Song of Escape

[Mordecai]

“Not so tight, Bea!” Florence’s voice snapped a bit venomously as the young maid seized the corset strings, made of silk as tight as they would go, until the young royal feared the maid may very well crush her ribs. As good and well as she was trying to swallow down all of her emotion, it felt like the young maid tightening her corset was trying to squeeze it out of her—causing tears to well up and collect in her eyelashes with equal parts frustration, anger, and sadness.


“M’lady? Are you fairing well?”


“Yes, I—“ Florence inhaled a shaky breath though the corset quickly crushed it out again, “I’m just so excited to spend time with my new fiancé,” she lied through her teeth, her face softening, trying to look convincing, “I hear the wedding is going to have white lilies—my favorite. I’m just so emotional.”


“Oh, your highness, that prince, he is a fine man.”


“Indeed, now, where were we?”


Preparing for dinner, which was only about an hour long, was a three-hour affair. Her curls had to be wrangled and re-curled, wound back into a tight, unforgiving bun at the back of her head with tendrils of glossy blonde curls spiraling down her shoulder and back. The dress was intricate and had hundreds of hours worth of hand stitching spilled into the fabric and when she looked at herself in the mirror, Bea putting on the last of the kohl around her eyes, she was rather startled by the image she saw before her. Soft and feminine, she brought her hand up to her chest, gently touching the pendant hanging from her neck.


How much did it cost her family, she wondered?


“You look beautiful, m’lady. The prince will not be able to keep his eyes off you.”


“Mm,” was Florence’s only response, letting Beatrice lead her to dinner. The young maid had certainly been wrong. The prince, her fiancé, passed a disinterested kiss to her cheek before welcoming her to the table. She was caught quietly between the conversation of her family and the prince, and as was her place, she said nothing. The meal lasted all of forty-five minutes before everyone excused themselves. Short, as dinners went, but that was fine for Florence. Escorted back to her chambers by Beatrice, the maid helped her from her dress and into her night slip. With good nights bided between them, her maid left her to her own devices.


She waited for nearly an hour in her chambers, gathering a small satchel of belongings, including every pence she owned. Her purse was bountiful, bountiful enough, she hoped, to allow them to scrape through. The sound of feet outside her door slowed and stopped, and slinging her bag across her shoulders, she peered out from her double doors. Seeing no one, she slipped away, the soft pitter-pattering of her bare feet barely making any noise at all against the marble flooring.


She had done this before, but going down to the storage rooms was something she had never done before, but it was quiet at this time of night. She wrangled with the trunks for a while until she found an old dress that looked like it might fit. It hung a little loosely from her small frame. It was tattered; an ugly shade of mustard yellow, but it would work. The shoes were even worse, but they’d protect her feet from the rocks.


Slipping through the emergency tunnels, meant to be used to help the royal family escape in the event of a siege on the castle. In a few moments, her feet hit the grass and she scattered across the dark lawn, parallel to the main road, and down to the Eastern gates.

 

[Scriven]

Sitting on the stoop of the dark armory building, Finn watched the gate from the corner of his eye whilst he waited. The stars were out, bright little points of light in a velvety black sky, the giant orb of a moon hanging there weightlessly high above. It was a good night for running away, Finn thought hopefully, as far as nights went. It was dark and it was peaceful, and under the eave of the gates were deep shadows through which to disappear.


Despite these things- the calm and the darkness, the overall good fortune of the night- he felt on edge. How could he not? Maybe people really were right about him. Maybe he truly was a fool.


Why was he doing this? He had nothing to gain. He should just turn back, march himself right back up to the somewhat drafty wing of the castle where he resided, then get in bed and pull the covers up over his head. Yes, surely that was the best thing for him to do, and who would look out for him, if not himself? No one, that was who. The princess, on the other hand, had loads of people who cared about her and her fate. She was important. Surely she was clever enough to figure out another way to keep herself from harm's way that didn't involve him risking his neck. Surely she had that amount of power and influence. Besides, maybe this was all some big misunderstanding. Almost a whole day had passed since he had heard those chilling words, and they seemed vague to him now. It was all too easy to doubt himself now that he was no longer quaking behind the velvet curtains of the drawing room, doing everything he could not to make a sound.


She would understand. Even if she didn't, it wasn't worth taking the risk. Yes, he'd have one royally pissed off princess giving him wounded glances, but wasn't that better than having his throat slit open when whoever was after her found them? Besides, she stood a much better chance of surviving all this if she actually got help from someone with an ounce of capability. If she needed someone to polish her boots, he was her man. If she needed a recommendation on which sweets to order from the kitchen, he was her man. If she needed her chamber pot scrubbed out, somewhat begrudgingly he was her man. But saving her from villains? Helping her flee her kingdom? He was not the man for that.


Finn felt like an idiot for taking so long to realize just how daft he was being, but at least he had realized in time. He stood up from the stair he was sitting on and dusted off the back of his pants, turning to head back into the castle. It was then that he saw her- the person he had been waiting for. He wasn't entirely sure it was her at first, since her face was in shadow and she was in plain garb, but he caught a glint of her golden hair and recognized the shape of her figure. She walked purposefully toward the gate, as if she had every reason in the world to be there.


Oh, god damn it! Why were his legs carrying him over to her? No, no, he was going the wrong way! He had already decided that this was madness and that he wasn't going to help her. He had chosen the safe route. So why in god's name was he making steady progress toward the gate? Why was he walking right past her, beyond the unmanned gate toward the edge of the road, heading into town? He didn't glance back at her- he just kept walking, not breaking stride. He was casual. He was aloof. Good lord, for a moment he was almost cool, but then he stumbled over his own feet and it took a few jumbled, too quick steps to recover. Right, well, so much for that.


Finn slowed his stride a little so that she could catch up to him once they were out of the immediate sight of the castle. This was it, then. He was a big, bloody moron, made up of equal parts shrewd cowardice and dumb courage. What in the world was wrong with him? He sucked in a steadying breath of cool, night air and waited for the princess to fall into stride beside him.

 

[Mordecai]

“You came,” she remarked, her feet slipping silently through the dewy grass. Her statement was just that—a statement, but her voice made it sound like a question, as if surprised to see him there. He wasn’t like the knights sent to protect her, strong and strapping and brave when faced with a blade, but he had come and in the moment, that was really all that mattered. Immediately, Florence scuttled to his side, feeling uncomfortable in her choice of dress, but also amazed at the freedom. As a small woman, Florence was usually bogged down by the weight of her impressive royal gowns and the tightness of her corsets, but in her peasantry dress, she felt free and light, as if she could skip and breathe and move to her contentment.


It was almost a relief to be able to inhale sharply and expand her lungs to their full capacity instead of feeling like she was slowly suffocating in her articles.


The only object keeping her weighed down was her satchel, causing her to spur in surprise as she pulled back the leather flap and produced a heft pouch. “I said I had a little money,” she commented. It was more than just a little money, the leather haversack brimming with the king’s mint in both gold and silver. With such a sum, a man could run off and live a fairly luxurious life and maybe Finn would. Maybe he’d take the money and leave her behind, but that didn’t seem to stop her from offering the bag of jingling coins out to him. In the grand scheme of things, it was a very small amount of money to her family, but it was probably significant to a non-royal.


“Here, take it. We can use a little to get by—eat, maybe get a room at an Inn, but I want you to keep the rest. Thank you, Finn, I fear you don’t understand how much it means to me to see that you came.” Her hand gently rested on his shoulder, lingering a bit longer than appropriate but maintaining a platonic sense, before slipping away and hanging uselessly down at her side.


Even in the inky darkness, her eyes were darting around curiously, invigorated by the world outside the palace walls. She had visited a few times before, the town, but only in passing when travelling. The rest of her life had been spent caged up in the walls surrounding the royal palace, so her eyes began to widen in wonder as she took in all the sights. The brothels, especially, caught her attention and she couldn’t help but blush and try to look away, but curious about the strumpets.


“They’re so beautiful, those women,” she murmured, nudging in closer to Finn out of uncertainty (not that she was confident he’d protect her if she needed protecting), “Oh my!” she laughed a little, seeing way more skin of a woman than she was used to, quickly averting her eyes.


“Where is it that we are going? Oh, this is rather exciting!” It was almost enough to make her forget why she was venturing out through the town in the middle of the night—but it really was exciting: drunken brawls, strumpet women, carriages, peddlers, beggars, gypsies.

 

[Scriven]

The princess fell into step beside him. For the first time Finn had the chance to really look at her, and he did so as subtly as he capable of. He cocked his head, amazed at the difference that a gown and jewels and intricately plaited hair could make. Florence looked at ease in her roughspun, every inch the commoner, though still uncommonly pretty. She seemed more approachable like this though, but maybe it was just the way she was suffused with amazement and wonder at the world around her, which she probably wasn't seeing for the first time, but was most certainly experiencing in a very different way than she ever had. She had probably always left the castle inside of a carriage, or maybe astride a magnificent horse, flanked by soldiers and courtiers. Now she was able to see her city on foot, eye to eye with the common man.


She opened up the haversack she was carrying and Finn sucked in a breath of surprise. She offered it to him and he quickly took it, but only because he was in a hurry to close it back up before anyone saw. If the people around them knew they were carrying a small fortune on their persons, and with nary a blade between them, they would most certainly be robbed blind by the time morning came. It occurred to him that he was carrying more money than he had ever seen in his entire life. It didn't give him the sense of joy he would have imagined though; mostly it just made him incredibly nervous.


"We can't let whoever we hire see this," he told Florence in a low voice as they passed by one of the brothels. She was astounded by the sight of the women out there, who all smiled at passersby and maneuvered themselves into suggestive postures. Their garb was almost elegant, but it was all held together rather precariously. Chemises were loosened so that pale shoulders were exposed, and corsets were cinched lower than they might normally be to allow more of their breasts to spill out. He had certainly done his fair share of gawking in his younger years, but now he was a little more used to the sight.


When Florence remarked on the beauty of the women, Finn couldn't help but snort with laughter. "They're prostitutes," he informed her, unsure if she knew that. "It's kind of their job to be beautiful." It wasn't really the kind of beauty that got his attention though. He was a hot blooded male just like any other and there was no denying that at least some of the whores were very attractive, but the fact that they knew it and flaunted it sort of diminished their beauty to him. It was one of the few times when he could appreciate a little subtlety.


"There's an inn that I visited earlier today. We can rent a room for a few hours while we try to find a hired sword. There's one man that a barmaid recommended. If he's still there I'll see if I can talk to him."


They veered to the left, turning onto a narrower street. It was less crowded than it had been that afternoon, but there were still lots of rowdy places open that light spilled out from. "I think we should try to keep moving tonight and get out of the capital. Once people discover you're missing it'll be a lot harder for us to get away. Oh... and I was thinking. Maybe you ought to come up with a different name for me to call you...?"

 

[Mordecai]

Florence didn’t really understand how the world outside the palace worked, so when Finn sucked in a breath of surprise, she couldn’t help but tilt her head a little curiously at his reaction. He stole it away and shoved it out of sight as quickly as possible, causing her to filter a glance through the crowd all around them. Were people truly so vulgar as to steal from another? She supposed so, but it hadn’t even crossed her mind. Feeling a bit foolish, she wrung her fingers together out in front of her, feeling more and more like a burden as they went along.


She was a naïve woman, pushed two steps back by the crown every time she put one step forward. Her suitors and her father fought to keep her that way, as a naïve princess was a good wife, a good Queen. No future husband she would ever have, if she ever had one at this rate, would want a worldly, knowledgeable woman. A homemaker was what they desired—a woman to bring their children in to the world and then raise them and, for a long time, that was sort of fine by Florence. After all, she had never known any other life, but the world outside her palace walls was quite eye opening for her.


“Right,” she acknowledged him as she mentioned that the money had to remain their secret, only glancing back to him when he snorted at her, “They’re what?” she beckoned back, though her eyes widened rather suddenly, “Those beautiful women… they?” she giggled, bringing up a hand to cover her lips with the delight of it all. This life felt so dangerous, exciting, and daring, and she knew she shouldn’t be enjoying herself nearly as much as she was, but she couldn’t help it.


She didn’t ponder the whores long though, for Finn was speaking again and she willed her mind to focus. “Right, okay,” she uttered out in agreement, “I’ll leave all the talking to you, then. And Finn?” a hesitation caught her lips as she hummed, at least a little bit apprehensive of what she was going to say but deciding last minute to divulge, “Thank you. Thank you for everything. I’m sorry that I yelled at you earlier, or brushed you off rather. It was awfully unladylike and rude of me.”


Veering to follow after him, she kept close, not wanting to lose him in the busy streets, especially in the rowdiness of the customers. Drunks, strumpents… men of all breeds and colors stumbling through the mucky streets and giving her a fierce leer from the corner of their eyes. “A different name? I suppose Florence is ab it of a giveaway isn’t it. Hm,” she hummed, trying to come up with something better. What would be a nice name? She could just borrow a name of one of her maids, but considering one had just tried to kill her, she wasn’t exactly in the mood for that.


“How about Arianna? That sounds nice, doesn’t it? Finn and Arianna.”

 

[Scriven]

"I like Arianna," Finn agreed with a smile. Mentally he repeated the name several times so that when it came time to say it he wouldn't trip himself up. It was all too easy to imagine himself calling her Florence, or worse, your highness. He'd have to be careful.


The tavern he had scouted out earlier came into view and he hurried his stride, flipping around so that he was walking backward and facing Florence. "So this is it. I, uh, procured a couple of horses. They're waiting for us in the stable." By procured he meant stole, of course, but compared to the crime of treason, which he would surely be charged with if this didn't go well, a little horse theft seemed minor.


Finn trotted up the steps to the tavern and pulled the door open for Florence, then followed her in. The tavern was rowdier than it had been when he'd been there before, filled to bursting with people from all walks of life. There was a fiddler playing, though his tune could barely be heard over the din of rowdy voices and feet shuffling around. Finn looked around the room, hoping to spot the man with the long brown hair. He had changed tables, but there he was, playing a game of chess near the back. Finn couldn't see the man's face, but his opponent looked unhappy with the way was going.


The tavern was so busy that Finn was glad he had asked about renting a room for a few hours. It would afford them the privacy needed to actually find a hired sword that they felt was not only capable of keeping them safe, but who they could hopefully trust.


Finn put his hand lightly on the small of Florence's back and walked with her to the bar. The woman he had spoken to before saw him and finished up with the drink she was pouring, then came over to the edge of the counter where he and Florence stood.


"Hey, kid. You're actually back."


"Well, yeah," he laughed. "You didn't think I would be?"


She appraised him with a skeptical look. "I thought I was seeing the last of you when you left." Her eyes turned to Florence, her head tilted to one side. "Who's this?"


He had his answer ready. "This is my sister, Arianna. Can we get that room we talked about earlier?"


The woman was straight faced for a few seconds, then burst into laughter. "Your sister, sure." She winked at Florence, lips curled into a smirk. She came out from behind the bar and made a motion for them to follow. "Come along, then, kids."


Finn looked at Florence and shrugged, following after the curvy bartender. She lead them toward the back of the bar, where a hallway opened up to a narrow flight of stairs. They climbed their way up to the second floor and she took them halfway down the corridor. The bartender rifled through her ring of keys and put one into the lock, opening it up.


"Thank you," Finn told her, to which she gave him a flat look.


"You don't have to thank me. You just have to pay me."


"Oh, right." He turned away from her so he could dig a few coins out of the bag without her seeing the full pouch of money he was carrying. He turned back and put the coins in her waiting hand.


The room was cramped, mostly taken up by the bed. There was a small table with a basin and a pitcher of water for washing, and there was a chair next to the window with an extra blanket hanging over the back. "Sorry, I know this isn't what you're used to," he told Florence once the door was shut behind them and they were alone.

 

[Mordecai]

“Arianna,” Florence had to repeat it to herself several times over just to instil it in her own head, too. Over her lifetime, she had been called many names: your majesty, princess, Florence, Flo—but Arianna was so out of left field it would take her a while to adjust to the oddity of hearing it. She liked it though, and she was even happier hearing that Finn liked it, too.


Deciding it was better not to know what he meant by ‘procure’ she gave a nod of agreement and followed along silently. By now she had already learned the importance of ‘not asking questions you don’t want the answers to’ and this was a question she was certain she was better of not knowing. Thankfully, she didn’t have to ponder if long before they slipped into the tavern and Florence felt herself go rigid. Her eyes, a handsome shade, widened until they were as round as the coins in the satchel she had given him. The male patrons looked at her as if she was unclothed and a few times, she had to glance down at herself to confirm nothing was exposed that shouldn’t have been.


The women on the street had been provocatively, but seeing it all up close and personal caused her heart to flutter a little in nervousness as she latched on to Finn’s arm voluntarily and remained as physically close to him as possible before they were being shown to their room by a woman who had… yep… she just had put their money into her cleavage while taking a laugh at their kinship.


She supposed they didn’t look very much alike, did they?


Slipping in to the room, Florence let out an audible sigh of relief. It was dusty and dirty, cramped and unlike anything she had ever seen before, but she welcomed it. It was better than death, anyways. Sitting down on the edge of the bed and throwing her face into her hands to regain her composure, Florence merely shook her head.


“You don’t need to apologize, Finn,” she replied, her voice weak but steady, “Truthfully, I’m just glad to be alive at this point… I—I was so close to not being so.” Her hands unfurled away from her face, gazing down at her palms as if to find her center. It was all she could do to fight the weight of the tears pressing against her tearducts.


“You’re right though, I think it’s best we keep moving. The sooner we leave, the faster we travel, the faster we will reach my family. The sooner, then, I can pardon you of crime and you can return to your life,” a shaky smile crawled across her lips as her eyes lifted to look at him. “Should we go talk to that man? The hired sword? Or would you prefer to do so alone?”


Florence didn’t know how these things worked.

 

[Scriven]

"I'm going to go ask him if he'll talk to us up here," Finn replied. "It's really crowded down there and I'm just... well, I'm worried someone is going to recognize you. I'm probably worrying too much, but I'd rather keep you out of sight as much as we can in the city."


Finn backed away toward the door and gave Florence a reassuring smile. "Be right back, okay?"


Closing the door behind him, he trotted back down the stairs and into the rowdy tavern. This place, Finn thought to himself, must be a terrible inn. How could anyone sleep with a room full of people yelling just below them? Oh well. For their purposes it didn't matter. The freckled blonde began edging his way around the room, avoiding barmaids carrying full mugs of ale and men stomping around in heavy boots that looked to be twice his age and twice his weight. He could see the man with the long brown hair still sitting at the table he had been at before, though his partner had disappeared. After taking a sip of red wine, the man started carefully resetting the chess board.


"Er, 'scuse me," Finn started, putting himself a step to the left of where the man sat. "I was, um, wondering if you were available for hire...? One of the barmaids told me you're a hired sword."


The man ignored him, minutely adjusting the board on the scraped wooden surface of the table, then took another sip of wine. Finn bristled.


"Excuse me, but I'm talking to you. Did you hear me? I'm asking if you're for hire."


Finally the man set down his wineglass, turning in his seat to look at Finn, head cocked slightly to one side. His brown hair fell in soft waves to the bottom of his shoulder blades, which Finn thought made him look like a girl from behind. His eyes were dark, with an amused, judgmental gleam to them. He had an olive complexion and a neat goatee, which, combined with his long hair, gave off the impression that he cared a great deal about his appearance. The man wore a loosely fitted white shirt and a thin, dark, exotic looking multi-colored scarf draped loosely across his shoulders and left untied. He had both a long, thin sword in its sheath and a short, thick dagger, held suspended from a sturdy leather belt at his hips.


"You can't afford me," the man said levelly, and turned back to his wine. Finn spluttered, then sat down beside him.


"You haven't even heard me out! At least come listen to what I have to say, then tell me your fee." He could tell he wasn't having any effect on the swordsman. "I was here earlier today and you were across the room, drinking by yourself. Now here you are again, drinking. No one has hired you. You've got no other offers competing for your time. Would you really rather sulk here in a tavern than put your skills to use?"


The man gave him a sharp look and Finn winced back, but after a moment the swordsman shrugged. "Fine, I'll here what you have to say. Hurry, before I change my mind."


"Actually, uh, my sister is waiting for me upstairs and we'd both like to talk to you to see if you're, er, a good match for our needs."


Several emotions passed very quickly across the man's face: annoyance, impatience, then finally interest. "Sister, eh? How old's your sister?"


Finn sat up straighter and scowled. "That's neither here nor there! You'll not touch her," he said defensively, protectively.


But the man was draining his wine and standing up. "Lead the way, boy. I'll speak with you and this sister I shall not touch."


Finn didn't like the smile on the man's face one bit, but he too stood and led the way up the stairs, then down the hall to the room where Florence was waiting. He knocked softly before entering, then closed the door behind the swordsman.


"Well hello there," the swordsman was saying with a wicked looking smile at Florence. "You must be the sister he's so protective of. I can see why. I'm Marek of Woodsford Hold- swordsman, archer, explorer, and aficionado of rare and beautiful things." He bent at the waist, his arm sweeping out in a flourishing bow.

 

[Mordecai]

“Okay,” Florence called out to him, but the door had already clicked shut. Sitting alone, she found herself with a nervous twitch in her heart. She did not very much like being alone. It had been fun and exciting when they were walking through the dark streets and she was eyeing up all there was to see, but now all those jovial feelings were washing away and she was finding herself actually quite afraid. What would she do if Finn didn't come back? Over and over that question ran through her mind as she tried to drudge an answer from her heart. Back to the palace to die? Could she survive on her own? Surely not. She still retained a sum of money for herself, but most of her riches had been entrusted with Finn. Surely she had barely enough to get her out of the city, let alone enough to...


Then a knock came at the door and she immediately bristled to attention, her hands falling away from her face as she immediately straightened up and rose to her feet.


In stepped two men. One was the familiar and warm face of Finn, whom she greeted with a warmth in her smile, and the next was a certain somebody, the likes of whom she had never seen before. He was quite odd, to say the least, but intriguing to her eye. She had never seen a male with such long hair before and, in truth, she almost felt a pang of jealousy over how lovely and glossy the locks were. He had a narrow face, light skin juxtaposed against dark hair and facial hair. Had he been somewhat groomed, she might have even described him as stately or handsome, but in his current state he looked more like the pillaging buccaneers she had read about in her storybooks.


“I am the sister he's so protective of, yes,” she answered, her tone a bit more relaxed than she was expecting to hear, considering her heart felt like it was going to explode in her chest from unease. He had quite the resume, it would seem, but she just responded by arching her eyebrows with curiosity. He bowed and she wasn't sure how to respond, but she went against her instinct and did not courtesy in response. “Well, Malek, I have no intentions of using such a complete title,” she almost laughed, but her eyes remained trained ahead.


In her years in the palace, she had learned to deal with some unsavory characters. Some of the king's council, for example, got quite loud and lewd when drunk, and they were drunk often. While she didn't find Malek particularly offensive, she didn't trust him as far as she could throw him, and she probably couldn't have even lifted him. “I am-” she paused for a moment's breath, nearly blurting out Florence but correcting herself promptly, “Arianna. I would say the pleasure is all mine, but I don't think it is,” she mused, still admiring the quite over-flourished bow. She had never seen such a bow before as the men in and around the palace were usually so curt and civil.


This man was nothing like she had ever seen before and for a beat of a second, she wondered if he was even real at all or if her daydreaming mind was just getting the better of her again. Certainly not, because never in her daydreams had anyone in the palace attempted her demise before.


“And you're the sword for hire, are you?” her eyes flicked between him and Finn. He was no knight in shining armor, that was certain.

 

[Scriven]

Marek regarded the woman who had been waiting in the room upstairs. He had seen her enter the tavern and had watched her follow after her brother. She had a slender, delicate appearance, with skin that rarely saw the sun, pale gold hair, and eyes as blue as a robin's egg. Her brother was tall and skinny, with tanned, freckled skin, and hair of a much darker golden shade. Both were dressed modestly, with no outward signs of wealth, though the way the boy held his rucksack made Marek suspicious. The boy kept putting his hand over the bag that hung at his hip, subconsciously checking to make sure it was still there. Clearly that was where he was keeping their money. Was he so protective of it because they were poor and down to their last coin, or because he had a significant amount of money tucked away?


“I am Arianna. I would say the pleasure is all mine, but I don't think it is."


At that Marek laughed. Yes, he was appreciative of beautiful women, and this girl was most certainly beautiful. He didn't try to deny the fact that there was more to his smile than just polite friendliness.


“And you're the sword for hire, are you?”


"That remains to be seen. Tell me, who or what is it that you need protection from?"


He watched the boy glance over at his sister before answering. "We're on our way to Uldrich, where members of our family live. We're familiar with the road, but it's dangerous for two people such as ourselves."


"Uldrich," Marek considered, rubbing his chin. He considered the distance and the other factors. Something about this just didn't feel right to him. If this brother and sister feared travelling the road to Uldrich by themselves, why didn't they just join with other travelers going in that direction? Was he overthinking it, or were these two hiding something? "It will take almost a week to get there. For that... I charge twelve silver per day, plus the cost of a room if we stop at an inn."


The boy looked to his sister once more. "Just a moment," he told Marek, and pulled his sister aside. There was no such thing as out of earshot in the tiny room, but he lowered his voice anyway.


"What do you think? Should we trust him?"

 

[Mordecai]

Florence watched the two interact, her blue eyes darting carefully between the two of them. Marek, at first glance, didn't strike her as the most intelligent creature she had ever encountered, but the more she watched, the more she deemed he was probably a lot smarter than he was letting on. Truthfully, she wasn't quite sure what to think of him but she did her best to keep her metaphorical cards close to her chest. Better he didn't have a clue of what was going on in her head all the while, because she really hadn't formulated an opinion of him yet.


He gave his price and she was pleasantly surprised to find it was not nearly as steep as she once believed it would be. They had more than enough to cover the costs of him, and more importantly, plenty left over for them to survive on throughout the week. Still, it was a valid concern to his trustworthiness. He could very well rob them blind, but she also supposed that anyone they hired (and they certainly needed to hire someone) could very well rob them blind. Neither she nor Finn were in any sort of position to defend themselves if this Malek decided to turn.


Being pulled aside by Finn, Florence considered his question, eventually offering a very unladylike shrug. “I'm not sure we have much choice at this point,” she replied, her voice low, though she was certain Malek could hear her anyways.


It had been his suggestion that they leave as quickly as possible, and Florence agreed with the sentiment. Who knew how long it would take to find another hired sword, and if they wished to leave before news got around of the missing princess-- they better leave awfully soon. The princess, in description, was awfully hard to miss. Even if no one had recognized her yet, if the palace were to release details of her appearance and offer a reward for her safe return, it would be only a matter of minutes before someone snatched her up and took her right back from where she had come from.


And if that happened, there would be no way she could keep Finn safe like she promised.


“I think it's best we begin on our road to Uldrich sooner rather than later. Surely, Mr. Malek has no intentions of doing anything other than procuring rare and beautiful things, of which we have none, right?” If he wasn't overhearing their conversation than he was certainly deaf. She shot him a firm glance.


“What do you think?”

 

[Scriven]

"I think you're right," Finn sighed quietly. "We don't have a whole lot of options right now, since we need to get going." He leaned in a little closer to Florence, his voice a whisper. "I really don't like the way he looks at you though."


"I'm getting the impression neither of you know what the hell you're doing," Marek interjected from across the room. He had his arms crossed loosely over his stomach, one of his dark brows raised as he watched the two blondes converse. "Let me shed some light on the situation: I'm a hired sword, not a thief. I make my living by selling my abilities, and much of the work I obtain is by reputation and word of mouth. If I were the sort of man to rob or assault those who hire me, I would quickly find myself out of work, which would be less than ideal." He looked at Arianna and winked at her, a slightly salacious gleam to his smile. "Besides, I have a weakness for pretty girls. I'll not let harm befall either of you."


Finn frowned for a moment, then nodded. "We'll pay you six silver each day, then give you the other half when we arrive safely in Uldrich."


"That seems fair to me," Marek agreed. "Be warned though- if you try to cheat me, I will take what's owed to me."


Finn nodded. "We need to leave tonight. We're in a hurry to get there and we don't want to waste any time."


Marek laughed, shaking his head. "The roads are pitch black."


"We'll carry lanterns."


"You'll be tired on the journey once the sun rises."


"We'll manage."


Clearly the boy couldn't be dissuaded, so Marek lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "Very well then. I'll gather my belongings and we can get going." He watched the boy give his sister a fleeting smile. "Do you have a name, lad?"


"Oh, er, yes. Finn. My name is Finn. We'll meet you in the stable shortly."


Marek nodded, and after a wide smile at Arianna, he left the room.


Finn waited a few seconds after the door had closed to say anything to Florence. He let out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. "It's done. We've got our sellsword. I think... I think we might just manage this."

 

[Mordecai]

Malek was, unfortunately, right. Neither of them had a damn clue what they were doing, and while that should have embarrassed some, it didn't Florence. He probably was just blowing hot air up both of their skirts, and Florence couldn't admit to particularly liking the man, but they needed to leave and she doubted any of the other swords for hire came in a dazzling, knight in shining armor sort of breed. Instead, she just sighed softly at Finn's comment about how he looked at her.


She couldn't agree more really, but what was a lady to do? She supposed she could just try her best to ignore the looks, though she was certainly not against smacking him upside the head with the closest, heaviest object she could get her hands on if he tried to overstep his boundaries. As a princess, she had dealt with her fair-share of suitors who had gotten too handsy after a night of drinking wine and rye, but those were the days she always had a guard in her immediate presence. In this circumstance, she had but Finn and while he was a delightful human being, she seriously doubted he had any chance of putting up a fight against Malek. Hell, she wasn't even sure he would try-- Florence certainly didn't believe she owed her that effort.


In fact, she owed him an endless horizon for all that he was doing and had sacrificed. She could only hope she'd be able to follow through on her word.


Looking to Malek who finally agreed to Finn's terms, she gave a nod. “Very good then,” she brushed off the front of her dress, “Go gather your rare and beautiful things, and we shall be on our way, then. It's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Mr. Malek.” A little bit of humble politeness never hurt, though he was already gone with nothing more than a saucy, wide grin fronted in her direction.


Oh, he was going to be trouble, she could tell already.


Turning back to Finn with an exhausted sigh, she gave a nod, “We do,” she agreed, trying to bring a smile to her face. It made it to her lips, but didn't light up her eyes the same way a smile should. “I am most confident if you, Finn, if it helps. And it almost seems like you've done this before,” she chuckled softly, “You haven't, have you? Rescued princesses, hired protectors, gone on a wild adventure that is bound to have terrible bumps along the way? You're something awfully special, Finn. I'm not quite sure how I got so lucky as to have you, of all the people in the castle, be the one to overhear that dreadful conversation.”


She was certain everything would have ended up very differently for her had it not been for him, and for that, she owed him a lot-- including her life.


Glancing throughout the room, she clasped her hands together. “Well, I fear we have nothing to pack, shall we go to the stable, then?” she moved swiftly towards the door.

 

[Scriven]

The princess's question made Finn laugh. Her grinned and puffed up his chest a little. "You caught me. When I'm not delivering tea, setting out dinner, and flitting about with various messages, I'm out saving princesses, slaying dragons, and just generally saving the day. Keep that quiet though, eh? My fan club is rambunctious and I'm trying to lie low."


Florence suggested they go to the stable and Finn nodded in agreement. Like her, he had nothing on him but the clothes on his back and a rucksack heavy with more wealth than he had ever seen. The two of them left the room together and walked down the stairs. He stayed close as they winded their way through the crowded tavern, but no one paid them any mind except for the barmaid who gave him a gleaming smile and a meaningful rise to her eyebrows in Florence's direction before the two of them slipped out through the front door.


The air felt cooler outside, though it wasn't cold. Without the presence of too many bodies crammed into the space, the air felt much fresher. Finn breathed it in deeply, then went down the steps and rounded the building to where the stable was. It was a small lean-to made of wood, with only half a dozen horses and a boy dozing in the corner on an overturned bucket. Finn neared him and tapped the boy's leg with the toe of his shoe, waking him. He looked startled and sprung to his feet, wiping the drool away from his face with the back of his hand.


"Sorry," the boy muttered, probably thirteen or fourteen years old.


"'s okay," Finn assured him. "Just didn't want you to wake up and find two horses missing and panic. I'm leaving, so I'll be needing them."


"Right! Yeah, uh, those two in the back, right? The dappled grey and the dun mare?"


"Yup," Finn replied.


The boy went to the back of the stable and untied the reins of the horses from the poles they had been affixed to. The stable boasted no stalls, so all of the horses were tied by either rein or rope to the poles sunk into the hard-packed dirt floor. The horses were led out onto the road.


"Do you need help getting up?" Finn asked. "You can take whichever you like."

 

[Mordecai]

The laugh was a rewarding sound to hear, because she feared they would feel nothing but grim, solemn solidarity while on the road to meet with her distant family. In response, her eyes brightened and a small, prim laugh escaped the princess as well, quickly covering her mouth with her hand, as was polite for a woman to do. “You have a fan club, do you?” she mused, “My, my, Mr. Finn, and here I thought I was the most popular in the castle. It would appear not!” teasing played a note in her tune as she continued along on light feet.


It was a cool night and the air bit in to her flesh, but the moderately heavy fabric of the dress she had chosen was enough to fend out the shivers. It was actually quite pleasant really. Angling her head back, she breathed in what felt like a mouthful of stars, because she could see nothing but a dark blankness scattered with constellation after constellation. They stepped into the barn and Finn went to rouse the stable boy, who Florence could only arch a brow at.


“Do I need help getting up?” she asked back, taking the reins of the dapple grey with a hint of smile. The horse turned its head towards her chest, as if to inspect if she was carrying anything edible on her person. When it was decided she was not, the animal gave a low snort and dipped its head lazily. “I would normally say yes, in my...” she caught herself, biting down on her tongue hard, “...Other dresses, but I think this one is light enough,” she murmured, testing the girth of the saddle before sliding her slippered foot into the stirrup and managing to haul herself up. 'Other dresses' was certainly a polite way of explaining 'royal gowns.'


The saddle had not been built for a woman in a dress so much as it had for a man in britches, but she managed to hook her leg around the pommel and sit comfortably. Admittedly, she felt a twinge of hesitation as all the horses she had ridden before had been magnificent, but well-trained, beasts. This horse she was not as confident in.


Gathering up the reins and holding them firmly (probably with a bit of a death grip, honestly), she looked to Finn with a proud little smile all across her face.