[IC] On Winding Roads (Lillian & Derren )

[Derren Krenshaw]

There was something to be said about Alexi's choice in bodyguard, after all.

Not that your more typical, gruff and battle-scarred mercenary male couldn't have found a way to calm the panicked scribe. Not that a small squad of said 'typical' guards might have been able to deal with these attackers more effectively. Surely any mercenary or group of mercenaries worth their gold would have been able to do something, much like Katherine... but that didn't stop Alexi from quietly thanking the calloused -yet still feminine- touch on his hand, or her quiet voice in his ear.

Talk. Right. Her words managed to spur some rational part of his roiling mind into focus, an anchor that he might, possibly, be able to pull himself around. Talk. He could do that, though he was better at writing...

... hold on.

Florie. According to Katherine, the 'Martin' before them was enamored with the rather enamor-able innkeep. Katherine herself was on good terms with Florie as well, wasn't she... enough that this Martin seemed cautious enough to talk first? His band certainly wasn't doing more than waiting right now, though if he made the wrong move, said the wrong thing, that would likely change very, very, very-

No. No. Stay calm. Breathe, breathing was good, breathing and thinking. Martin wanted papers, Martin wanted Florie. Someone had hired Martin to take the papers, but he didn't care about details. He was in it for gold. Greedy, greedy and lustful.

Could he work with that?

A minstrel at the Locust, a good Inn to work for, certainly, but obviously not good enough if he and his own worked as bandits on the side. Money was tough -he didn't know how much these men had been offered- but... Could he offer something else? Alexi really, really didn't want to involve himself in politics again... but he also really, really didn't want to die, or fail this commission.

The second option actually seemed the worse to him right now. And absurd or not, that notion helped him calm enough to feel he might be able to speak.

"That-... There are people who need these papers." Alexi forced himself to sit straighter upon his saddle, meeting Martin's eye and hoping he wouldn't be shot immediately for his response. The fact that they knew Katherine -and she knew them- seemed to keep them from acting right away, a small blessing that the scribe couldn't help but take hope from. "A town of them. I can't just-.... their needs outweigh my own."

Okay, now, before the arrows come.

"But I could offer a different sort of papers, if you are interested... Mr. Martin?" Calm, calmer now, at least. Buisness, he could talk buisness, even if it was in a somewhat more deadly setting than usual. "I heard you play at the Locust, and imagine you and your troupe could put on quite the show..." He dared a quick glance around at those assembled. They weren't musical instruments in their hands, but he didn't doubt they could make those weapons sing just as well. "...'Quite a show' is what Lord Stanhope has been looking for for some time... I don't suppose a letter of introduction and recommendation would be worth something to you?"

That was the best he could think of to offer right now, short of throwing what gold he had at their feet. Though if he could just open negotiations, that might be good by itself? In that case, would it be worth the risk to push, just a little more?

"You remember his son, Katherine? The one who saw us off?" He lowered his voice somewhat as he turned to his escort, but certainly didn't try to keep the others from hearing. He needed a second voice in assent, if only to connect them to people of power in Martin's eyes. He could try hiding behind the church again, but they would never hire outside their own, small circle. Lord Stanhope would -If Alexi offered to be in his debt- but he could also make life hard for someone who called the Locust home, if he had to. He could hide behind that, then, right?

[Lillian Thorne]

She’d been holding her breath. She hadn’t noticed until he began to speak and sat up straighter in his saddle. It didn’t mean they were out of the woods but it was a start. She turned to face Martin and company as her employer spoke, her face set, determined as she looked over each face as if memorizing it, marking it for something. She had a good intimidation face for all that she was young and a woman. Big Jim himself had even admitted to a shiver at the coldness in her eyes when she donned it. The comment, earnest and heartfelt from the big man had brought a smile from her, which of course had ruined the whole effect. But when she put on her scary mercenary face, it was a thing to behold, cold, flat and monstrous in its lack of anything human.

It was a sham of course and Martin was not moved by it. He was too much a professional to be touched by it, but he didn’t need to be and he was too intently listening to Alexi’s offer to pay her much mind. His men, they didn’t know her, they weren’t as skilled an actor as their leader and for the most part they were taken in. She was pleased, for Martin’s sake, not her own, to see that few of them backed down for all that they had been unsettled. Stalwart actors cum bandits. Swell. If they lived through this, if a bargain were struck this could be a good connection for her. Not that she was going to go bandit, the spirit of Jim would reach through whatever veil lay between the worlds and slap her for even entertaining such a thought. But a working relationship? That was a fine thing.

She caught the tail end of Alexi’s offering and she felt a flush of approval fill her. The ink-stained man was clever now that he’d recovered from his flight. He had offered something much, much better than gold in the here and now, legitimacy. She would all but hear Martin salivating at the idea. His expression didn’t change, he was too good for that, but she thought she saw his eyes darken and maybe his nostril’s flare?

“What the hell good’ll a letter do us?” asked a coarse man in the back who made a point of noisily drawing up some phlegm to spit to the ground. “Mehbee we can wipe our arses with it?”

There was a round of chuckling at that but Martin held up his hand. Two fingers were aloft, the others folded down, the whole gesture posed and dramatic. Kate rolled her eyes and nodded at Alexi’s comment.

“I do recall him, rich Lord’s son. A taste for fine things I believe.” She said and raised an eyebrow at Martin her words confirming Alexi’s ability to offer this.

“A letter of introduction…” He said slowly. She could see him chewing over the words. “is not a promise. It useful only as an ass wipe if there is naught but hot air behind it.”

He looked to Katherine and he met her eyes and he saw in them her determination to see this through. His mouth twitched. He’d known the girl for years, a little scrap of a thing lurking in the shadow of the bigger mercenaries she hung around with, her eyes watching, taking everything in. She’d been coming into her own last he’d seen her. But then she hadn’t been around for a while, not that he’d really noticed. He came and went and had just assumed she’d done her own thing. Something had happened, something had changed her, melted off the baby fat and left behind something a little harder, more grizzled than he would have expected to find.

“True,” said Katherine, her smile tight, her eyes hard, the eyes of someone who had climbed over the dead bodies of nearly everyone she loved to reach the sunlight, her guts all but trailing behind her. “but idiots in capes sending you out to do their dirty work are a dime a dozen. How many times have you been offered this?”

She pressed on, her hand drumming lightly on her hilt, the threat clear in her words.

“It’d be a shame if you never passed it by, your troop would have to tell Florie what you turned down.” She would die if it came to blows, she was outnumbered to greatly for even training and skill to make up for but she would see him dead with her.

Martin understood and nodded. She was right, this was a first for him. He nodded at his troupe, he nodded at her and finally he looked to Alexi and nodded thrice.

“Well then, Scribe, you’d best get out your inkpot and get to work. I think it is high time we gave legitimacy a try.”

[Derren Krenshaw]

"Reall- Ah... Certainly. Ju- Just a moment now..." Alexi struggled to keep himself composed, relief flooding in to mingle with terror in the oddest sensation he had ever experienced. It wasn't often he had to try and talk himself out of a situation where he was likely to be killed... or... at all, really. This had been the first time, hadn't it?

Something almost like a chuckle tried to escape his lips, the Scribe choking it down at the last moment. No, no, he needed to focus. Trembling hands reached back into the packs he carried, rummaging by memory to track down the tools he needed. Parchment, quill, ink, his tablet would work as a table for this. One by one he drew them out, keeping his eyes on his work, finding himself calm somewhat at the thought of writing. So long as he didn't dwell on those around, on what might happen... As long as he didn't, it should be fine.

To the esteemed Lord Stanhope...

The first line came so easily, so naturally. The proper terms, how to phrase, the quiet ways to flatter, he knew clearly what he had to write. It was a letter he had written many a time for others, had once imagined receiving many himself. This, this was easy, this was something he could do.

To the esteemed Lord Stanhope,

I write this to you in the hopes it might put some of your recent troubles to rest, as your family has done for many of mine over these years.

While your troubles in finding a troupe of entertainers remains a closely guarded secret, the upcoming festivities must only be making it harder to conceal. Good musicians are hard to come by, and harder still to keep in one's service, but I do believe I have found you a solution.

The gentleman in possession of this letter leads a troupe of actors, musicians and entertainers whose skills far outstrip their modest reputation. I myself have personally witnessed their skill in music and performance, and must admit to being impressed by the quality they deliver. Though not bearing the well-known names your celebrations deserve, their skills are sure to impress both your own refined tastes, and that of your guests.

The Stanhope name has done much for me over the years, and it is in return for that great fortune that I recommend this man and his troupe to you. Granting these entertainers the chance to liven up your upcoming celebrations would be the greatest of favors, which I will most certainly return. I assure you, my good Lord Stanhope, this man and his own will do everything but disappoint.

Regards,
Alexander Louis Dumont ex-Einfeld

Alexi completed the letter with a flourish and sigh, eyes closing as he considered what he was doing. Stanhope would certainly give Martin and his troupe the opportunity to prove themselves... and be eagerly awaiting Alexi's return to the city. He probably wouldn't be allowed to stay at the church, now that he had all-but thrown himself into the rising noble's grasp. But that was what happened when you re-entered politics, he would have to accept the turn his life would take... and Stanhope would have to accept that he would be travelling for quite some time, yet.

Inexperienced as he was, Alexi would not let even the Stanhope family walk over him without a struggle. Perhaps that was his family blood getting the better of him at last.

"The letter is done..." Carefully turning the parchment over, Alexi drew a small, hardwood stamp from his packs. It bore a carved, ivory cap that he carefully dipped in ink, letting the excess drip back into the well for a moment before pressing it firmly on the back of the letter. The scribe held it for a moment more, then replaced the stamp in his backs, retrieving his quill to sign his name once more, beneath the crest still glistening with drying ink. "...And that will let the Lord's men know it's genuine."

Another sigh, and he held out the letter for Martin to take, finally lifting his gaze to meet the man's own.

"It will need another few minutes to dry completely, don't fold it before then." Just like business, he found himself able to speak calmly. The world around seemed to blur out, only the two of them left. Scribe and patron... it only needed a table and walls to be another normal scene from his work.

"Feel free to read it over. If it is acceptable, we can then continue on?" If only there weren't armed men surrounding him and Katherine, out in the forest, he might have been able to smile.

[Lillian Thorne]

There was grumbling, muttering and shifting among the troupe turned bandits as the Scribe set to work. Martin watch him like a hawk, stepping close and his eyes narrowing as he took in the words as best he could while Alexi wrote them. Katherine did not. She kept back a step, certain at this point that Martin would do her charge no harm but uncertain about the others. There were some bitter faces in the crowd, ones that might be capable of taking matters into their own hands. Not everyone saw legitimacy as a boon. Even so it never moved past grumbling for which Katherine was grateful.

When the letter was written, the scratching of the pen nib ceasing and Martin was stepping back with the paper in hand, Katherine bothered to look over at them, her jaw set. She wasn’t entirely certain how to feel about Martin just then. He’d threatened her after all and while it was just business, she hadn’t realized he’d been in that business and was still adjusting her mental picture of him. It was a hard thing to adjust to, she’d fought at the side of mercenaries who had oft-times been opposite her in other battles, but that was the way of things. She supposed in time she’d forgive Martin, he hadn’t actually tried to kill her after all, but it felt strange, immutable somehow. She also felt more than a little foolish for so often dismissing him as a sometimes-bed warmer for Florie and little else. Who else had she underestimated? It did not do good things for her self-esteem.

“Well then.” Martin said looking up from the drying letter his rich voice made even richer with approval. “That’s well enough, t’was a pleasure doing business with you, Sir.” He said and made a silly, foppish half bow and then his eyes caught on Alexi’s full name and his brow furrowed as if trying to recall some detail. It didn’t seem to be forthcoming so he shrugged and nodded at Katherine,

“I’d be fairly grateful if you didn’t mention this to Florie, she might get a bit put out over the whole thing.”

Katherine snorted which was neither agreeing nor refusing and Martin could tell from the set of her jaw that he’d get no better answer than that from her on the matter. He’d cross that bridge when he came to it. He thought he might sweeten the pot though, such as it was.

“We will need to tell the man who employed us for this gig something about how it ended. As a courtesy I’ll let you dictate what tale you want told.” He waited before Alexi, the letter drying in his hand, the men’s grumbling mostly settled as the forest woke around them.

[Derren Krenshaw]

"Tale? Ah... I would say you're the authority there... but..."

What 'tale' could he possibly consider for Martin to tell his former employer? Alexi was still trying to cope with the crowd of armed men around him and Katherine. He had only just gotten them out of a deadly situation... how was he supposed to answer?

A story- a lie? Not that he was a stranger to smudging the truth, but he avoided it nowadays where he could. Lying to the church would only lead to him being condemned a sinner, while lying to an employer tended to backfire in the long term.

But then... Martin and these men weren't planning to work for this employer, where they?

Alexi put some thought into it, wondering if there maybe was something he could say. Church guards? An escort to intimidate Martin and his men? That could be checked, though... a display of the Lord's power? A blessed journey? Dramatic... too dramatic? Maybe? Fabricating stories wasn't his specialty, recording and translating where. So what could he say? Fled? Outran Martin and his men? Led a merry chase through the woods, all the way too... too...

Oh. That could work.

"A chase, a hunt, perhaps?" He met Martin's eye once more, gaze flicking only occasionally to Katherine nearby. Ready as ever to fight, it seemed. Did anything faze her? "Pursuing us through the woods, ahead and through the lesser-used trails, until Katherine and I were lost? Headed... west, towards where the forest falls to meet the swamplands?"

The swamplands themselves weren't too close yet- they'd likely approach later tomorrow- but it did draw close to the main road. A desperate pair might try to flee that direction, hoping to lose their pursuers amidst the sprawling tree-roots and softening earth. At least in the swamp, there'd be a 'chance' of survival. Find a trail, follow a deerpath, avoid any of the traps or deadlier denizens and you could make it out... somewhere.

Maybe not the best tale to bring back, but it could work?

Alexi tried very, very hard not to shrug as he spoke.

[Lillian Thorne]

Martin nodded, agreeing to the tale as he carefully rolled up the now dry letter, his mind already whirling adding embellishments and details that would see him and his men in good light. It would still cost them the gold but as he slipped the letter into a pouch at his side, he noted that there were things more important than gold. Reputation for one. He nodded at Katherine, knowing she understood that even if she would not admit it or look him in the eyes.

“Alright then.” He said and with a dramatic gesture of his arm, one that sent his cloak a-fluttering dramatically, he motioned for his men to leave. Katherine, who had been trying to see everything at once caught the gesture rolled her eyes. He was absurd but she was very glad she didn’t have to gut him after all. Her hands were shaking where they rested on the hilt of her blade and she tightened her grip to hide that. She was fairly certain the danger was over, the shaking was not fear. She wanted so badly to pull out her flask and take a long, medicinal swig.

As the absurd, if effective bandits slipped into the trees she moved to stand closer to her employer, just in front of him in fact, thinking that if any arrows came their way she’d be more likely to survive them. But none were forthcoming and as the soft signs of movement in the trees faded she relaxed and pulled her flask out, able to resist no longer. She kept her back to her employer and took a long pull as if it were a matter of course, which it was not. At least her need for it was not.

It wasn’t enough, she wanted ten times as much, but she had limited drink and a long way to go before they could restock. She had to ration. Swallowing, savoring the lingering warmth in her mouth and the blooming heat in her belly she turned to the ink-stained man.

“A clever solution.” She said, her eyes dropped low. “I would have done my best.” She said to him, “But I couldn’t have fought them all off.”

That she would have died trying was clear though unspoken.

“Did you know you would have so many people interested in those papers?” she asked frankly thinking that she was owed that at least. She wasn’t one to pry, her services came with discretion in all directions but this was one thing she wanted, needed to know. “Because if I had known I would have urged you to hire more men or simply refused to serve. A body can only do so much, but one guard should have been enough to get a scribe from point A to point B, and it isn’t. Why is that?”

[Derren Krenshaw]

They were leaving, they were gone. Alexi and Katherine were safe.

Thank the Lord...

Alexi sagged on his saddle, a heavy sigh taking the last dregs of adrenaline along with it. Why where things turning out like this? It's not like the job had ever been 'easy' -translating the document had required days of tedious labor, and still wasn't finished- but the trip was supposed to be the simple part. Get to Avantshire in time, with the documents translated, that was the only challenge they were supposed to face.

So why were there thugs in alleys and bandits on the roadways, seemingly hunting for him?

He just wanted to get to Avantshire, to maybe -just maybe- be able to take the journey he had planned for so long. Ambushes, people hired to steal his work, these weren't the local folktales and myths he was looking for. Not even a day into their travels, and already things had gone so very wrong. If he hadn't managed to hold on to some small bit of stubborn pride, he might have broken into tears at the frustrating absurdity of it all...

And Katherine's words, following swiftly on the heals of such welcome praise, nearly made him forget even pride.

"I don't know!" He all but screamed the words into her face, blood draining from his own as he tried to calm himself somewhat. Refused? No, no, why did things only have to get worse?

"I don't know..." His voice fell to near-whisper, head shaking as he tried to force the words from his mouth. "It's just a commission. Royal scribes handle more important ones than this all the time. Of course, they have couriers and caravans and the King's blessing behind them..."

Rambling. He was rambling again. Get to the point quickly, Alexi, he needed to.

"It... it's just supposed to be an escort. Get to Avantshire, complete the commission, done. A better job than I usually get but- nothing like... like this," Swinging his hand about to point at now-empty forest wasn't the best way to make a point, but he wasn't thinking too hard about it. "Was supposed to happen. I got the job because no one could be bothered to translate the documents in the court... Why would people be interested now?"

Asking Katherine wouldn't get him anywhere. But what was he supposed to do? He knew about as much as she did about all this... maybe less. She was a mercenary, after all, ambushes and being paid for jobs were things she knew. Maybe she had an idea? Or... something?

[Lillian Thorne]

She stepped back when he yelled, not because she was afraid, but because she was surprised. She hadn’t really expected him to be capable of such emotion. Her eyebrows climbed high as she regarded him, watching as the color drained and his spike of fury dropped to a near inaudible whisper. His words didn’t give her a clue as to why this was happening. He still hadn’t said what the papers were about exactly and she wasn’t going to press. She wasn’t stupid and Big Jim made her pay some attention to politics but only in a larger who should one work for way. Not in a small nuanced who would pay to have some random papers taken from a seemingly helpless scribe sort of way. She was out of her league in that and she was worried if these attacks kept coming that she’d be out of her league in protecting him as well. That pricked her professional pride. But she was satisfied by one thing, he hadn’t known. He hadn’t expected this and hadn’t risked her life needlessly. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

She put her hand on his shoulder and gave a comfortable, companionable squeeze followed by two pats that were a little awkward since normally she’d be thumping the back of a fellow merc and not a slender scribe and she was uncertain of the force to use.

“Well we might be fucked or we might not but was can make it a certainty if we don’t get moving.”

She rubbed between her eyes and looked down the road and cursed loudly and vehemently for a long bit. She’d forgot to have the idiot bandits move the damn trunk before they’d left.

“I was going to ask you which you preferred, speed or stealth but I think speed is out of the order.” She pointed towards the trunk.

“How important is it that you get to Avantshire in time? I mean I understand that it is important, but it is worth your life? We might need to re-prioritize here. We can spend time moving that tree and take the expected route to the town and risk further ambushes or we can pick our way there over paths and game trails. I can’t say which will be faster but I think the latter will be safer all things considered.”

She sighed and her mouth twitched at the third option which pricked at her professional pride.

“Or we head back to the city and you join up with one of the presumably safer merchant trains heading to Avantshire and send me on my way.”

[Derren Krenshaw]

So far as she let on, Katherine didn't have anything more to offer than Alexi in terms of what was going on.

But that was... okay.

Her hand on his shoulder, the gentle pats that he might have considered patronizing some point in the past, were comforting instead. Her rather candid speech and stream of crude language was refreshing... almost humorous. For her frustration to set his ears to burning, he really had been cloistered away for far too long.

That thought helped calm him once more, allowed the scribe to listen to Katherine's words and think them over. They might not make it to Avantshire by his deadline, no matter what they did? Arriving late would injure his professional reputation, probably sacrifice the payment he had been offered, and undo a lot of hard work spent over the past few years. It'd make his dreams of travel that much harder to accomplish as well... but it was better than not succeeding at all. The consequences of that were... harsher.

The consequences of death were harsher still, and while Alexi did have something to fall back on if things really fell through... he... he didn't want to give up.

Selfish, maybe, but noticing the subtle twitch of Katherine's lip as she finished her options helped him notice something of his own. He had set out for a reason, more than simply completing this commission. Even though it was seeming harder and harder to accomplish, he wanted to keep travelling. How long had it been since he had been able to want something -just for himself- and been able to follow that desire?

"I... could be a little late." He spoke finally, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand and hoping the flame in his ears wasn't as visible as it felt. "Complications can be understood, they'll be consequences, but small ones. It's certainly better than failing the commission... or dying."

He didn't manage a chuckle to accompany those words, bravado seemed a bit out of his reach, it seemed.

"But I'd... I'd rather not turn back. We made a contract, and you certainly haven't failed it in any way. If you can lead us through the trails and paths of these woods, let's try that. 'Safer' is sounding better and better by the moment."

He didn't manage a chuckle to accompany that either. It seemed 'quips' needed to sound less like heartfelt confessions before they became amusing.

[Lillian Thorne]

Ok, alright. He wasn’t firing her. That was something and he was being reasonable about getting them moving. She would take it. The stood for a moment and considered the Road to Avantshire and its more than likely dangers. They’d been out of the city for just a few hours and they’d been ambushed. The paths really were their best option. The King’s road, likely fraught with dangers was mostly straight, but not exactly straight. It took a turn or two to swing by small villages that dotted the woods. That meant in theory, if they navigated the paths with care and pushed themselves they might not be all that much later. Might. Lots of ifs and unknowns. She didn’t know the condition of the paths, she didn’t know her employer’s endurance or tolerance for discomfort. Did his need outweigh that?

Well she was willing to give it a go.

The clapped him once on the shoulder and nodded, a grim smile on her face.

“I swear to you,” she said on impulse, “That I will do everything in my power to get you there on time, detour or not.”

So saying she made a quick circuit around both horses, checking their tack, their hooves and their state of being. Satisfied there was nothing to be adjusted or watched she nodded and climbed onto Honey. She looked back at her employer and took in his state. He looked flustered but grimly determined. She could work with that. So far he’d proven to be a good more durable and flexible than she would have given him credit for. She’d had a few clients now and again whom she’d had to endure histrionics and vapors when things went awry, or just because. She winced at the nightmare those trips had been. It was no wonder she preferred mercenary work as part of a group, there was some relief to be a face in a crowd not to mention there was something to losing oneself to battle en masse rather than knife fights in the dark.

She was rambling and what’s more she was wasting daylight. She waited for him to settle himself and then with an eye to reach Avantshire in as little time as possible given their route, she turned Honey towards the most likely of routes and plunged in trusting he would follow.

[Derren Krenshaw]

No words made it out to accompany Alexi's nod as Katherine spoke, but he hoped the appreciation was visible. It was certainly genuine.

The time she took to check over their horses, he took to return his quill and ink securely to their bags, and focus once more on making the journey. They wouldn't be able to travel very quickly on the paths, would they? The main roads were intended for horses and caravans, and couriers often tore down their lengths at frightening speeds when the need arose. The conditions were often... questionable, enough that the tree before them could be mistaken as stormfall. But well-kept or not, these were roads. Intended for swift, sure travel.

The paths and trails that wound about them through the woods, however?

Seven years was a long time, Alexi remembered little from his frenzied wanderings that led him to Avantshire then. Roads, trails, root-knotted ground, he had stumbled over it all, and it had all seemed equally taxing. A poor experience to help him now, indeed, he would never have considered the option had Katherine not brought it up. She, at least, would have some experience in making her way without roads. If their conversation before had reinforced anything, it was that a mercenary knew far more than simply warfare. With a guide, things shouldn't be so bad.

But it would still be slow, wouldn't it?

Urging his horse to follow Katherine's as she at last took off into the woods, slow indeed seemed to be the only pace. The trails she aimed for seemed traveled enough, but rain created small gullies and pools that could prove treacherous to the reckless. Roots cautiously edged in from the great trees around, vines and brush looking to take purchase whenever the tramp of feet or hoof was not around to drive them away. Trails like these were created and lost all the time, weren't they? Starting as mere animal paths, followed by people, then forgotten or neglected for too long, until a new way had to be found.

This trail, at least, seemed well-used enough. The thought wasn't as comforting to Alexi as he might have hoped, given everything that had happened... But it was for the best, wasn't it? He had already claimed being late wouldn't be too bad, but it was always 'how late' that became the question. The closer to the deadline the better, something Katherine seemed to understand completely.

It truly had been a fortunate meeting, hadn't it? Someone else might have done the same, known the same, and a mercenary group might have been able to offer more protection, but those were all unknowns. Katherine, so far, had proven knowledgeable, capable on her own, and understanding. There really wasn't anything more he could ask in an escort.

So he followed her carefully, eyes glued to the packed earth below, ensuring his horse's steps were sure, and as swift as they could be.

[Lillian Thorne]

His friend had done him a good turn with the horse. A very good turn indeed. She rode well, seemed even tempered and didn’t bat an eye at the change of terrain. Honey flattened his ears and let her know in a change of pace and the jarring nature of his steps that he was not pleased. She understood and if she could have told him she was no more pleased than he, she would have.

Trails were a poor substitute for the King’s road, even one as indifferently maintained at the King’s road. But there was no helping for it. The one thing that could be said about the trails was that they made sense in a way that the road did not. Animals walked the easiest route, the safest when possible and so while the trails were not straight point-A-to-point-B affairs they moved with the landscape rather than fighting against it.

After indulging himself in a huff for a while, Honey gave it up, finding it was too much trouble to show his displeasure to his rider who was very good at playing indifferent. Katherine was sure she’d feel his displeasure in her bottom that evening despite her years of riding, but it was worth it to have outlasted the overgrown mule. She focused on the trail, noting forks and choosing to the best of her ability which path to take. Her mind was as much on speed as on safety and she chose accordingly. She did not let them stop for lunch simply calling back to her charge to eat from his saddlebags. They had to shave time off every chance they got. She knew he’d pay for it but figured he’d let her know when the cost was too high, he’d seemed sensible enough. She had salve in her bag for the saddle-sores he was no doubt going to get and that would have to be enough.

At one point, just as the afternoon light was slanting low, glinting in beneath the canopy to occasionally dazzle horse and rider, she stopped twisted in her saddle to look at Alexi. The twist was partially to see him and partially to stretch and shift the pressure of sitting, she could only imagine how stiff he must be.

“Do you want to go on? We have light left but if you are done you need to say as much. We won’t get far if you are crippled.”

[Derren Krenshaw]

Alexi didn't want to complain. Katherine had done so much to help already, and was guiding them through the trails far better than he ever could. It would be the height of indecency to return all she had done -and indeed, continued to do- with anything other than gratitude.

Yet all this travelling was getting... painful.

He had never realized how uncomfortable riding a horse could be. The rhythmic, once-soothing and jostle of each step became painful, to the point where he dreaded each coming clop and stomp. The sight of a hole, hill or anything other than clear ground brought a cringe to his features. And perhaps it was the adrenaline from before draining away, but he seemed far more tired than he had any right to be.

Though, he was a scribe, used to sitting crouched over a table. A job where endurance was measured by how late one could keep writing, not how far one could travel through the wilderness. Perhaps it was understandable that he was feeling the pain of travel...

That didn't really help what remained of his pride, however.

"It... might be best to have some light when we make camp." He offered something of a pained smile as she looked back. His gaze drifted skywards, staring out at the glimmering lights that made it through the forest canopy. The motion brought a sharp spike of soreness up his back, driving home just how out of his element he truly was. "We'll need to press harder tomorrow no matter what, correct? An early rest might help more than it would hurt."

Selfishness stood over reason in that decision, but wasn't absent entirely. No matter what, he'd likely be sore tomorrow. But sore was different from crippled, and they wouldn't get very far at all if he couldn't ride. There was a chance he could finish his translation entirely this evening, as well, which would be one worry scratched off the ever-growing list.

"Though if we need to go a little further to find a proper place to spend the night... you are the authority there." Alexi took stock of the area, what he saw doing little to help. Trees and brush, land sloping upwards or downwards, it was all just... forest. A clear area was needed, right? Someplace they could make a fire, maybe? The more shelter -the more comfort- the better to his sheltered sensibilities, but such a spot might not exist here.

"Find a good spot and stop there, would that work?" Alexi twisted on his saddle as he spoke, eyes suddenly going wide as a series of sharp cracks sounded off down his spine. "Oh... oh I think I needed that..."

[Lillian Thorne]

She heard the pop and crack of his spine, even over the ambient noise of the forest. She winced in sympathy and reflected that if she were to make such a motion, her spine would make a noise not all that dissimilar. She was out of practice at this as well, though it would hardly inspire confidence if she were to admit as much. So she simply nodded at his request. It was the most sensible course of action and the one she’d prefer. That he’d come to it of his own volition would make it easier to accept and made him rise in her esteem.

So she began to look with a more critical eye for a place to stop for the night. Rains were not unseasonal and the few bits of sky she could see through the considerable canopy said rain was a decided possibility. It made for lovely swaths of color across the sky, but that was a fleeting pleasure that would have no weight if they were soaked through and she had to worry about her employer’s health as well as his safety. He didn’t look overly frail, but he was pale and he was under enough strain that the imps and deamons that brought disease were likely to find an easy target in him if he were further weakened by rain and cold.

They traveled for maybe another half hour before she heard the soft tinkling sound of a brook weaving through the woods not far from the path they were on. She aimed them towards it under hunch and found her a small clearing with enough low hanging, thick branches to make further shelter if it did start to rain. A bend of that singing stream tickled the edge of the clearing and the leaf-litter at the base of the trees told her that deer frequently sheltered there, which gave her a good sense of the safety and shelter to be found there.

She slid off of Honey’s back with a barely suppressed groan and nodded in satisfaction.

“This will do.” She said and dropped the reins and performed her own little twist of spine that rose up pops and crackles of her own, though she was pleased to note they were not as loud as his.

“You wash up and I’ll set up camp. I have some salve for you to put on your thighs and bottom while I cook dinner. I’ll leave it in your tent and then after dinner you are going to let me work on your back. It will make things easier for you tomorrow.”

She didn’t make it seem like a request, it was important he let her see to him, but she didn’t give the words a bark of command. He was her employer, not the other way around and she didn’t want to prick his sense of authority for all that he would be a fool not to accept the expertise he’d paid for.

[Derren Krenshaw]

"O- All right then," Alexi paused at the stream of orders Katherine rattled his way, but composed himself quickly. He had put the task of finding camp in her hands, no reason to balk as she lived up to the request. Slowly, stiffly, he dismounted his own horse, leading it to a nearby tree that seemed fitting. The knot he tied to secure the leash seemed sturdy enough, and there was grass a plenty for the horse to graze upon.

All told, this was a perfect place to camp, wasn't it?

Alexi's measure of Katherine's abilities continued to climb steadily upwards. She did carry some prestigious chits on hand, didn't she? Someone with such knowledge as she seemed to hold, with a strong reputation, she could afford better jobs, couldn't she? Not that he wasn't paying well, but escorting a freelance scribe loosely tied to the church was not the job most jumped at... as evidenced by the number of times he had been turned down before.

A question to ask later, perhaps? Their conversation earlier, before the ambush had spoiled things, had gone well enough. Maybe over dinner, or during their next day of travel. For now, though, she had mentioned bathing, and that was something he definitely, desperately needed.

He made his way to the trickling stream, a tender test with a hand sending a shiver up his arm at the temperature. Cold- well it wasn't deep enough to really sit in, anyways. Shrugging at the thought -an action he found himself regretting- he set about cleaning at least some of the day from his body.

It certainly wasn't something he was used to doing, though the simple actions of washing his hands, face and hair was easy enough. Finding a dry spot of bare rock to leave his shirt for the moment, Alexi attempted to clean his back and chest... and hoped Katherine was too busy setting camp to witness his actions. Less than clean, his attempts left him shivering as he finally stomped back over to his shirt, spotted from head-to-toe with water but not really 'cleaned'. How was he supposed to do that anyway? Without flopping about in the frigid water like some overlarge fish, how was he supposed to 'wash' anything? Just stand there and continue to splash water at himself like a fool? O- Or...

...Or... He could have dampened a cloth, used that. That would have worked quite well, wouldn't it? Yes, yes it would.

Pity he hadn't thought of that...

Having wasted enough time in the waning light, the defeated scribe chose to let Katherine have the chance to clean herself up before it became too dark to do so. He tossed his shirt back on, it's warmth helping somewhat in the wake of his- what was that?

Pausing as he turned to find Katherine, Alexi peered out towards the thickening woods on the other side of the river. It was certainly growing darker, as if night was growing out from under the thickest boughs of the forest before it took to the sky. And yet, amidst the deepening shadows, he could see... lights?

Small, green? Flickering like candleflames, how... odd? Certainly not something he would expect to see, what was it, that made lights like- huh?

Taking a step back towards the stream, Alexi found himself pausing as the dancing lights simply... vanished. Gone in a blink, nothing but darkness left behind for his eyes to search in vain. Odd, odd... was it a trick of the cold water? Maybe the setting sun reflecting off something? He made his way back to the clearing proper- resembling quite the camp now- the sight still refusing to leave his mind.

"If you wanted to wash up, the water's... cold." Another shiver made its way down his back as he found Katherine at work. The tents were already up and standing firm -he'd really taken a while, hadn't he? "I suppose I'll start putting on that salve an- yeah."

Another shrug -another mistake- and the water-dappled, chilled scribe made his way into his tent. He certainly remembered buying the thick, water-shedding cloth and stakes that had been so well set-up, and indeed there was salve waiting just inside.

"Well, let's do a better job this time..." Shedding his clothes within the shelter of his tent, Alexi set about to applying the salve on his travel-worn legs and backside. "And... maybe see if Katherine knows anything about dancing green lights."

[Lillian Thorne]

Setting up camp. That never really changed, did it? Different locations, weather, it never really changed the base actions. There was something very comforting in the routine of it. Her hands didn’t shake when she pounded the stakes into the ground and tied the canvas taut. But then, was that because of the routine or because of the several hearty swigs from her flask? Routine, she told herself. It was the routine and the ease with which she slipped back into the task.

She kept her awareness on their surroundings, grinning to herself when she heard the vigorous splashing coming from the stream. Just what was the scribe doing? Playing with the chipmunks? Trying to catch trout bare-handed? She made a note to throw a line in before she went to bed, fresh fish for breakfast was a luxury of the road she didn’t want to pass the chance up for. She looked over her shoulder, caught a glimpse of sun-starved flesh in the gloom and returned to the task at hand.

Grabbing some nearby kindling and larger branches she laid out a fire after having scratched out a wide circle in the ground. Deer had no need for a fire-pit and the lack of any evidence of one told her they were the first people to seek shelter there. This was comforting to her, she might get some decent rest this night if they were as tucked away as she thought. They had traveled hard this day and were not far from the city so their supplies were good which was a relief. While the fire crackled merrily and snapped and ate its own dinner she went fishing through their supplies. In short order she picked out a ring of smoked sausage and some carrots, onions and potatoes and with deft hands chopped, peeled, sliced and then dropped them all into the pan she’d found among their goods. They wouldn’t always be able to make a hot meal, she knew, so she planned on appreciating this one.

Her employer walked through the camp as she was just beginning to stir dinner and the scent was just rising. She nodded at his comment about the water being cold, her face a professional mask as her dancing eyes stayed fixed on the pan and their dinner. When he’d slipped into his tent she stood, stretched her own sore body and swung by her saddlebags to grab her wash kit. A hard bar of herbed soap and a dingy but clean cloth that had almost as many miles on the trail as she accompanied her to the edge of the stream. She stripped off her armor and shirt, standing in the growing dark with just her breast-band on. Her wound was healed enough for work, but she still needed to be careful with it. She bent and washed arms and face and then slowly, carefully washed the ruin of her stomach. The scars were extensive and horrific, a mix of battle wounds and flesh gone necrotic having been removed. She felt a little sick looking down at the ruin of her body and thought about how close she’d come, several times over from the wound. She swallowed hard as the memory of the scent of her dead friends pressed down on her, the feel of her hands having to claw and dig through the charnel pile. She stood up abruptly and stumbled back. Her heart racing, her hands trembling.

No, she was not going to lose it. Not now. She’d lived, she’d fought to live and she was going to keep at it.

With shaking breath she slipped her shirt back on and then her armor. She kept the buckles on the side loose too tired to make them tight but unable to lose the habit of wearing it when on duty. She hastened back to camp and stashed away soap and hung up cloth, each little task helping to slow her breathing and her racing heart.

“Sir,” she called as she stirred their dinner. “Food is just about ready.”

[Derren Krenshaw]

Alexi could proudly admit that he fared far better applying the salve than he had trying to bathe. He could admit that proudly, to himself, in the safety of his own tent, sure that Katherine was nowhere near to witness. It was okay to be proud like that. In was pride of vanity that led to destruction, the desire to flaunt that led one to be consumed by demons in the end. Quiet, self-congratulatory pride, in small doses, was a good thing. Also, the feat wasn't exactly one to flaunt...

Alexi opted to leave that part out of his prayers, as he took a moment after applying the salve to than God for the day. It had been rough, terrifying and taxing, but he and Katherine were alive. That was a blessing, and there was hope things would go smoothly from now on. Another reason to give thanks, he offered it freely.

It was just as he was finishing his prayer that Katherine's summons echoed in from outside, stirring the scribe to action once more. Offering a hasty shout of understanding, he set about fully clothing himself once more, wincing away from the patches of still-damp cloth as they brushed against his skin. Uncomfortable, though small discomforts were becoming the norm, it seemed. At least after they reached Avantshire he could rest at an Inn for a night or two, enjoy a bed, sturdy walls and a fireplace. Had it not even been a day since they left? He missed the city so much already... Oh! Right!

"Right there! Sorry- sorry..." Crawling out of his tent, Alexi was immediately reminded of his hunger- courtesy of his stomach. What did she have? Stew or... sausage? Did he smell sausage? Part of him wondered if Katherine's apparent friendship with the proprietor of the Locust had lent her similar skills with food. Though a lowly campfire in a forest clearing was far removed from any kind of 'kitchen'.

"Thank you, for the salve... and the food." He did manage to bring the salve with him on the first try, holding it out for her while his gaze fell over the food simmering away in it's pot. "Oh that looks excellent! Let me just get our- wait..."

Excitement faded in a moment, as a sudden thought struck Alexi. His mind raced, pulling inventory on what he had brought. Such a little thing, he hadn't thought of it before, but...

"Do we need plates? Or... ah... do we have plates?"

[Lillian Thorne]

Katherine offered him a wry look at his question but said nothing. He was still wet about the ears, literally. She felt the wryness take on a tinge of amusement as she reached behind her and pulled up two wooden bowls from the pack. They were crude and cheap and not particularly well designed but they would do. She used the tip of her eating knife to flick a generous pile of it into his bowl and then filled her bowl with a reasonable amount. He was too skinny and he’d fair better if he put on some weight.

She handed him the bowl and then stretched out her weary legs, picked up her own bowl and began to eat with the single-minded devotion of someone well used to the road and well interested in her meal. It was well earned to say the least. She wasn’t much of a hand at cooking, simple one-pot camp fare was the best she could do. But there was something about the open air and the beginnings of a journey. No matter how troubled its start eating on the road added a spice to food that was unparalleled. Perhaps a cruddy start only added to the taste, she mused as she munched contentedly.

Life was all about the little things after all, the taste of food on one’s tongue, the warmth of wine and fire, the touch of a lover, the company of friends. Her mood soured. Friends. Big Jim should be across the fire, tossing bits of too charred onions into the fire, missing them by “accident” and hitting her with them all while reminiscing about some job or other he’d performed for Lord Pantywaiste or Lady Bungplug, using crude nomenclature to keep with his promise of discretion for all that it was transparent. God she missed him, she missed them all.

She didn’t hide the flask she pulled out of her pouch and put to lip for a healthy swallow. What was more natural than taking a drink with dinner? She held the flask out to him, courteously, giving or keeping as was his inclination.

“When you finish up I’ll see to your back and legs, it should help though it won’t keep you from hurting tomorrow I’m sorry to say. It will just make it hurt less.”

She speared, chewed and swallowed a carrot before speaking again.

“You did well today, you covered more ground than I would have expected.” And he’d done it without fuss, she was honestly impressed but to say as much in so many words was a trifle condescending.

“If you can manage half as well tomorrow and the day after then we won’t be all that late.”

Provided she didn’t get them lost. But she wasn’t going to mention that little possibility.

[Derren Krenshaw]

"Right, thank you." Alexi accepted her offered bowl with a somewhat embarrassed nod, politely turning down her offered flask as he set about digging into the stew with gusto.

It was... decent. Not Locust quality -though he'd hardly expect that from anything cooked on the road- but certainly not 'bad'. Charles would probably refuse to eat it, and a younger Alexi might have agreed, but it seemed years of humble living really could change a man. He worked his way quickly through the bowl, it's contents slowly appeasing a hunger he had woefully underestimated until now. It added it's very own spice to the meal, and before long Alexi had shoved any judgments on the stew's taste far from his mind. It allowed him to relax a little... and then a little more, as he looked up to hear the works Katherine spoke next.

"Oh, well that's very good!"

Alexi's reply were completely genuine, a warm smile crossing his lips at the thought. Sure, she had tempered the statement, intentionally or no, 'as late' telling him there was a good chance they wouldn't be on time either way. But the fact that, despite their overlong break before entering the woods, despite the ambush they narrowly escaped, despite moving to untraveled footpaths? They had apparently made decent ground.

That was a good thing. That was a very good thing. And if anything it made the stew taste even better.

"With a meal like this to help me along, I should be fine for tomorrow." His smile widened along with the words, quietly hoping the words came across as well-meaning as he intended -unlike his poor jests earlier in the day. He turned back to his bowl quickly enough, though, it's contents swiftly draining as he devoted himself to proving those words true. No, not bad at all, certainly a meal he could be thankful for.

And on top of preparing this for both of them, Katherine had managed to set up the tents and make this little clearing seem... actually comfortable.

"And I'm starting to see what you were talking about earlier today..." He took another break to look back up, his hunger sated enough to slow his pace. It wouldn't do to end up throwing up his dinner because of carelessness... he had been careless enough for a while yet. "You certainly do seem at home on the road."

[Lillian Thorne]

She was a little skeptical of his assertion that he would be fine on the morrow, no matter how decently the stew had turned out. He was going to be stiff and sore, just how much pain remained to be seen and how much it would slow them down as also up in the air. He hadn’t complained much so far, but it was still the first day. Tomorrow was another matter. But there was little to be done but see. Well see what tomorrow brought after she’d rubbed him down. She was no mean hand at massage, not like Rick. That man had a set of hands that could set a camel’s back straight. He’d taught her some of his art, not enough in her opinion and she’d learn no more from him now. But she would put what she knew to use to ease her employer and speed their journey. It was a paltry tribute to the man, but it would have to do.

She looked up from scraping her bowl clean when the Alexi spoke to her speaking of her ease on the road. She nodded her thanks. She was a fair hand at the setting up of camp, but then she’d had to do it often enough. She used to grouse that it was because she was a woman and they were making her do it because she was supposed to be domestic. But in truth it had been because she was the youngest, the newest among them for a long time. Then Timmons had joined them and the baby-faced youth had proved to be a terrible hand at the camp tasks and she had taken back over the job just to avoid eating what he cooked. It was more than that, she knew. So much of what she did was bits and pieces learned at the knees of better men then she would ever be, even if she’d had the proper equipment to be a man.

“Thank you.” She said, strangely choked up by the compliment, a tightness that transmitted to her voice. Those men had touched her life in so many ways, changed the course of her life and now she would be forever without them. Friends and family of her choice, all gone.

“I had good teachers and plenty of motivation to learn.” She took another long swig from her flask and then stood, taking his empty plate from him.

“I’m going to see to your back now, your legs too if you’ll permit me. It will help with stiffness and soreness for tomorrow and it might grant us a few more miles.”

She hoped it did, though she wasn’t holding her breath. She feared he’d balk and try to be stoic on her if she said it was simply to ease his pain.