Marth opened his eyes, and once again found himself in Dalanesca's suite, in Castle du Reolar. It seemed as though no time at all had passed, but Marth was not suprised by this fact. Dalanesca was in the room, as well, even though Marth had left her realm before her. This didn't surprise him, either. In this physical world, however, his mind was no longer kept balanced by the mystical forces of the Blinded Scales - and Marth has to sit down and cradle his head in his palms to organize his thoughts.

Focus, Coralax, focus. There's a mission ahead, and a shard of Reaver. Do not forget it needs to be destroyed. Marth took a deep breath, and was somewhat startled by the voice that came next. Well, I won't lie, hunting down myself seems like good sport. Just remember, Coralax… You are Redeemer and Destroyer. Sooner or later, You'll have to let me come out and play… Marth tried to push the voice away, but for some reason, it faded on its own.

Still cradling his head in his hands, Marth spoke up, assuming Dalanesca had the proverbial (and in this case literal) presence of mind to hear him. "First things first, you need a new set of armour. A Fellhunter outrider's set would suit you nicely, I think." He lifted his head to look at her. He then glanced at a nearby table, where a breakfast tray still stood. There was a jar of honey. He looked at Dalanesca, and went over to the jar. "Expose your wound. Getting a burn ointment from the apothecary might raise questions, but honey has many burn-treating qualities." He then proceeded to throw the jar to Dalanesca, his mind finally settling.

Dalanesca had merely closed her eyes, and when she reopened them she was right back in Martin’s castle.  She drifted her gaze to Marth, whose head was in his hand seemingly deep in thought.  She could not blame him - it was a lot to take in, even for her - she could not imagine being in his position.  She let her eyes rest on Marth for a few moments, before he began to speak to her.

Upon his mention that she was in need of new armor, she let out an exasperated sigh and plopped down on the bed, leaning back on her hands.  “All too unfortunate,” she began.  “I was quite attached to that chest plate,” she continued, looking at the discarded and somewhat destroyed piece of leather that lay on the floor near where their altercation had taken place.  “Fellhunter armor, you say?”  She quirked one eyebrow, trying to think if she had seen any before in her time - and it appeared that she had not.  “I’ll take your word for it,” she said, sitting up right again as he looked at her.

Her eyes scanned Marth’s face for a moment, recalling what had happened in her realm.  Even before his declaration of servitude, as it were, she had felt a slight connection with Marth.  Now, that connection was ever present in her mind and she felt it very strongly.  It made perfect sense, that the high priest (or at least priest-like figure) of a deity would be important.  Her eyes stayed fixed on Marth, but her mind wandered elsewhere, contemplating what uses she would have for Marth when it came to his duties.  Of course, she would ask nothing of him unless absolutely necessary until the two had completed the task at hand.  

She snapped out of her thoughts when Marth spoke again, quickly catching the small jar of honey he had tossed her.  She looked down at the jar for a moment, and looked back at Marth.  “I’ll take your word for it,” she admitted.  She had never been overly knowledgeable about first aid, but she trusted Marth - she trusted him more than she could remember trusting anyone in a very long time.  

She unlaced the neck of her tunic and pushed the shoulder down, enough to expose to the wound but still covering necessary areas.  As she pried the lid off of the honey and dipped her fingers into it, she could not help but chuckle a little.  “You know,” she said as she smeared a bit of the honey onto the gash.  “I always thought if I was smearing honey on my chest in my bedroom in front of a man it would be for fun, not for first aid.”  She gave Marth a quick wink, pressing the lid back onto the jar of honey.  She stood from the bed and walked towards a water basin in the corner, pulling one shoulder of her tunic back up to hold it in place.  Dipping her hands in the water, she washed the honey from her fingertips. 

Drying her hands on a cloth that lay near the basin, she walked back over towards Marth and sat down cross legged on the floor in front of him.  “Well, we had best get back on the trail of this Borza bloke, Devil Eyes or whatever it is you called him,” she said.  “Let’s go get me that armor, get what you need, hit the armory, grab Martin, and get on with it, yeah?” she asked.  It seemed as though she a new source of energy had come with her deification, and she was eager to use it.  “Unless you want a little more time to process, yeah?” she quipped, reaching up and patting her hand on his leg.  “Speaking of which… are you going to tell Martin?  Or anyone?  Or should we just keep this under wraps a bit longer?” she asked, in reference to her new power.  “I’m going to let you make that decision… Think of it as your first task in acting has my adviser, along with your given title.”  

Marth nodded as Dalanesca made her complaint about getting new armour - and blushed slightly. "Yeah, sorry about that… But I do think you'll find the fellhunter armour suitable. I can work on repairing your chestpiece while we're on the road. If I ask for some small plates and such, I could reinforce it as well."

Marth, too, felt the stronger connection between the two as Dalanesca looked at him. He was familiar with psionic bonds, and this was similar, yet not entirely the same. Connections done with psionics bound two individuals together in mind, but Marth felt the connection ran deeper - and through something else, presumably the Blinded Scales. Marth elected that he'd be better off just giving the sensation time to settle in. "I assume you'll be able to hear my prayers wherever you are henceforth, and that I'll be able to hear your responses as well."

Marth tried (and failed) not to watch as Dalanesca treated her wound. He chuckled at her comment, a half tired, half sly smirk on his lips. "Noone said the two can't be combined. I seem to recall one of my former colleuges having a thing for nurses." He picked up the jar of honey and studied it with a cheeky grin, before discarding it.

As Dalanesca pointed out that it was probably time to get moving, Marth nodded and got up, trying his best not to look too affected by what had just happened. Focusing on the task in front of them seemed to help. "Yes, quite. They'll have everything we need in the armoury, I imagine. Let's get going." He went to the door and held it open for Dalanesca, like a proper gentleman, as he answered her final query. "And I suggest we keep a lid on this for the time being. I'd prefer Martin didn't think us lunatics for the time being. Being a devout man, he'll find out that new gods have appeared soon enough, and we can take him to your realm." Assuming Dalanesca passed him out the door, Marth would then accompany her to the armoury.

Marth, despite not having been at the keep before, found the armoury with relative ease. The various map plates, signs, and servants throughout the castle did nothing to make the search more difficult, either. They both appeared in the armoury in a few minutes, which Marth was apparently happy to spend in silence, contemplating. Once they entered, it was clear that, despite their scholarly nature, the lords and ladies for the house had a prudent amount of weapons and armour available. Marth went immediately over to a wall with a painted emblem. "Hrm. Seems like a simple lock." The wall looked to be made of pure stone, but Marth pressed a button on his sleeve againt the painting, and sure enough, a chunk of the wall swung open. he looked at Dalanesca with a smile. "Shall we?"

Inside the secondary armoury, there were several suits of ornate armour of all kinds, as well as sanctified weapons, artifacts, and scrolls. Marth found a small set of leather armour, mostly plain black, but with gold embroideries along the seams. It seemed to have been made for a young woman - about Dalanesca's size, with adjustable straps. The sigil of the Fellhunter Fraternity was painstakingly embroidered on a midnight scarf accompanying the armour, able to be turned inside-out for stealth. Marth looked at the armour, then at Dalanesca, smiling. "Think I found your armour." He then went over to a shelf, and found a harness which would fit nicely over it. "And here's a harness you can hang sheathes and satchels on."

Marth looked around, and found a few baubles he saw fit to inspect more closely. He also found a set of vambraces, which he tried (and apparently liked), and well as inspecting a rack of legplates - the type which would give him added protection against sharp weapons without sacrificing a lot of mobility. he finished grabbing small items and field nessecities, giving Dalanesca time to change and look through the place herself.

Marth’s embarrassment caused her a bit of laughter.  “It’s no worry - besides, maybe it’s time I change it up a little bit, anyway,” she said.  The black ensemble she usually wore was leftover from her days as an assassin, and those days were behind her now.  However, her attention was piqued when he mentioned reinforcing it during their journey.  “I suppose it would be nice to keep it, however… It fit so perfectly, worn in well,” she said, quietly.  

She nodded when Marth mentioned being able to communicate with one another.  “To a point, yes,” she said.  “It’s not really telepathy, but mostly I’ll know if you need me, and in turn you’ll know if I need you.  I think, as our bond strengthens, it will enhance itself… words, phrases, things like that.”  She paused for a moment.  “But, I could be wrong.  Maybe it will work that way.  We won’t find out until we aren’t near one another,” she added.  

She let out a chuckle at his retort to her joke regarding the honey, glad that her humor was not lost on him.  “To each his own,” she said, with a quirked eyebrow, watching Marth for a moment.  She followed suit when Marth stood, walking behind him to the door.  “Thanks,” she said, in regard to his holding the door open for her, and stepped out, walking to the armory along with Marth.

She was surprised at how quickly he managed to find their destination, considering she had been under the impression that the location was as new to him as it was to her.  There seemed to be a decent amount of equipment available to them, but nothing out of the ordinary; however, that changed as Marth pressed something - a button from his shirt? - to an unfamiliar emblem on the wall.  A hidden door opened, and she nodded, impressed.  “We shall, she said, stepping in behind him.

She could see why this area was only accessible by some for a certain reason - the equipment within seemed to be of a more important nature, several things scrawled with sigils and emblems that she did not recognize off hand.  She directed her gaze to the armor which Marth had found when he got her attention.  She walked over and stood next to him, appreciating the armor’s appearance.  “Looks well made, and durable,” she said, taking it from him.  Waiting a moment, she received the harness from him as well.  “Thanks,” she said, and took a couple steps away.  

She pulled the armor on slowly, paying close attention to the way it conformed to her body.  It fit her similarly to the way her own armor did, since it too was leather, but it still had that stiff feeling of new armor.  It felt a bit tight on her chest, but loosening the side buckle did away with that issue.  She slide the harness over the armor, and went about the armory, grabbing several sheaths and blades and placing them at strategic points about her armor.  As a finishing touch, she draped the scarf around her neck, reaching back to pull her hair out from the inside of the armor, the black waves cascading down around her shoulders.  

She walked back to Marth and tapped him on the shoulder.  “The armor fits well,” she said, with a bit of a grin.  “I think I’ve got what I’ll need,” she added.  “I’ll just wait out there for you,” she said, gesturing towards the exit.  She needed a moment to herself.  After everything that had happened, she had immediately gone to Marth, and hadn’t taken a moment to process.  The whole situation was a bit overwhelming to her.

She made it out into the hallway outside the first armory, and leaned against a wall, her back to the door of the armory.  She drew a long breath and let it out slowly, trying to organize all of the thoughts rushing around in her mind.  “Well, hard part’s done, Dal,” she said quietly aloud to herself.  “You know what happened, and he believes you, and that’s all that matters, for now,” she continued.  She lowered her head, running her fingers through her hair.  “Keep focused.  You promised Marth you would help him with this task, and you can’t let your mind get jumbled.  Focus on him - focus on what you promised you would do for him,” she muttered, standing back up straight.  She closed her eyes for a moment, resting her head against the wall, as she waited for Marth to come back out and let her know their next steps in departure. 

Marth didn't take long a all to be done in the armoury - after all, he had most of the armour and weaponry he needed already. He adjusted the vambraces - engraved with the emblem of the Fellhunter Fraternity - and made a mental note to customize the straps to better fit his arms. He also grabbed a pair of half-leggings - shinguards and kneepads, connected by a silver bolt engraved with a holy sigil. They fit rather well over his trousers, and Marth liked the feeling of the medium-thick metal sheets protecting his legs. The vambraces wern't an encumbrance either, so Marth decided he was satisfied and went into the hall.

When he saw Dalanesca outside, his heart sank. Of course. She seemed as troubled as Marth felt, which, in hindsight, wasn't much of a surprise. Godess though she may be, she's still Dalanesca. This is news to her as well. He tentatively went over and put a hand on her shoulder, gripping it with a strong hand to give her a firm reminder where she was - and who was there with her.

"Keep it together, Dalanesca. When endowed with new abilities, the best course of action is to let them adapt to you - not the other way around." He gave her a half-sad smile, which slowly turned into a mischievous grin. "First time I spat fire, the hottest curry tasted like watery porridge for over a fortnight. And when I learned to bend thunder, I got shocks from any metal I touched for a month. Eventually, however, it all fell into place." He patted her gently. "And don't argue - while more powerful, I don't think your new gifts differ from magical affinity in that aspect. Besides…" He stood up straight, proud and tall, as befitted a man of his position - both battlemage and high priest. "If you're a godess, it is only fitting that your powers bend to you, and not the other way around." He ruffled her hair affectionately, letting her know he was still there for Dalanesca, the now-very-much-in-a-confusing-situation woman, as well as being there for the Justiciar.

---

After the pep talk, Marth accompanied Dalanesca to the barracks just outside of the keep. There, Martin sat tall atop his finest warhorse, a thuroughbred mare with more discipline and independent intelligence than any stallion could be counted on to posess. Martin himself was clad from his collar and down in demon-hunter plate, claymore slung across his back and lance in hand. The armour was radiant and laden with rich embellishment. In contrast, his men were in uniform drab armour - leather leggings with steel shinguards, unembellished cuirasses, halfhelms, kite shields, and longswords. Their shields carried the sigil of house du Reolar, but otherwise, they looked much like what they were - men-at-arms. Martin greeted Marth and Dalanesca as they approached the group.

"Hail, you two. I hope you're ready, for I sure am." He made a gesture and a young squire approached with horses, one each for Dalanesca and Marth. Marth took a few moments to familiarize himself with the horse and give it a treat, before swinging himself up on the saddle. As a result, his robe slid off his legs, revealing the fact that he'd helped himself to extra armour. Martin looked at him with a perked eyebrow.

"I thought battlemages preferred enchanted cloth over base metal, Captain Coralax." Marth dismissed the sentiment. "There are battlemages and battlemages, my lord. Most are simply mages with magic geared towards combat. I am a mage-warrior, who seek the perfect balance between offensive magic and skill at arms. Most of us prefer medium armour, like the partial plate I took the liberty of appropriating." To this, Martin gave a simple shrug. "Fair enough. It is your right, as a member of the Fraternity." He then looked at Dalanesca. "Ah, you found my great-aunt's old sabouteur's attire, I see! It suits you. Do good work alongside the fraternity, and you may earn the right to keep it. According to my father, my great-aunt willed it passed on in that manner." He smiled at Dalanesca, before noticing something. "You look… You look well, miss Dalanesca. I suppose a good night's sleep did wonders, eh?"

He chuckled, and addressed his men. "Listen up, soldiers! We are undertaking a mission on behalf of the fraternity. Captain marth Coralax will be de facto force commander for this mission. Defer to him for all commands and information. Also, miss Dalanesca is working alongside the Fraternity, so you may consider her a lieutenant for this assignment. Should you be cut off from any one of us, sergeant McConroy will be in charge until such a time you find either one of us. Understood?" The men replied by stomping once, in unison, and cry out 'Yes, milord!' before turning to face Marth.

Marth looked over the men, then at Dalanesca. Deciding they might as well begin their hunt for Devil Eyes Borza, he kept it brief. "We'll be marching hard, so do not concern yourself with formation. I suggest you leave your weapons with your pack animals. Get to work preparing, we're leaving in no more than one minute!" The men-at-arms immediately complied, double-timing to their ponies and loading up their shields and longswords. Many of them also elected to load their helmets, and all of them took shortswords and attatched them to their belts. In roughly fifty seconds, all soldiers were ready to march. Marth looked over the men, pleased. "Well done, gentlemen. My name is Marth Coralax, retired captain of the Wyllmochvarian Expeditionary Forces. I will learn all your names in turn, I am sure, but if that is so, let it be on the march! We go!" Marth pointed the Dragon Lance in the direction of the town gates, and took point. Martin, for the time being, seemed content to talk to the sergeant on the way down, giving Dalanesca the opportunity to talk to marth if she desired.

When Marth’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, she jumped ever so slightly, having been off in another realm of thought when he had come into contact with her.  She turned, matching his smile, though hers did not morph from anything but downtrodden.  “I’m fine,” she said, though her demeanor and her tone of voice gave away that she was indeed not fine.  “It’s just a lot,” she said.  “I know, I’m supposed to be strong, chosen, able to handle this… but I didn’t even have a choice,r really, did I?” she asked, with a sigh.  She listened as Marth explained the trouble he had gone through harnessing his abilities, and couldn’t help but let out a bit of a laugh.  It was nice to hear that she wasn’t the only person who had struggled with something, though she did sense that her particular situation was a bit unique compared to some.

She couldn’t help but smile as he patted her, the physical contact from him welcome and comforting.  She looked at Marth, standing proudly before her, and saw him in a different light than she had so far on their journey.  At the start of their journey together not all that long ago, she had viewed him as a work associate, an employer, perhaps a distant friend - but now, she saw him as her companion and close friend.  Rolling her eyes slightly as he mentioned causing her power to bend to her, she could not help but make a joke.  “I’ll get right on that,” she said, ducking slightly as ruffled her hair.  “Watch that, I’ve got appearances to keep up!” she said, playfully swatting his hand away and flattening her hair, but once again welcoming the contact.

–

She followed Marth outside the keep where they encountered Martin, looking mighty regal upon his steed.  His armor shone brilliantly in the daylight, and she noticed that it highly resembled some of the things that she and Marth had seen in the armory.  Upon Martin’s greeting, she bowed her head respectfully in acknowledgement.

Uncharacteristically, Dalanesca took a reproachful step back as a squire approached with a horse for her.  The steed was jet black from head to tail, a color that pleased her - but she had never been a fan of horses.  They had always made her uneasy, and a feeling of dread always filled her when she was near one.  The familiar sense of dread hadn’t accompanied the horse’s appearance this time, but the step away had been instinctive for her.  She glanced at Marth, who was already atop his own mount, and stepped towards hers, sucking in a breath and mentally preparing herself.

The horse seemed a bit eager, but to Dalanesca’s surprise, the moment she laid her hand on the horse, it calmed, standing still awaiting her to mount it.  She looked pleased with herself for a moment, before preparing to mount the horse.  She climbed up and slung a leg over to the other side, feeling much more comfortable than she could recall every feeling atop an animal such as this.

She and the steed trotted a few steps towards Marth and Martin, who were in conversation.  She stopped a bit behind and to the side of Marth, not wanting to be rude.  When Martin acknowledged her, however, she had the horse take a few paces forward so she was eveningly alongside Marth.  “Yes, Marth found it for me.  It fit well, I just had to adjust the chestplate a bit,” she added, with a smile.  “Thank you so much for allowing me use of your equipment,” she said, nodding to him in respect.  “I plan to do everything in my power to assist the Fraternity.”  When Martin mentioned her looking well, she cast her eyes to the side, a bit of a blush coming to her cheeks.  For the time being she was quite glad that, although the pressure from the chest plate was mildly painful on the wound on her chest, it could not be seen beneath her armor.  “Yes, a good night’s sleep can be quite remedial,” she lied, though her voice was completely even and did not give a thing away.  When Martin had looked away, she shot Marth a sideways glance and a wink with a sly grin.  

She kept beside Marth, choosing to stay silent through the mission briefing for the men-at-arms that Martin had provided.  Upon mention from Martin, she gave an acknowledging nod to the men, pleasantly surprised by the lack of remark from them at mention of a woman holding authority over them.  It was something she had been quite used to, especially in her days as an assassin.  Many a man had laughed at her, expecting that a woman would not be capable of a man’s job.  Most of those who had laughed had learned their lessons - except for one, who had a repeat offense, and had lost his tongue.  Dalanesca knew she was capable of many things, and did not much care for being underestimated.

She stood idly by while Marth directly addressed the troops, a small smile on her face.  He seemed so in place with commanding the troops.  As he introduced himself and gave his former title, she thought quietly to herself an addition to his title - ‘Redeemer and Destroyer,’ echoed in her mind.  She had to admit, she quite liked Marth’s that his two inner selves had proclaimed him to be.  It was entirely fitting.

When he set the troops off, she held her horse to fall into step beside his own, looking over at him.  “Quite the speech you’ve given,” she said, with a smile.  “You seem at home, commanding the men.  You must have been a great Captain,” she added.  The pride she held for him rang apparent in her voice.  “I think I’ve made a good choice,” she added, just loudly enough for him to hear her.  She offered no more detail, but it should have been clear that she was referencing her decision to name him to such a high position in her realm.  


She allowed a few moments to pass in silence, before speaking to Marth once more.  “So, how’s this going to go down when we go there?” she asked, keen on finding out exactly what the plan was.  “Are we heading in as one large force, or are we splitting off to find this Borza?”  She would trust Marth’s judgement on whatever was the case, but she was hoping it would not separate her from him.  She was still a bit lost with all of the changes that had happened to her in such a short time, and being around Marth reminded her that she would be fine and would learn how to handle the power that came with it.  While she awaited his answer, she pulled her leather canteen from one of the hooks on her harness, taking a drink of the water it held before offering it to Marth, much like she had in the beginning of their journey.

Marth smiled and took a drink of the offered canteen, thinking about Dalanesca's words. "Well," he began, "we know more or less where he'll be located, and none of these men are scouts. Frankly, I was going to keep us on the march, keeping up the appearance that a noble is travelling with his bodyguard, and his hirelings, associates, or whatever we'll pretend to be, have business of their own along the way. Then, once Borza has been located, we'll use our manpower to cut off his movements and move in for an arrest." He handed the canteen back, nodding at Dalanesca. "This means I'll go around pretending to be a power-hungry mage while you can act as a spy. If there's correspondence that needs stealing, I'll leave that to you, as well."

Just as he said that, the party passed the gates to the town, and Marth led the party along what appeared to be a southbound merchant's road. at that point, martin approached the two - a dashing knight in shiny armour and a thuroughly thrilled expression. "Ah, it feels good to be demon-hunting again! So, master Coralax. What's your plan?" Marth nodded at Martin, and gave him the brief synopsis. "You'll be the adventrueglad lordling, and Dalanesca and I will be your hirelings, with our own shady dealings along the way. When the time comes, I'll appropriate your troops and make my move." Martin thought about the prospect for a second, and finally nodded. "Sounds reasonable. And believable. High-end mercenaries, I think, is what we'll pass you off as being." Marth nodded, and kept on the march.

---

The party kept walking for a few days. These days were mostly spent chatting, plotting, camping, and singing. Despite rationing of supplies and long days of marching, Marth managed to keep spirits in the party high, through lenient treatment of the troops' concerns, and personal and diplomatic interference with any conflicts that arose among the men-at-arms. As they made camp each evening, Marth made sure to set aside some time to talk to Dalanesca, and provide any counsel she needed. During the march, marth displayed very few symptoms, if any, of his mental affliction. Whether this was by the grace of Dalanesca's divine powers, her friendship with Marth, or Marth's 'at-home-ness' with military command was difficult to say.

---

After four days, the party finally arrived where they needed to be. It was a crossroads, at which a small trading station had popped up. There were stalls laden with trade goods such as silk bolts and hides, a supply station selling rations and water by the barrel, and a tavern - the Highborn Ogre. Marth pulled up the rough letter he had shown Dalanesca immediately after he met her - not even a fortnight ago, yet it felt so distant - and confirmed that this was the right place. He looked at Dalanesca, then addressed the men-at-arms.

"You gentlemen hold up here for a moment, please. I have a matter I'd like to attend to before we press on." The men, including Martin, replied exactly as rehearsed. "Take your time, Dragon Lance. I believe I shall have a look at the stalls, see if perhaps I can find something to my liking." Sergeant McConroy addressed the men. "Well, men, let's not clog up the crossroads! Get off the road, and grab some food and drink while you have the opportunity!" About two thirds of the men complied - getting behind the tavern, camping outside its back and side exits. Meanwhile, another group of men, led by martin, feigned interest in a few baubles just outside the main entrance to the tavern, thus covering the building in its entirety. Marth nodded at Dalanesca, dismounted, and went towards the door.

"Showtime."

The trip to their destination did not take too long - only a few days.  Dalanesca was happy to spend the nights they set up camp speaking with Marth on a few things, talking through things that confused her about her new status, and just generally conversing with him.  It helped to pass the time, and she found herself catching a bit more sleep than she anticipated she would.  The trip ended up being a bit more relaxing than she was hoping it would be, and that was beneficial for her.  By the time they had reached their destination - crossroad with a sort of trade caravan set up, along with a building which identified itself as the Highborn Ogre - she was in high spirits, but she also found herself quite grateful that their destination had brought her to a place where she could (hopefully) find a glass of whiskey.  The events of the previous days had been trying on her, and she had found herself truly wishing for a drink.

She dismounted from her horse after Marth did, having understood the general idea of the plan.  She was going to make herself useful - she had years of experience at getting information out of people without having to ask for it.  As he gave the nod which she took as a signal, she pushed open the heavy wooden doors to the tavern.

Upon entering, she found herself slightly confused at the state of the place.  The building stood at three stories, such she could tell not only from the view outside but as well as the balconies inside.  The noise was loud but not overbearing - and on the second and third floor balconies she could see whores - who seemed to range from proper to questionable - milling about with their patrons, both ladies and gentleman.  She quirked an eyebrow and glanced sideways at Marth, stifling a bit of a laugh.  

The place seemed clean enough, so to speak.  The only dingy places seemed to be the back corners, where a couple of shady looking folks had camped out.  She moved a bit closer to Marth, placing her mouth near his ear to speak at a volume only he could hear.  “I’ll see what I can find out,” she said, and with those words sauntered off to the bar.  

As she walked, she unraveled her scarf from about her neck, tying it to one of the stays on her armor’s harness.  Her hair, which she had tied up with some leather straps, was loosened from its hold and fell in waves around her shoulders.  It was clear with her walk and the minor alterations that she made to her appearance that she was reverting to the methods she used to use when she used to gather information about the targets in her contracts.  

She slid onto a stool at the main bar, not far from a group of odd looking men gathered around one another.  They seemed to be discussing something important, so it seemed as good a place as any to start.  She looked to the selection at the bar, finding it a bit odd. Ales from the North, wines from the South, and everything in between.  She ordered a whiskey, paying the barkeep for it immediately. 

She sat quietly, listening to the men near her.  After time enough of listening, she had most definitely heard ‘Borza’ muttered in hushed tones.  The man closest to her folded a slip of parchment resembling a map and tucked it into his pocket.  She could not make out other words very well - they were doing a wonderful job of keeping quiet.  They went silent soon, just as soon as she had drained her glass of whiskey.  She was about to get up from her seat and find a different location to sit, when the man closest to her had stood and walked towards her.  

“You look like you are in need of another drink.”  She looked up at the man who had approached her.  He was dressed in what looked to be fairly expensive clothing with a heavy bit of gold around his neck.  Dalanesca immediately forced a sly grin to her face, something that she had perfected doing, and feigned interest in the man. 

“You might be right,” she said, with a bit of a smile.  “I just can’t believe how quickly I drank that first one!  All that time on the road and it goes straight to your head, yeah?” she said.  The man said nothing to her, only reaching out to run his hand through her hair.  She shied away a bit, not having been ready for that exact reaction, but kept up the guise of interest. 

“I’ll get you that refill, but it’ll cost you,” he said, the pleasant tones of his voice completely gone now.  He began to reach toward the stay on the side of her armor, but at that moment she had decided it had gone to far and swiftly pulled a dagger from its sheath, pouncing forward onto the man.  Though she was small, some of her divine strength had came through and she had the man pinned to the bar, her dagger to his throat.  As she did so, feigning that she was keeping him down with her forearm across her waist, she slipped her hand unnoticed into his pocket and fished out the piece of parchment he had shoved in his pocket.  

“You don’t touch a lady without her permission,” she said, her voice above a hiss. The man sputtered a bit, in an attempt to get away from her, but she only pressed the blade closer to his skin. 

“My apologies, m’lady,” came a voice from behind her.  She did not remove the pressure from the blade held to the other man’s throat, but turned her head to look at the source of the voice.  A man stood behind her, tall, with dark skin.  He was clad in dark robes, and she could sense power - dark power - emanating off of him.  “I find this man to be wholly unpleasant,” he said, in reference to the man that she had pinned.  “However, he’s been of assistance to me as of late.  Been helping me get from place to place, so to speak.”  He grew silent for a moment, and Dalanesca did not falter - a bead of blood now sprung up from beneath the blade she held to her assailant’s neck. “Might I politely ask you to release him?”

She stared at him for a moment, before pulling the blade away and standing up slowly, stashing the parchment away as she sheathed her dagger.  “Fine,” she said, stepping back.  “Teach him some proper manners, or next his hands’ll be off his body,” she said.  

The man bowed his head.  “Thank you, m’lady,” he said.  “Let me buy you a drink to repent for this atrocity,” he said.  She nodded, and the barkeep who had been standing by leapt forward to pour her another whiskey.  She took it, and nodded to the man in thanks.

“Now, m’lady, let me tell you - if you are looking for a night of relaxation in the company of proper men, we can offer that to you.  I am Borza, Devil Eyes, my friends call me.”  Dalanesca hid the alarm that sounded in her mind, instead taking a step back.  “Join us for a meal, and we’ll not trouble you for more than your company.”

She eyed him for a moment.  “Sounds pleasant,” she said, draining the whiskey in one long gulp.  “Only I’m travelling with a noblemen.  Sellsword, and all,” she said, shrugging with a bit of a smile.  “My commander’s over there, let me see if I’m allowed away from the company,” she said.  “He usually uses me for his… entertainment, I guess you can call it.  I’ll need his permission,” she added.  Borza gave her a smile. “We await your return,” he said, turning back to his men.

She stood to walk to Marth, checking over her shoulder that the men were not looking after her.  When she was sure that they were not paying attention, she grabbed his arm and pulled him into one of the darker corners.  She pushed him down into one of the chairs, sitting herself on his lap - all to keep up the charade that she had set for the men.  “Just listen,” she hissed, leaning close to his ear.  “I’ll explain this to you later, but I need things to look this way right now.”  Without waiting for him to reply to her very vague reason, she continued to speak.  “That man over there, the tall dark skinned one?  That’s Borza.  Told me himself.  Even said his friends call him ‘Devil Eyes,’” she added.  She pressed the parchment into Marth’s palm.  “Got this off the one I pulled a knife on,” she said.  “Looks to be a map, assuming it’s to where they’re headed next,” she added. 

She paused, before continuing with a bit more explanation.  “He asked me to join them for the evening… I told them I needed my commander’s permission as I usually entertained him at night,” she said, stifling a laugh.  “It worked in the old days, figured it might still work now,” she said, reaching up and running a hand down the side of his face, for added effect.  “So I’m sorry.  But… what’s our next move?” she asked.  Now that they had the location of Borza, which had been much easier than she assumed it would be, she knew it was up to Marth to get the location of the shard.

Marth seated himself somewhere inconspicous (which meant out of the way but not in the shadows) and watched as Dalanesca went to work. The way she twirled the men of the house around her finger was impressive, but Marth found himself aggrevated at the same time, for reasons unknown.  He watched his companion's exchange with the first man, who had apparently mistaken her for a wench of sorts, and was ready to spring into action as the situation got tense - however, she seemed to have a handle on the situation, so Marth stayed put.

Her exchange with the second character - which Marth immediately flagged as a mage - seemed civil. It was fairly predictable - mages in general arn't known for their lust for senseless violence, after all - but Marth was ready to spring into action even then, as powerful mages were typically rather intelligent. If Dalanesca was made, Marth would have to spring into action - she may have been a godess, but it wouldn't do to have that fact revealed yet. It did, however, not prove necessary - after a few words, Dalanesca approached Marth, grabbed him, and pulled him into one of the darker corners of the room.

As she sat on his lap, marth perked an eyebrow - and couldn't help but crack a smile. He made a point of returning her 'affections', as they were, barely resisting the temptation to cop a feel. Most of such urges were washed away, however, as Dalanesca mentioned Borza. "There can be no doubt, then. That's our man." He subtly checked the offered parchment, memorizing coordinates, terrain, and legend detailed on the map. He looked up as Dalanesca continued talking, resuming the charade of a lecherous battlemage.

As Dalanesca further detailed what she had said to Borza and the nature of their supposed relationship, he stifled a chuckle himself. "Yeah, I figured something along those lines," he said, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her further up his lap - in part for effect, in part because he felt like it. He kept her close, thinking about the situation, trying to appear more lecherous than affectionate - with limited success.

"Alright," he said, "Here's our next move." He hesitated for a moment, playing out the possible scenarios - before deciding to himself that his plan would be the best. "We hole up here for the night. Naturally, we won't be sending you over for those men's pleasure, so we'll have to keep up the charade, for now." He looked over at the gang, reflecting.

"What we'll do right now is spook them. Go back, and hand the parchment back. Make a point of making an excuse which is only half believable - force their hand. They won't want to make a ruckus here, so they'll likely pack up and leave. We'll stay in pursuit, and I'll send Martin away to approach the location by another route - his regulars should make better time and have more freedom of movement than Borza and his mercenaries." He looked back at Dalanesca, his gaze steel. "Their approach would take them through marshlands, riddled with small perils. Our approach would be through a valley further to the north - longer, but safer and easier to traverse. Borza won't take this route - he won't risk passing a monastery if he can move without raising flags."

Marth throught for a while longer, recalculating all his choices to make doubly sure his plan was sound. "With a little luck, Martin should reach the general area at the same time as Borza, but fresher. When that time comes, we can trap them in a vice, once we can ascertain the shard's location." Marth clenched his fist, reassuring himself that his plan was indeed viable. "What do you think, Dalanesca?" he asked, uncounciously placing a hand on her thigh.

She felt a sense of relief as Marth seemed to accept her ‘advances,’ if one could call them that, though they were feigned, in part.  She had put herself into a position where it is necessary for her to act in this way, but truth be told it was a bit easier for her to do it than it needed to be.  She let out a playful yelp as he pulled her further into lap, clearly over dramatizing the situation - though it did take her by surprise a bit.  She glanced back to the group of men, where she could see the one who had introduced himself to her as Borza was watching her with displeasure on his face, clearly at the fact that it seemed he would not be getting his plaything for the evening.

Turning back to Marth, she kept her face close to his as he was talking, her expressions not necessarily matching what he was saying to her, though she knew he would understand why.  Borza and his men still eyed them occasionally, hence the need for the continued charade.  “And I was looking forward to a fun evening,” she quipped, with a pout, though it was quite clear she was in jest.  She made a sound of disgust, though her face still showed amusement.  “That bastard I pulled the knife on most definitely would have had his way with me,” she said.  Her face took on a moment of rage, though it faded quickly, shifting back into the playful expression she had been feigning.  

She listened carefully to Marth’s plan, nodding in agreement with her companion.  It would work.  She would procure a room from the barkeep, at which point she would head back over to the group of men, give them the map back, and keep up the charade that she would be spending the evening with Marth.  

“It sounds like it will work well,” she said, leaning closer to him as his hand came to rest on her thigh, giving the illusion that she was nuzzling his neck.  “I’ll see about getting us some rooms when I go to return the map,” she added, before pulling back away from him.  Before she stood, she leaned forward, her chest pressed up against his, and pushed her lips against his in a quick kiss, meant to look teasing in nature.  When she pulled back, she locked her gaze with his own for a brief moment, realizing full well that she hadn’t really needed to go that far.  “Okay, on with it then” she said, quickly getting up off of his lap as though she had been reprimanded, and she quickly walked away without saying anything else.

She walked to the barkeep for a moment, having an inaudible conversation with him, which ended with her fishing some silver out of the satchel attached to her armor and laying them on the counter, and a set of keys being passed across to her. She looked mildly annoyed when she glanced back at Marth, but instead of heading back to him, she tucked the keys into her belt and made her way back over to the men.  Borza stepped forward and addressed her.

“M’lady, I realized I’d never gotten your name,” he said, with a deep grin.  Dalanesca flashed him a quick smile, before making a bit of a pouting face.  “I’m so sorry,” she said.  “My commander’s not going to let me go, not tonight,” she said, her cheeks flushing, and she shot a glance over her shoulder at Marth.  “Say’s I’m all his and he’s not going to share.”

Borza made a bit of a face, but then offered her another smile.  “A shame, dear, but at least you’re a good woman who listens to what she is told,” he added.  She feigned a smile, but felt a brief moment of murderous rage towards him.  “Sorry,” she said, and turned to walk away.

She paused, turning back around suddenly.  “Oh, Borza!” she said, rushing back over.  “I almost forgot.  Um, during that.. Little altercation earlier,” she began, fumbling in her pockets.  “I grabbed this off the floor.  I, uh… I thought I had dropped it,” she said, purposely sounding a bit nervous.  “Turns out, it’s not mine.  Must belong to one of your men,” she said, handing the map to him.  Borza eyed the map, and narrowed his eyes at her.  “I see,” he said.  He opened his mouth to speak once more, but Dalanesca had already begun to walk back to Marth. 

She arrived back near Marth, still where she had placed him earlier.  “Come on, we’re on the second floor,” she said.  Assuming he followed her, she headed up the stairs to the room the barkeep had told her was available for her.

“Slight problem,” she said, turning to Marth but avoiding eye contact with him when they were outside the room.  “The rest of the men snapped up the majority of the room, so we’ve got to share.  Guess it’ll keep up the charade,” she said, with a nervous laugh as she unlocked the door. Upon entering, she frowned.  She had been hopeful that the barkeep would have given her a room with two beds when she had mentioned it was for her and her commander… but apparently he too had seen the ‘show’ she had been putting on.  The room had only one large bed, a sofa, and a table and chair.  

She stepped inside along with Marth and looked at him.  “It’ll do,” she said.  It was inevitable that the two would end up sharing quarters at some point in their journey together - she just was hoping it would not have been the same night she had to put on such a ruse as she had earlier.  She paused when she entered, contemplating how best to keep privacy in close quarters, realizing it just was not going to happen.

“I suppose you’ll want to get going early,” she said, still not looking at Marth.  She undid the harness on her armor and pulled it off, laying it across the table.  “And sorry,” she added.  “About earlier, I mean,” she continued, in reference to the little act she had put on - particularly in how it ended.

Her back to him, she undid the stays on the sides of her chest plate and pulled that off as well, followed shortly by the reinforced leggings.  Now in her attire of a tunic and loose leggings, she seemed to be checking the wound on her chest.  She let out a bit of a hiss as the area was still a bit sore, and turned back to Marth.

“I’ll take the bed, if that’s okay?” she said.  “Or the sofa, or whatever,” she said.  She glanced at the bed, feeling considerably awkward.  “No, my chest hurts.  I’m taking the bed,” she said, giving him a grin.  She stepped over to it and peeled off her leggings, her tunic coming down to cover her about mid thigh.  She peeled back the blanket on the bed and climbed in, pulling it back over her.  Lying on her side, her back to Marth, she lay in quiet contemplation for a moment.  Eventually, she rolled over, looking as though he was removing the plate armor he had on.  “The bed’s quite comfortable,” she said, and glanced at the unoccupied side.  “It’s plenty big, too.  You may as well use the other side, no sense in you being stiff from sleeping on a sofa.  Won’t be much use if it comes to battle, will you?” she asked, and rolled over with her back to the empty space of the bed, no longer facing Marth, content to get a bit of rest, no matter how the situation ended.