Shy scowled when Esfelt laid the truth bare. It wasn’t like she hadn’t expected it or misunderstood the reality of her place, but it annoyed her anyway. Will had been on the small side, pretty and stringy like her, when they were young. He’d always been the scrappiest boy in town though. Everyone knew better than to underestimate him. When she was small, Shy hadn’t understood why Will had cared about that reputation so much. She thought she understood him better now. “I’m more than my good looks, Ser.” Shy bit out with a vague grin. Lazy, feline, and just a little perturbed. “I can assure you, you’ll be satisfied with my blade.” Poor girl, in her misplaced swagger, tripping over her own tongue into the most asinine insinuations. She didn’t even notice it.<br/><br/>The knight’s mood shifted again, and she tensed beneath him when his tone turned harsh. Had he really just given her permission to go? She’d not expected him to be compliant to that suggestion. Esfelt had called her back for the purpose of badgering her, not out of any real need. She understood that much. What reason did he have to relent so simply?<br/><br/>He answered her brief pause well enough, seeming to dig in to that uncertainty before she could have half a second to cultivate it. If he was ready to let her go, that was all there was to it. She should not think it was of her own accord. Perhaps he was a man that lost interest easily. Shy thought this might be beneficial to her in the long run, as the intensity of Esfelt’s gaze promised nothing good for her. It was a remarkably optimistic thought as she was abruptly sent spiraling. Shy was light. She was a petite collection of bones and muscle, and very little else. It meant her weight was quite practical, an efficient biological system in that mass, but it did not give her some of the benefit excess could provide. Like sufficient gravity to fight the well-aimed force of Silverum’s foot.<br/><br/>When she was momentarily airborn, she looked a little like a dancer. She must certainly be quick on the battlefield. Quick to fight or quick to die, with limbs and a downfall like that. She landed on her stomach, palms to the ground to catch her fall. She was coiled, ready to spring to her feet and lash back at the man, but she stilled there. He had the privilege of dictating these things now, didn’t he? Shy picked herself up slowly as he went to his chair, back to him as he spoke. “As you say, Ser. But I am no dog.” She said stiffly. Dogs were more forgiving, after all. Shy was simply willing to endure.<br/><br/>She was made to pause at the flap of his tent again, caught by his parting warning. It made her glance back at him, a flicker of curiosity in those feral green eyes. “Yes, Ser.” She agreed. If she had a question for him, she did not ask it.<br/><br/>--<br/><br/>That night, Shy dreamed of Will and the man that had slain him. She woke before dawn, cold sweat clinging to her skin, and packed her few belongings to depart with Silverum’s company. Marius met her at the door from the barracks and saw her off with his own horse.<br/><br/>She guided the large grey gelding toward the front of the line of recruits, past those men Esfelt had brought with him also, and pulled up the reins when she’d reached the imposing knight’s side. “You said to stay close, Ser, so here I am. I hope you will be watching me carefully. I’ll show you what I’m worth.” It was the kind of arrogance most knights enjoyed in their ambitious youngsters, but Shy could not have known the perilous promise she was making. Willful obedience with rosy sunlight in her hair and a dutiful shine to her armor, Shy looked eager to be headed north, regardless of her misgivings about her knight captain.