Fantasy The Land Between Us

[Chordling]

Casually, Matthew began to fiddle with a stray piece of straw that had carelessly found its way onto his shirt as Alana continued her half of the conversation. It was only when her exhaustion had finally made its triumph when turned his head in her direction. No doubt, the young woman was knocked out. His expression seemed very soft, or was it simply the effect of the room's dull lighting? No, though while the light was certainly a benefactor, Matthew's visage had grown calmer as he watched over Alana. The idea initially presented itself as odd, but there wasn't anyway the young politician could deny it; Alana greatly reminded Matthew of his younger sister, Anna. They were both significantly younger than he was and had rather similar sounding names, but they also had their differences. Anna was not as rigid and tomboy-like as Alana was. She was more of the "docile flower" type. Still, Matthew still couldn't resist from the heart softening emotion. In his eyes, Alana was still young and naive, though he would never treat as such.


Another thing was for sure, Matthew was ready for the war to be done with. No more fighting, no more running, just normality. In his youth Matthew would often complain about mundane life, and begged for bit of change, but now it was all that he yearned for. War wasn't mundane, it was unpredictable and temperamental. Anything could happen during times of war. He pondered further on all of the sudden events that took place during the past few years. His attempted flee, his failure to keep his sister safe, his seclusion from society, and everything else in between that lead up to this moment. At some point during his thoughts, Matthew removed himself from his seat and wandered towards the bed. It did not take him too long to resolve the debate; whether he should sleep on the cracked, wooden floor, or rest beside Alana. From past experience, he knew he would regret sleeping on the rotting, wooden planks. Both situations were uncomfortable, no doubt, but at least one was more tolerable than the other. Besides, he had lied to strange women before, this shouldn't be anything new, right?


Somehow Matthew managed to squeeze himself onto the insufficient mattress and hoped he had not disturbed the fatigued woman. He resumed his thoughts about life and war as he leaned his back awkwardly against the frame of the bed. Maybe this was all just a dream. Yes, this was all just a rather strange nightmare, and when they woke up, everything would be back as the way it was. Alana would be somewhere with her family again without anyone to distract her from her rightful path as a mercenary, and Matthew would be sitting in the living room with his sister. Perhaps they would be reading a book, or snacking on a small dish of sweet, or maybe just talking. Matthew kept thinking of what life would be like if the war between them was just a dream and slowly felt himself being pulled into a deep slumber as the night ticked away.

 

[Syrenrei]

There were many reasons that people were generally cooperative with Arcden. First, and foremost, was that was six and a half feet tall. Even for the Indoheru bloodline (which was bred for their physical traits) he was of exceptional height and all the relatives looked up to him literally. Around the common man he was veritable giant. No matter how he dressed or acted, there would be an initial shock factor that would have to be overcome as a person of his size was quite simply imposing. When coupled with the fact he was broad-shouldered and muscular, he could wear a dress and still be threatening. Of course, Arcden often wore some form of armor as he was an Indoheru and a mercenary who was paid to utilize physical prowess. In a country ravaged by war, with danger at every corner and death on their streets, no one questioned Arcden's intentions. The risk was too great to have such a figure easily destroy them and write it off as a 'casualty of war.'


Traveling had only been made easier by other very important factors: Arcden was relatively wealthy and willing to spend his money appropriately, he was handsome, and he was polite. There were more compelling reasons to help Arcden than there were to hinder him and so he made it to the inn in question with relative ease. Alana had been very difficult to track since she had gone into hiding but there had been no delays. No hiding, no combat, no scraping around for money, and his horse (a large war breed) was almost as swift as it was strong.


The innkeeper had been slightly put off when he questioned her about the 'couple' that was residing there. After all, Alana had paid her relatively well and they had been perfect guests- but Arcden was charming, even more affluent, and compelling with his story of his he was worried for his dear sister. They had crept towards the door in question like thieves in the night and, with a finger pressed to her lips, she unlocked the door and allowed him inside once they had both established the pair was fast asleep.


And so Arcden arrived in Matthew and Alana's room after the midnight toll but before dawn. Despite his stature he was silent- though not as much as Alana could be when she desired as much- and lifted a chair to move to the side of the bed where he sat and waited, watching, his face drawn and solemn. Initial temptation had been to park himself next to where Alana slept, but instead he was on Matthew's side. He stared at the strange male who Alana was allowing to share a room and bed with her. And he waited for the first sign of waking.

 

[Chordling]

Matthew eventually started to stir in his sleep from discomfort, possibly due to his unnatural sleeping position, possibly to to the quality of the bed, or possibly because there was a strange feeling that someone was looming over them. He fully woke himself finally and was careful not to disturb Alana from her dreams. He was confident that she was still sleeping, that, or she was incredibly talented at acting. The realization that someone had been watching over them (for however long they had been there) came suddenly. Panic began to take control of Matthew as he scrambled onto his feet from his spot without ever removing an eye from the stranger, regardless if he woke the woman next to him.


The figure that had been stooping over them was obviously larger than Matthew. Even when Arcden was seated, his figure was still intimidating, and he height exceeded that of Matthew's. He instantly began to question in his mind how the stranger had found them. Was someone following them before? Did the innkeeper give away their location? Was Alana actually a military spy? They all seemed to make sense, yet at the same time, they didn't. Matthew's logic wasn't sure which side to pick as it continued to fall back and forth between wild scenarios in his head.


"Who are you?" Matthew spoke after he quickly passed through his thoughts.

 

[Syrenrei]

Arcden leaned back in his chair with a calm, stoic confidence that Alana often found maddening. As expressive as he was, he by comparison had quite the 'poker face' that belied none of his true emotions or thoughts. As some errant light shone into the room Matthew could see that his hair was as long (if not longer) than Alana's but it was ebony rather than her mahogany, pulled over his shoulder so that it would not otherwise brush against the floor. His complexion was far from alabaster but it also was not the deeply tanned hue that Alana had achieved from so much time outdoors. After a moment he shifted his weight and took a large two-handed sword that had been wedged between his back and the chair and placed it upon his lap.


"Arcden Indoheru." Alana was still fast asleep even when the deep man's voice countered Matthew's own. Arcden suspected that she had started to wake but knew the voices well enough that her groggy mind had assured her it was safe to fall back into slumber. In any case she laid still and did not contribute to the conversation. It was better this way- Arcden was confident he could get more honesty if he approached this stranger 'man to man.'


"If you're not dead she must trust you, so I will- to a point. What are your intentions." Arcden knew Alana wasn't exactly a prize for most men. He also knew the pair were completely clothed and did not share any sort of physical intimacy in their sleep such as cuddling or the like. Still, he wasn't about to take any chances with his sister's emotional health on the line. Matthew looked a fair bit older than she was and, considering Alana's lack of a successful romantic relationships in the past, it would not take much to cause her injury. As he waited for a response, he squared his shoulders and tried to look slightly less intimidating. There was no sense scaring Matthew too much to respond... unless he gave a poor reply.

 

[Chordling]

The name seemed recognizable, yes, this was Alana's brother. Tall, intimidating, perhaps a bit dark even, this man was unmistakably one of her many siblings. Matthew was sure if there had been sufficient lighting in the room the physical resemblances between them would be even more noticeable. "My intention, I am afraid, was not to be discovered," Matthew simply put. This man was serious. Arden's question had been less of that and more of a command. The former aristocrat thought it wise to give the man the information he wanted if he stilled wished to remain alive. It was the only intention he had. If Arcden asked for more, Matthew would not be able to produce another answer, that is, unless he fabricated one.


Unknowingly, Matthew's body began to relax in the presence of the larger man. He felt slightly comforted knowing that this man was related to his traveling companion, but it still didn't dispel all of his worries. Alana and Arcden could still very well be spies and great actors. It could still very well be a trap laid out by the one of the blood thirsty governments to finally capture Matthew's soul and send him onto the battlefield; a fate that would most definitely end in death. Matthew almost thought himself silly with his ideas. It seemed torturous to allow them to gain this much advantage and to suddenly be squashed. Alana didn't seem like a cruel person despite her mercenary lineage. She was a tough woman, no doubt, but not cruel.


"Why are you here?" Matthew continued. He wanted to place his words carefully until he fully understood what this man's intentions (or intention) were. While he believed his negative suspicions about Alana were less likely to be true, it wasn't the same for the man that sat before him. "What are your intentions?"

 

[Syrenrei]

Arcden's expression soured slightly as Matthew posed his question. While the other man was entitled to carry on a conversation, he didn't really appreciate the query itself. "To protect my sister from everything within my power." The gravity of his words were indicative of something of a sister complex. Arcden was far from being in love with Alana (or anything remotely incestuous) but he certainly held her aloft mentally. After a pause he seemed to realize that such a succinct answer would make the conversation fall flat. The mercenary was not a natural conversationalist; that was something that his other siblings were much more adept at. He had an easier time if he was on equal footing with someone, or there were mutual interests, or there was business to discuss.


Giving Matthew a once up and down he suspected they had very little in common. There were men in the world with less musculature to be certain, but he had no scars that were indicative of a life of battle. The fact Matthew was 'hiding' in an inn meant he was almost certainly trying to escape from a war that Arcden had willingly waged into (for a price). If he had to wager a guess, Alana was protecting him more than he was protecting her- something Arcden would never allow personally. No matter how proficient she was, how independent, how strong, he felt compelled to take on a guardian role. It had been the subject of many an argument between the twins.


"I am not sure what of her circumstances she's made you aware of, but despite her protests she's especially vulnerable right now." He gave a flat look as he tried to evaluate if Matthew was taking advantage of this. In the eyes of an overzealous brother, the trust Alana had in the aristocrat only buoyed him so far. Arcden was now, and would remain, slightly wary of this 'pretty boy' that could potentially spell disaster one way or another. "When I heard she had been dragged across the border I came to help make certain she was safe." He did not mention, however, taking her home to Donesthorin in any capacity. It was a conscious omission.


"What are you doing with my sister?" he inquired directly, crossing his arms. This ought to be an interesting answer. Exactly how did some older, curly-haired sneak run into an abrasive, would-be mercenary? Alana didn't exactly bring boys home even in Donesthorin where her anger management issues were more hidden.

 

[Chordling]

Arcden's words nearly struck Matthew to the floor. "To protect my sister from everything within my power." Wasn't that what he had tried to do? Wasn't that his real intention? Annabelle was nothing like Alana. She was not independent or physically strong, but she was spirited, and she loved Matthew. Did he do everything in his power to protect her? No, most likely not. It could be easy to say that Arcden was much better at maintaining his missions than Matthew was. He was strong, courageous, and a perfect specimen for war. Matthew was not. He was emotionally fragile, an alcoholic, and above all else, spoiled. If he had joined the war like he was supposed to, Annabelle would be safe. If he had not been such a coward, Annabelle would still be at home. It did nothing for Matthew to mentally rail himself for his imperfections, but it would do nothing for him to take sudden action and rewrite the future, because Annabelle was most likely dead.


Matthew was only able to pull himself out of his vicious thoughts when Arcden had addressed his second question. "Surviving," was his simplest answer. Matthew didn't feel like a one worded answer would suffice for the brother, so he decided to give in more details. "She helped me evade a rough encounter with Arceivonian guards no more than a week ago." Had it been really been that long? It was hard for Matthew to believe it. "Out of courtesy, I offered her a place to rest. Unfortunately the place where I originally settled in was flooded just a few days later and we had no choice but to flee. We have not been here for very long. It was our intention to travel further once we were able to gather the appropriate coin and hindsight of the war's movements." And that is where he stopped. Matthew feared if he spoke anymore he would give too much away. He wasn't going to accept the man as an ally until he was proven.

 

[Syrenrei]

"I see," Arcden remarked dryly. His gaze flickered over to Alana and softened for but a moment. She had been through more turmoil than she'd ever admit to her family (even him) and yet had found a way to survive. Yes, survival was the way to put it. Arcden did not have as acute emotional reactions as she did; being calm was his natural state of being and he'd always found it easy to suppress himself when the need arose. At times he wish he could empathize with her and really understand the intensity with which she felt and reacted to the world around him. She was his twin and they shared a fierce bond that would never be broken... yet there were aspects of one another they could never understand. How had she fared in this land after escaping those guards? Was she traumatized or simply angry? Had loneliness seized her in the hours she had been isolated in hostile territory?


"I will go make some breakfast." He stood and propped his sword against one of the walls and then silently removed his armor, placing it in a heap on the floor next to his weapon. Once uncovered he was wearing a simple, yet expensive, tunic top embroidered with obscure insignia and well-worn breeches. "I'll trust that you can at least wake her up." He didn't actually wait for an answer before he departed out the front door and was heard thudding down the short hallway to the innkeeper's station. Considering the money he had at his disposal and the charm he could manufacture on short notice, Matthew could safely assume that Arcden would be able to convince the proprietor to let him use the kitchen.


Alana, however, showed absolutely no signs of waking and continued to sleep peacefully. He could wait a bit if he liked to try to rouse her as there wasn't much for her to do; she she was still full dressed from the night prior as she had passed out before she actually intended to succumb to slumber.

 

[Chordling]

Matthew had watched as Arcden left the room to cook in the kitchen. He only hoped that what he concocted would be better than last night's meal. He had barely eaten a morsel from his own bowl of green glop and was rather hungry by this point. After all his years of luxurious living, he had forgotten what hunger felt like. It was a funny thing. Sometimes it liked to play with you. Sometimes hunger was what it was, annoying and painful. Other times it could be playful and numb. Sometimes you could dispel the feeling and other times it was relentless. All of this came back to Matthew as he heard the first sign of obvious hunger; his stomach growled.


Though Alana had eaten more than he had the previous night, Matthew did not doubt that she would want to eat more when she was awake. He did not feel it was necessary to wake her immediately, so he waited a few moments longer before Arcden could return with fresh plates of food, then gently began to prod Alana from her slumber.


"I hate to disturb you, but we have a visitor," he coaxed, hoping this would not seriously alarm the young woman, for she had not been conscious during their introduction. "It's a man named Arcden. He say's he' your brother."

 

[Syrenrei]

Alana groaned not at the words but having to wake up. Despite the poor quality of the bed, despite the very little room she had, that she had a mending wound on her arm, and a room mate that wasn't exactly her first choice, it had been a remarkably wonderfully restful sleep. This inn was the safest she had been in a week and Matthew's companionship was slowly becoming less irritating. She could almost see how some petite, dainty, naive noble girl might find him enchanting in the right circumstances... especially if liquor was involved. As she was roused from her slumber she squirmed, stretched, relaxed, and then finally sighed before opening her eyes to the curly-haired man that has imposed himself on her life. Or was it the other way around.


It took a few moments to register his words before she sat up like a shot. "Arcden's here?" She looked around furtively for any sign of the lumbering giant but did not spy him. Matthew was clearly not lying, however, for her brother's armor and weapon were laid against a wall as he often did even in his own room at home. "He didn't threaten you?" she inquired before rolling off the bed and getting to her feet. The bandage around her arm itched a little but that was pretty typical. Alana tried to smooth out her rumpled clothes before fetching her brush from the small table in the room to begin the daunting task of untangling the dried locks.


"My brother's pretty resourceful, so I was pretty confident he'd find us," she admitted with the brightest smile he'd seen on her features in the short time they'd known each other. There was a fondness and respect in her voice that was not afforded to most persons or subjects of discussion. Clearly the twins had a close bond that buoyed them both during difficult times- understanding, acceptance, familial love. "I suppose that means we both have a decision to make. With Arcden there are many places we can go- but where do we go from this? You don't really have a home to go to, do you?"


The obvious answer for Alana was to return to her own house on the parcel of land that she and her husband owned. She was a widow now, however, and there was no one waiting for her there. The Indoheru mansion had her family. Both residences were in Donesthorin, however, and to back across the border would mean that she would be re-entering that world in which she was expected to wed a man of strength in quick order and bear mercenary heirs. The young woman wasn't exactly eager to go through the same ordeal a second time in the same year when she had a chance of limited freedom on her hands. Arceivona was equally, if not more, dangerous a place for her to be. Would she prefer her gilded cage or a place of unrelenting danger?

 

[Chordling]

Matthew shook his head in response to Alana's first question. Arcden's attitude may have been ragged, but it certainly didn't seem like he was of any threat, and it seemed that Alana was fond of the idea of her brother's arrival. Matthew knew what it was like to glow with delight in the presence of a sibling, and he knew what it was like to bask in the delightful glow. He would always remember his sister's wide grin whenever he returned from business affairs. These events never required him to travel far distances or for long periods of time, for most occasions he remained within the town and usually returned for dinner, but Annabelle still reacted as if he had crossed seas and borders for days. Matthew would shamefully admit that there were moments where he resented Annabelle's presence, and there were never any reasonable excuses for his resentment. Most of them were lame and petty. They were feelings that any sibling might feel; he was sure Alana could relate.


"No, I do not," he spoke to answer Alana's second question. "I had planned to continue traveling West and then back South to avoid the pattern I predicted the war would follow." He paused briefly before adding, "Though, my next path would lead me over the Arceivonian border. I know of some lodging just a few miles in, but if you and your brother are willing, I would appreciate your guidance." He instantly prayed that she would accept his offer. It had been at least two years since he traveled to Donnesthorin. His last visit, ironically, involved a discussion the relationship between Princess Lorinda and Prince James IV. Since the start of the war, Matthew was very familiar with Arceivonian military guards and their habits. Donnesthorin guards would be completely foreign. The retired politician wasn't sure if he would be able to pass them alive, at least, not without help. "And if you would like something in return, I am sure I will be able to accommodate for your service," Matthew quickly added as a last coax.

 

[Syrenrei]

He wanted to pass into Donnesthorin? Alana did not even attempt to hide the surprise in her features as his words left his lips. Shock froze her hand mid-brush before she composed herself enough to formulate a question. The truth was she had many queries for this strange man but there were some of more importance than others. "You know of lodging over the border? I did not think you were a man with allies in my country," she admitted somewhat incredulously. Politicians all seemed to rub elbows with one another, but the nobility was also notoriously mercurial. She hadn't met any that would stick their necks out for one another now that the war had broken out. Most of them had grown a sudden sense of nationalistic loyalty, dug in their heels, and began to proselytize the victory of their kingdom.


"We can travel that way," she started slowly. It would be challenging to try to avoid the skirmishes but not altogether impossible. Arcden was imposing enough even most soldiers wouldn't want to interfere with him unless direct orders too. She assumed that Arceivonia guards also suffered from a fatigue of combat. If they saw a big enough challenge without a large enough gain, they would decide the risk outweighed the benefit, and proceed accordingly. That was her hope, anyway. "We'll probably need to create a convincing ruse to be on the safe side if questions are asked and buy some supplies for the journey of course." She resumed brushing her hair to avoid eye contact as the idea of returning so close to home made her somewhat uncomfortable. Now that she had a taste of a life beyond wedding to make potential progeny for her family line, she was rather loathe to even consider her future.


"I'm not sure what you could give us that we'd want," she admitted. If Matthew had some riches he was hiding, he would have been better suited to use them to feed himself in the cabin rather than half-starving himself out of paranoia. After the war maybe he'd gain his status and resources once more. Alana wasn't truly a mercenary anyway- she didn't particularly feel compelled to do things for payment. Her parents would cite this as another reason why Arcden was a superior heir no doubt. "I can't speak for my brother, but nothing I want is tactile. I'd like for the fighting to stop, for my parents to let my sister marry for love, to let my brother enjoy his youth instead of training to be the perfect fighter, that sort of folly. Perhaps I'll think of some venture along the way, though, that you can assist me with." It was about as close to an agreement as he would get considering she didn't really have anything in mind to barter for. She finished smoothing her hair into silken strands and pushed them behind her shoulders to tie them back.


"You got someone special waiting for you in Donnesthorin?"

 

[Chordling]

Matthew chuckled as shook his head. He should have expected a question like that out of her. Ever since they encountered one another, the young woman seemed very curious about his personal, political, and love life. Of course, media was like that, too, but it was different with Alana. Media was all about facts, facts, facts. Alana's interests seemed to hold a little more depth than that, however. "No, I do not have a special someone waiting for me in your country, at least, not in the way that I believe you are expecting," he spoke while still holding a smile. "Though they are good friends of mine. I've never traveled and stayed in Donnesthorin long enough to meet women and flirt. In every occasion, I believe, my visits have been solely based around political matters," Matthew continued to share. Suddenly he heard strong footsteps coming from the hallway and he quickly turned his head.


"That must be your brother," he observed, then he stood from the position he had been sitting in while they had been talking and began to gather the few belongings of his that remained in the room. "He had gone down to the kitchen to bring us food. Once we've replenished ourselves and inform your brother of traveling plans, we can make our way out of town." There was a knock at the door, then Arcden came in with his arms covered in several trays of food. Now that Matthew had fully awakened and had more of his wits about him, he was realizing that Alana's brother was far larger than he initially imagined.

 

[Syrenrei]

Alana pressed her lips together in a thin line. She wasn't certain that 'good friends' would be sufficient to not be affected by the war in terms of their loyalty. Certainly she believed Matthew when he said they cared about each other platonically in the past... but this sort of situation changed people. It was a gamble and she was worried for Matthew's sake that the result would not be what he anticipated. It was only when Arcden entered the room with plates full of actually pleasant-looking food that her spirits lifted. Why was she so nervous about Matthew? It was his problem, not hers, whether or not these friends may betray him in some poor sense of nationalism.


"I found something palatable," Arcden announced as he stepped in and handed plates to both Alana and Matthew, keeping one for himself. At his insistence (and with his wealth involved) he was able to procure some cooked eggs, fresh slices of bread, salted meat, and some cooked oats flavored with honey. It was possibly the nicest meal that Alana had in the last week and she was all too happy to eat every last bite despite the lack of seasoning. She didn't need a renowned chef- just something substantial and slightly tasty to keep her going. Arcden's portion was visibly larger than hers or Matthew's but she didn't find that surprising: he was not only larger, but he was also wearing somewhat heavy armor that would drain his stamina albeit slowly. Besides, Arcden had purchased the food with his own money.


"We want to travel back towards the border. Do you think it's possible? What sort of combat did you see crossing over?" Alana's words were aggressive but not antagonistic. She and her brother had a good working relationship and much respect for one another. They could speak plainly and bluntly without concern for the other's feelings being injured or a lack of understanding. After she asked her question she began to inhale her cooked oats in large bites.


"It's possible. Where are you wanting to go- to your home, to the family home?" Arcden's expressions were subtle, yet even Matthew could see concern in the lines of the man's face as he looked at his sister.


"No, no. Matthew has some 'good friends' that he wants to seek lodging with. I'm not sure yet where I want to go. Maybe I'll head to Alex's for a bit before I head home." Alex was their eldest brother who was also involved in the war as a mercenary. He was somewhat estranged from the main family as he had married a woman for love and against the wishes of the elders. While he would not be at his home presently, his wife and child presumably be wood and would welcome Alana with open arms- without alerting anyone of her return unless she wished it.


"If that is what you want, Alana. Do you ride?" Arcden asked Matthew pointedly. Since the noble didn't look capable of fighting, they would do best to move quickly and make certain the 'squishy' male could escape as swiftly as possible if there were any threats. He was much less worried about his sister's ability to defend herself if the need arose on their journey.

 

[Chordling]

Matthew received the homemade meal from Arcden and patiently ate from its contents while Alana relaid the topic of their previous conversation to her brother. His hunger had been relentlessly gnawing at his stomach, but he refused to display poor dining manners, especially in front of a new acquaintance. He started with the honey-sweetened oats. Although the grain seemed blander than normal and the honey seemed to have an abnormal consistency, the mixture easily melted in his mouth. The eggs and bread were finished together and he ate most of what he could from the salted meat. It was hard for Matthew to realize that he had not eaten anything remotely as fine as the meal before him in ages.


It was also hard for him to realize that this section of their journey would most likely separate their paths. It had only been a few weeks at most, but Matthew felt like he was only beginning to build a bond with Alana, and a part of him wished they could continue to fortify their friendship. And even though they would both be residing in the same nation for a certain period of time Alex's didn't sound like it was anywhere close to where he would be. Unless her relative lived anywhere near the woods, it was certain that they would never meet with one another again.


"Yes," Matthew answered shortly. "I have a stallion waiting at the Inn's stables. My desired course is over the West border. To my knowledge, the area was clear, but I recently overheard that there was a troop of guards spotted heading in that direction." The news was actually a couple of weeks old, but Matthew wanted to ensure that the path they would be taking would be safe, or at least that they would be aware of any serious danger. "If it is possible, I would like to avoid them. I am not confident whether these guards are Arceivonian or Donnesthorian. I also cannot say for certain whether there are any safer alternatives." He finally paused to allow Arcden to respond to his proposal as he neatly set the plate and utensils he was handed on to the nearest table.

 

[Syrenrei]

"While I have no desire to cross paths with Arceivona's soldiers, Donnesthorin's will allow us passage even if they discover your origin." Arcden had already had swallowed down half of his food by the time he spoke. He was not nearly as polite as Alana, who ate quickly but still exhibited some amount of table manners. The mercenary shoveled food into his mouth with very little care for how he might appear to others. It was difficult to tell if this was a sign of his comfort in present company or disregard for them. Either seemed completely plausible. "Disguises might be in order, just in case. Alana and I could probably take out a half dozen of your country's finest but I'd prefer to avoid it if I'm not getting paid for my troubles." His sister did a none-too-subtle roll of her eyes at that commentary.


"Clearly you can't disguise yourself, so what do you suggest we disguise ourselves as?" Alana made a gesture as she tore off a piece of bread and then took a few sips of her water. The clothing they had purchased the day prior was clean, relatively well-made, and held up to most standards. She was somewhat reluctant to discard it already when it had seen so very little use.


Arcden would have looked absurd trying to appear inconspicuous in some way. He was abnormally large, extremely muscular, and built like a (very attractive male) tank. Putting any sort of strange disguise on him might have drawn more attention rather than less. The Indoherus were some of the most prominent mercenaries around, but they were far from the only ones in business- a bulky mercenary wasn't unheard of or in and of itself suspicious.


"For you a dress." Arcden stated simply. The words cut through Alana's thoughts abruptly and efficiently. Her cheeks started to flush a shade of pink in embarrassment as she imagined the spectacle that would make. It wasn't as if she didn't understand Arcden's logic: it would help conceal the musculature of her legs with a skirt, and the feminine cut and style would also help hide the strength in her torso and arms. It would create an image more like a lady of some standing than a primal warrior forged from nearly two decades of rigorous training and conditioning.


"You intend to put Matthew in a dress too?" she snapped at her sibling testily.


"No, the cripple farce is sufficient- but he needs a better cane." Alana's frown deepened. Why was she the only one that was going to end up completely mortified with this plan? What if they were ambushed? Fighting in a freakin' gown was no easy task unless you ripped it up- especially for someone like her who depended more on speed and agility than raw strength.