[IC] Cancel my appointments, I've been sold into slavery.

[WilsonTurner]

Aulfr settled back for his usual death-like sleep. It actually helped his chances of survival, because if an assassin slipped into his room, they'll actually hesitate when they see him lying so still, so polite-like, still dressed and sitting on top of the covers. It had helped him once before, when the sneakiest of Noxus tried to kill him- who was now dead, and where he got an excellent set of daggers from.

His eyes still closed, he asked, "Oh, you mean the stuff that's belonged to that Fourth Devil or somesuch? Yeah, it's locked up in one of my storage rooms. Real shiny stuff- might try practicing with that staff sometime. Only weapon I haven't trained with, I think. And yeah, that real pretty horse sure is a find- good thing I have it now, yeah? I might even show you to 'em, if you're good. Also, storyteller's a good cover if you want to keep your true identity hidden- who'd know that the person telling the story was the one making them?"

And with that, he left her to sleep in the growing darkness, nodding off somewhat quickly. Every now and then, one of the Noxan messenger owls would screech, as it was received by the owlkeeper.

In the middle of the night, when the nearly-full moon shone through the windows of Aulfr's room, he woke, slightly.

It wasn't from a sound, or a gut feeling- it was so that he could do what he did next. Letting his elbow rest against the blankets, he thwapped Rayt in the side, leaving his breathing nearly unchanged. He cracked open an eye, watching Rayt jump and scramble away in a half-awake mess, eventually getting to her feet. That eventually was, of course, not even a second, because that was who she was. He didn't move from his spot, and instead gave a little, moonlit half-smile. Adding it to the list of things that he knew about her- such as being so jumpy, so defensive, a tad more panicky and emotional than the usual trained defensive- he waved vaguely with that hand, and said softly, "Goodnight."

~-+-~

By the time his new assassin blinked awake, Aulfr was already shirtless- because he was changing shirts. At the sudden change of breath, Aulfr turned towards her, from where he'd been looking out his window, at one of the larger courtyards, where rows of Noxan berserkers were training.

He tossed aside the brown tunic he'd been wearing, in favor of a tunic cut the exact same, except with a dark blue, with gold stitching. Dragging it on, he asked, "So didja sleep well?"

[Fennec]

Aleksandra woke as Aulfr was pulling on his shirt. She took her time in actually getting up, stretching and running her fingers through the knots in her hair. She watched the tanned, muscular skin of Aulfr's back disappear beneath the preposterous blue tunic that made him look silly. He belonged in armor and leather, not court dress. She almost told him as much, but what would that really accomplish? Her feeling foolish, is what. So she vetoed that idea and sat up, giving one last cat-like stretch.

She turned and glared at Aulfr, his question more an insult to her than anything else. "I slept like a child, truly." She got on her hands and knees and leaned forward, purposely giving him a wonderful view down her low-cut tunic. She made her voice a bit lower, the Ardanian purr more pronounced. "And after you woke me and went back to sleep, it looked as if you were having the most wonderful dream, if the sizable bulge in your trousers was anything to go off of." She pulled away then, acting very suddenly innocent. With her back turned, she let herself grin.

She pulled the ribbon from her hair and stood up, winding it around her wrist. "What's the plan for today? Are you actually going to feed me, or do I have to repeat last night's debacle and steal some poor servant's meat pies?" She grabbed her other set of clothing and changed into it quickly. She never really felt safe changing in front of any man, but she knew that Aulfr would most likely make his intentions clear first if he meant to bed her. She pulled on the new tunic, this one a deep black, the ribbons tying the back closed silver. The trousers were almost the same shade as the ribbons, and the scarf-skirt was a gentle blue that made her eyes all the more intense.

She wondered exactly what would happen now that he knew she was the Fourth Devil. Death's Handmaid. He hadn't killed her in her sleep, so he obviously felt differently about her job than his father. There was a bounty of 1,000 coins on her head for anyone strong enough and clever enough to capture her alive. No one had ever seen her face, known exactly who she was, and lived to tell the tale. Would he return her mask? Her daggers? And what about Caego? No smart man would willingly give up a horse like that, even if it never let him ride it.

[WilsonTurner]

Aulfr froze, and watched the woman who probably didn't want certain things happening to her start teasing and tempting him. His face, as the rest of him, froze into a slight smile, the smile from her remark about how she slept. He stared at her- or, more accurately, where he probably shouldn't stare, if he was a polite gentleman- and slowly reached up with one hand, and scratched his forehead. He tilted his head to the side a little, looking a tad bit away, and closed his eyes as she retreated from her tempting pose.

As she turned away and started changing, he asked, "So, if you don't mind me asking, why were you staring, exactly? More specifically, why were you staring at my pants?" His smile suddenly turned a tad bit evil, before he forced a complete poker face, absolutely expressionless, except for mild, innocent curiosity.

"I mean, of all the people the Handmaid serves, it's Death of Aulfr Volsung. Or maybe I'm both? Hmm, that could be true. Has a nice ring to it, don'tcha think? Oberjarl Death? Naw, maybe I'll get it passed so the name "Volsung" is synonymous to our deity of death." You could hear the mocking in his voice, the laughter- but it wasn't entirely mean, or ill-meant. It was more banter, for him. Someone that could match him in a fight, and wasn't horribly scarred- the scars she had, in his opinion, made her more attractive.

But she wasn't that attractive at all, he knew. Yes, not at all.

He had to turn away before he stared again, and instead walked back to the window, peering out at the soldiers again, trying to distract himself from thoughts provoked by her actions. So, staring at the soldiers, he replied again, "I'll give you something. Maybe even something good, if you don't bite somebody."

[Fennec]

"It had better be something good, or how am I to sneak around and kill people for you with little to no energy?" She tugged on her trousers but left the back of her shirt hang halfway open. This one was even tighter on her frame than the other, so she couldn't slip it on over her head. It had to be tied, and she needed help with that. So she walked over to Aulfr and turned her back, motioning to the ribbons. "I can have a servant tie this better later. But right now I need you to do it."

She turned her head and gazed out the window, trying not to flinch away from his fingers as they brushed against her skin. No one ever touched her scars unless they were treating wounds near them. She didn't know if she liked the feeling or hated it. "So, I've been thinking. There are plenty of criminals down there, and you have a professional bounty hunter under your employ now. I need to do more than sniff out political intrigue. I was hoping you'd let me have my mask back so I could go out hunting in the city when you don't need me here." She stepped away the second he finished tying the ribbons and turned to face him. She had to look up to see his face.

"I can't grow rusty in here. I know I'm safer with this castle as a base, and I can't return home for another year anyways. And I'm not leaving without my horse," she added, frowning slightly. "There are probably street lords and drug cartels that you want destroyed. Well, I can rid you of them. Or at least scare them into pissing off. Besides, what do you think will happen when they start to realize that Death's Handmaid is working for the crown? For you? They'll be pissing themselves."

[WilsonTurner]

He snorted, and replied in an unusually not-assholish way, "You'll be fed, decently. I'll see to it." Turning from his view, he sort-of swapped placed with his assassin, and hesitated to reach forward to tie her... thingy, corset. But, he was not an apathetic man- as he tied the corset of sorts, he intentionally paused, and traced a finger along a scar that he thought was particularly interesting- the scar of a whip, of a knife, of a... wolf?

Either way, he found them fascinating. He's relatively unscarred, having been armored and surrounded by soldiers all his life, or being good enough to not get them. But she had, very obviously, experienced a great deal of pain to get where she is now. And he had no doubt that he was going to be adding to it, as he already was.

So he finished tying it up, making sure they were good and strong. He went back and undid his first one, making it sit better, before saying, "There. Tied up, and done well. Other royalty may be pompous and arrogant, but they're arrogant because of power. Here, you have to be able to do something, not show off."

He walked to his wardrobe, sobered at the sudden liking he had noticed he had taken. She was a fighter, as was he. Not as political or ambitious- no, maybe she was just as ambitious, just towards different goals.

He threw on a ceremonial sort-of coat, an attempt to mimic the great Royal Ardany fur coats that wear to display their wealth and status. This one was naught but silk, though- more expensive, much, much harder to get, in a world where silk was rare-rare. An even larger display of wealth, but in a castle such as theirs, out of place. Either way, it was a brighter blue, with gold and purple stitching- the purple another display of wealth, since purple dye was even rarer.

He wrapped around the last bit, a set of half-pants that go over one's pants, and added in several daggers, his belt, and his mastercrafted sword.

And then he turned towards her, silk over cloth, sitting on brown leather pants with blue cloth chaps resting over it. "How ridiculous do I look, madame Rayt?"

[Fennec]

Aleksandra rolled her shoulders and forced her muscles to relax, still feeling shivery from his touch. She stretched and bent and moved her arms, satisfied that she'd be able to move around properly in her clothes, then turned to watch the prince turn himself into a fool. She couldn't help herself. She started laughing, a surprisingly high, feminine laugh that sounded like a joyful little bird. "You look like one of the court jesters in Upper Genta. All those garish colors. All you need is one of those moronic hats with the little bells," she giggled, making long, curved lines over her head with her fingers to make the shape of the hat.

Her cheeks and belly were sore as her laughter died down into the occasional snort. Every time she looked at him, she couldn't help but laugh. He looked mad, honestly, and if everyone at the feast looked like that, she would die by asphyxiation from laughing so much. Not to mention how horribly out of place she would look, small as she was and dressed as if mourning someone's death. Though she guessed that was Aulfr's intention. Let everyone know she wasn't just a slave. She was a weapon.

She walked over and started straightening his clothes, retying anything loose or messy, making him look as decent as he could while dressed so foolishly. She was his servant, after all. She couldn't let him walk into that carnival looking a mess, could she? "If all your feasts look as festive as you, remind me never to attend another. This should be the first thing to go when you're Oberjarl. I want to burn this coat personally."

She stepped back, looked him over, then got close again. She grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down until they were face-to-face, and she put her hands in his hair. She paused for a moment, surprised. It was softer than she'd expected. She pushed that thought aside and combed the tangles from his hair, then arranged it into some semblance of order. When she was done, she took a step away and said, "There. Prince of Fools. Is it time for us to leave yet?"

[WilsonTurner]

He rolled his eyes at her straightening his clothes. And at her laughing. It made him feel... profoundly uncomfortable, at first, until he slowly got used to the sound. And his discomfort eased away as he slowly got used to it- then it ended. His infinite black mood- the one that's been lifting since he sparred with her- seemed to have temporarily disappeared.

And then she just reached up, and pulled him down, uncomfortably close to her face. And he really wanted to do something because she wasn't exactly repulsive. But no; she was just combing his hair. And nobody had done that since his mother had... done whatever she had done. He still didn't know if she was dead or alive. If she was simply gone, exiled, or dead.

And no one had run their fingers through his hair like Rayt did- she was trying to get the knots out, sure, but she didn't have to. Most servants would avoid being in the same room as him, and he had bought her, taken her right out of slavers' hands and put her under his control, under his command.

So he just stared at her, feeling vulnerable.

And then he was standing straight and tall again. He looked down at her, straightened his 'coat' as if it wasn't already straightened, and said, "Maybe I'll just sell the entire outfits to Ardany- use the gold to make more swords. Expensive stuff, you know. I'll probably allow people to wear leather armor stained the color of their jarldom, to make things simple. Anyhow, we won't have to leave for another few hours- it's at noon till nightfall, not in the morn. Too early for that."

[Fennec]

"Trust me, none of the Ardanian royalty would wear that," she tutted, eyeing him up and down. After a few moments, she moved to the plush chair where she'd done all of her sewing the day before and sat down, picking up a few scraps of black fabric along with her needle and thread. She was working on some finger-less gloves, something to protect her hands and help her climb. She had a very nice leather pair wherever Aulfr was keeping her things, but she'd have to make do until he gave it all back to her.

"You never answered my question, by the way. I asked if I could be allowed to go out hunting. For the most part, I'd only hunt targets you chose for me. And I'd leave some sort of mark, symbol, or something else so anyone who finds the body knows it was your doing. Maybe a card with the Volsung crest on it, surrounded by wolves. I don't know how, but somewhere along the way I became associated with wolves. So I figured I might as well pick up the mask while I was in Xiang-Bao." And what a mask it was. Made of a lightweight metal, almost a helmet, and nicked and cracked and scarred from her many battles. It made the snarling wolf face even more fierce than when it was new. There was even dried blood on it, a nice touch she liked to keep to scare her enemies a little.

"Not to mention to benefits of letting me go out into the city or surrounding villages to find out what your nobility has been doing while not in court. And I need to get my slave mark tattooed over." She brought her foot up to her knee and frowned at the crudely inked words there. "I already know I'm guaranteed a royal pardon should I stay, and this castle is a safe place to come back to when I'm not hunting, so I'm not giving that up. I won't be running away once I'm no longer marked." She ran her fingers over the stinging mark, glancing up at the prince. "So? Will you let me hunt?"

[WilsonTurner]

He eyed her for a bit, before nodding. "Aye, you can hunt. On the condition that you alternate nights- half the time you're here, half the time you're out hunting. And you mark your targets, first. Gather information, their names, what they're doing, their closest associates, what they deal with. Then bring them back to me, so I can verify them. Some of them need to stay in place- sometimes they are my contacts, sometimes if they are taken out, a power vacuum is made and the entire area comes out worse for wear because of it. So keep that in mind, will you?"

He eyed her, before shrugging. "I will not stop you if you use your new mark- I would encourage it, even. But come on, then. Let's get you your stuff back." He waved vaguely, walked over to his door, and slid the key into his lock. Turning and reversing it, he pulled the key back out, slipped it back in the hidden fold that seems to be present in all his clothes, and opened the door.

Leaving it open, he strides out, expecting his assassin to follow along like the nice little servant she is.

He strode down the hallway, ignoring the looks from guard and servant alike. None of them were surprised at his outfit, and none of them laughed- dire consequences to those who did. By this point, his expression had turned back into the hard, infinitely irritated expression he normally wore, as he marched down to the second floor.

Throwing open a room, after unlocking it with a second, also hidden key, he strode in, and glanced around. There were piles of things here- statues, chandeliers, swords, crossbows, flags, armor, everything. Chests sat here and there, some stacked on top of one another. Every now and then, one would be thrown open, revealing gold, silver, and copper coins, jewelry, even diamonds and rubies, among other gems.

But it was all covered in dust, more or less. And he ignored all of it- he strode straight across the room to the only chest that didn't have any dust on it, and threw it open. The room was dark, but there was light enough from the hallway torches to see the Death's Handmaid's mask and weapons stored inside.

[Fennec]

Aleksandra's heart leaped and she followed him, ignoring the stares and whispers as the servants and guards saw her for the first time, as they caught glimpses of the scars on her back when the fabric of her shirt shifted. She could think only of her mask, the solid weight of her staff at her back, her daggers at her hips. Her hunting outfit, custom made for her and made for fighting in her style. Her cloak, the mottled grays and blacks that helped her blend into the shadows.

She was practically tumbling with excitement, bouncing on her toes with a wide-eyed expression as the prince brought her into the storage room and to the chest containing her only belongings. She was already on her knees, reaching for it as Aulfr threw it open. And there it all lay. Her mask, the fiercely snarling face of a wolf. Her daggers, etched with the pictures of bloody battles, and her staff, her height and capped at each end with metal to crack the skulls of her enemies. Her tunic and riding trousers, jet black with hard leather and lightweight metal panels to turn an arrow or a light sword blow. Her knee-height hide boots. Her coin purse was gone, as was the signet ring of House Belikov. The slavers had probably taken both, which she was glad for. Aulfr knew enough about her already.

She was tearing off her new clothes, turning her back for privacy as she pulled on her familiar uniform. Her cloak still smelled like the sea air and her horse, and she breathed in the scents with a contented sigh. It took her a few minutes to settle into everything and attach her weapons. Finally, she tied her mask to her belt and turned to face Aulfr, giving a wolfish grin. The clothing fit her like a second skin, clinging to every curve. She stood at her full height as proudly as she could, finally comfortable with herself. She looked taller than her height of five and two, mostly because of the overwhelming sense of self-assurance she radiated.

She grabbed Aulfr's large hand in her two small ones, beaming. "Thank you, Aulfr. Saints, I never thought I'd be able to wear these again. I promise I won't disappoint you." She let go and moved back to the chest to retrieve her boots, which she tugged on. "Just wait until your court sees this. Not only will I be laughing at all the foolish clothing, I'll be laughing at the looks on their faces. Oh, I might just die tonight," she chuckled.

[WilsonTurner]

He watched, not entirely displeased with the view, as she tore off her clothes in favor of more form-fitting ones. But he said nothing, and he didn't attempt to keep the images in mind; instead, he smirked at her overjoyed demeanor at having her things back. But, just for good measure, he'd have to bring her down a tad bit.

"No mask or weapons during feasts. I can carry them for you, but even arming a servant would be too much. When I'm Oberjarl, we can make some changes to that, but for now, I'll have to carry them. Oh boohoo, don't pout. Your staff will have to wait in my room; it's too large and people will protest my carrying of too many weapons. I'm not Oberjarl yet. You can carry them to my room, though."

He jerked his head at the door, and waited for her to walk past him, after she picked up her discarded clothes. Shutting the chest, he followed and locked up as they left.

Returning to his room, they received a great deal more stares than before. It was unusual for the inferiors to stare so much, but the new petite slave, brought to the Volsung's room, was not expected to be in one piece- especially not the confident and curvy self she was, proud in her Death's Handmaid.

And, even more surprising, following along in Aulfr's confident steps.

He opened the door for her, unusually gentleman-like, and they entered the room, Aulfr following Rayt in.

And the moment he locked his door, he whipped out his sword and slashed at her, blue blade ringing almost happily at being used, testing her instincts again.

[Fennec]

"You know I don't need weapons to be deadly, so it's not that great a loss." Aleksandra straightened her clothes and brushed her hair from her eyes, following the prince with barely a glance at the amazed onlookers. Okay, that wasn't entirely true. She was looking quite a bit. She smirked at a hungry-eyed guard and winked at him, causing him to blush. The servants were not as charmed by her. Most cowered away, conditioned by a lifetime of similarly dressed guards and soldiers beating them around for looking at them the wrong way. She'd fix that eventually.

She realized that she was thinking in permanence. She'd fix the way the servants reacted to her, and to Aulfr. She'd decided to make Aulfr's castle a base while in Noxus, maybe even in the years to come if he would have her. Aulfr could be a good friend, she knew. And a good employer. She'd always enjoyed Noxus, it's culture and landscape. The people were less tolerant of women doing things traditionally meant for men, but she knew how to talk her way around just about anything. Besides, she kind of enjoyed Aulfr's company. He was a warrior, and he didn't expect her to be more than what she was.

She had already loosened her mask from her belt by the time she stepped into Aulfr's room. She tossed it on the bed and unclasped her cloak, tossing it to the side as the prince locked the door and unsheathed his sword, quick as a viper. The metal of her daggers sang just as merrily as they were freed from their places at her hips. She crouched and gave a feral grin, more a bearing of the teeth than a smile, and beckoned him closer.

It was the hardest battle she'd ever fought.

[WilsonTurner]

Oh, they battled for hours, it seemed like, constantly going back and forth, as evenly matched as two fighters could be- she was faster and lighter, but didn't have the range or enough speed to get to him without getting sliced herself. Neither had the advantage, not really- they were an even match, this time, now that neither of them were underarmored or overarmored.

Their battle was over in just over an hour and a half, when he heard a steward knocking on the door, calling, "Suh Aulfr Volsung! Your fathah requests your presence in the dining hall for a feast to celebrate the Full Moon!" Aulfr, naturally, jumped into a sudden slip in Rayt's defenses, shoved her away, and then sheathed his sword, stepping back, all smooth and practically in one motion. He quickly walked towards the door, unlocked it, and opened to admit the steward, dressed similar as he. They stared at each other, and the steward sighed- "If only the Oberjarl had fashion sense."

It was a clear sign of rebellion- had Aulfr been loyal to his father, the steward would probably already be dead. But because he wasn't, he agreed amiably, "Indeed, if only. Good thing I'll be able to change that soon, isn't it?" The steward looked up, sharply, and nodded. Task finished, he turned and walked back down the hall, knowing that he had just switched sides, and that his charge knew the way.

So he waved at Rayt to follow, reminded her not to bring her mask and such, and continued on.

~-+-~

It had not been a 'good' feast, compared to others. Half of the usual jarls were absent, away with their treasures, reorganizing and preparing ships for the oncoming winter. As people who had a tendency to raid Ardany, "Those Xhangs," pirates, and other merchant vessels whenever they could, they needed transportation- thus, ships were very important.

The next feast would be better, with better food, most people, and a happier atmosphere. This one was somber and relatively quiet- No business to discuss, no disputes to be settled.

Until, finally, near the end of the meal, a Jarl stood, a great big burly guy, known for being somewhat reserved, but always loud in opinion. He was even more ridiculous than Aulfr, as a devout supporter of Oberjarl Bjorn, even going so far as to wear the jester's hat, claiming it to 'be as sign of wealth and power in Benti.'

Nonsense, of course, but the first thing he did when he spoke, finally, was demand to Aulfr, "And why did you bring Ardanic scrum into our hall, Volsung?! Why is she so... confident. Servants should be beaten down, not encouraged!"

Aulfr gazed at the standing Jarl, who was, in his own right, an impressive fighter. But he was all brute, all brawn, and little brain- though he was clever at cracking open vaults. Either way, he had just challenged Aulfr's power, and Rayt's presence. So, standing, he replied evenly from the Oberjarl's side, "As the Oberjarl's heir and son, I decided to purchase a slave, who also happened to be the prestigious Death's Maid, or more commonly, the Fourth Devil. Having tested her skills for myself, I am confident that she'll make an excellent guard for the Volsung family, and as an excellent... servant, to me."

But the man wasn't done- "And how do we know she is any good? How do we know you are any good? We haven't seen you swing a sword in weeks! Are you ill, Volsung?"

Aulfr gazed down on him with an iron stare, before waving Rayt forward. "And so my rough-cut gem, born among the mud and squalor of this world, will prove that she can shine. Please, face her, and if you can beat her, then I will allow you to face me."

The man stared back, unreasonably angry. It was obvious, of course- Oberjarl Bjorn had probably taken him aside, and threatened house and holm if the man didn't bring down his son's move.

Aulfr smiled, and leaned back to watch Rayt deal with the Jarl in the square inside the four tables that they sat at- the Oberjarl, his heir, and company at the head table, the middle-class of politicians sitting on the tables to the direct left and right, and the lower class or the visitors on the table opposite. In the middle, a pit burned with fire- at the Oberjarl's beckoning, servants appeared, straining to carry sectional grates, which they laid over the fire pit to allow for a flat area to fight at.

And so the other Jarl came forward, already pulling out a warhammer from his belt- against the unarmed Rayt.

[Fennec]

(Banti. And it's spelled Xiang. Xiang-Bao. Unless the Noxans are just being jerks on purpose. xD)

Aleksandra stood behind Aulfr's chair during the feast, drawing just about all the eyes in the room to her. It was only a matter of time before someone made a fuss, and she had already figured out the prince's plan. She was to fight any and all of the Oberjarl's minions on behalf of Aulfr, as a way to show his power. He'd likely battle these minions himself if she failed, but the thought almost amused her. She wouldn't fail to these worms.

To keep up appearances, she'd worn her cloak and kept the hood up for most of the feast, hiding most of her face in shadow. As the first Jarl, a portly man with a war hammer and a silly hat, stood to make his case against her, she lowered her hood and unfastened her cloak, readying herself for a fight. She draped it over her arm and stood away from Aulfr's chair to assess her opponent. Older, possibly mid-forties. Hardened solider, but unused to small and fast opponents. Added to that were any old injuries that might slow him down, along with the lumbering slowness of his hammer. A weak opponent. No fight to be had. She figured she could make her moves look more impressive for the crowd, and for Aulfr.

She waited there with a bland look on her face as the man drew closer and closer, letting him get within ten feet of her. He began to swing his hammer, ready to crush her skull. She could see the triumph in his eyes. Triumph that quickly died as soon as he saw the feral grin on her face. She dropped her cloak and jumped as high as she could, using the head of his hammer as a step. She vaulted over his head, twisting in midair to land behind him, and swept out a low kick to bring him to his knees. She was behind him in an instant.

She slowly pulled the ridiculous hat from the man's bald head, tossed it aside, and leaned in. "I am Ardanian, fool," she whispered in his ear. Then, with two quick jabs to his throat, he was unconscious. He fell on his face with a thump as Aleksandra straightened and tucked her hair neatly behind her ears. The fight had lasted no more than a minute. The room was dead silent as she bowed to the prince and retrieved her cloak, tying it back on and drawing the hood over her head. She took her place behind his chair and went still.

[WilsonTurner]

Aulfr leaned back a bit, and watched the Oberjarl out of the corner of his eye. The man seemed interested, a little smug, a little pleased, as if expecting his brute to wipe the floor with his heir's new pet. And it gave Aulfr great pleasure to see that smirk wiped off his face as surely as his brute was wiped out. Aulfr waited for her to let the man fall to the floor, and he gave a few polite claps, chuckling at the nervous, antsy audience.

"Good show, Fourth Devil. It seems that her skills are as true as I said they were, no?" He smiled at the jarls and higher ranking soldiers, those renowned enough to be allowed in. He smiled even wider when several of them, whom he knew to be weak in their faith in the Oberjarl, nodded hesitantly. Beside him, the Bjorn's face was strained, trying to force a smile, clapping unevenly. He was a big man, but he was graying in the hair and slowing down in the limb- Aulfr wanted to challenge the man here and now, and be done with it.

But no. He had too many supporters, even he accepted that he couldn't beat half of them working together. And so he let the meal continue in strained silence, until eventually the Oberjarl thanked everyone for coming, and dismissed them.

Back in his room, he turned on Rayt after locking the doors, a great smile on his face. "Alright Rayt, I'll give you a target. Head on out tonight and get some reconnaissance on the man you beat senseless- magnificent job, by the way!" He punched the air, as if imagining beating the man up himself- even though he'd never use such a sloppy form in an actual fight.

"Hah! His reputation is ruined. Once I've got everything in place, and a list of all his contacts- your job- You can take the man down and his associated criminals, and then we can start setting up shop!"

He strode over to the window, and stared happily down at the courtyard, where archers were practicing. Then he glanced down at his outfit, and tore off all the garishly colorful stuff, leaving him in just his pants. He tossed the clothing aside, like he usually did with everything, and put his hands on his hips. Then he resumed staring down at the archers, content with his progress- for now.

[Fennec]

Aleksandra was just as giddy as Aulfr, and whipped off her cloak the moment the door closed behind them to reveal this grin on her face. "That was magnificent. Who ever knew that politics could be so fun when you strong-arm everyone?" She raked her hair from her face and sighed, moving to the bed and flopping down onto the sheets. "It has been a long day. I'll head out after you get me a proper meal. And I need to bathe. I feel itchy after all that fighting."

She sat up and removed her gloves and boots, giving a long, catlike stretch. "I'm going to need at least three days to complete the task you've given me. I can give messages to your contacts out in the city so you know I haven't run off, and so you can compile a list as I find out more. I'll kill him before I return. Should I make it especially gory, given that he challenged you publicly?"

She went about the now-familiar room and picked up all of her belongings, setting them neatly beside where she slept on the bed. Her staff was leaned against the wall, one of her daggers hung on the bedpost. The other went under her pillow for easy access. All of her clothes were laid out neatly, ready to be pulled on at a moments' notice. She barely had to put any thought into this routine, having done it thousands of times before sleeping, just in different beds.

"It would also be lovely if you would give me an allowance. I need to buy more clothes and equipment than what I have, and I can't always show up to events dressed like this. I need a dress or two, loathe as I am to admit it. And seeing as most women in this castle are twice my size, I won't be borrowing anything." She began to change into the clothes she'd made for herself, keeping her back turned to Aulfr as she did. "Also, have you considered what rumors your court might be spreading concerning our relationship? I do live in your quarters, and it's not as if I'm hideous," she said with a snort.

[WilsonTurner]

He eyed her, turning from his view. For a moment, a flicker of irritation came back into his gaze, before he nodded. He dug in his pocket- an actual pocket- and pulled out a token. Flicking it at her, he said, "That'll get you access to the armory. The blacksmith works there, so anything you get will be put on the royal coffers. Try not to get a masterwork- they're too expensive. Show that token to get whatever. Likewise, show it to my contacts. I'll let them know you're out there- just wait in one of the less reputable taverns, and they'll make contact."

Then he went back to his door, opened it after unlocking, and waved a passing servant over. "Full meal, here." The servant bowed, and scurried away. He watched her retreating figure, pondering for a moment about why they were born into such a life, and never, ever rebel. Never fought back. He didn't understand it.

He closed the door, leaving it unlocked, and turned back to his assassin. "Kill the Jarl quietly, if you can. As if he died in his sleep, with no cause, nothing. People will catch on when everyone that crosses me die in the middle of the sleep, exactly three days later, don'tcha think? And what about rumors? You mean the thing where I bought you as a slave, stripped everything off you and tossed you in my bed in nothing but a single piece of underwear? The weirdest thing right now is that you're confident and walking, not beaten and crawling." He walked over towards his wardrobe again, throwing on another brown shirt- he seemed to favor the dull and utilitarian.

[Fennec]

Aleksandra sat down in what she now thought of as her sewing chair and watched Aulfr go about his business. She pulled her legs to her chest as she went over the plan in her head, hardly noticing how much younger and sweeter the position made her look. She'd have to use pressure points to kill him if Aulfr didn't want any blood. Or maybe poison? She could buy something extremely potent with the money he was allowing her. She pulled the token he'd given her from her pocket and ran her thumb over the face, then rolled it over her knuckles and back again, a trick she'd learned while at sea.

"There will be rumors that I've seduced you. That I'm making a play for your throne, or even that I'm trying to become your queen. I'll be targeted mercilessly. By man and woman alike," she murmured, having seen the glances the court ladies gave Aulfr. Jealous women were as poisonous as vipers, and just as deadly when stirred into a frenzy. She wasn't looking forward to all the banter and snide remarks. She'd heard it all before when taking on similar clients. Little whore, slut, Ardanian bitch. Ugly, scarred gremlin. She much preferred to run people through, not listen to mean remarks from petty brats.

She glanced up at the servant from before entered and set a tray of food on the table before her. She slid from her chair and settled herself on the floor, beginning to scarf down the food like a beast. She wasn't much for table manners, and it would be only the second thing she had eaten since waking up. She didn't touch the wine, instead choosing the water. She never drank if she could help it, for a few reasons. She was too small for large quantities of alcohol, and she got drunk impossibly fast. She was also not the most reserved drunk. In fact, she was quite the opposite. She was the type of drunk who pulled off most of her clothes and cuddled the nearest warm body. Which is why she never drank.

She finished her meal in record time, sitting back with a satisfied sigh. "I don't think I'll ever grow tired of castle food. Much better than burned rabbit and questionable mushrooms." She pushed away her plate and stood up, pushing her hair from her eyes. "Now, is there anywhere I can bathe before leaving?"

[WilsonTurner]

Aulfr glanced at the Ardananian, sitting in her chair and watching him. He let out a small sigh- he was happy that things were finally underway, be he started to feel slightly uneasy around her. Uneasy? Or something else? ...Definitely uneasy. He waved her talk about the rumors away, saying, "And they will say what they will. It'll change nothing, besides making you into a more potent enemy."

He smiled at her, a suddenly thought appearing. "I'll even allow you to punch anyone who you think may be speaking against you, once. One hit, try not to kill them in the process." He paused, before tacking on, "When I'm Oberjarl."

He did fully turn to watch her eat, though. She ate like an animal- even he ate with more manners. The edges of his lips turned up at her demolishing a meal. Once it was apparent that she wasn't going to be taking any of the wine, he plucked it off the table and downed a third of it in a single swig. Letting the alcohol warm he, he went back to his position, watching the archers practice.

On her comment about rabbits and mushrooms, he replied, "I can make an excellent stew- and as for bathing..." He waved over to the opposite wall, where a door, painted and textured to resemble the wall, in an attempt to not even be there. "Right in through that door. Feel fortunate- from what I hear, we're the first major establishment in the world that has some semblance of running water. It rains often enough, and servants fill barrels up with water, which they attach to a pipe in the room above. Little stiff though."

He glanced at her, giving a proud glance- Ardany was more traditional, while Noxus was always being impromptu or unconventional. They were the most open to ideas, sometimes. Also the most closed, at other times.

[Fennec]

"It might be a good idea to keep a low flame going underneath the barrels to heat the water. Keep it warm," she suggested, heading for the discreet door. It had been a long while since she'd had a bath, or even used soap. She was looking forward to this immensely. She stepped inside and shut the door behind her, giddy to see the rounded bowl-like depression in the floor and the pipe above it, with water dripping from the place it was capped. Inside the castle, it would at least be lukewarm. She uncapped the pipe and let the stone tub fill while she undressed.

She took her time in the bath, making sure every inch of her was clean and fresh, especially her hair, which could almost hold a shape on it's own before being washed. She couldn't stand being so filthy on her travels, and had always put her coin to use by taking hot baths in every decent inn she occupied. And she always carried unscented soaps in her satchel in case she had to bathe in a river or lake. She didn't just hate filth, she loved bathing. Almost as much as she loved fighting.

Once she was finished, she pulled a little cork in the bottom of the tub that she supposed must lead to another barrel, this one for dirty water. How clever. Then she dried off with one of the thick, fluffy towels hanging up near the door and braided her hair before pulling on her clothes. She exited the room and started pulling on her gear. "I'll be gone no more than four days. I'm going to take one of the horses from the stable so I can move around the city easily. Don't worry, I won't take Caego," she sighed. "He'd stand out for miles." She tugged on her boots and cloak, then retrieved her mask from where it hung next to the bed.

"Try not to die while I'm gone. That would make for an awkward return, don't you think?" She gave a grin and tied on her mask. She howled softly, then stole out the window with a quiet laugh.