<div class="floatleft">(http://imgur.com/RcjBCPf.jpg)</div><br/>Isabela fell back against her chair, a trace of disappointment on her face. She had hoped for some grand epic tale that was beyond the scope of ordinary men and instead got a story that was as mundane as they came. Bandits, while certainly more exciting than idly waiting for sleep to take her, wasn't exactly a juicy bit of gossip she could listen to for hours. Still, the musketeer was at least doing<em>something</em>to keep his skills sharp - very unlike Reynaud - and didn't seem the slightest bit worried that he might end up facing down an entire band of robbers on his own. That was something to consider as she mulled over this man's qualifications.<br/><br/>"Nothing," Isabela replied flatly. The trip back from the lord's ball was only marginally more interesting than sitting in this inn. At least in her carriage she could pull back the curtains and watch the landscape quietly roll by. There hadn't even been a single drunken brawl to spice things up in this quaint little bump in the road. Just another disappointment to add to her ever growing list of unfulfilled wishes of an idle mind. "Just a quiet ride back to my estate until the weather turned foul and forced us to stop prematurely." Isabela's shoulders rose softly with a sigh. Nothing made her wish she was elsewhere like small talk about the weather.<br/><br/>"The fog," Mathieu's masculine voice interjected without warning, causing Isabela to look his way with a quirked eyebrow, "Not like anything I've seen in all my years crossing these roads. These people have the right of it. Something unnatural is happening out there."<br/><br/>Isabela met the man's concern with an amused smile a subdued laugh. "Matheiu, my driver," Isabela motioned toward the man that had broken from his meditation to join the conversation at hand, introducing him to her musketeer friend. The fact that Isabela didn't think much of the danger Matheiu foretold was plain to see. In her mind, he was a bit too consumed by whatever nonsense they put in his head when he visited the East for several years. Between the meditation, odd prayers, and his fervent belief in the supernatural, Matheiu was a strange character indeed, especially in the land of Montaigne. It was part of his charm though. For Isabela, 'odd' was usually synonymous with 'interesting' and there was no denying that Matheiu could be both at times.<br/><br/>Isabela might have pressed her teasing further had it not been for the sudden interruption of a woman possessing a strikingly foreign appearance. She paid the woman little mind; labor and money held no interest for a woman that didn't bother with one and had too much of the other. Matheiu, ever the loyal servant, didn't even flinch at the offer. He was being paid far more to just sit here and wait for morning. Besides, there was an apprehension in his soul; a small sum of money wasn't going to drag him outside into that fog. But seeing as how the talk of money was in the air, Isabela decided to steer the conversation toward the reason she had brought the musketeer over in the first place. "Imriel, have you ever considered settling down? Perhaps putting your prodigious skills to work in a career that's a little more...stable? While he means well, Reynaud is not meant for the life I have provided him. I believe that you, however, are." Isabela smiled sweetly as she folded her arms across the top of the table before continuing. "I do not expect an answer now but I would like to invite you to my estate when we depart in the morning. We can discuss matters further there should you find yourself intrigued at what I can offer you."