[IC] On Winding Roads (Lillian & Derren )

[Derren Krenshaw]

"Good Morning, Ms. Galt."

Alexi returned Katherine's greeting with a raised hand and wide smile. Sleep preformed wonders on a person, the worries that had been building up all this while seemingly erased now. Sure, he wasn't actually in Avantshire yet, sure he didn't actually have the documents finished yet, but he was on his way, finally.

That was lining enough, for him to ignore the groaning clouds.

"I believe I am ready. The faster we can get to Avantshire, the better for everyone." A simple nod accompanied the words, Scribe falling in beside his escort as they began to move out from the courtyard. She wore her armor again -as she probably should of course- and her horse was... In keeping with her profession? The steed certainly looked rough enough to think it would jump right into any fight it was pointed at. The sight made Alexi's own horse seem almost dainty by comparison, though that was probably the truth of it. Travelling steed or no, he had asked a man used to wealth to secure it for him, and a horse for wealth was what he had received.

Familiar, but maybe not the best choice? Time would have to tell.

"Ah- And this counts as the start of our contract, yes?" Alexi slipped a small pouch from under his cloak, held cautiously in the hand not leading his own mount. Dealing in money was easy to end up becoming troublesome, and needed as little fanfare as possible. He raised the pouch slightly to catch her eye. "The first part of your payment, as promised."

They were coworkers now, peers bound by roles defined within an agreed-upon contract. It was... comforting, in a way. Of course, Katherine was the more knowledgeable -and skilled- one for this venture, the one who would actually see them across safely. But he held the maps to help guide their path, and the funds to compensate her efforts. She trusted him to guide well and pay her, he trusted her to escort him with skill.

Broken down into such basic pieces made things easier on the scribe. Business transactions were something familiar, even if the particulars of this one was novel. It was far preferable to how out-of-depth he had felt only the day before, and he was determined to take it as a good omen.

After the events of last night, he looked for every good omen he could find.

[Lillian Thorne]

Ahh yes, the money. She appreciated that she didn’t have to ask for it. Typically if it wasn’t offered she waited to ask for it when she and her employer were just far enough outside a city to be an inconvenience to get back on their own, far enough also to be an unspoken threat. It was a trick she picked up from Big Jim and one she didn’t like to employ if she didn’t have to. Though for all that it was effective.

She reached her hand out and scooped up the pouch, noting its weight with her palm as she slipped it into the front of her tunic. It felt heavy enough. She nodded her thanks and began to move with Honey through the crowd trusting in the gelding’s mostly placid nature to get them through with no incidents.

“I rather thought we’d started last night.” She teased and then focused on getting them to the gate. It wasn’t too much of a trial, the city was still just waking up and it was as they passed through, unhindered by the guard that they saw the first of the farmer’s come to market with wagons full of produce to sell to the city folks. Harvest had been decent enough she saw, looking the wagons over with her limited experience as a lens. She nodded to one passing farmer and then pulled Honey over to the side and mounted him. The gelding let out a breath as if he’d been impatient and she felt a flick of his tail bat at her leg

Settling into her saddle she twisted towards Alexi. “Why don’t you set the pace? That way we’ll see what the horse and you can manage and plot our journey from that. Honey and I will keep up and keep our eyes open.”

She gestured down the road which was swallowed in the distance by a thick, dark forest that evoked images of dark tales and darker deeds, some of which might even be true.

[Derren Krenshaw]

Alexi chuckled nervously in reply to Katherine's... jibe? It had to have been, she seemed in too high spirits to actually have taken offense. Hopefully.

"I guess we did, didn't we?" He offered her a wary smile, following at her side as they made their way out of the city. Just in time, it seemed, as the crowds Katherine had warned of were already building the closer and closer they got to the gates. Early risers, the farmers were, by necessity. Alexi nodded to those few he happened to make eye contact with, but more than not kept his eyes forwards, breaking only when Katherine moved off to the side.

Ah yes, they were to ride their horses, not simply walk them. It was an obvious enough thought, really didn't warrant 'realizing' at all, and yet...

Well, they always said you never forget how to ride a horse.

Alexi mounted his horse cautiously, but successfully, managing to pull himself up to sit comfortably as Katherine turned over to him. He returned her words with a nod and smile that might have been more relieved than was necessary. It was hard to help, the thought that he could set the pace more than welcome to one who hadn't ridden a horse in longer than he cared to admit. They needed to make time, certainly, but at least he didn't have to worry about his escort starting them off at too fast a pace and causing him to embarrass himself.

Not that starting off at a crawl wouldn't do the same.

"Very well then, let's go boy." Leaning forwards to whisper the second half to his horse, Alexi managed to nudge his mount into a stately walk. He took a moment to adjust to the rhythmic bouncing upon the saddle as they began to move forwards, recalling similar experiences from before until finally pushing his horse into a steady trot. No reason to wear the horse out, and if it seemed they weren't making good progress after a while -or if Katherine seemed impatient with the pace- he could always go faster.

For now, at least, they seemed to move well enough, Alexi slowly recalling more and more of his childhood romps on horseback as they continued down the road.

"I guess you don't forget..." He murmured the words to no one in particular, focusing on his riding and the road before him... while trying to ignore the forest they would soon have to enter. It wasn't the swamp, and the road was one that saw decent travel, but those were not the comforts they could have been.

Better not to think of it for now.

[Lillian Thorne]

She held Honey back and let her employer take the lead, watching him for stiffness or telltale signs of discomfort. She wasn’t certain how often the dusty scholar got out into the light of day let along on a horse and out of the city. He seemed ok, slow to ease into it but not unfamiliar with the process and she felt herself easing some. It would be a nightmare of a journey if he had to learn how to ride on it, she’d heard tales of that sort of thing from Big Jim and while they made amusing campfire fodder it was of the “better him than me sort

She fell into her own rhythm and let Honey find his pace behind the Scribe’s mount as her eyes began to sweep over the landscape they were approaching with a casual wariness. Normally they were relatively safe so close to the city walls, there were guards a plenty and it was in the kingdom’s interest to have cities be approachable. But she wouldn’t have thought that an ink-stained scholar was the sort to get jumped in a back alley for anything more than coin, and yet it had happened. Her cheek throbbed as if to concur with her.

It was in the forest that she would have to be vigilant, that was where there was more cover and less eyes to see what happened therein. Even so she wanted to be well in practice before her vigilance was critical. She spent the next few hours watching, riding and answering what questions the Scribe thought to toss her way.

Just before they reached the edge of the forest she called for a break. She pulled Honey off into a little bare spot in the grass by the side of the road, made by many people with inclinations such as hers. She slid off the horses back and let out a little grunt upon landing. This stop was mostly for his sake, but she knew she’d appreciate it just as well

“I thought we should stretch our legs and have some water out here, not likely to be as many spots for a break in there.” She pointed to where the road snaked into the thick forest, noting that the sunlight seemed to be swallowed whole by the thick canopy.

[Derren Krenshaw]

The roads seemed safe enough to start with, their trotting pace soothing his mind into wandering. He pondered the skies for a bit, then the fields around them, occasionally asking questions to Katherine as a break in the silence.

His thoughts always came back to his work, however, their time on the road seemingly perfect to ponder the small problems still in the way of completing his translation. He could see the last page clearly in his mind's eye, read so often as to be engraved into the back of his skull. As they rode on, he pondered those words, throwing himself constantly into the problem of a proper translation.

It was why a reputable scribe was so sought after, and the largest problem concerning the relatively common translation of official documents, like Alexi's task now. The 'King's Language' that such documents were written in was ancient, claimed to be at least as old as the kingdom itself. Nobles were required to learn how to read and write in the royal vernacular, and the church had decreed it a 'holy language' as well. Laws, treaties, declarations, land divisions, everything was written first in the King's Language.

In contrast, the 'common language' used in speech and everyday written word was one of constant change. New words were picked up and old ones left behind on what seemed to be a yearly basis. It was the language of tradesmen and travelers, their contracts not bound by the weight of royal decree, but rather the wealth, influence and reputation that lay behind the words.

Each had their place, Alexi firmly believed, but translating documents between the two was nothing short of a nightmare. The King's Language was simply structured differently, such that a direct translation would be illegible to anyone. Even after that, many words could mean multiple different things in the common language, or had no true translation anymore at all. Alexi needed to read the true document, understand completely what it said and what it meant... and then decide how to write it out in the common language without anything being lost.

It was nerve-wracking, tedious work... that could shower a scribe with coin.

Court scribes had short careers, prone to developing damaged eyesight or hands from days writing in poor light, but earned tremendous wealth in coin and favor. Working freelance as Alexi did meant he couldn't dare demand the pay a court scribe could, but he could also work far more years than even the most cautious of his favored counterparts. It meant more work, lower pay and harsher risks if mistakes were made, but it could still pay well, and still earn a man some measure of peace and security.

Thus Alexi threw his mind into the problem that had dragged out his work so long, pondering just how to word each phrase as he and Katherine made their way down the road.

He nearly kept going, even after Katherine called for them to stop.

"Ah- Ah! Sounds perfect!" Reining back his horse, Alexi moved over to the spot his escort had chosen before dismounting, stumbling as his feet his solid ground. Right, he hadn't ridden a horse for some time, had he? He had forgotten how uncomfortable it could be at first.

Tenderly, he made his way over to Katherine, dragging a small pouch from his packs along with him. His waterskin was within, and though his escort had mentioned stretching legs, he found himself quite comfortable to slide cautiously down to sit upon the soft grass. He forced himself to lower the skin after a few greedy gulps of water, knowing he needed to ration it at least somewhat for their journey.

"...Really should have gotten out more..." Muttering absently, Alexi leaned back to enjoy the warm light from above. Refreshing, revitalizing, he was eternally grateful Katherine had recommended the stop. He would have gone on if needed -he was sore, not broken- but the deepening shadows of the oncoming forest invoked concern more than hope, with not a beam of light likely to be found. Now, at least, he could carry the memory of this warmth with him when they entered the woods, a small thing tha- "Oh!"

He bolted straight, wincing at the pain in his rear but pushing it aside as he grabbed the pouch at his side. He pulled a small rectangle of iron-hinged wood from it's insides, snapping it open to reveal a set of metal styli laid out between the two wax-covered panels.

"Of course... of course..." They weren't resting long -certainly nowhere near long enough to root around for the document itself- but he could not afford to forget this realization. Dexterous fingers gripped a thicker stylus, quickly scratching out symbols in the soft wax. He began to jot a series of quick notes to his future self, enough for him to remember just how to write the next few lines of translation, and save him precious time when at last he could sit and work in earnest.

[Lillian Thorne]

Katherine bemusedly watched her employer as he wandered back her way, grateful he’d even heard her. She imagined she’d have to watch out for that, for him getting lost in whatever thoughts ink-stained men were prone to getting lost in. She hadn’t a clue really, not even a start from which to guess. But he agreed to the stop and seemed grateful for it and after a sip or two of water, frugality she approved of, he settled down to the ground. Thinking he might take a nap she softly snorted to Honey weighing her options. She didn’t want to press him, he was the boss, but he had said he was pressed for time.

She turned to her pack and fetched her own water skin and while there helped herself to one of Florie’s cookies. Chewing it she turned when Alexi muttered to himself again and shook her head to see him pull out something and began to write. So they might be there a bit, she thought to herself and moved off a bit from horse and scribe. She was just a touch stiff from being in the saddle and while the scribe’s body clearly wanted him to rest, hers screamed for action.

She felt more confident of her abilities after the scrape the night before, but she certainly wasn’t in full fighting trim. She still have some muscle tone to bring back and some healing to get to, the new wound notwithstanding. So exercise it was. She began with a series of stretches, a little more intense than those she bothered with upon waking. These were stretches that made her let out soft grunts of relief and discomfort as scars stretched and muscles pulled. She spared no part of her the activity and when she felt limber and a slight burning in all her parts she began some warm up exercises mimicking barehanded combat. She threw punches and kicks at phantom opponents, her minds eye seeing past fights in which such maneuvers won her the day. The imagining also brought to mind the pain of not getting such right and that was as good a maneuver as any. She did not get lost in her practice though, her awareness remained on the world around her, she’d be a bit useless as an escort if she did not and so when she heard the distant thunder of horse hooves pounding down the road she paused and turned to see from whence it came. Back towards where the city lay she could see a puff of dirt upon the road heading towards them. In moments she could see that it was but a lone rider bent low over the saddle on a horse built for swiftness. An official messenger then. She’d considered the job more than once but was too soft on horsed to really put them through the grueling pace required. There was a high turnover of horses among the King’s messengers.

She shook her head and patted Honey’s side. “Ugly beast.” She said affectionately as the man and rider approached and passed them without pause or acknowledgement.

“Are you ready, Sir?” she asked, wiping sweat from her brow. “We don’t want to lose too much time, not if we want to make Avantshire in your time-frame.”

[Derren Krenshaw]

Alexi spared only a brief moment as Katherine moved in the periphery of his sight, noting the series of stretches she began before turning back to his writing. Part of him realized the wisdom in his escort's actions -riding for days would be taxing no matter the person- but for now the draw of his work was stronger. It'd come back to haunt him, most likely, but so would not having the document finished in time. In a question of bodily health versus professional reputation... the latter was more important right now.

Indeed, it had been more important for quite some time. For better or for worse.

Embarrassment at the potentially shameful display he would put on if he tried to mimic Katherine's movements playing only a very small role in the decision, Alexi continued to carve his notes within the wax of his tablet. One break seemed to lead to another, lines and lines making themselves clear in his mind's eye, stylus darting across the wax before him. Not nearly enough room to write out everything on his mind, the scribe settled for shorthand notes- simple words, phrases and numbers scratched out to quickly remind himself of everything he realized now. It was a practice every scribe came to know, each developing their own, subtly different method of note-taking to rely on. It brought up memories of conversations he'd had in the past, sharing examples of shorthand between peers of his trade, each noting how close they looked to one another... yet none being able to truly follow any notes that weren't their own...

...Alexi had to wonder now, if the motions Katherine was going through were similar.

He found himself pulled from his work more and more, as his escort moved from simple stretches into miming a fight against unseen opponents. No one to take the blows she dealt out, no one to block or dodge against but the wind and sunlight, and yet she moved as if surrounded. Her way of remembering? Or simply practice?

His musings faded as hoof beats interrupted her motions, the scribe glancing sharply up, then relaxing as the messenger galloped past. They were still on the main road, after all, silly not to expect other travelers or roya- oh!

"Ready- Yes, yes of course!" He had taken more than enough notes for now, Alexi carefully stowing his stylus with it's companions before closing and stashing the tablet away. So much for a quick session of notes... but he didn't have the time to feel too embarrassed now. Muscles and joints felt a bit stiff as he rose and made his way back to his horse, but not bad. Probably wouldn't be saying the same later in the day, but for now, at least, he felt fine to ride for quite some time.

Mounting up, he set off once more with Katherine right nearby. He moved his horse quickly to a decent trot, thinking they could quicken the pace somewhat before entering the forest ahead. They'd likely have to slow down within, even following the road could prove dangerous to their mounts if they moved too quickly.

The forest also had the dubious honor of appearing darker and more foreboding the closer they got to it's leading edge, Alexi having trouble keeping himself from growing painfully tense atop his mount. Close spaces weren't too bad -there was plenty of that in his quarters and the archives he frequented- but recollections of the attack last night were doing little to calm his nerves... and far less at the braches above finally began shading their path.

"So..." Speaking would help, right? Keep conversation to keep calm, that was the trick, wasn't it? "You... mentioned last night you were familiar with the area?"

He turned to Katherine as he spoke, hoping he didn't look quite as wound up as he felt.

"Have you traveled through here often? Or did you take other roads?"

[Lillian Thorne]

Katherine approved of his pace. It was quicker than before as if to catch up after the rather long break or as if he’d finally caught the hang of it. She hated to disturb him since he’d been so intent on his work. Besides that, he was the boss in this endeavor and then she’d got lost in her own work but such breaks were luxuries they wouldn’t be able to indulge in too often, not if he wanted to arrive in Avantshire on time.

But she would watch him, he’d moved stiffly before he’d got himself back in the saddle and she could see very well in the lines of his body that he was going to be in pain come the morning. She’d let him push now but tomorrow, she might insist on leading to spare him some. She had his measure for the most part now.
For her part, her muscles sang pleasantly as she swung up into the saddle and she felt rather pleased with herself. Her form wasn’t too badly off as she’d moved through the exercises and she’d only had just a few swallows from her flask as she’d worked and that just to steady her nerves. She had good feelings about this journey despite the dark forest that suddenly seemed to be looming over them.

“I’ve traveled this leg of the road often enough but never to Avantshire. I usually broke off at the coast road and traveled along that. Not many people approach Avantshire from this direction.”

Most of what could be got in Avantshire could be got elsewhere and would not require travel through a nasty swamp. But she’d agreed to take him and just because most people avoided the route didn’t mean it was impossible. She’d seen the road on the map, it was as simple as that.

She wiped at the cooling sweat at her brow, surreptitiously sipping her flask which she tucked back into her pouch before going on.

“But the woods I know well enough, the swamp too. Maybe not this exact wood, but this type of wood if that makes sense. I know what to look for, to spot typical dangers and how to find a comfortable camp.”

Despite her airy, confident tone when speaking about survival in these woods she looked around cautiously as the dimness of the trees settled in around them as they entered the woods Proper. It was odd, she had to admit to herself. The temperature had dropped, but that could be accounted for by the shade. But the prickle along her skin hinted at more, a hint she brushed off by straightening in her saddle and clearing her throat authoritatively, certainly not nervously. Woods were woods, she’d been in these before, albeit not for a few years. They hadn’t felt so last time, but then she’d been more whole last time and in the company of trusted friends, friends who were now dead and not in the company of a skinny, ink-stained scholar.

“Have you been before? To Avantshire?”

She kept her eyes open, sweeping around them as they moved and she noted that they were approaching one of the many intersections that dotted the king’s road as it moved through the woods, intersections with roads that took people to places other than Avantshire, roads much more frequently traveled for example. She noted with interest that the hoof-marks left by the messenger did not veer off down the side road but continued on the King’s road. For amusement’s sake, in her mind she scratched off a few of the places the messenger could have been going. There were a few more roads ahead, little offshoots and she amused herself by trying to predict which one he would take.

[Derren Krenshaw]

Alexi found himself relaxing as Katherine spoke, something about having voices hovering upon the air adding a feeling of safety to the woods they entered. More than her statement that she did, in fact, know the area, the simple act of talking helped ease the knots of fear tightening in his stomach. It made him want to talk in return, to keep the conversation going and keep his attention away from the dark boughs and shadowy trunks that surrounded them.

Which wasn't completely a good thing... because he didn't like the subject this conversation was getting close to.

"Once, a... Seven years?" He took a moment to ponder that, blinking in surprise. "It was that long, wasn't it?"

Maybe it shouldn't have been much of a surprise, it wasn't like he had gotten a reputation as a skilled scribe overnight. His plans to leave had been over a year in the making as well, and had only begun when he was finally starting to get a little stir crazy within the city.

"I came up from the coast on... invitation from Charles? Yes, that was it. I... might have forgotten a map at the time, and ended up rather terribly lost before somehow ending up close enough to Avantshire to run into some hunters from the town."

Not the most heartening story to tell at the start of a journey, though embarrassment was a minor improvement over fear. He even had maps this time. Unless... wait... No! No they were right there behind his saddle, safely tucked in the largest pack. Good, good...

"I didn't stay for long, but apparently long enough to make an impression on some of the townsfolk." He thought on that for a moment, recalling how those who had come to the city has seemed to recognize him. It was a bit of a surprise they had such a high opinion of him, honestly. Seven years had done much to temper Alexi's former lifestyle, and a young man used to wealth but living in fear was not often one to be polite when necessary. But it seemed he could impress even himself when it mattered. "I guess I had enough sense at the time to be thankful for their help. Or maybe they found the sight of mud-stained clothes amusing?"

His voice died out then, finding little more to really say on the matter. There was always the option of launching into a full biography to pass the time, but Katherine hadn't done anything worthy of torture, so he should probably refrain. Not to mention that talk of running, hiding, and getting lost might not grant him the same courage their talk had so far.

So for now, at least, Alexi found himself calm enough to look around, eyeing the towering trees that reached out to catch the sun before it could grace his skin. They wouldn't work well as landmarks in case he needed them later -far too alike to one another- but at least mentally berating the trees for being so selfish helped keep his mood light for now. It'd been a while since he swore at anything -verbally or mentally- so the practice was... actually refreshing.

Who knew?

[Lillian Thorne]

She listened to his tale, if it could be called such when so sparse in details and nodded at the appropriate moments. It had the feel of something more complex than he was saying, as if he were editing out parts as he went. But she didn’t press, it wasn’t her way and she found herself pondering what his pale face must have looked like seven years ago. She could just picture the scene as he was rescued. Did he burn in the sun as his pallor suggested he would? Was that part of his trials in the woods? She pictured him as he must have looked wandering all mud-spattered into the town in the escort of some salt of the earth folk. A skinny scholarly kid in university robes. She could just see him, all limb and joint with just the barest hint of scruff on his chin. Studying until the wee hours, bent over his work, staring at those scrawling black symbols that meant everything to those in the know and nothing to one such as her.

She had observed that students in the university typical fell into two categories, the over-privileged youth who squandered funds and learning like it was sand, of limitless supply. Typically debauched in all ways possible. The other sort, quiet and studious, little ghosts in their black robes. She grinned at his ink-stained fingers and congratulated herself on squaring him away so neatly. She took a quick swig from her flask to celebrate.

But he seemed less comfortable in the silence of the forest, if a forest could ever be silent. But the common sounds of the wood seemed to bring him no comfort and she wrinkled her nose trying to think of something to ask that wasn’t prying.

“So you’ve known Charles that long have you? That is the Charles we met at the Church isn’t it?”

She scratched at her head and wrinkled her nose at the bit of loose hair she felt, must have been caught in a low lying branch and pulled at some point, she’d have to fix it when they stopped.

“Did you meet at university?” she added with a smile in her voice just to further cement her mental image.

[Derren Krenshaw]

"At the university?" it took Alexi a moment to realize just what she was asking. Trying to figure out when he had met Charles was like trying to recall when he first started walking. It had just... always been, as far as he could remember. "No, it was long before that... We did go to the university together, though."

Oh, wasn't that a collection of memories he hadn't brought up in a long time. It helped distract him from their surroundings, a grin forming across his lips at the images rising to the fore of his mind.

"He's the very same Charles you met last night... and hasn't really changed. He's a younger son- no real pressure to one day take his father's position, allowed to do what he wants as long as no one gets too mad... Though we certainly pushed that to it's limit."

It was strange, thinking about those years now. The church had never been a concern, then, his thoughts occupied by far baser joys. No need to restrain himself, no curfew or stern, watchful nuns...

...No massive, overbearing worries that could send him foolishly across the land on his own...

"Though mentioning the university brings back memories. The two of us probably never would have made it through the courses alone." No, they definitely wouldn't have. Charles was fascinated by all one could learn in the world, but never had the motivation to follow up on that. And as for Alexi himself? He had motivation to spare, following his love of language and writing, but there always seemed to be... distractions.

"Charles preferred chasing women to attending lectures, but he always wanted to see me do well. Unfortunately, I had a bad habit of missing the courses myself. Not intentionally, I would just... well... forget I had to go..."

"Anyways!" No reason dwelling on that fact for long. "He decided that my education was more important than his pleasure, slightly, and we worked together to actually learn something from the university while we were there. We'd trade off attending lectures and doing the assignments, goad each other on with threats of elaborate punishments should one of us fall behind again, celebrated each success with a well-earned bout of drinking and women-chasing... And somehow graduated with high standings by the end."

Somehow indeed, but maybe not so unbelievable. Alexi still wasn't sure what, exactly, Charles did aside from chase enjoyment, but he hadn't become a successful scribe through luck alone. Convincing the monks to grant him apprenticeship, impressing them with his skill, managing to ply his trade as a freelance scribe into a career that provided him more than enough to live. That drive could have been the same that helped him turn things around at the university.

"But what about yourself?" He had gone on a little longer than he expected, but it seemed that returning the query would only be polite. No need to only talk about himself on this trip, certainly. "I'm afraid I'm not that familiar with the mercenary path. Did you start with the army? Or did you apprentice with a mercenary group?"

[Lillian Thorne]

She was still trying to picture this rumpled, distracted, correct Monk of a man as a trouble-making university student as his words implied when he asked after her past. She was probably silent longer than was polite as her mind trying to catch up with all that he’d said and left unsaid before she snapped her mouth, which had been hanging open, with an audible clack. A clack that was hopefully lost in the sounds of travel. She cleared her throat, banishing failed attempts to picture him inebriated and chasing skirts, of all things, and formulated an answer.

Apprentice? Not as such, but she supposed it was a close as could be explained to how she’d stumbled into the life.

“Sort of.” She began awkwardly, still a little behind the moment. “I um sort of wormed my way in and it stuck.”

Well that was hardly an answer but she wasn’t certain what to say. He’d been a university student and one who had been able to afford to carouse. He’s spoken of Charles’ lineage but not of his own. She began to think a little differently about this humble scribe before her. Oh she’d serve him to the same degree, it was her way, but she would wonder, and ponder.

None of which was an answer to his question. She’d been a bit of a pest in the guardhouse where her Mama worked as a seamstress. The local pithy lord kept a well-staffed Guard-house thinking it lent him a certain majesty, as if he had more to guard simply by their presence. One of the Guards, Steven, likely bored by activity began to teach the young Kate some of the fighting arts in exchange for errands and to simply pass the time. She was a scrap of a thing at the time, a brat and not clearly of either gender and going by the name of Kit. She let him assume what he would because she loved it all. It was so much more interesting than the stitchery her Mama wanted her to learn so she had a means to earn a living when she was a woman grown. If sitting in a dark room making fancies for ladies and paid a pittance in return was considered a life.

She worked hard and became the pet of the bored garrison and learned a good deal, though not nearly as much as she thought. When Steven’s brother, Big Jim arrived for a visit with a small bit of his mercenary company in tow, Katherine was lost. She hung around, a little scrap of a shadow with big ears and bigger eyes. She sucked it all in and when the Mercenary crew left a few days later she followed them, a bit of a shadow, determined to join up. All went well until she was caught in the snare they laid for her. Hanging upside down and being told to scurry home little puppy would have sent anyone less stubborn than Kat scurrying home in shame. It only made her more determined. She followed, learned to dodge their traps and was eventually, in a roundabout way, part of the company though she never officially signed on. Big Jim took her under his wing, amused by her tenacity and when he left the company after breaking the nose of the captain over something he would never explain to a then 14 year old Kit, she left with him and when she was sixteen he sponsored her into the Guild and watched as she put her X on the correct line. She worked with him off and on for years as she build up her reputation, until that last, fatal mission.

But none of that was anything she could easily explain to this rumpled scholar. She was startled to realize how few of her clients had bothered to ask after her past. Even the ones who were unsettled by silence, they simply filled it in with commentary of their own, more important lives and she did her best to ask them questions that would facilitate further chatter. But not this one.

Maybe this one deserved a better answer than what she’d given.

“I was never formally apprenticed.” She explained, “Though I did have a mentor. James of Blackend Moor.” He might have heard of the name, Big Jim had a powerful reputation and might have become a legend if he hadn’t… She shook her head to ward off such thoughts.

“He taught me most of what I know and saw me formerly inducted as a Mercenary when the time came. I sort of fell into the life in an effort to avoid needlework.”

She ruefully touched her cheek and grinned. “Though I suppose there really isn’t any escaping that.”

[Derren Krenshaw]

James... James of the Blackened Moor...

The name seemed very familiar, though Alexi couldn't place anything more than that. Too many names jumped out at him from the documents he wrote and re-wrote, too many introductions and named acquaintances from meetings he had or recorded. If a man or woman of notoriety had some connection to the city, he likely had heard or read the name at least once.

Remembering anything more about those names, however, was a difficult task. So he simply nodded at the name, not trying to pretend he knew more, lips parting in a wry grin as she commented on her cheek.

"Some things always seem to chase you, don't they?" He chuckled lightly along with the words, the woods seeming a little lighter in the wake of their conversation. Something about company allowed him to say those words calmly, to start to relax within the unfamiliar territory through which they traveled, to look forward to the journey, not just the destination.

Had he really been shut away for so long, to forget what company was like?

"Though, work like that helps as a mercenary, doesn't it?" Talking about his earlier travel -even in brief- reminded him of everything that had happened then. All the missteps, all the times spent wishing he knew this, or had paid attention to that. Only a single trip had taught him how prepared he would need to be in the future- even if he wasn't going to travel alone. It was why he had all-but memorized the maps of the area, why he had spent far too much time going over every little detail for this trip, ensuring he didn't overlook a single thing in his preparations.

And... it was why he nearly missed the most important fact: an escort.

But that little realization aside, Katherine had to travel far more than Alexi ever would... and by herself, no less. Sure, mercenaries used jobs to travel from place to place more often than not, but surely they traveled by themselves as well, looking for more jobs when none presented themselves locally. For her to be so comfortable on the road, she had to know how to survive outside the walls of a city or fences of a town. Survival that meant more than just combat prowess... though the latter probably helped.

"Maybe not needlework, but your works asks for far more than swordplay, doesn't it? Especially if you work alone?"

[Lillian Thorne]

Some things do always chase you, she thought to herself as she rode, her fingers blindly reaching for her flask, which she did not raise to her lips thought that was an effort. He was watching and she didn’t want to be unprofessional and that was the only thing keeping her from drinking. Too many things chased her, her time in that charnel pit, the loss of her mentor and friend, her failure to save him, her failure at dying. Needlework was the least of it. She needed to keep it light, it had been light and her own gloom threatened to pull her down and sipping at the flask was only a stopgap method to keep her from bleeding internally again.

She put her hand back on Honey’s reins with great effort and nodded in affirmation to his question, buying herself a chance to collect herself.

“Yes.” She managed with only a little tightness to her voice. “So much more than that. Which was something young Kat hadn’t a clue about. I’d thought it was all hacking and slashing. That’s all they cover in the tales you see. They don’t mention getting lost, or finding food and shelter, or dealing with the ever-present mud or foot rot or a host of other unpleasant things.”

She snorted and risked dropping the reins to pull back her sleeve a little. She held it up to him revealing the very end of a very ragged, badly mended scar of some age.

“This was when I realized that needlework had value. My first skirmish, my first wound and my mentor made me stitch myself up. It was a right mess. I blubbered through the whole thing and he was heartless or so I thought. But I made it through and I leaned a few things, the value of stitching and the realization that I could survive such an ordeal.”

Then he got her roaring drunk and let her live through the hangover the next day for similar reasons. She smiled, Big Jim had been a big proponent of getting the suffering out of the way up front in an effort to toughen her up. So many lessons wherein she learned the hard way so she’d only have to learn once. The only pain he’d spared her was that of becoming a woman, he’d left that subject well alone, almost frantically alone. So when the time came she’d bungled that all on her own. She remembered the idiot’s face but not his name, she remembered little but the fact that it had been an embarrassing disaster she’d somehow lived through.

She shook her head at her own thoughts, rueful but the darkness had retreated in the wake her musings.

“So besides your first trip to Avantshire have you traveled much? Were you born here?” she asked, waving vaguely back towards the city they could no longer see.

[Derren Krenshaw]

Well when you're asking personally questions, this one was bound to come up sooner or later.

"Here? No..." Alexi trailed off for a moment, pondering the best way to answer. Katherine had the better story, by far, something a scribe could weave into a stirring tale if they were of the mind. Not quite his hobby, but it didn't stop his own story from seeming rather... bland, in comparison.

His own fault, maybe. When you skip all the 'interesting' details, there isn't much left, is there?

"I was born in Einfeld -the archipelago kingdom to the south?- though I've spent most of my years on the mainland."

"My family was always interested in relations between kingdoms..." How long had it been? Alexi stared off into the distance as he pondered the times from so long ago. "One of the reasons I came to know Charles, I suppose. And when the coup came to Einfeld... well it was safer to stay here."

There had always been a... Rift, within Einfeld. Small yet fiercely independent, there were always those who believed that strengthening relations with neighboring kingdoms only opened themselves up to be taken advantage of. The boon of trade and the wealth it brought was a short-term benefit concealing future devastation, in their eyes, enough to spark a coup almost ten years ago that turned into a full-on civil war. Alexi was and always would be in favor of diplomacy and open borders, but the one who sat upon the throne today did not share that same view, and to say Alexi was no welcome in Einfeld as it was now... was an understatement. But he shrugged off any further thought, forcing himself to focus on something -anything- else for now.

"I never liked travel all that much, so I suppose this has become my home now." A nervous chuckle accompanied the words, as he managed to turn enough upon his horse to look over to Katherine once more. "You travel a lot, yes? Have there been any places you enjoyed staying at? Or do you prefer to stay on the move?"

[Lillian Thorne]

Einfeld, she mused as she listened to Alexi’s tale. She’d heard something of its coup though she’d been young enough and immersed enough in her own troubles to have missed anything beyond that it had happened. She knew even less of its people. There were not many Einfelders about on the roads she’d traveled, she’d heard mention that they were a strange, reclusive people. She supposed it explained that faint burr of an accent in some of Alexi’s words that she’d not been able to place. A hold over from his country of origin perhaps?

“I like to stay on the move,” she admitted. “Too much idle-time does not suit me.”

That had been one of the bad parts of convalescing, all the idle time to think of mistakes and all the things she’d lost. Her need to be busy had only grown as she’d been idle.

“I have been her most often, but that’s because there is work to be found here easily, seeing how it is so central to everything. That’s how I came to know the Locust and Florie. It’s like a second home, but I don’t think I’d say I like staying there. Just that it is comfortable and I know my way around.”

Not that her first home was something she visited if she could. She hadn’t even gone home when she was wounded, just sent letters and what money she could. She was largely rootless, something that hadn’t been so apparent when she’d been in the company, at Big Jim’s side.

“We stayed at the Ocean once.” She admitted with pleasure. She hadn’t been to the coast often, staying mostly inland. The few trips to the shore were typically to get someone to a boat and to escort someone inland. They did not linger but for that one time when they set up camp on a beach with white sand and trees heavy with fruit. They had stayed a whole week before the ship bearing their contractor had arrived after having been blown off course. But then that had been the east coast not particularly near to Einfeld.

“I haven’t spent much time on the coasts.” She added wistfully just as Honey snorted and drew her attention back from daydreams of warm waters, hot sand and the sweetly fermented juice of those white-fleshed nuts she’d loved so much.

She cursed herself for the inattention and looked down the road some, her senses trying to catch all the things that might be lurking. Noting, silence, not even heavy silence. Just normal people passing through the woods silence. But then she saw it, a tree, felled and blocking the road. The narrow road that while well paved did not offer much of a shoulder. The underbrush was thick enough and came right up to the road that a horse would not be able to get buy. It was a complaint often lobbied at the King, that he did not tend to his roads. He cried poor and lack of funds for infrastructure and threw himself another party. That is until some messenger of his, or some friend of his is robbed and then the underpaid workers with dull machetes were employed for a little

“Well,” she said dismounting from her horse and moving towards the log. “Let’s hope this is from the storm a few nights ago.”

But then the messenger had passed them and she’d not seen his hoof prints on any of the crosspath’s. She unsheathed her sword.

[Derren Krenshaw]

"An- Uhm... Which storm would we be talking about?"

It was interesting, talking to someone who seemed to genuinely enjoy life on the road. Charles had always been a man of the city, Alexi much the same, were only necessity managed to force either out from the walls and onto the dusty roads. As enjoyable as this trip had been so far -barely started as it was- he couldn't help but look forward to their arrival in Avantshire.

Was it because he'd then have the opportunity to embark on the longer journey had had long been looking forward to? Perhaps? But again, it was the towns, the villages, the little pockets of civilization and the stories they held that attracted him. From this place to that place, these people to the next people, it was never the road, the travel itself, that entered his mind.

While, as far as he could tell from their conversation, Katherine felt just the opposite.

It was a difference that intrigued Alexi, made him wonder just what her view might be on this or that, how much it differed from his own. Her comment on the shore, how she seemed to enjoy the idea of having been near the ocean, excited the Scribe even more. The things he could say about the waters, memories still dear in his mind, ones of Einfeld he still enjoyed to recall...

But then a tree appeared across their path, Katherine's pithy comment causing Alexi's mood to drown into panic as she fell silent and drew her blade.

Was this an ambush? Longs over the road- it was a typical setup, right? Stop the travelers, wait until they try to struggle past, that's how it always went, didn't it? If that was the cas- Wait- Didn't a courier pass them by before? Had he turned off? If he had gone this way, he would have been attacked, right? No blood was visible as he shivered atop his horse, so was it just a fallen tree?

"Is.. ah... Is something wrong?" He hoped no. He prayed it was fine. Just a small delay, slowing them a little as they carefully moved across, right? They'd have to hurry later, to ensure they made it to Avantshire in time... but that wouldn't be too bad. Not when compared to Bandits.

So... everything was fine, right?

[Lillian Thorne]

“The storm I’m desperately hoping happened because this tree right here is troubling, otherwise.”

It was troubling regardless she would own to herself. She was torn between watching the road and woods and looking into the nature of the tree. Either end would give her answers of the who and how, but the tree would give her the answers with a little more time to work with. But then looking into the tree left her charge vulnerable.

“I don’t know, that anything is wrong, Sir.” She said. “I’m weighing options.”

They could head back to one of the many paths that intersected this road and hope it re-connected with the king’s road, they typically did, but they weren’t well mapped if they were mapped at all and time was of the essence. Shit.

“Be ready to run, Sir.” She said and pointed back the way they came. “If you start, don’t stop until you reach the gates of the city.”

He didn’t get the chance to run though. Snaps and crunches sounded in the woods all around them, echoing through the silence between calls of animals and the sounds of swaying trees. They emerged, almost as if part of a play, step by step emerging from the gloom in a mottled flash of greens and browns. They had the air of players for all that they also came with some menace. Competence was proclaimed in the way they held their blades and bows for all that their cloaks, which should have been a hazard in the underbrush seemed to slither about them, unsnagged by errant branches. They were ringed, Katherine could feel the movements of the man who emerged from the woods behind her. She watched only the distance between her charge and the nearest threat she could do something about

Then from behind her she heard a painfully familar voice.

“Aww fuck it all Kat, it would have to be you, wouldn’t it?”

She turned and starred into the face of Martin, Florie’s lover. Her jaw dropped, just a little and she clacked it shut with annoyance at her own lack of poise.

Still when she spoke her voice held all sorts of confusion and incredulity. “Martin?”

His smile was wry, crooked and held just the sort of mixture of menace and naughty-boy that even Kat couldn’t say she was unmoved by. Stupid female nature.

“What the hell Martin?” she asked, the quip rolling off her tongue like dust

“I didn’t know it was you, Kat, I swear though I suppose I shoulda guessed with you heading out this morn. When he hired me last night it seemed like an easy enough lark and me and the boys were getting restless.”

Well that would explain the theater, Kat thought to herself. Martin, of all things.

“Who?” she demanded. “Who hired you and why?”

“I dunno,” he confessed, “he was wearing a hooded cloak, trite, easy to see through if interested but I never like to pop my employers bubble of anonymity so I weren’t interested.”

“What did he want?” Kat asked through clenched teeth.

Martin jerked his thumb at Alexi “Somethin’ he has.” Martin said, pushing off his hood to reveal his bright hair. “Said to nab all his papers and bring em back for the coin.”

[Derren Krenshaw]

Not good, not fine, not at all...

Why him?

Alexi shrank shivering upon the saddle of his horse, hands clutching desperately to the reigns as if he might snap his mount to a gallop at any instant. He should do just that, actually. Just go, just flee. He knew the maps in his mind's eye, he knew roughly where he should be now. It wouldn't be hard, right? Find a fork and take it, lose these thugs amidst winding paths. He could get out of it in the end, probably.

As long as they didn't have anyone else waiting for him.

That thought wasn't helping, the scribe staring wide-eyed and jittery at those who had him and Katherine surrounded. A lot- too many, how was one person supposed to deal with this many? She could fight, he'd seen that, but that was against a few.

So what should they do? Give over his papers? He needed them! Avantshire needed them! Even if people believed he was robbed -not a tall tale- what reputation would he have afterwards? If he couldn't complete tasks like this, who would call on him for anything of import? He wouldn't be able to travel- he'd likely have to ask to join the church fully, becoming a scribe of the lord to waste his sight away with no chance of changing his fortune.

Not the worst outcome... really... but still...

"W-what do you people even want with these!?" His voice was shaking, rising. Not a good sign, but he was having trouble controlling much of anything right now. Eyes darted about the gathered assailants, looking for anything like a whole he could spur his mount through. Katherine had said 'run' before, could he still do that? And make it do Avantshire?

He risked a panicked glance over to his escort. This was a situation she should be able to deal with, one way or another, right? What did she plan on doing? What did she want him to do?

[Lillian Thorne]

Martin shrugged, his mottled cloak shifting about him with a theater that no doubt pleased him but annoyed Katherine to no end. She rolled her eyes, really it was the only reasonable reaction. She met the eyes of a few of the others in the troupe, for troupe they were for all that they were as happy with instruments and greasepaint as they were with swords bows. They knew her though and not a few of them dropped her gaze and scuffed their feet. A good sign all in all. They were not the best of men, but they were not heartless bastards. There would be a way out of this that wouldn’t cost blood, she was certain of it.

Talk, and gold. It would come down to that.

“I don’t know what he wanted with them. I only know he wanted them and was willing to pay. Beyond that I didn’t give a shit.”

“Poetry.” Muttered Katherine at his words as she moved towards Alexi who was looking pretty close to panic. That wouldn’t help a damn thing. They were outnumbered and the men didn’t know Alexi. She didn’t think they’d hesitate for long if he bolted. Bolts would fly and he would fall and Katherine would have failed in her duty, to see him safe. Crud. She heard the men shifting behind her at her movement and spared them a withering look and a hand gesture that told them to calm the hell down. Whether they complied or not she didn’t see since her attention turned back to Alexi. She forced her face to be calm to convey confidence. She was mostly certain this would all turn out ok, mostly, but she didn’t know him and she didn’t know if he would or could calm in the face of this situation.

“Come now Sir,” she murmured softly, for his ears only as she put her hand over his were it rested, she imagined his knuckles were white under her fingers. She let her thumb stroke over the back of his hand, soothing, calming contact. For certain his eyes were rolling, broadcasting his panic for all to see.

“They are talking. That is a good sign. Surely you learned something of negotiation at that university of yours. Let’s see what we can make of this. All is not lost, not while we breathe and that posturing fool wants to find his way back to Florie’s bed.”

She wondered if it would be as hard for Martin to try to kill her as it was going to be for her to try to kill him. It would be hard for her, no doubt, but as the pain twitched in her still healing gut she recalled that she’d done harder things.