Michelle
Cerei Davren 
Border of Taemar 

The rain continued beating on the cloth canopy surrounding them both, keeping Cerei soundly asleep so the pair could continue their conversation. 

"I would expect nothing less. I can pay you, keep you as part of the staff if you would like. It would keep money in your purse, and it would also keep any *Unwanted* Attention off of you. However, that also means if Cerei loses interest in you I would have no other reason to keep you as a part of the Manor. So it would be in *Your* Best interest to keep my daughter happy." Lucius said, glancing back at Cerei. 

"Though you don't give off the sort of attitude I have come to expect of others in your... Profession. Maybe there is more to you than your history, Ms. Prynne." Lucius said, a faint smile drifting across his face before fading altogether.
Raul
Scarlett Prynne
Border of Taemar

"There usually is," She replied softly, her voice a little cool and aloof. There was a great deal to her history, but none of it she wished to disclose to Lucius. *Giving him information about me only gives him more reason to send me away, or at least more of a case against me,* She thought, her defenses going back up again. His expectations of women like her came from a position of wealth; of someone who had probably slept with them and used them. Of course he wouldn't know! He was so out of touch! He-

She stopped herself there, reminding herself that she couldn't harbor too much ill will towards him. He was Cerei's father, first and foremost, and Cerei's happiness should be the most important thing. 

"There's no need to pay me," She finally continued. "I am here for Cerei and Cerei only. The day she no longer needs me or wants me, I will leave on my own. I can take care of myself." 

Her demeanor had changed, shutting down quickly from his comments and becoming as dark and cold as the rain that pounded on the roof overhead. His smile said that he meant no ill will, but Scarlett had learned to look past the mask and always search for a deeper meaning in the things men said. Men simply couldn't be trusted. 

"I don't think Cerei would think well of either of us if she thought I was only a purchased companion," She replied. "Believe it or not, my feelings are not for sale. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm tired and sore." 

With that, she laid down on her side of the carriage and curled up on her side.
Michelle
Cerei Davren
Border of Taemar

Lucius's smile faded quickly, and he quietly moved over and faced her. "Listen. I'm sorry about how I treated you. I mean that very seriously. All of the dreams of this moment were not planned to happen in a trip. I wanted to have a celebration to surprise Cerei. Instead she's in the back of a crowded cart traveling to a place she has never been to with people she only recently met. I can only imagine what she is going through. But you, however, are going through something far worse, that I am sure of. And it is mostly caused by me." He said, frowning. 

"But I promise to try to make it up to you. If you need anything at all, just tell me. You have been the closest thing to normal that Cerei has probably ever met or known. I am forever in your debt for that." Lucius said, lying on his back beside Scarlett. 

"I have a surprise awaiting you both when we get back to the manor. But until then anything you want will be covered by me. I know there is more to you than just a beautiful face." He said softly.
Adrian
Lady Catherine Royte
House Royte

Bare feet kicked dust into the fine, sleeping carpet. As she strolled the room in winding circles, fresh leaves of paper blossomed in her wake. A misspelling, or unruly vowel that dipped below the line would earn another careless tear. Perfection. Perfection. Perfection. The display required grace. A fluidity from one thought to the next; inquiry, not curiosity. An invitation of the highest form, an honor to meet the sender. 

*I indulge in-*

A blot of ink pooled too thickly onto the canvas.

*I take the liberty-*

The paper had crinkled prematurely. Every work sired from the house was a rarity- they were an endangered species. Whomever was gifted the oddity was meant to feel significant. More so, when the recipient held notoriety. 

Stranger than a seal of her house was to encounter a man who was useful.

 The estate was gripped in history, haunted in distinction. Imprisoned within each warped wood, ancient wealth flourished. However, as funerals continued to besiege one's social calendar, the affluence grew as ghostly as her predecessors. Perfumes and silks littered the Lady's room, finances evidently an avoidance. It was a hobby suited for those who were unappealing in some condition, with an abundance of time to devote. The value of her complexion *Was* A currency. A woman only proved her standing when adorned and admired. This alone had imbued an urgency to unseal the threshold. To release her last traces of opulence into a dreary reality. She was cresting into becoming as destitute as those who served her. Death would rather be preferable, the family estate burning alongside. Catherine already planned a flamboyant end, should she be unable to afford a new season of robes.

Marriage was an option once put into consideration, by delusion and desperation. She quickly found the thought repugnant, even more so with the horror of watching her body morph and bloat with the charge of an heir. There was no privilege of a choice. The stubborn Catherine required aid. So she sought out to be neighborly. 

- 

House Barrmount had been enthralled in a matter ostensibly much too urgent than to see her. There was no such thing, and thus, she privately speculated that Sibyl was simply impolite. To not find the hour to respect Catherine's forged sincerity?

Ridiculous. 

She sent a letter to the treasurer afterwards, and for the while, Catherine had submerged herself in torment. It was necessary to cut the issue at the throat, and so she had infused danger into her plight. She burned lavender candles slick with oils of foreign scents in an effort to coerce a man into her home. She would no longer prove idle in her campaign. 

Klaus Paberly was to- 

With that, the door hesitantly peeled open, breaking the mania. The locks were failing as well, there was no bother to use them. The entire manor was going to bury them all. 

"The Treasury Councilor has arrived," A voice announced in hushed surprise, careful as to not disturb the tempestuous resident. 

Catherine, mouth agape, wrinkled her usually vacant expression. "I will be down shortly, have one of you even offered tea?," She questioned, searching for the nearest reflective surface to research the state of her hair.
Shirley
**Pippin Penby.**
**Barrmount Castle, The Iron Plaines.**

Pippin almost retracted into herself once Nathaniel turned to her with that smile, shuddering. She anxiously began to loop her handkerchief around her hand, once, twice, thrice, until she had rolled it up into a neat little ball, squeezing it within her palm. Her brows had furrowed into a frown of worry, the lines of unease carved upon her features which had no intention of waning just yet. 

As soon as Anna requested she accompany her, Pippin was swiftly at her side, almost running to keep up with the woman. She gasped for air, forcefully expunged of breath, her lungs burned with a fiery intensity. She didn't know if it were from fear or keeping up with Anna's determined strides, or both. As her lady placed her hand upon the stones to compose herself, Pippin disregarded all formality and placed a comforting hand upon her shoulder. She said nothing just yet, listening intently to her orders, and then offered a firm nod. 

"Of course, my lady. Now, pardon my forwardness and unprofessionalism, but trust me when I say both you and the Lady Sibyl will be just fine. Your sister and the lady of the manor is a very, very smart woman. She's going to find a way out of this situation for herself and everybody else in the castle. You need to focus on yourself now, self-preservation is sometimes, the most important thing. I'll be swift, and I'll see you in the dungeons."

Whispered Pippin, offering her words of encouragement and an affectionate squeeze to the woman's shoulder as she lifted the front of her skirts to run down the hallway. She made her way into both of their respective chambers and began to scramble for their essential belongings. Pippin made a conscious effort to avoid any extravagant belongings of Anna's, and instead packed simple blouses and trousers. Pippin rationalized it as 'she would be harder to recognise dressed as a commoner'. Surely not everybody in the Iron Plaines had ever seen the woman's face, and even if they had, such an instance was easily rectifiable by a cloak and hood. 

After having made all of the necessary preparations, Pippin skulked her way down into the dungeon with two satchels of clothing, and one of food, a cloak draped over her shoulder. 

"Here, my lady! Put on this cloak, try and hide your gown if you can. Do you know the route we'll be taking out of the Iron Plaines? Where is this council we'll be heading to?"
Irene
**Kinley Muriel Woodford, Barrmount castle halls**

"Aye sir." 

Kinley responded with no hesitation, ready and willing to follow orders as always. Donned in the heavy armour of the Guard, he was always looking for an excuse to shed the metal shell in favour of his lighter, more agile leather armour. As he traversed the halls, it was apparent that the Lord Nathaniel's visit to the wake had not gone unnoticed. The talk in the halls were hushed, everyone whispering about what he was doing there, as well as the Lady Sibyl's reaction. 

But he had no time for such rumours. The young guardsman had been given a task, and he was going to complete it. Moving at a brisk pace, Kinley arrived to his room and barred the door behind him. With expert hands, the pieces of his armour fell to the floor, and at the same time, replacing the metal cane soft, flexible leather. Off went the cold, unforgiving steel. He did keep a layer of chain mail over his arms, torso and legs, but that was it. Then came the weapons. A dirk in his boot, his father's old sword on his hip, and two longswords across his back. Around his neck was a small chain, with a pendant showing the Woodford crest. He was ready.

Donning a large, inconspicuous cloak, he moved out from his room and kept his head low. Kinley's eyes met no others, and he took the quickest way to the dungeon he knew. Luckily most of the other guards were preoccupied with other things, so he managed to sneak in without raising alarm. 

Kinley caught sight of the three horses, and was curious what was truly going on. Throwing back his hood, he laid eyes on the two women who awaited him. One, a servant girl that he'd seen many times, but never spoken to, and... The Lady Anna?!? He swiftly went down to one knee, a trained response for when in one of his liege lords' company.

"Lady Anna. The head of the guard had me come here. What would you have of me?"
Angel
Lady Anna Barrmount
Dungeons of Castle Barrmount, Iron Plaines

Anna rose her gaze when she heard the approaching steps, swiftly drying with her hands the tears that stained her cheeks.

"Oh Pippin, it's you" She let out with a sigh of relief "Thank you dear..." The Lady took the cloak that was being offered to her and quickly put it on, adjusting it to hide her white gown the best she could

"Taemar, we'll have to stay there for a bit..." Her eyes were fixed on the floor, nervously shifting from one stone to another "I'm not sure about the route, we will see when the guard I requested arrives" She explained "P-put... Put everything on the horses. We must leave shortly"

The young Barrmount fidgeted with the brim of the cloak, looking towards the entrance to the dungeon, as someone else approached.

A man approached them, attired in leather and chain mails. He beared arms and looked familiar.

 Anna greeted him with a slight bow of her head. The perplexed look on his face indicated her that Yulius had indeed been discreet with the matter.

"Please rise sir, thanks for attending my call. We must part to Taemar right now, but we can't take the usual routes out of the lands... Can you please guide us so we can avoid the Vivayn and Skargelly men?" Her voice felt heavy in the ear, blackened by the fear that was brimming inside her.
Shirley
Pippin Penby.
The Barrmount Castle, The Iron Plaines.

Pippin aided Anna in slipping the cloak over her gown, tending to her like a proper servant girl would be expected to. She fastened the cloak, smoothing it down and tugging it around her until she was comfortable. As Kinley made his way into the dungeons she offered him a quick glance, before setting off to tending to the horses, steadying her panicked breathing by inhaling deeply, focusing on the task at hand. She lifted their satchels of clothing and belongings, tethering it to each individual horse, tacking them up with stirrups and gear. 

"Have you been able to see if they're occupying the outside gates? He could have left some of his men outside of the castle just in case. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he did." She commented from where she was busy getting ready for their swift escape.
Irene
**Kinley Muriel Woodford, Barrmount Castle, the iron plaines**

"Of course, my lady. As you command. My name is Kinly Muriel, and I carry the Woodford name, while I am not of them by blood."

Kinley was born and raised in the wilds of the North, and had found a great many small paths that most wouldn't notice at first glance. It would be difficult, but not impossible. Moving to his horse, he inspected the gear on it, adjusting the footholds and such. The fear in Lady Anna's voice was clear, and left a sense of unease in the ear. While he didn't know why they were leaving, he was still going to get them there. 

"We won't be going by the outside gates. We'll be taking a small pass towards the east. Hidden, out of sight." 

He made sure everyone was ready to go, then waited for the women to mount their horses before mounting his.

"This will be a long ride, so be prepared. Shall we be off, my Lady?"
Angel
Lady Anna Barrmount
Dungeons of Castle Barrmount

Anna took a deep breath as she looked outside, then back into the dungeons. Was she really about to flee?

Pippin was already on one of the horses. The ever helpful and kind Pippin, Anna told her to prepare to flee and she didn't even question it. Would the family she once mentioned have been slaughtered too? How many people had survived the plague? And the massive murder by Nathaniel's hands?

A shudder ran over her body and brought her back to reality. There was no time for doubt, Sibyl told her to run and so would she do.

The Lady mounted her trustworthy horse and nodded to her scort.

"After you, mister Woodford. Pippin stay close"

She indicated her horse to follow the one Kinley was mounting. As they run off on the fastest mares the Barrmounts owned, Anna took a last look behind, praying to whoever that would listen to her for her sister's and people's safety
Raul
Scarlett Prynne
Boarder of Taemar

She stiffened for a moment when he approached her, but he seemed so sincere... Some part of her was screaming at her not to trust him, but it was quickly being overruled by her heart. 

Her green eyes gazed luminously back at him, searching his face for some hint that he was lying, and finding none, she relaxed a little. Her mind, however, was whirling, both from the news that he was Cerei's father and from his apparent change of heart towards her. She could only hope that he was genuine in everything he said, both in wanting to give Cerei a better life and be a good father, and in him wanting to treat her better. 

After a long pause, she nodded and replied quietly, "Thank you for that. It... Well, it helps some. And I look forward to the surprise as well."

She glanced at Cerei, a gentle smile warming her face. "She's a really special girl," She murmured, her gaze soft and full of affection. "I don't know of anyone who could go through so much and still be so kind and giving."
Edith
**Treasury Councilor Klaus Paberly
House Royte**

The door of the house as pale as death opened with an unsettling creak. Built up against the door was a small layer of snow that caved into the entryway as it spun inward. A woman in servant rags stared at him with her face half-covered by the wooden slab without uttering a word. "May I come in?" Klaus asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes," She said, as though she had been pulled from a trance. From the blank expression coming from her dead eyes, Klaus figured it wasn't just because of his dashing looks.

The treasury councilor was led to an empty parlor. It was dimly lit and chilly, but a pleasant aroma filled he air and made its way to Klaus's nose. "Is Lady Royte here?"

"She will be down momentarily. You are welcome to take a seat. Would you like some tea?" The servant offered.

"That sounds lovely," Klaus said, taking a seat in a cold chair. The woman placed a dish and cup on a small stand next to him and began to pour from the pot. Her hand shook as she did so, making the spout jingle against the rim of the porcelain cup. It didn't appear to be because of old age. He looked to her face uncomfortably. "Chilly today?"