Closed Special Delivery, Part 1 (Shiress)

[Lucien Stalinsa]

12th of Winter, 514 AV Syliras Main Gate Noon A chilly, brisk wind whipped across Lucien’s face, announcing the approach of winter to the young knight. His cloak was pulled tightly around him, matching the looks of many around. The bitter cold was encroaching on what had been a pleasant season. Men and women alike had worked diligently to finish the reconstruction of the city’s main gate. Destroyed in an act of terror, the knights, many of the Trema family, worked tirelessly to rebuilt a better, and stronger gate. It seemed to finally be complete, but for now an extra contingent of guards watched those coming and going with extra scrutiny. Lucien was not sitting atop a a wagon outside of Syliras to watch the gate construction. He was fulfilling his duty as a knight of the order – even if his task was quite underwhelming. He was escorting supplies from Syliras to the Mithryn Outpost. It was him, another knight, a wagon and its mule, and a third, if not yet present human as their final member. They were to be a worker from the Rearing Stallion – much of the supply was alcohol. Everyone appreciated a good drink, Lucien among them, but the swell from the Stallion wasn’t that which he favored. He kept a supply of higher quality drink in his room, but it rapidly drained his coffers to enjoy the finer things in life. The trio were to make the half day trip to Mithryn, deliver the supplies, and return the following day. This close to the city the prospect of drama was unlikely, but the previous season's attack lent some doubt to that belief. The City of Peace was less so, if only for a brief time. Lucien absentmindedly ran his fingers along the hilt of the worn katana which rest at his side on the driver;s bench. The weapon was beat up, far beyond the respect such an elegant weapon deserved, but he could not afford to have his own crafted. The long, curved weapon was still sharp enough to spill blood, but it had seen more than its share of clashes. A hand-me-down which was not cared for in the way it should have been. "Lucien," the other knight said. "You ready? We'll be departing soon." The blonde knight gave a nod to his compatriot. "Yes," he replied. "I wonder, though, if our guest shall soon arrive. Is it usual that we are accompanied by civilians?" He'd done nothing but city patrols since returning from his knighting quest earlier that year. He still had much to learn. "In cases of business, yes. With Winter upon us, the people of Mithryn are stocking up in case we are hit as hard this year as last." "It is sensible, yes." He gave a backwards glance to his own equipment, courtesy of the knights. A small tent and bedroll for an emergency stay, a winter blanket, and his own personal rations. Beyond that was the contents of his backpack and his armaments. He didn't expect to need anything, save for the food, but Ser Tristan Nigriso had impressed upon him the importance of preparedness. "I do hope our final member presents themselves. I'm eager to depart." "Patience, Lucien. There will be plenty of time to watch you struggle to drive this wagon. What's the rush?" A slight blush crept upon his cheeks. "I do not rush! And I won't struggle. I believe I'm more than capable of driving this wagon." On cue, the mule pulling the supplies gave a snort. "Have you ever before?" He hadn't. "It...It is of no consequence." The other knight simply smiled. "Please hurry up, stranger," he quietly lamented. He was eager to set out, even if it were an uneventful journey. Another breeze sent shivers through his spine.

[Shiress]

Shiress sat on the side of her bed, ankles apart, knees together, with her head resting mournfully against her thighs, her hands clasped over her long, chestnut hair. Behind her, sat her bag, pulled open and freshly packed for a road trip and a night stay that she was loathed to make. Her cat, Shadow, dozed contently beside her. Shiress, however, hadn't slept at all the night before, and once outside the city gates, probably wouldn't sleep again, until she made it safely back through those gates.

For her, it was much more than a simple errand for The Stallions owner. It was going outside the safety of the city that had her on edge. To date, nothing -absolutely nothing- remotely good had ever happened to her outside those beautifully rebuilt, and secure, precious gates. She would just assume stay put within them for the rest of her life. She would have, too, had Kevith not approached her on a bad day, when exhaustion and frustration had the better part of her senses. At the time, several days off seemed like a fair trade for a day trip to The Mithryn Outpost, but presently, for her, several days of double shifts..no..triple shifts, seemed better than leaving the fortified city.

But, determined to stay true to her word, and overcome a useless fear, the bartender slid the palms of her hands down her face, grossly distorting her features, and stood, with an ominous grunt. "It has to be well after noon, Shadow, I have to go." The cat gave no reply, but stretched and resettled into the blankets. "Yeah, I'll miss you too.." she sighed, giving the feline a scratch between the ears. "OK, I've put your food out and extra water, so you are taken care of. I have my bag, extra change of clothes, hair brush...Ah!" she smiled, pulling a jar from the mantel, "A little whiskey never hurt anyone on a road trip, right?" Giving the snoozing cat a sidelong glance, she slid the jar into her bag and closed it. "Right!"

Pulling her heavy cloak from the bedside, she wrapped it around her shoulders, slung her bag around to her back, and exited her apartment. Heart pounding as it was, she remained determined, nonetheless.

By the time she had reached the office of Travelers Row, Shiress was sweating and red faced. It could have been the cloak, two shirts, and the thick riding breeches, borrowed from Hadyn several season's earlier and never returned, that the girl was clad in, or the mere stress of the departure, itself, but, standing at the desk, she began tugging at her cloak. "No, no.." called a bent figure, shuffling up to the desk. "Keep covered. It's cold as death out of doors" Shiress arched a brow at the old Konti's words and smiled. "Will do, Matilda. Here's the key." sliding the key across the counter, the girl turned to leave. "Thanks again for looking in on Shadow. I'll see you tomorrow."

Shiress swept out through the doorway and onto the street, her hair stirring around her face and swaying back off her shoulders, as the cold air greeted her. Pulling up the hood of her cloak, she cinched the garment close, wrapped her arms tightly across her chest, and quickened her step. Thankfully, the walk to the gate was a short one and once within it's vicinity, Shiress glanced around for her would be chauffeurs. Two knights and a cart, was all that Kevith had informed her of and it didn't take long to spot them, seemingly as impatient as she was cold.

"Heading to the outpost?" she called, approaching the wagon, her stressed expression slightly turning worried. "I see you are aiming for the trip to go smoothly." she commented, nodding her head down in the direction of the blade on the seat. Returning her gaze to the blonde aboard the wagon, she rolled her eyes, with a dreadful, misty sigh "Lets get this over with, then. Where do I sit?"

[Lucien Stalinsa]

”It should only be a half day to make it to Mithryn. Have you ever been there before?” His fellow knight’s insistence on small talk was both admirable and annoying. It was as he stated – a journey lay before them. There would be ample time for chatter. “Surely you do not seek to exhaust our conversation before we have departed Syliras?” Lucien smiled, letting a soft chuckle come from his lips. “Indeed, I have been to the outpost. My former patron, Ser Tristan Nigriso was so kind as to bring me along on his duties a time or three. The people work hard, despite the lack of amenities.” The food the Mithryn provided was vital to the continued survival of Syliras. They deserved a little drink to wet their tongues. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll turn to Tyveth before long,” he replied with a wry smile. “All things do, my friend,” replied the blonde. The two sat mostly patient, Lucien atop the wagon, with the other knight atop a dun colored warhorse. Both men were clad in the armor of their order, Lucien in the lighter armor of the more mobile companies, and his brother in arms equipped with the well-known plate armor of the Syliran Knights. Blue eyes gazed off into the distance, following the road they would be taking to the outpost. Out of the gates, to the crossroads. At the crossroad they would go south until moving east on the trail leading to Mithryn. Lucien didn’t figure they would be any need for rest, save for perhaps a ten to fifteen chime stop for the mule. As far as he knew, their beast of burden would be able to handle a simple trek. A woman’s voice snapped the knight from his mental planning, bringing Lucien’s gaze down upon her. He had never seen her before, a not uncommon thing in a city of fifty thousand. The woman was attractive, but her language, both spoken and expressed, conveyed no such thing. Concerned words, a borderline annoyed tone, and a dramatic sigh were the foundation of Shiress’ first impression to Ser Stalinsa. It was not a favorable one. “I pray that I am not required to loose my blade, m’lady. Would you have me leave it behind? Even if it never moves from my side, it would be better to not need it than the converse arises and it is nowhere to be found, would you agree?” He motioned to the bench beside him. “My companion will ride along beside us. You will sit here.” He wasn’t asking. “I am Ser Lucien Stalinsa, Knight of Syliras. My fellow is Ser Rikard Druva.” He gave her a moment to introduce herself. Regardless of whether or not she did, he continued, nodding over his shoulder to the car behind them. “You may place your supplies back in the cart. Please do not tarry, we are slightly behind schedule and I hope to reach Mithryn before sundown. Tyveth be true, our journey will be without event.” A foreboding feeling crept into his chest. Yahal give me strength.

[Shiress]

Thin brows lowered over creased eyes, as Shiress surveyed the one speaking. He was young, handsome, and well spoken. His manner of speaking deceived his youthful appearance. Obviously, the young Knight was a native of the fortified city.

"I do agree" she replied, glancing over her shoulder to the mounted Knight, nodding and offering a polite smile, as the introduction was given. Freeing the worn and stained bag from her thin shoulders, the girl sat it gingerly where bidden, secured the hem of her cloak, and climbed into the wagon. "I apologize for being late" she offered, lowering herself down beside Lucien.

Settling herself, she pushed back the hood to free the long locks hidden beneath, then gazed sidelong at her companion, a soft smile lifting the corners of her lips, her tone softening as she spoke "My name is Shiress" she extended a slightly trembling, gloved hand toward the Knight. "Pleasure to meet you." She glanced over her shoulder "You as well, Ser" She added, then returned her gaze upon the driver "OK, Ser, I think I'm ready." Her gaze lingered a tick on the young Knight, before settling on the hands she held folded in her lap. With a gentle intake and exhale of cold air, she readied herself, with a frail attempt to relax and just enjoy the ride.

"Tyveth be true"

[Lucien Stalinsa]

The woman’s mannerisms changed somewhat after he spoke – that was something the knight wasn’t sure how to translate. He chose to let it be, instead focusing on what lay ahead; a road trip with a knight too witty for his own good and a woman with an unknown personality. Shiress, as she introduced herself. “A pleasure,” he said after her introduction. He nodded in a semblance of appreciate for her apology. “I appreciate your contriteness. It is of no consequence,” Lucien said, offering a soft smile. “We should still make it by nightfall, which has been my hope all along.” Once she was seated and had stated her preparedness, Lucien gave a sideways glance to Rikard. Receiving a nod, Lucien set the intrepid trio on their way. Sort of. The knight had ridden plenty, but to be in a position of driving a cart, well, he was as fresh as the day he was born. The reigns were in his hand, and as he’d seen done so many times, he gave them a slight whip to get the mule going. Naturally, it stayed in place. “I knew we could count on you, Lucien,” Rikard said with a chuckle, spurring his mount into a slow walk. “Hold your tongue, Rikard. I’ve got it under control!” Lucien gave another whip of the reins, this time with an audible “HYAAH!” to get the mule moving. A second attempt was considerably more successful. With a snort the mule was off, slowly pulling the cart, and its occupants, into motion. “See! I told you,” Lucien shouted immediately, a grin spreading across his lips. “Let’s just hope you can make him stop when the time comes,” Rikard countered, wiping most of the grin from the blonde’s face. “It shan’t be a problem,” he said, though the confident words were not matched in tone. Quickly changing the subject, Lucien turned his attention to Shiress. “So to whom do I owe thanks that I have you accompanying me on this adventure? Winter is upon us, and I know that I would much prefer to be cozy by a fire, rather than sitting upon a wooden bench.” The cart rolled on, steady and slow. The alcohol sloshed back and forth in the casks behind the cart’s two riders, as it would until they were removed from the container. Lucien found the sound almost peaceful. The constant grinding of the wheels coupled with the rhythmic plodding of the mule’s hooves was their accompaniment as they went on their way. “A follower of Tyveth?” he asked innocently. The phrase she repeated was something his former patron said with some frequency. Many in Syliras, mostly knights, were at worst casual believers in the teachings of the Lord of Honor. It would be something enjoyable to have a companion in faith on their journey. “Careful how you reply, miss,” said Rikard. “You’ll have him talking the entire trip.” Lucien rolled his eyes. "Must you-" "Yes." The blonde knight could do nothing but laugh.

[Shiress]

Shiress sat silently awaiting the forward lurch of the cart, but when the efforts of it's driver rendered them nowhere, she cut her eyes around, raising her eyebrows. Rikard's quip cut a wide grin on the girls face, but it was Lucien's defensive retort that made her chuckle. The final sarcasm issued by the mounted Knight, however, had the girl slapping a hand across her mouth, silencing an erupting, full-on snort.

"Kevith.." she replied, laughing. Then, clearing her throat of another threatening chuckle, she continued. "Kevith, the owner of The Stallion. We made a sort of deal. I see to the delivery for him, and he sees to a few days off for me." Shiress shifted the corner of her mouth, regretfully "I dont think I really thought it through" she laughed "I'm with you on that. Curled up in front of a fire, with my sweet Shadow, would be perfect." Before the dumbfounded expression had a chance to make an appearance on the handsome blonde's face, She slid her green eyes around to meet his. "Shadow being my cat" she explained "He's something else, I tell you" Pausing, she smiled, lost in the thought of her precious feline. The cat was truly all the girl had left in Syliras.

Coming out from her thoughts, Shiress was suddenly aware, though she had been for some time now, of where she was..Outside the city. Way outside the city. She silently wondered if this was the path she was taken along that night. Were these the very trees that had surrounded and concealed them? The sound of the creaking cart, the clip-clopping hooves of the beast of burden, the silence -the eerie, loud silence of just riding. It all took her back. Lowering her head, she beckoned her heart to slow its rhythm, with a calming breath.

It was Lucien's voice that broke the memory, jolting Shiress back to present. "Who?" she said, absently, her thoughts clearing slowly. "Oh, no, I don't." she gave the Knight at their side a shy smile, before returning her attention to Lucien "I only repeated your words. I guess I don't really follow anyone, though, if I had to choose, it would be Bala." Pushing back ringlets from her face, the girl straightened. "I have heard the name of many, but not much, if any at all, of Tyveth" she added, her brow curving inward.

"Who is she?"

[Lucien Stalinsa]

Lucien tried to ignore the bartender’s reaction to his less than successful attempt to drive the cart. The simple, two-wheeled contraption lurched forward at his louder command, summoning a less than welcome laugh from both his companions. The blonde knight hated failure; although the event couldn’t be classified as such, it didn’t make him feel any better about it. He wasn’t familiar with the owner of the Stallion. Lucien, when he went to a tavern, usually found himself at the White Swan Inn. It was simply an establishment of higher class. Those who frequented it were comrades in arms, people he could relate to. He often felt disconnected with the common folk. “I see. In need of a respite, then? It is kind of your employer to see to such a thing. That you work hard enough that he would agree to an arrangement like that is a testament to your work ethic, I’m sure.” It was a complement, but delivered in a matter-of-fact manner. “Yes, the cold is bitter. Perhaps this Kevith got the best of you,” he replied, smiling. She spoke a Shadow, what he could only assume was an animal. Otherwise she had a strange relationship with the light. Before he could inquire, the brunette answered his question. “I would wager he eagerly awaits your return,” he said with a nod. Silence fell between the trio as they moved further from the castle walls. Each seemed to fall into their own contemplation. Lucien assumed that Rikard was thinking of new and creative ways to mess with him. That was expected. What was on Shiress’ mind was beyond the young knight’s insight. Lucien’s own thoughts were single-minded. They had to make it to the outpost, that was it. His duty had been laid before him by his superior, and he would execute that tasking. His question to Shiress seemed to catch her off guard, but it answered his question without a word: A follower of Tyveth would not be so taken aback by his simple inquiry. She spoke of repetition, something a crow could do. Nothing but lip-service. “I know nothing of Bala, beyond the name. What does –“ Lucien gave a double take at her incorrect assumption of gender. “He,” the knight quickly –and firmly- corrected. In his frustration, he pulled the reins as he turned to look at Shiress in shock. The mule did exactly as Lucien had unintentionally commanded: Stop. “Now you’ve done it,” quipped Rikard. Ignoring the mounted knight, Lucien turned his attention to getting the cart moving again. “Go!” He commanded loudly, squeezing the reins as he would to get a horse going. There was a pause, and then the beast of burden continued its movement. He was learning quickly that there was much more to driving a cart than he’d realized when accepting his task. A slow clap came from Rikard. “Stupendous!” Lucien gave a low growl. “If only I had wings to fly, I would carry these casks there myself.” Finally, he was ready to address Shiress’ error, regardless of if she were likewise prepared. The time for truth was always the present. “Tyveth is a he, and is, in my opinion, the deity most worth of praise. Nothing any other does is anything without the beliefs of Tyveth,” he preached, fully believing each word he uttered. “The Lord of Honor presides over five main pillars. Honor, justice, valor, chivalry, and truth. He guides us all, whether or not you personally pay him the respect he deserves.” Lucien had shared his thoughts with Tyveth many times at the Temple of All Gods, or at least offered his concerns and praise, even if the deity was not listening. “Tell me, Shiress, do these words mean anything to you? I seek honesty, as Tyveth does with all. You have made it clear to me that you are not of Syliras; any resident would be aware of the city’s connection to him. So I must ask; what are these ideals to you?” Lucien spoke with resolve, as he did every time he had a chance to share his faith. It was rare he had an opportunity to speak to someone who’s eyes were not yet opened to the Lord of Honor. He couldn’t pass such up such a chance. Rikard shook his head and momentarily buried his forehead in his hands. He had watched Lucien play out the same tired routine more times than he could count. “Don’t mind him, ma’am. Lucien here can be a little overzealous.” “Nonsense.” “Exactly.”

[Shiress]

The blonde Knight received little more than a sarcastic grunt, from Shiress, in response to his misinterpretation of Kevith's motive. The Knight obviously didn't know the tavern owner, but the bartender wouldn't argue the fact that she was, indeed, a hard worker.

"I love working at The Stallion, well, at first I did. Meeting new people, making new friends." Shiress smiled at that. She had indeed met a lot of people during her time there; The absurdly huge Ximal, the smooth talking Bolivar, the insanely gorgeous blacksmith, Tourmal, the tavern regular and trouble-maker, Chuck, with whom the bartender had built a lasting friendship with. Even Hadyn, the girl's best friend, someone she thought she couldn't live without, but currently was, all were met at the tavern...She couldn't complain of nothing gained by working there, but what future contribution could it possibly bring her. "But" she continued "of late, there's quite the shortage of workers, so we that remain loyal to our post, suffer for it the most."

"I eagerly await my return" she laughed.

The subject of religion, strangely, put Shiress on edge, catching even her herself off guard. She had little -none- knowledge about the many deities, their works, or their followers. Save one -Bala. But even she, the goddess of harvest, was little known to Shiress, despite the fact that the goddess, herself, had manifested and spoken with her, even had graciously marked her.

Shiress cringed apologetically for her mistake, just as the cart lurched to a stop. "Only if you had wings strong enough to bear us both, Ser Lucien, but it is I that must deliver the payment for said alcohol back to Kevith." she stated, smiling.

The blue eyed knight, however, was quick to pick up where he had left off. "He guides us, huh?" She straightened, securing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Honor, justice, truth? Tell me, Ser, honor to who? Tyveth? Does he honer you, or do you honor him? And what is honesty? Is it with yourself, or do you seek it in a god you can not see?" Flustered, Shiress sat back shaking her head. Where was this coming from? Why was she so angry?

At length, she spoke again, her tone cold and flat. "I'll tell you what those words mean to me. Those are the demands of a god, a god that people strive to be like, act like, but all fall short of it. Rak'keli, Sylir, Yahal, they all demand so much, promise more, but give so little. In the end, just like Dira, they get what they want, what pleases them. They care little about people of lesser power. Just like Nikali, they laugh in the end." Shiress fell silent, wishing, for once, she had not spoken and had only listened. There was too much hate, too much bitterness in Shiress to see the good in something invisible.

Sliding her green eyes over to Lucien, she shifted to face him "Tell me, Ser Lucien Stalinsa, Knight of Syliras, what has Tyveth ever done for you?"

[Lucien Stalinsa]

Lucien gave a curt smile at her description of her place of employment. While there had been moments during his training which he largely regretted following in his family's footsteps, he'd never truly done anything but enjoy his time as a knight. It gave purpose, it gave meaning. Something he doubted she found as a bartender. He did not intend to judge her; the city needed places to relax. Lucien wondered a moment if she was honestly happy with her job, but it was not his place to inquire in depth. "The busiest tavern in the whole of Syliras without enough workers? It sounds simply dreadful," he replied, eyes still down the road as he let the animal pull them along. He would have to rely on luck that his control of the ride would remain steady. "Though I cannot imagine associating loyalty and suffering. I can only hope my service to the knights last long enough they entrust me with important tasks, as Kevith does for you." Lucien missed the trepidation in Shiress' expression - he assumed anyone wanting to speak on religion shared his passion for the subject. "I would carry you as well, if only to avoid the trek. We'll be there and back before you know it. The tavern won't tend itself, after all." "I'd do more than carry you," Rikard said, winking. "Oh, come off it, Rikard. You're incorrigible." Lucien couldn't make sense of his companion at times. The man was a good, trustworthy knight, but at the same time, his wandering eye had gotten him in trouble more than once. The knight simply smiled in reply. Shiress' sudden explaination of her thoughts on the gods caught the young knight off guard. She clearly had something in her past which had jaded her so intensely. She spoke with such venom at the idea of the gods; her specific barbs directed at Tyveth were particularly upsetting to the the blonde warrior. "Honor to Tyveth, to me, to Rikard, to yourself. To those you work with, to those you care of. To those who you despise. Your honesty and honor to all will help you raise above the ground from which we all came." He shook his head, trying to ignore her bile, to avoid responding in kind. "Do you know what these deities have that us 'lesser' beings lack? The ability to truly make change on their own; but what we can do is strive to be more than what we are. They give us guidance. They give us a way to grow without being aimless in our pursuit of growth." He ignored Rikard's pleading look to let the subject drop. The two had worked together since they had both been squires, and the blonde knight had hardly changed in all those years. Lucien was faithful to a fault - it was difficult to get him to accept there were multiple paths to a goal - and even if he did accept such a thing, the path following Tyveth's pillars was certainly the best option. "What has Tyveth done for me?" He repeated her question, slowly. "He has lifted me from the depths of despair. He has helped me find certainty in a world lacking in it. Tyveth has guided me The gods walk among us, Shiress," Lucien said, unwavering in his resolve. "They demand nothing but earnest and honest belief, if you choose to invoke their names. My god hopes for all to come to understand what he holds dear, but he forces none to walk the difficult path of the faithful." He gave a slight nod to the bartender. "They affect the world as they see fit. This is undeniable. The marks of their presence are spread throughout the world, both good and bad." He lingered on the final word. "So, Shiress, what bad thing happened that makes you despise them? Sylir strives for peace. Rak'keli seeks to restore health, to help those in need, and do so freely. Yahal wants only faith. And yet you speak of them with contempt?" Lucien's lips sagged into a slight frown. "Tyveth asks that I seek truth, truth in all forms. In its purest form. In doing so, my understanding of the world grows, and so do I grow closer to my god. If you wish to live in the ignorance that the walls of our great city permit, I cannot fault you. The dangers of the world creep upon our doorstep. Just remember that the people who keep you safe all carry the mark of Sylir, one of these gods you say give so little." Lucien fell silent, turning his attention back to the road ahead. Rikard let out an exacerbated sigh. "By the gods you won't shut up about, Lucien! We're here to escort her, not proselytize! Leave our lovely companion alone." "I should doubt those are your intentions, Rikard." Rikard chuckled, shooting the bartender an innocent grin. "I don't know what you're talking about, Lucien."

[Shiress]

As Lucien began to answer her question, Shiress turned her gaze forward once again. It was a question she wasn't entirely sure she wanted the answer to. The young Knight spoke gentle and true, there wasn't a harsh tone, or bitterness within his words. He spoke from his heart and, though loath to hear it, the bartender felt obligated to listen. She did initiate the inquiry, after all.

Shiress had mixed emotion about the gods and goddesses, their beliefs and teachings. It was difficult for her to have faith, to believe, that the deities were on her side, and for good reason. As a child, the bartender was torn from her family, enslaved, and then thrown into a life ruled by greedy, self serving beasts. A wicked existence endured, and all because she possessed a divine mark. It ripped any shred of faith, that a young girl may have had, to shreds and left a void of confusion and doubt. Believing and having faith in such things simply didn't make sense to her. It was herself, or the occasional help from others, that freed her from that torment, not divine intervention, not faith, not honor, nor the will of any god or goddess, but human will. Her will.

Never the less, she listened, trapped, but not without an occasional, and exaggerated, sigh or shake of her head, but still, the girl heard every word the young knight spoke. It wasn't until his pursuing question and explanation, however, that she threw a harsh glance in the direction of the unknowing, young blonde. She sucked hard at her teeth, trying to bite back the venom threatening to spew forth.

She failed.

"Keep me safe?" she snapped, her breath misting before her lips "I was carted out of your fortified city by a slave master, Mr. Knight of Syliras, right under the very noses of Sylir's marked saints! So, don't you dare speak of the dangers of this world to me, nor the honor whatever god." she tittered "You protect others from the dangers, Ser Stalinsa, but have you ever known the danger, ever looked it in the face? Ever pleaded for your life to deaf ears of god or goddess? Ever begged for death to those same ears? " She fell silent, still glaring daggers at the man, before letting her shoulders slump. She'd gone too far, said too much, once again, letting her quick anger get the better of her.

When she spoke again, the girl's voice had softened a degree. "I'm sorry." she relented, settling back, letting her gaze wander forward again. "That..that was a very long time ago, and had nothing to do with you. You didn't deserve that tone, forgive me." she offered Lucien a regretful, half smile "If truth be told, it was a squire that saved my life that night." she added, more to herself, than her companion.

Clearing her throat, she secured a ringlet behind her ear. She needed to walk, or run, do something to calm herself. She needed to get away, think, scream, cry... Her small frame trembled uncontrollably, Lucien, nor Rikard, deserved to see her like this.

"I..I drank too much water, it seems, before we left" she said, feigning amusement at her own words. "Can we stop a tick? I have to go..."