Calm before the storm.

[Countess Lisanne Favre]

Sir Brandon McManus: He was standing upon the hill side over looking the wet lands near the poverty stricken village known as Tuni... Its people had been inflicted with a deadly plague that haunted the approaching soldiers. Brandon could see in the eyes of his companions and some adversaries the flicker of mild panic. Fear of the unknown and if the Gods would spear them too of the infection. His jaw was still bruised from the scuffle last night.. The Count was quite literally on his proverbial 'shit list'. But, in the same breath the Knight saw worthiness in him.. That perhaps he could obey orders and not lead them all into damnation. Would the General be as generous? Breath slowly expelled from the base of his throat as heavy lidded eyes fluttered..Boredom kicking in and he shoved off a heel just in time to almost collide with a young courier. Delivering news that the General was just up the road. Halted by order of the King himself. "Very well.." His trademark deep baritone spilled fourth and he ventured past. His stroll aimless but he was subtly on the look out for his nemesis. Should Louis choose to attack again. -d

General Demades: The encampment was nearly finished and a complete five miles from the village itself. A single Cohort along with's Centurion and the General himself were outside of the village and halted due to the King's direct order. That was just fine with him. He wasn't here for anything more then to ensure the plague didn't spread past the village. At the moment the Cohort was in a full formation; long shields down on the ground with spears held upright. It wasn't a attack formation it was a relaxed posture. The General sat ontop of his battle mount; his shield hung from the front of his saddle to the left side. His Kryette sword sheathed at his right hip and another hilt of a sword was seen over his left shoulder. He had his helm off and it had been passed downward to a soldier gripping the reins for his horse. The Centurion was sitting ontop of his mount beside his General. Nicholas glanced over his shoulder to the Of Sword and Sin: men. "....Send a couple of runners back to our encampment. Have another Cohort standing by. They remain at the encampment until called. The investigators might need more security then just this Cohort. We will be prepared." The centurion would nod and call over two of their fastest runners to relay the orders and send them off. -d-

Raicheal ONeill: The traveling itself was tiring, but the reason for the journey seemed to be what had everyone on edge, nervous and nearly silent. It seemed the tension was high and an unspoken trickle of fear kept most subdued. Stopping for the night was both a blessing and curse; rest for the weary bodies, but idleness for the worried minds. After seeing what provisions were established for the evening meal, Raicheal took them into her own hands to make something more from the rather bland rations. At least something hot to fill empty bellies. She might not prove too useful upon entering the village, but caring for others was something she had always done. And preparing a filling meal from meager fixings was something the Irish were very skilled at, particularly Raicheal. A stew made from the provisions was simmering above a campfire with a large pot held over the fire by three logs formed in a triangle around it. All there was to do now was wait for it to heat through. Standing side it, shawl was pulled tightly around her shoulders, aimless gaze staring downward. *

Sir Brandon McManus: If the General assumed there would be battle of any sort then he would be in for a big disappointment.. The sun had faded behind the mountains and small fires were lit to pave guidance for those who wished to walk about. Soldiers shared rations with one another, a few played dice and others stood guard should something go amiss while the company was in lax mode. Rocking upon a heel his right hand pressed against side of his leather plates of padding. Underneath he could feel the strain of bones dislocated by the repetative slams of Louis fist.. Then something was caught out of the corner of his eye upon the image of the lovely woman wrapped tightly in shawl. Even from the back he knew that is was Raicheal.. The woman from the tavern.. To say he was a little surprised to see her would be a lie.. But it also brought a subtle grin at the corners of his mouth. She had come, honorably to offer assistance. "Does the fire speak to you?" He noticed how intently she shared into the reaching flames. -d

General Demades: He shifted slightly and flung himself down and off his mount. He allowed the soldier holding the reins to continue to do so. The centurion leapt down as well and followed his General. He moved over towards the Cohort and glanced back towards the village and then returned his gaze to them. "Post the rotating schedule. Break up and get some rest if you're not on watch." The Cohort filed out of their taunt ranks but a dozen or so moved forward and began their guard posts to continue to watch the village. The men would get fires started and the rations were broken out. He turned and watched the village though spoke to the Centurion. "I'm going to return to the encampment that's just over the ridge. Remain here and on guard, Centurion." He moved back over to his mount and leapt upwards. He took the helm from the soldier
and pulled it back down over his head. He then took the reins and spurred the horse forward and took off. That soldier quickly moved to his own mount nearby and leapt upwards into the saddle and followed quickly to catch up to the General. He rode swiftly to head back to the encampment close by. -d-

Raicheal ONeill: If he had known just how inept she was in regard to being or performing the duties of a healer, he might have thought her decision to come along as something other than honorable. Other than very basic knowledge of how to treat mild infections or concoct herbal compresses, Raicheal was out of her element. Still, she had two hard-working hands that she wasn't afraid to put to good use and it was the thought of giving the healers aid for their strenuous task ahead that had motivated her to join the expedition. Startling faintly with the sound of a voice near to her, it was the familiarity of it that calmed her. "I wish it did, then I might 'ave an excuse fer starin' at it so, aye?" Her gaze shifted toward the owner of the voice, a small smile playing across her lips. "Ar' ya 'ungry? 'Tis jest 'bout 'eated through I think." *

Lady Mischa Favre: Mischa came running toward Raicheal with her apron full on bowls and spoons."I found them!" She came to a stop and smiled brightly, her blue eyes sparkling with laughter in the fire light. Knees under the soft blue fabric folded, hands soft and pale unload the bowls and she would place a spoon in everyone. All arranged just alike. The white apron was smoothed as she stood again still checking her menial work. "Will they come soon? I am fixing leaven bread two fires away." The small frame of a young maiden tilted her head upward. Mischa was just 16 and very playful. "I will go get some!"

Sir Brandon McManus: It mattered not the capability one had.. Nor their experience.. Only the determination to assist. His head tilted as he eyed her unassumingly. Blues flickered against the dance of the fire and he could feel the head spill over his flesh. It was a welcoming aggravation. "You have your reasons my lady.." He slowly smiled. Preparing to speak again but the fluttering wisp of another woman trampled forward quite noisily. To which actually made him half laugh. The timing for the distraction seemed to come at the most opportune moment.. For the thunder of hooves stole away his attention and a hue of seriousness imminently seeped on his chiseled visage. "The General approaches" Call of one of the other soldiers quelled Brandon's uneasiness and he nodded. -d

General Demades: He entered this encampment and noted that the Count's small entourage of soldiers were mixed in with his own. He frowned at this but said nothing. He brought the hard ride to a slow trot and brought his mount over towards the fire where the Knight and whom he assumed was the woman he had spoken to at the Silver Hammer tavern a week or so ago. He brought his mount to a halt and two of his soldiers jogged over to him. They pounded closed fists against their armored chests. He returned the salute before he leapt down off his helmet; the other soldier with him came off of his and those two soldiers led the mounts away. He reached up removing his helm allowing his shoulder length wavy blonde hair to fall free. He handed the helm to the soldier behind him. He gave a slight nod to the Knight and the woman at the fire. "Evening Sir Knight...." he glanced over to the woman. "Evening M'lady." He wasn't surprised she was here this wasn't a battlefield afterall. Merely a protection detail but still the Count needed the assistance no doubt. He glanced over to the Knight. "Where is this Count and his investigators, Sir Knight? No doubt he should be prepared to give this village aid." -d-

Raicheal ONeill: A small nod of her head had been offered with a glimmer of amusement in her eyes before the young woman burst forward into the campfire in apparent success. "I am glad ta 'ear it, lovely. Would be a lil' difficult fer us ta enjoy th' stew without any way ta eat it." A smile was offered toward the girl with a nod before she disappeared again to see to the bread. With the sound of and eventual approach of the General, her gaze turned toward him with a faint nod of her head in greeting as he addressed her. Stepping a little closer to the fire, a ladle was lifted and stirred through the stew to make sure it was heated through. Finding it was, she began to fill bowls with the stew to be accompanied with the bread that Mischa would be bringing back with her. Stepping back to both the Knight and General, two bowls and spoons were offered silently. *

A Favre Melody: It was a pale hand gripping the blue cotton and pulling it up slightly in a petit curtsy to the Knights at the fire. She said nothing but giggled looking at Raicheal before running off the fetch the bread to go with the stew. She was no cook but was good at getting people to help her in the service of those who were there to help Tuni and her people. On her return to the main fire, Mischa walked with a basket on her arm. The cloth covered basket was set down and opened carefully. "Tis still hot M'Lords, M'Lady." The girl smiled while she looked up and combed her slender fingers through golden strands. Another wide smile was offered for them.

Sir Brandon McManus: If Brandon was any sort of man with luck the count would have drown in his own soup.. But alas he could not be that fortunate. He waited patiently for the General to deliver himself closer, shove off his helm and then the two would salute.. Throat subtly cleared while raising up his face as the blond Commander hopped off his steed to be at eye level. " I'm sure the Count is around here somewhere.. No doubt trying impress the company with some sort of claimed conquest." He rolled his eyes. The distinct smell of stew made his nostrils flex and he turned just in time to raise up the wood bowl. Weighed by the beef, broth, carrots and whatever else was in this.. "Thank you" He toasted the spoon to both women and began to eat. "Have a seat, General?" He coaxed toward a fallen tree trunk. -d

General Demades: He gave a nod of his head and a deep rooted sigh as he smiled to Raicheal as she handed him the bowl of stew and a spoon. "Thank you, M'lady." He flashed a smirk at the Knight's comment about the Count. "I have no doubt in you're words. I sometimes detest nobles. Because they have land and a title that allows them to sit their fat asses in a Royal Court means nothing to soldiers like you and I. Let him puff his chest out and believe he will stop this plague. We know the truth." He glanced over to the fallen tree trunk. "Aye." He turned and moved over to the trunk and sat down. He flipped his spoon through the stew inspecting it before he brought it up and removed some tasting it. He gave a nod of approval before he began eating. He paused for a moment or so. "....I have a single Cohort ahead. Eighty men. I have another standing by incase it's needed. Otherwise the remainder of the Legion will be at the encampment five miles away." he shifted his gaze over to the Knight. "As assurance nothing more. I choose rather to be prepared. I do not know what or who brought this plague to this village. If it is a foregin enemy then I want the Legion here to ensure that this enemy does not have an army nearby waiting." Another pause before he spoke again. "Otherwise the Legion will remain at that camp until business is concluded here. First rule of warfare is to expect the unexpected." He shot a look to the Knight before he went back to the stew. -d-

Raicheal ONeill: "Verra welcome." A nod of her head before she turned and headed back toward the fire where a crowd of hungry individuals were gathering. A glance was given toward Mischa. "Would ya like ta 'elp me, lovely? I will dish up th' stew if ya will put a spoon in it an' put th' bread ta th' side o' th' bowl." If the young woman agreed, it was likely they could feed a large group of people fairly quickly before the stew became tacky or the bread cooled too much. A glance now and then was sent toward where the Knight and General were seated before her gaze shifted over those milling around the fire to be served. *

Lady Mischa Favre: Gracefully she dipped slightly to allow her hand to grip the handle of the basket. She would hold it out to the Knights."Take care Sir Knight as it is fresh bread and hot." Mischa waited till the knights had their choice before the sturdy well used basket was pulled away. Poised lips curl softly hearing the talk of Nobel blood, as she was one. Blue pools shifted between the knights before a look back to Raicheal. "I would be honored to M'Lady Raicheal?" Her smile widened to the lovely lady and the basket was pulled close and slipped onto her arm. "May I help with bowls?" The young lady took her medallion of nobility and slipped it inside her gown. Guess she knew how some felt of some nobles. She would prove them wrong.


Sir Brandon McManus: The General was regurgitating everything HE himself had once said of nobles.. Esepcially when speaking about this particular man. But Brandon too respected those of politicts. For without both sides of the spectrum there would be no civil order at all.. He breathed and lapped over the stew. Eyeing the retreating pair of ladies with only a small smile hidded within the thick arrangement of light and shadow.
Then his attention would snap entirely upon the General. "Eighty men.. For such a small village.." His tone almost seemed.. Empathetic to what he knew would surely come. "I suppose though its wise to be prepared.. Even if it is a bit over dramatic.. One can never know what waits for us.." That was the curse mortals had.. "Lets hope for our companions sake.. That this contaminated village is all we have to worry over. That there is no second army we need to squelch or compete with" He grew silent then and continued to eat. -d

General Demades: He smirked and gave a shake of his head. "Yes. Eighty men might seem a bit of an overkill but I am also using this as a training execrise. We lost many during the last war and some of these men were mere boys and teenagers. Now men...." He sighed shaking his head. He glanced over his shoulder to several of his men not far away before he turned back around and dug back into the stew. "Some have yet to feel the warmth of a woman. Some have never been in the hell of combat as you and I and others here have, Knight." He paused for a moment as he ripped into the bread dipping it into the stew and eating it before he began again. "I need them to be fully prepared. If we do nothing more then just stand outside this village while the Count becomes a hero then that is what we will do. But..." he raised his gaze upward. "....but if there is something more here then meets the eye; my men will fight. I must ensure they are prepared for war. That is my job as General of the Army. Politic's and Court squabble is not. I do not care what Eighty men might seem like. I will prepare my men to fight and die if need be for this Kingdom that is why I do what I have done. Plain and simple." He then went back to his stew. -d-

Raicheal ONeill: She smiled to Mischa and nodded her head, welcoming whatever assistance the young woman was willing to offer. A brow rose when she noticed the medallion being hidden away. Speaking nothing of it immediately, she studied the girl silently as they worked side by side, dishing up the stew and handing it out to eager hands. "Ya remind me a lot o' myself at yar age." Commented with a sidelong glance and a smile. "Ya know .. most o' th' reason sech is said o' those o' noble blood because o' th' way they act toward th' common people." Her words were quiet, keeping her eyes on her task now. "Ya should not feel as though ya 'ave ta 'ide who ya ar' 'round 'em. Simply show 'em a diff'rent side o' nobility. Treat 'em with kindness an' ya will shown th' same." Blue-green eyes turned toward Mischa. "Because at th' end o' th' day, each o' us will be treated an' respected th' same way we treat an' respect others, no matter our station in this world, aye? Only ya can make tha' choice fer yarself." A smile and nod of her head, turning her smile and attention to the next person in line. *

Lady Mischa Favre: Mischa took up a bowl that had been discarded and slipped the cold content into a helmet that sat behind the fallen log. She knew not know to whom it belonged but however would pay for the noble slander. She giggled as she walked away sorry she would not be present to see the mess her mischievous behavior would cause. Now on a mission to serve the other she offered her basket as they passed one by one. She met the eyes of each and every one and kept a smile no matter what she saw. An occasional glance was given to Lady Raicheal looking for her reassurance of safety. The soft breeze blew silken strands lightly and the stench of battle floated past. Yet the young lady kept her presence and grace. Lady Raicheal words calmed her somehow and also arched her brow in alarm. "Yes M'Lady Raicheal."[f]

Sir Brandon McManus: Suddendly Brandon was beginning to respect this man..Little by little he was allowed privy the mechanics of how his mind worked. Allowed insight of why the 'over kill' was actually necessary. For several seconds he didn't say anything.. Only listened carefully to what the General was saying. " Then I agree with your madness.." He broke into half smile.. Eyeing the soldiers moving about around them. " The Count become a hero? When hell freezes over" Only then did he chuckle. Discarding the bowl upon the tall grass beside his left boot. "I think... That there will be little in the ways of fighting.. At least in any physical sense. What these men, green of combat will see is the devistation of an entirely new kind" He paused.. eyeing the General almost suspiciously. " That at times.. Can be worse than spilling blood or winning glory. But I'm sure you are well aware" He cleared his throat and eased himself off the trunk to perch at his tall statute. "When do we investigate? Tomorrow? We should not stay out here in the open for more than a few days.. Its not safe" -d

General Demades: He laughed and gave a nod of his head. "Matters little. The man does not command this army. And he sure as hell does not command me." He finished up the stew as the Knight spoke and set the bowl to the side. He leaned forward resting his armored forearms on the top of his upper thighs just above the armor that covered his legs and over his knees when he stood straight. He glanced over towards the fire watching the two women as he spoke. "I am sure all of us will witness horrors. We will handle the situtation no matter the outcome. That is what we are here for." He gave a shrug and then stood himself; the soldier who had been holding his helm the entire time came closer as his General stood. "I am sure we will enter the village tomorrow. Though I doubt it will be with the Cohort as the Count will want his people to see their own small force of soldiers. That is fine with me. My orders were to maintain security around the village. I will of course enter the Village with the Count myself. So that I may assess the situtation from a different point of view and be able to give more detailed orders to my men if we must go a different route." The Knight finally understood. Which was good. -d-

Raicheal ONeill: She smiled at Mischa and winked, finally dishing up a bowl of stew to offer to the young noble woman. "I 'ave not 'eld th' title o' Lady fer quite some time, aye? Jest call me Raicheal. Now, go find a place ta enjoy yar dinner. I will finish up 'ere. Thank ya fer yar 'elp this evenin', lovely." Sincere smile was offered and once Mischa had headed off, Raicheal turned toward the now empty pot. Wrapping a length of thick cloth over the handle, she used both hands to lower the heavy pot from its perch on the logs to rest on the ground. Lifting her skirts only enough to bare her feet to nudge the logs over the fire rather than around it, skirts were dropped again. A little awkward because its size and shape alone, Raicheal used a two-handed grip to lift the pot to carry it toward the generous stream running toward the edge of the encampment. *

Lady Mischa Favre: A slender finger lifted and a smile offered."One moment M'Lord, the basket is empty." She set the empty one down and lifted another. She looked at the warrior and let her hands open the cloth. The scent of the fresh on some clothing of those eating that pushed her to take a breath of refuge in her sleeve that rested on the top of her hand. Battles come in many forms, be it man on man, or man on gods, man on plague, a battle nonetheless you see. "Many blessings to you Raicheal." She took the bowl looking at her then with a curtsy she hurried away fast as she could to the main fire sitting across from the men. She said nothing but sat on a fallen tree to eat. She paused to give thanks to the gods for the goodness they have shown. She ate and watched.[f]

Sir Brandon McManus: He turned steadily and eyed the General carefully.. As if the other man had just said something incredibly ludicrous. " You would...Willingly set foot in that village? When it was asked only for the Count?" Lips tightly pinched together as his face grew stern and pale. "Well.. Then may the Gods have mercy on you.. I will command these men at the mouth of the gates." He had endured his fair share of comflict but a plague.. Well.. that wasn't something he was overly in a hurry to contract.. Icy blues steadily watched the women as they spoke and worked nearby.. He worried for them.. For their safety should something go amiss.. It was the perils of having the fairer sex along on campaigns. "You should go find the Count, General..hes not hard to find.. Just follow the scent of ale and it will lead you like a lovers beckon." He grinned. Did he really hate Louis THAT much? Well.. After what happened last night one should not put it past Brandon to sell the other man out. Then, as Raicheal moved past he caught himself watching her. The protectiveness careful as if he wished only to keep her away from the clutches of greed and the jowels of deception. The other lass he didn't yet know but she was equally as watched over by the hunting intensity
of his blue depths. -d

General Demades: He smirked and gave a shake of his head. "I would rather not. In fact chances are this Count will squeak his arrogance and upset me. I will remain with my men more then likely, Knight." He glanced over his shoulder and then back to ry him. "If the Count wishes to speak with me; then he can find me himself. If you'll excuse me I am going to check on my men." He gave a nod and turned leaving the fire and headed over to a small group of his troops to quietly speak with them. -d-