The Road Less Travelled (Lancelot)

[briannawhite]

So, this was Albion? Not too dissimilar to her own lands. But then again, this was the countryside, the pleasant part, with the birds and the venison that she would love to hunt for dinner. But there was no time to dally in the wilds, because she was supposed to be meeting the person who would 'guide' her to Camelot. A Sir Lancelot, supposedly. Nevermind that she could've made her own way in good time - she had a map, and she had herself. That was all she really needed. That and her horse, Irigan, a dapple grey mare with an attitude to match her rider. But, unfortunately, it wouldn't be particularly fitting for a foreign noblewoman to appear at the gates of the city without any escort. Best to play by the rules, because being burnt at the stake was not high on her to do list.

The straight backed, confident way with which she rode along the dirt track seemed to radiate a slight chill in the air, a physical warning that it might not be such a good idea to try and suprise the noblewoman with a bow and a saddlebag containing who knew what. Her other escort was drinking himself silly in the village, whilst she continued to its outskirts to await the arrival of this Lancelot, removing a small, plain book as she waited for the steady thud of hooves into the damp ground to approach her.

And if he missed her, he was blind. It was pretty difficult to miss a tall lady on a well kept horse, with high quality clothes in a little village where they would be lucky to find enough silk to make a handkerchief. Nevermind that she was reading a book and carring a bow and a full quiver of arrows. Bree had no idea what Uther would ask her to do with her bow when she got there, but under no circumstances was she leaving at ho...behind. She didn't have a home anymore. That was why she was here, sat waiting for some pain in the thóin to take to a place where she couldn't practice magic and would have to socialise. Talk about a nightmare.

[Deleted]

Sir Lancelot, knight under the Earl of Huntingdon, had been serving this noble in Wessex for a little bit less than a year. He had ascended through the ranks pretty quickly, owing at least in part to skill with a longsword. He said to be even a good match for his friend, the Crown Prince of Camelot, Arthur. He had also not failed or disappointed his new lord in any of the missions that he had been sent on. A few times he had been sent to Camelot,but he had managed to avoid the King, the Prince, and especially Lady Morgana's servant Gwen. He still had feelings for her , but he still wanted to avoid coming between her and the Prince, even in friendship. He had been asked to serve on the last leg of an escort mission, ending once again in Camelot. There seemed to be not much known about the person, except she was a woman, a mystery woman.

He was told to meet her in this certain quaint and small village, on the border off Albion. His original Briton home was not too far off to the northwest, and the lay of the land here brought back memories of his youth, both good and the bad ..... much of it quite bad. He was told that her name was Briana, that she would be on horseback, and that she was quite tall and striking.He had asked if that was all. Those giving him his instructions said that given the nature of the village that she would stand right out, and besides, she would find him. Lance asked what they meant by that, and they just gave him a curious smile. At any rate, he found the country lovely, despite the memories, and his Arabian Stallion, Shere-fore, just ate up the ground easily. He approached the small village, as far as he could reckon, pretty much on time. He wondered if he would be able to stop for anything to drink, or if this woman, Brianna, was pressed for time.

As he approached the village, from a distance, he saw the outline of a single rider, but not a stationary one. However, as he approached, he could see by the clearer outline, that it was definitely a woman. And indeed she did sit tall in her saddle. By the time his stallion had loped up beside her and her horse, he saw that she had stopped, and was perusing a book. He was unsure if he should interrupt her, so he did stay silent for a few moments. ]"Excuse me, milady, I am Sir Lancelot of Huntingdonshire, sent by the there to escort a woman by the name of Brianna to Camelot. Would you be that person." he inquired.

He noted that the ground was moist here .... apparently rains that they had not experienced to the north. He also noted that she was not only striking physically, but well armed, with a bow and quiver. He almost wondered why she needed an escort, but then assumed simply that she was unfamiliar with region. He also noted that she was taking her time responding to his query, as if he was not an important enough interruption. Ah, so it was with nobles, he sighed.

[briannawhite]

Brianna hadn't been the one to personally send out the request for the escort - not a bodyguard, but a knight on a horse that would send the message to the raiders that she was under the protection of Camelot as she travelled - safe passage, as the papers in her bag proclaimed. Oh, she was safe enough, she knew that much. But infront of Sir Lancelot she would have to be on her guard about just what parts of her magic she could use without suspicion. Although, she had a feeling that suspicion would be placed on her at Camelot itself, no matter how much she lied about her gifts.

And speaking of her escort, here he came now, the hooves of his large stallion thunking into the dirt in that heavy way of a horse bearing the weight of chainmail and sword. Irigan's head swung slightly towards them, as if acknowledging their presence, whilst Bree sat there and continued to read until he started speaking - and she was wondering if she would be there all day waiting for him to get on with it. Well, at least his speech gave her mind time to readjust from the Gaelic book that she had been reading from, to the English that she had spent the years learning at court. She spoke with a light, lilting accent of someone who spent more time speaking a different language than this one. "Yes, I am Brianna. Thank you for arriving promptly." Brianna was a stickler for timekeeping. If you asked her to be somewhere at a certain time, she would be there on time or at least five minutes early, and expected other people to do the same. "Shall we move on, or have you business to attend to in the village?"

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Lancelot was still bothered how this entire operation had been set up, and how this woman had been described to him. He knew that his portion of the trek with her was not long and that he and his lord were being compensated handsomely for their efforts. However, they knew so precious little about this 'mystery woman' that he knew not what to expect, as well as what, in particular, she was to be protected from. There were bands of bandits and highwaymen, as well as Norther raiders of course, but was there anybody else he should be concerned about .... any sorcerers for instance?

At any rate, as he rode up alongside her, she didn't seem to be much concerned, one way or the other, about his presence. Her attitude seemed to proclaim that she was a noble, or at least someone with a high order of influence, and perhaps, authority. He noticed the horse noticed and acknowledged him first. His knights attire was nearly entirely clothed in his traveling cloak, not knowing if it was wished to be broadcast that he was a knight. His two longswords were sheathed along his back, knives in his belt, and he carried his shield in the ancient Spartan way on his back. This left his front, arms, and shoulders unencumbered for movement, if he had to react quickly. His complexion, eyes, and hair were all dark, and he moved with a martial and personal confidence, except when it came to the ladies. "Thank you milady .... Brianna ..... Lancelot aims to please. If you have a time schedule, of course we can move on at once, unless of course you desired a drink and a bite to eat before we left. Mademoiselle, what is your desire?"

[briannawhite]

In her opinion, the least known about her, the better. Over the passing journey she had been able to formulate a relatively truthful back story for her reasons for travelling to Albion. They neededn't know that she had been...persuaded into coming through the deaths of her parents. If someone questioned her, she would explain that she was sent to perhaps improve relations with Albion, being fluent in English and capable of looking after herself. About the only thing she had to look forward to was the possibility of finding the other sorcerors in Camelot. Like a game of pin the tail on the magician. Ironically, although her own people wanted her to inform them of goings on at Camelot, she wouldn't favour either side but that of being around at the end of it all.

And no, she wasn't concerned about the sword bearing knight on a charger. There were much worse things out there than a man and his horse, things that made even her own skin crawl should she meet them. The only time she would concern herself over knights or raiders would if it concerned being discovered as a sorceress. But neither was she going to stop and take a drink with him. Going into that tavern full of rather loud people and alcohol was about as high up her list of current desires as going for a swim in flesh dissolving acid. "No, thank you. I ate on the road, and my water flask was refilled in the village."And purified. There were a great deal of benifits from being connected to the elements.

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Well, wasn't she a fount of information, Lancelot thought to himself. she didn't seem to be much impressed with the knight from Wessex. In fact, if he didn't know better, it almost seemed that she considered his presence as something to be endured or survived, rather than serve a useful purpose. if there's anything that grated on a knight, like Lancelot, than perceiving that they were non-essential personnel. If there was one thing that was clear, even with the scarcity of her words, was this was one person with a definite attitude. She might try to disguise it by saying as little as possible, but her body language betrayed as much. "So, milady, is this a social call on King Uther and Camelot, or are you looking for a more permanent relocation?"

Although his question was direct as he dared, given her rank, she did not apparently feel the need to answer him, at least not right away. Lancelot was not put off so easily, even though he r lack of a willingness to communicate did infuriate him to a considerable degree. He was determined not to be any more direct or rude. Some might have been diverted by her beauty, but he was not. he simply had already decided on a different tack. perhaps, over some drinks at the local inn she might loosen up a bit, he hoped. She immediately dashed those hopes with her next response. Obviously, given her response, she wasn't going to cooperate or communicate. "I see how it is." Now ....wasn't this going to be a fun trip!

[briannawhite]

An attitude? Bree? Never... It was self defence. If he looked at it from her perspective, she was a foreigner, all by herself. In her opinion she had a right to be slightly cold and hostile. He didn't have to know that she was always cold and hostile regardless of where she was, and the likelihood of her settling down and becoming more personable upon reaching Camelot was about as likely as her being able to see her parents again. But in her defence, the pauses between conversations were her phrasing sentences in a language that she hadn't been naturally speaking for the last twenty seven years. "Permenant, no. It depends on the wishes of my own court and the goodwill of Uther as to how long I stay."
Which may be a very short visit or a seemingly endless stay.

She could the feel irritation at her attitude towards him and lodged in the back of her mind that the knights here were possibly more highly strung than the courtiers at home. Bree herself was no stranger to veiled insults and catty remarks. She just simply appeared to not notice them, and lodged them in the ledgers of her mind for later use. Patience was a wonderful thing to have, and she had enough to rival a mountain glacier. His, she could see, was beginning to wear thin, especially upon her denying the opportunity to talk to her over a drink. Well, there was plenty of time for talk during the ride. "Shall we be off then?"

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Lancelot sighed. Not only was he not going to have an opportunity to get her to open up a bit over a drink, but she had obviously prepared herself to be quite separate from her escort. And he was not about to take a break in the pub if the subject of his escort would or could not. This was quickly looking taking the shape of an assignment to be endured. Thankfully, it was going to be a short trip, and therefore neither would have to endure the company of the other for long. He expected, right now, that only accompanying King Uther would be less fun. However, she was considerably more pleasant to look at, he thought, as he took a side-long glance at her. Finally, though, she was responding to his last comment and question. “So ….. this is more of a official visit, than a social. Well ….. at least you and Uther would seem to be well-suited to one another, temperament-wise.” He questioned, though, if that would lend itself to much communication.

The rain, if had occurred here recently, had apparently moved on, and the weather had taken a turn for the better, he observed. If she desired no communication, he could surely accommodate her, he reasoned. It was a good day for a ride in the country, and as long as no one interfered with their journey, it would make for a pleasant ride. Her horse looked to be in pretty good shape, so perhaps he could open up Sher-fore for a good gallop, and he could focus on the pleasure of that. That would both make the trip a fast one and give him something else to focus on. Besides, he reckoned that his horse could carry a conversation more effectively. “By all means ….. the sooner we start and the faster the road is …… the more quickly we’ll get you to your destination. I’m sure there are things you want to attend to there, and I wouldn’t dream of delaying you.”