiled at him, a slight, professional smile. She put her mug down but kept her fingers around it to hide their shaking. By the powers above she wanted a good slug from her flask. Instead she cleared her throat and spoke.

“So then, I suppose the last bit of business is to ask what you are offering to pay for the leg to Avantshire. If I agree, I will want one third up front, two thirds on delivery.”

She cocked her head, raised a brow and waited, hoping that the sweat she felt beading on her forehead wasn’t too apparent, or could be attributed to the warmth of the fire.

[Derren Krenshaw]

So far, so good it seemed. She hadn't made any sign of turning him down so far, a glimmer of hope allowing itself to grow within Alexi's heart.

Now it was just a manner of payment.

He used a mouthful of succulent meat as an excuse to run quick numbers through his mind. Enough contracts had been written, re-written or translated by his quill to grant a rough idea of a typical payment... provided he was hiring for a multi-year expedition. They had all been for mercenary groups, hired for hundreds of gold pieces in some cases, the kind of money only successful companies and wealthy Lords could afford to spend casually. This was to be a three-day journey with an escort of one, the payment was vastly different compared to what he knew of.

But what to do?

Too small a number and she would likely leave, of course. He could take advantage of inexperience for some leeway, possibly, but that would let her dictate the price. No, no, there was a way to do this that fit within his areas of expertise, there had to be...

"A reasonable request, certainly..." He mulled the thoughts over for an instant longer, forming the words carefully before he spoke. "If you agree, you could claim partnership for the purpose of completing this commission... which entitles you to a percentage, so then..."

The commission itself was worth sixty gold marks, a goldmine of a contract for any scribe, enough for him to live without needing to take commissions for nearly a year. It was the perfect break to give Alexi the time and funds he needed for his own trip... or the lid of a coffin to be dropped on the combined corpse of his dreams and current career.

No point in being frugal, then. Alexi matched Katherine's gaze as he continued to speak, finding a measure of confidence in a subject he was actually versed in: Currency and contracts.

"For a three-day escort to Avantshire, I'll pay you eight gold marks up front, and sixteen upon the completion of my commission at the end of the third day. Payment can be made in coin or writ of credit- your choice- and I can have a written contract by the time we set out tomorrow. Would that be acceptable?"

[Lillian Thorne]

It was a good offer, a very good one at that. She could use that money quite nicely to re-equip herself, to get Dusty some new shoes, to pay her dues to the guild. All important things, all things she would need to do if she were to keep at this job. She needed this, needed it so badly it left a sharp taste in her mouth. But she was so afraid, unreasonably afraid. So much so that the stink of rotting corpses filled her flared nostrils and her eyes widened as rot-filled dark pushed in at the edges of her vision.

She pushed it back, her fingers tightening even further around the mug in her hands.

She couldn’t accept, not without some haggling, no merc worth their salt would agree to the first price, even if it was a good one. Big George would roll in his mass grave if he knew she had even considered it. She pondered past pay, she pondered the likely work and imagined making herself walk into that square tomorrow after a night in an alley and trying to find a better job than this. She wanted to wretch, there wasn’t going to be better. The time was now, she needed to strike a bargain before her nerve snapped.

Fighting for control over her voice she spoke.

“Ten up front and then the sixteen upon completion. I’ll want coin, not credit.”

Coin was sometimes a hassle but credit always seemed to be and she was fairly certain that she had what it took to keep some coin on her.

“Do we have a deal? She extended her hand out over the table, the tips of her fingers slightly shaking.

Take it, please take it. She pleaded at the ink-stained man across from her. Take it before I lose my nerve.

[Derren Krenshaw]

Not quite acceptable, it seemed.

Alexi paused for a moment in the wake of Katherine's rising of the price. Haggling was something that happened, certainly, though perhaps he had gotten too wrapped up in the contract and funding part of things. He hadn't actually gone out and struck a deal like this in a long, long time, recent experience reserved for making finalized deals official.

Though as far as haggling went, however, it was entirely reasonable. She only increased the initial payment, which dipped into his own funds some more, but would be paid back when they made it to Avantshire. It was still a fair percentage of the profit he'd make as well, so an unexpected reply, but one he could work with.

...Not that he really had other choices.

"We have a deal." Smiling with worryless emotion for probably the first time tonight, Alexi took her hand in his own for a firm shake. "Thank you... for this and for recommending a place to eat, I don't know why I haven't come over to try this ham before."

Rambling, he was doing it a little. But relief could have that effect, and now that the hardest part was out of the way, it was easier to compliment the food. The food also seemed to taste better now -if that was possible- as if the concerns and second-guessings from before had been preventing him from getting the enjoyment due from his meal.

At least there was a little bit left, that he could enjoy to it's fullest now, however. After all, tomorrow would mean the start of his trip to Avantshire, and -if he was lucky- the start of his longer trip about the southern countryside.

[Lillian Thorne]

There was some alchemy that changed his smile, she couldn’t pin it down but when he shook her hand and smiled it was different than before. His shake was good, firm, unexpectedly so for all that he looked like a underfed, hides from sunshine sort of scholar. The smile and the handshake together tricked a smile out of her, the same sort she’d gifted Florie with earlier, and her strong features looked softer for it.

“Good.” She replied and took another sip of ale in anticipation of consuming more ham. They ate in silence for a good long time, her own thoughts deliberately focused simply on the meal at hand trying to keep them from straying into dangerous territory such as how terrified she was. She had been skilled, moving towards being one of the best she’d been assured drunkenly by Big George and the other’s, but that was before…

The ham was wonderful, perfectly spiced and cooked long enough to get that heady crust she loved but stayed moist inside. Florie was a genius and her breakfasts were even better. Katherine was going to take good advantage of that.

“I’ll be staying here.” She said, breaking the silence as thoughts of this ham, pan-fried with eggs and potatoes chased away thoughts of that battle and its aftermath. Florie’s ham was just that good.

“I am staying here.” Another mouthful, taken in, neatly chewed and delicately swallowed before she continued. “But where do you want to meet? We are heading south so I can meet you at the south gate at a time of your choosing or if you like I can meet you at your place and look over the gear and advise you on what we need?”