Spirits of the Earth

[Blink]

Cold freezing rain pelted down on the camp that had been erected around the fallen village. Kogan. It had been burned out in the early years of the conflict. A small village of nondescript importance, and had been destroyed for one reason alone: it was a village of mages, free ones at that, whom thrived in the forest away from civilization at large.

They had lived on the edge, Roland thought, thinking that here in Sirantil Valley they were safe. It hadn't been run down by the Grand Duke's army, but instead by a mob of vigilante folk that felt the village was a danger to everyone. The mages didn't even fight back...  They were burned along with their homes.

Roland had settled his men here where nobody would come to look. They were not overly large, but their numbers grew every day, little by little, word spreading. They were not always wise words, nor kind ones, some warning he was coming to sack their homes and pillage their goods. An army was only as good as the food going into its stomach after all.

Here was just another place that had been scorched by the war. Needless death, at that.

Worn leather boots stepped carefully between tents, and the rain was but a drizzle now, lightly pattering the leather of his cloak, and the fur-line of his collar. As Roland stepped between those that worked on cleaning up some of the rubble, they stood at attention  and saluted with right fists crossed over their hearts. He turned and did the same, although he excused them from having to do so in the first place.

He moved toward the center tent of the encampment, where a set of crates were laid out like a table and a worn map was spread out over it. It was of a vellum, and not updated in some time, but it would do for now. The eastern edge of the Sirantil Valley, was marked with a corked needle, and he saw their position, just on the border of the eastern edge of Falkenrath.  The war had taken more than lives, but even that of the wealth and power of nobles.  Many were made destitute from trying to fund the war effort, and some were driven out of their homes.

He stepped toward the council of his lieutenants, listening to what they had to say, but saying nothing of his own. Roland looked up and across to Tiberius, an older man, balding, and grizzled; and he carefully measured the distance between one point of land to the next.

Roland tilted his head. "Tiberius.  Measuring the distance it will take for our enemies to find us?" he asked sharply.

All the men at the crate-table peered upward, then between Roland and him. Tiberius chuckled. "I'm sorry?  Haha, surely you jest."

Roland grinned, leaning against a boulder off to the side. "I think it's rather funny that you think I'm jesting."  He chuckled. "You certainly seem to be smiling more. And that ring is rather shiny on your finger."

Tiberius' laugh waned.  "My lord, what has my ring got to do with anything?"

"I mean, it's new. And one you seemed to think I'd fail to notice. Tell me, was it worth it? That sack of silver and that heirloom trinket, only given to high ranking members of the nobility. You're certainly not related to any duke, so how do you explain the ring?  And consider your answer carefully."

"My lord, Roland, have you gone mad? Are you feeling well? I can't possibly understand what you're talking about?"  Tiberius straightened and his hand concealed the fidgeting he was doing, turning the sapphire ring on his finger upside down so as to hide the jewel that reflected in its motion.

"Traitor," Roland pressed, pushing up from the rock. "You thought I didn't know. That you were paid to funnel information about our movements to our enemies."  He tread closer to Tiberius, the other man looking at him squarely. "Hudson Quarry.  A false lead, and when that patrol showed up, digging themselves in, I knew it was you. There was no one else it could be. Traitorous pig."

Tiberius' eyes were wide, watching Roland as the taller man was stand side-by-side with him now.  No one heard him breath, stock still, hesitation and nerve keeping him locked in place.  That was until Roland began to laugh, cackling like a mad man, grin stretched ear to ear and he slapped Tiberius on the shoulder.  It was a reassuring touch, and the older man visibly relaxed.  He even went as far as to grin himself, chuckling nervously as the other men followed suit.

Roland suddenly gripped Tiberius by the shoulder and shoved him down, pulling out the blade at his side swifter than lightning. And like it, Anguish only briefly flashed before being struck down on the man's neck, separating his head from his shoulders. Tiberus suddenly went limp, and the vellum map was stained with the blood from Tiberius' severed head.

Roland pulled the shoulder back and dropped the body to the ground.  He bent down and took the ring from his hand and gave it to another of his lieutenants.  "Find a use for that. You don't want to end up like him," he murmured, and the others gave way to Roland, as he moved passed them toward the camp's edge.

He watched the trees, as the hill sloped down from where he was. He carefully wiped Anguish's edge clean, resheathing the long sword, and straightening himself. In honesty, he wished it hadn't come to that. Tiberius had been a good man, but even good men could be tempted by coin, and to what end.  The man was headless now, and even now being dragged into a hole in the ground.

Roland stepped just into the forest's edge, listening to the sounds of the wild. Until a sound very un'-Wild'-like caught his attention.

This was it... her chance at finally getting out of Connloath and away from the war ravaging her homeland. Paisley had already attempted to leave once, only to come crawling back due to lack of funds and planning. But this time, this time is would be different. Approached by an adviser to the grand duke Paisley was presented with an offer she could not refuse. Kill this man.. the one they called Roland in exchange for enough coin and supplies to take her wherever her heart desired. It was a simple proposal, one she had already played out over and over in her mind. However, in all reality this job was unlike any she had ever taken before. This time.... it was shoot to kill.

So there she was... hidden just beyond the treeline in woods she knew like the back of her hand. A forest she had treaded through many times as a child until now... the was home. Just beyond the trees lay a village in ruins by vigilantes, now tattered with tents set up by this mans army. Even with the rain pelting down on her from above she never lost focus as she stood with her bow pulled, one hand sitting just on her cheek ready to release without a moments notice. Her breathing was shallow and soft... unfaltered by anything going on around her. With blue eyes scanning all they could see she searched for the man that fit the description she was given. And then there he was... the tall man with dirty hair and near crimson eyes, walking away from the camp like a fool.

"This is it" she whispered to herself as she took in one last long inhale, preparing to release her bowstring from her fingertips. He was still a bit of distance away, but close enough for her arrow to fire true and strike him down with one shot. "One shot and you are free to go..." she whispered to herself again, building herself up for what she was about to do. "... one man... one shot..."

Closing one eye she lined up her target, her heart beating at what felt a million miles a minute in her chest. "... you can do this...." her mantra preparing her for what she was about to go through with. And then she released... her arrow skimming her cheek as it hurled forwards from her bowstring and onwards, directly towards the man she was being paid to kill. Paisley did not move a muscle as she watched the arrow fly towards him, her attention completely focused on the task at hand now. But then the arrow flew past, just barely missing him before settling itself in a stump just next to him.

"C'mon!" Her disappointment evident as she dropped her arms to her sides and arched her self backwards a bit. "How did I miss!" She was so disappointed in herself that she had completely forgotten the man she just tried to kill was standing within earshot of her. The man who no doubt saw the arrow fly from her direction towards him, the man whom she had just failed to kill and was now screaming about. By the time she realized what she had done Paisley had pieced together the situation she had just landed herself in. She had just fired an arrow at the leader of an army that was right there... a whole army... against one girl.

Without a second thought she reached her arm over her shoulder and pulled another arrow from her quiver before pulling her bowstring back once more. "I won't miss a second time" she told herself as she prepared to shoot once more.

That sound, was now burrowed deep into the bark of a stump just passed his feet, and Roland jerked in the direction it came from. The haze of killing his own advisor was now replaced with a rush of fury filling his veins. That arrow had been meant for him he knew, and quickly he crouched down and wriggled it from the wood until the arrowhead came free.

Roland whirled around, facing the noises from the trees. The voice was awfully close. So how they missed him completely was beyond him. Roland couldn't respect any assassin that couldn't at least graze him. But it was no matter. They weren't going to get a second try from him.

He could call out for a patrol. Alert his soldiers, and even with his scouts in the trees, there were always gaps, no matter how tight the patrols, there was always an opportunity where someone could slip through, find a moment where their target was most vulnerable and make their shot. This time, however, they would only get one.

Roland kept on hand on his long sword and the other on the arrow head and he bolted off from where he'd been standing, zigzagging between trees as he ran hard and fast toward the direction of the voice. He had one thing in mind. He was going to make a sharp eye of them yet, by sticking their missed arrow right through one of them.

Roland huffed, controlling his breathing, running swiftly, and seeing something, a shape not too far ahead, but obscured by brush.

Paisley watched as the man known as Roland pulled her arrow from the stump beside him. Even as he started making his way towards her she did not flinch, but kept her bowstring pulled back... ready to fire for a second time. However, the doubt that was now clouding her mind was almost overwhelming. She couldn't believe that she missed... she never missed!

Even behind the brush she saw his figure approaching closer and closer with each passing second. Her heart was racing and her body was shaking but she knew this would be her last chance to get it right. If she wanted that reward and to leave this cursed country once and for all she needed to strike true.

As he weaved through the brush she followed his form with the tip of her arrow, her elbow still arched backwards ready to release at any given moment. Except this time she was taking no chances. She was going to shoot him as soon as he was standing right in front of her, this way she knew there was no way she would miss a second time. "I'm sorry" she spoke once he was in earshot. "I have to do this..." whether or not he was listening she did not care.

"I want to leave Connlaoth and you are my ticket out." And then when he was only mere feet in front of her she released the arrow with one swift movement. This arrow grazing her cheek just as the last had. Even after it was released she kept her stance as she watched it fly towards him. "Please hit" she preyed.

Roland was not a full bolted run, and his body reacted with as much snap reflexes as a man ten years his younger. He'd never let himself grow fat and complacent, stuck in the same rut that others felt were their only lot in life. And keeping himself fit and ready to act was what kept him capable. Roland left no one behind, and he sure as shit wasn't going to let himself be killed without a fight.

So as he cut through the trees at breakneck speed, not letting his assassin get a clearer shot of him, Roland huffed soft breaths of air in the morning cold, and he looked mad as he made his way forward. He could see her shape more clearly now, still draped in her hood and that arrow pointing right at him.

Roland's heart was beating madly in his ears, and he saw that glinting point briefly before it fired.  He was too close now to dodge it. But maybe that wasn't what he was trying to do.

He cried out when the point struck him, and he had only ducked to the side enough so that the arrow missed his heart.  And buried itself into his shoulder. Roland was staggering backwards at the sheer force of it and he got a good look at his attacker. "You better run," he growled, almost daring her to do so as he regained his footing, and lunged toward her with the arrow point raised in his other hand.

"He looks angry" she thought as she saw her arrow strike him, but not in the way she had hoped. If he had not just barely moved it would have been a kill shot for sure, unfortunately though he managed to take the arrow in the shoulder. And then she heard him growl at her to run as he held her first missed arrow tight in his palm.

All in a quick motion Paisley snapped out of her position and flung her bow over her shoulder ready to take off as far away from him as possible. She did have a real chance of getting away. She was smaller, not as heavily dressed.. not wounded.

However, the man had something that Paisley did not and that was stability. So as Paisley ran for a mere few seconds she quickly found herself stumbling over a large stick on the ground causing her to fall down, her arrows flying out of her quiver over her shoulder.

"Curses!" she yelled as she frantically tried to get back on her feet, leaving the majority of her arrows on the forest floor. Surprisingly enough she was able to get up faster than she anticipated and soon found herself running once more, except this time she tried to concentrate on the path ahead and not on the man pursuing behind her. Oh how terribly all of this had turned out to be. Not only did she fail to kill him which would result in no pay for her, but she also managed to anger a very influential man who happened to lead an army.

Her tiny frame though that may have aided her in speed did not help in terms of dexterity. Paisley had always been a bit frail... always falling ill at the most inopportune times. And even though she was not feeling ill per se, she could feel her body burning out with each step. Burnt out so much that she had to ask herself if running was even worth it, she would be dead eventually if she managed to escape. Either this man would find her or the Duke of Falkenrath's adviser would in order to silence her.

So she stopped, completely still in a slightly open patch of the woods that the rain was still able to break through the canopy. She turned her body towards the man that was chasing her and let her hands rest on her knees with her back bent over. Her chest and shoulders rose and fell with each heavy breath and her cloak and clothing began getting drenched from the rain now able to get through above. "I can't run anymore.." she managed to spit out between breaths. "... go ahead and kill me... I'm dead anyways."

Her trip was most opportune. For him at least. The bite of that arrow in his shoulder made his one arm rather useless at this time, but he only needed one to strangle her once he closed the distance. That was if she would just stop trying to escape and accept that her fate was sealed!

His boot crushed the arrows that fell from her quiver as she got up again so swiftly. Damn her wiry frame!  She was faster than he was counting on and the further they would go, the more he'd be bleeding. Already his shoulder was making him weary. Still Roland pressed onward, determined to crush her under his boot just like those arrowheads.

That was until she stopped. And just stood there, hunched over, unable to go on any further.

Roland nearly collapsed at her feet, breathing hard and his heart rapidly pounding in his chest. He was red-faced, fuming, and sure as shit as pissed off.  And he felt himself kneel at her feet, dropping the arrow and reaching up to grip the other one buried his shoulder. With whatever remained of his adrenaline he took in a deep breath and pulled the arrow out of his flesh, ripping through cloth, leather, and muscle.

"Shit!" he hissed, moving to stand again.  Oh sure he was going to kill her. But not so fast.  So instead he reached forward with his good arm, wrapping it around her neck and taking her to the ground, holding her firmly with an angered grip that could crush her throat.  Or that was what he was betting on.

He was still bleeding after all.

"Just make this easy," he panted. "Who sent you and why? Because people don't just try to kill me simply because they...fuck....feel like it."

When he took his hand and laced his fingers around her neck Paisley did not resist. However, when he shoved her to the ground it took her by suprise and instinctively she brought her small arms up in an attempt to pull his away. She was no match, this man much larger and built stronger than she could ever dream of being.

Paisley knew she would inevitably die from her failure today, but part of her still wanted to live. So even if it was the obscene thing to do... she thought maybe if she just told him who sent her that by the grace of the gods she may be allowed to live. "The-" she choked as she tried to get the words out, his grip making it difficult for her to breath, let alone speak. "Duke.... Falkenrath..." she stopped again trying to get enough breath the finish. "....one of his ....advisers."

"I'm dead...." another cough as she choked out the words. "...anyways.... I failed..." She then tried to lock eyes with him as best she could, as if that would make her seem any less weak than she already was. "... I missed....I never....miss."

She could feel the quiver underneath her begin to dig into her back as she sank deeper into the soil under his grip. By now it was probably crushed beyond recognition. Thankfully though her bow would be able to hold under the pressure, made from Mininga wood it could withold far more than her body baring down on it.

The Duke of Falkenrath huh? And his adviser no less. Why was he not surprised by this sudden revelation? Here he was on the cusp of a practically barren land and now they were going to try and kill him right before he marched his army through.

It was too bad they sent a rookie to do the job. So for someone that proclaimed she never missed, clearly she never killed a living human before either.

But something else tinged on the back of his mind. His grip on her throat lessened a little. "Dead anyway huh?" he hissed and changed his grip from her neck to the collar of her shirt, pulling her up into a sitting position when he found the energy to pull himself into a kneel. "That's too bad. You won't get any more chances to fix that shitty aim of yours."

What was this? He was smirking? Roland forced himself to stand, pulling her up with him.  "Get up.  On your feet. You really don't miss? Ever?  Here's your chance to prove it.  Prove it and you might just live yet."

April Fools... I didn't really post ^.^


P.S: I will work on getting all my posts caught up by the end of the day.

Paisley was quite surprised at how easily the man lifted her off the ground into a sitting position with just the strength of one hand on the collar of her shirt. She wasn't about to complain about it, much preferring it to his fingers being laced around her neck again.

However, his comment on her 'shitty' aim struck a nerve. "Maybe if I didn't have such a 'shitty' target I wouldn't have missed." She was quite proud of her little comeback, however pathetic it was. But then he was standing up, taking her with him by the collar of her shirt once more.

What was this? A challenge? He was challenging her to prove she never missed. Of course the smart thing to do would be to take her last arrow and just shoot him with it. He was standing close enough and probably would never expect it... but part of her wanted to piss him off.

Reaching up she pulled his hand off of her shirt and pushed it away before straightening her clothing. "If you insist.." she beckoned as she reached back to her quiver, her hands grasping nothing but air for a few moments before she finally grasped a single arrow. Paisley had forgotten that she had fallen and most likely that was where her arrows were, still scattered all over the ground a bit of the ways back.

"You know..." she paused to pull her bow from off her shoulder to take position "... your not that smart to allow me to handle my weapon once more." Feeling a bit more confident in herself she took the single arrow and placed it on the bowstring, slowly pulling it back as her eyes scanned the area for something to aim.

"But I will humour your request." She finally stated before releasing the bowstring, seemingly pointing it at Roland. Unlike before when she was initially targeting him she did not take the time to hold her target in her sights. It was almost as if she didn't even have to think about it for more than a millisecond before allowing the arrow to fly towards the man. Except, if flew just over his shoulder the wind of it probably felt on his cheek as it flew by.

Still staring past Roland she lowered her bow, a large smile now plastered across her face. "I told you" she stated as her gaze remained lock behind him. If Roland were to turn around he would most likely at first see nothing, but upon further looking he would see the arrow stuck into a tree a few hundred yards away. However, it wasn't the arrow or the tree that was important but instead the small lizard she had impaled. From that distance it was almost unrecognizable to the average eye.. but then again Paisley's eyes were far more than that.

Roland knew better than to rise to her quips. She clearly was bad at killing him, but if she said she could shoot, then he simply wanted her to prove it. The task itself didn't seem all that hard to the naked eye, and even as she seemed to aim it in his general direction he didn't move. Instead he stood there glaring down at her, watching her performance, waiting to be impressed.

The tell-tale thwack! of the arrow striking it's mark made Roland turn around, seeing the arrow embedded into a tree far behind him.  And quietly he stalked toward her and pulled the bow from her grasp. "Just in case," he said and walked slowly over to the arrow. Sure that was her last arrow, but he wasn't going to take any chances.

She seemed rather attached to that bow anyway.  A few long minutes and he saw the lizard, almost completely cut in half by the shot and he pulled it from the bark, blood guts and all, sniffed it before taking a bite from the meat inside. It was small, a snack at most and he cast it aside, pulling the arrow afterward.

"How did you do that? Who gave you such an Eagle's Eye?" he ask gently when he was closer again and pressed the bow's shaft back into her hands.  "Hmm, answers better given back at camp. Are you hungry, little girl? We have food. You look like you could eat for days."

It wasn't so much an invitation as it was an order. And if she hadn't moved, she would have when he reached across and gripped her by the arm to pull her along. Man did his shoulder hurt like a sonuvabitch.

Paisley simply crossed her arms over her chest as Roland took her bow. The very thing that she treasured most in this world was now in his hands, and so her eyes were locked on him just as they had been on the lizard he was about to find. If he did anything to her bow he would see an entirely different side of her that even she wasn't sure she could control. Paisley was more than a sharpshooter with a bow, and she was sure if she really wanted to one of her knives could just as easily find its way in the back of his skull.

When Roland pulled the arrow from the lizard and took a bite of its innards her face twisted a bit, always preferring cooked meat to the raw stuff. She continued to watch him as he made his way back towards her, or better yet watch her bow in his hands. The moment it was offered back to her she snatched it with full force, holding onto it like a precious child. "I was born with it...." she answered coldly, still upset he had the audacity to take her weapon from her if even for only a few moments.

She would have filled him in on more of her history with her precious bow but the man offered something she could NEVER refuse... food. "I suppose I could eat a bit." she responded, her voice much softer than before as she lied to the man about the status of her current hunger.

But even with her agreeing to come and eat at the camp he still grabbed her shoulder, pulling her along like a pet dog. She didn't bother trying to pull her arm from his gasp, knowing it would most likely only anger him further. In fact, she was surprised he wasn't more angry than he was... having been shot in the shoulder like that.

"So what is your plan Roland" the fact she said his name showing she did indeed know a few details about him. "You going to feed me and then kill me? Or are you more one for something far more sinister?" The thought of the horrible things that could happen at a camp like this to a girl like her flooded her mind. If anyone touched her they would find more than an arrow stuck up their ass before the night was over with.

Dragging her back to camp was easier done than said, even with his one good arm and all his blood loss. Seeing her shoot had given him something to mull over. Yeah, she was good. Damn good, and he'd give her credit for that, even if she somehow had missed him the first time. He wasn't going to question that fortune too much, because somewhere - elsewhere - there would be someone else with the same intent.

She was just the first one in a long while. There would always be more.

He'd wanted to use the trip back to contemplate. But she interrupted his thoughts with her barking, and he turned to glance at her. Hm, it was a valid question.  "My plan? We'll see. If I don't die from infection or bleeding, then I will let you in on that one. Let's just fill our bellies and see where it goes from there. No commitment. But no more running either."

Roland dragged her to the edge of camp before he released her and pointed forward. "Go forward. March." It was an order and when other Red Legion soldiers suddenly noticed a stranger in their midst and blood dripping from his shoulder, they became alert, reaching for their weapons. Roland raised his hand to still them.

"What's your name, girl?" Roland asked levelly. "You already know mine."

Paisley gave Roland a half hearted look when he mentioned the possibility of dying from infection or bleeding. She truly was sorry, not for trying to kill him... but not doing it correctly. One thing she had always tried to do when shooting her arrow at a target was to make it a quick kill. Anything less than that was simply inhumane, something Paisley did not enjoy. He then mentioned no more running, something she could agree to only because she knew there was no way she could get away. He had an army, one that knew her face and by god she knew if he wanted to find her that he could with ease.

Once again he was dragging her but this time towards the edge of camp before demanding she march forwards. As soon as he released her arm she stumbled forwards a bit, hesitant to walk among all of these hardened men. Not only did they all seem fearsome, but also alert. "Paisley" she muttered to his question, her voice low enough to where most of them wouldn't even hear it. She didn't like how cold this man was, no doubt the reason for his many enemies. Understandably she had tried to kill him only moment ago but still.. she was nothing more than a small girl compared to him and his men.

"Paisley Maika" she repeated a bit louder. Her last name was one of no importance, one that belonged to the commoners she was born from. There was no nobility, nothing distinguishable about it. She didn't feel it was important to tell Roland that she herself was from Connloath or the fact that she was born mere miles from where this camp stood. It was common now anyways, to see old towns such as this one destroyed by the war. In truth she hated it what the war had done to her land and her people... yet again more information he need not know.

"Anything else?" she asked with a bit of bite in her tone. She was growing agitated with each passing moment, Roland's own agitation infecting her normal easy going attitude. "Or are you going to tell me where the food is?"

Even as she was growing agitated, Roland could only grin with further amusement. Not just because she was getting upset at his prodding and pulling and general knocking her person around like a sack of potatoes, but because she was just so damn...skinny. And awkward looking. She was clearly young, couldn't have been more than 20 and here she was trying to kill a trained soldier.

Granted she missed despite her apparent accuracy. And he was glad she did. Now here she was surrounded by his army, and not even the whole army at that. But contingent of about 1500 or so, and she seemed so out of place here among these war-hardened veterans and ex-peasants.

"Nope, that'll be all," Roland said, giving her a cheeky smirk, holding his shoulder as he gestured toward one of his finest. "This is Alyssa. She'll show you where the food is. She's one of my lead scouts. And a damn good one. So be nice and she'll be nice."

Alyssa had her own bow and quiver strapped to her back and sheathed the dirk she was sharpening. She stood up and stalked quietly over to Paisley. "Another straggler, huh, Roland?" she asked, jerking her head at him until she saw his wound.  "Healer!" she baked suddenly and Roland waved her off.

"I"ll be going. This is Paisley. Feed her. She's too skinny."  Roland chuckled as he walked away toward to get his shoulder patched up. At least most of the bleeding stopped.

Alyssa suddenly was very wary and she looked at Paisley, how scuffed up she was and sniffed. "Your arrows are gone. You tried to put them in the Lord Commander?" she said, voice low and her dagger half out of it's sheathe. "Don't lie."

The small girl simply rolled her eyes at Roland and his smirk. "Is everyone an asshole lately?" she thought to herself and how her own people reacted towards her. But then Roland gestured towards a woman he addressed as Alyssa... apparently Alyssa knew where the food was... Paisley liked Alyssa.

Paisley simply shrugged off his other comment on being nice  and smiled at the woman now walking up towards her. Only did Paisley feel concerned when she saw how Alyssa reacted to Roland's wound, a wound she had inflicted mere moments before. Never did Paisley think she would hate to see Roland walk away until this moment. The man she thought to be nothing but a mouthy asshole seemed mild compared to the glare this woman was shooting at her right now.

"I lost my arrows when I fell." Paisley then took a small step back as she noted the woman unsheathing the dagger. "I fell running from Roland because I tried to shoot him... but I missed." The embarrassment alone from the action made Paisley want to crawl into her own skin, not to mention telling another marksmen like herself. She need not lie to Alyssa, the story told itself even to the woman who noted her arrows were missing.

Paisley's eyes then darted back down towards the dagger Alyssa was pulling out. "If your going to kill me then get on with it. I will tell you as I told Roland... I'm dead anyways... I missed." In truth Paisley did not want to die, but what more could she do? "If you don't do it I am sure the Duke of Falkenrath's adviser will eventually." Paisley tried to stand tall against the woman, as if her small frame was anything compared to her.

Yeah, she got that the woman was a hunter of some kind. Few people could wield bows with any sort of skill or expertise. This was a war after all, and those that had no fighting chances were already dead, and those that survived had the skills to do so. Alyssa was not prone to brash reaction, but she was prepared to do what she had to in order to continue on surviving.

"You missed?" she parroted back. That clearly was the focus from everything she said. "Oh, don't worry. We'll teach you to shoot properly." Sure she had a bow, but that didn't mean that skinny straggler couldn't use a few pointers. But first things first, there was food to be had.

"Follow me," Alyssa said and put the dirk back into it's sheathe. "Roland doesn't bring in anyone that he feels is a waste of his time. But first we eat."  She gave a grunt and directed Paisley to follow her. Not far from where they entered was a circle of some of the men, sitting around a cook fire, laughing and telling jokes amongst each other. Alyssa put down a half-cut log and plopped it down and sat down, gesturing for Paisley to sit beside her.

"I hope you like beans. And rice. And venison. Because that's all there is," she said with a matter-of-factness to her tone. Alyssa took a wood slab that would serve as a plate and put items on it, ignoring the odd glares of the men. They were mostly directed at Alyssa who didn't give a shit and shoved one of them aside when he tried to prevent her from taking the meat and hacking a piece off it. "Next it'll be your hand in the fire."

She glowered at him and handed the plate off to Paisley.

"Oh and before I forget. Welcome to the Red Legion," she said, and sat down with her own food.

This woman was confusing Paisley so much she wasn't sure whether to treat her as friend or foe. "I know how to shoot properly" she countered before following Alyssa and listening to her words. So Roland thought she wasn't a waste of time? Paisley smirked at this.. " He has a funny way of showing it."

Soon though Paisley's thoughts were cleared with first the smell and then sight of the food available. She could already feel her mouth watering as she thought of the taste of each item. Nodding at Alyssa's statement of hoping she liked what was available she watched on, not paying much attention either to the men sitting around the fire until Alyssa threatened to cut off one of their hands.

Sitting where Alyssa had gestured she awaited for the wooden slab to be in her hands and the moment it was Paisley was shoving food down her throat.

She was halfway through chewing on a piece of Venison and nearly choked on it when Alyssa stated a welcome to the Red Legion."What...." her voice was flat, as if preparing herself to be the butt of some joke the woman had just made. Paisley had just tried to kill Roland, why on earth would he invite her to be apart of the Red Legion?

"You're kidding right?" Paisley leaned forwards a bit with the wooden plate of food still on her lap, all in an attempt to get a better read on Alyssa.

She'd fit right in. No decorum. No dainty little hands to pick at the meat. She just sucked the food right off her plate as if it were a mosquito drinking at fresh blood. Many of the people here eager enough to eat, but this girl practically made it an interpretive dance. Alyssa just watched her a moment before digging in, tearing a piece of bread to mash into the beans with.

"Kidding? No," Alyssa answered, tearing the bread with her teeth and munching on it quickly. That bite was followed by a swig on a water skin and she handed that off to Paisley so that she could take a drink as well. The girl certainly looked as Roland estimated. She was far too skinny. She'd have to put on weight if she was going to make it in this kind of territory.

"I know what you're thinking but it's not a joke. If it were, it would end with you dying. You can still die, but it won't be because Roland executed you. It will be because you did something stupid and died because of it. The rules are simple. Respect all fellow Legionnaires, listen to Roland, and don't do anything stupid like get yourself killed. But you can do lots of stupid things and live, only to wish you were dead later."

Alyssa wasn't always a windbag, but she just wanted to cover all the bases before the initiation began. "Roland finds people that are useful. Are you useful?" she asked, staring at her now curiously.

It took everything Paisley had to not let her jaw drop to the ground at Alyssa's casual answer to her question. With eyes still wide she accepted the water skin and took a swig before handing it back off. She was speechless at the very thought of what was just proposed. Of course Paisley had heard of the Red Legion, but never in a million years did she think she would be a part of them.

Continuing to listen Paisley tried her best to take mental note of everything being said. Respect Legionnaires... check. Listen to Roland.... she must be joking. Don't do anything stupid... can't promise that either.
"I think I can handle that"

Paisley then began digging back into her plate, tearing at the meat with her hands before plopping more into her mouth. In no time at all she had eaten the venison on her plate and was now moving on towards the beans. Paisley had never been a picky eater, in fact she hardly ever said no to food, especially the free kind.

"I would like to think I am useful" her body language more relaxed than before. Clearly she was in no danger here. If they meant to poison her she was sure it would be a worthy death. And if the thought of her shooting their commander didn't cause for immediate slaughter she figured that by now nothing would come of that.

"It seems the two of us share the same passion for marksmanship" her eyes then trailed towards Alyssa's own bow. "I know I may have just hit Roland in the shoulder, but in my defense I have never killed a person before. Honestly, I had no idea it would be so nervewracking." Ripping off a piece of her own bread Paisley continued "I'm kind of glad I missed, I found humor in him complaining about the pain."

Instinctively Paisley raised one of her own hands to her neck, which was still tender from Roland's hand having been wrapped around it. She was sure it would bruise by tomorrow, if it hadn't already started to. She knew she deserved it, she knew that if it had been anyone else she would probably already be dead in the dirt somewhere... she knew Roland spared her life on this day.

Snapping herself away from her own thoughts Paisley smiled at Alyssa, happy to have someone nice like her to tell her these things. Her eyes then glanced around towards the other men sitting around the fire, each of them at least twice her size in muscle alone. She wondered if any of them started out like her. Quickly she averted her eyes back to Alyssa.

Oh there was nothing concrete that would prevent Paisley from breaking any of these rules. But following them really was so that it was easier on everyone else. If everyone was looking out for one another, watching each other's backs and knowing they were all in this together, one patrol, one platoon, one Red Legion, then their chances were survival increased by a hundred fold.  There were no guarantees of course, but it was one less chance taken.

It was good that Paisley already seemed eager to establish that she was useful even though she had failed in killing their general. But her marksmanship was something they could easily fix, make her sharper, better than she already was. Alyssa was no witness to her own skills, but even she knew better than to simply take her word for it.

"Don't worry," Alyssa said, nodding to her comment on marksmanship. "We'll teach you how to shoot right, get a man right between the eyes. We always need good scouts. Good fighters too. You're too skinny. You couldn't outrun Roland. That's how he caught me too."  She laughed though at that last remark, because it was a joke. Although a poor one. But Alyssa wasn't known for being funny. "Actually, I found Roland. I used to hunt in the hills of Folkvar. I got a stag right in the neck and dragged the thing into one of his camps one night and threw it at his feet. I had been following his men for some time."

Alyssa finished her food and set her plate down in the wash pile as the soldiers spoke amongst themselves.

"So where are you from, Paisley? That is what you called out and said your name was right?"  Alyssa wasn't an eavesdropper but she couldn't help her good hearing.

Paisley was about to interupt Alyssa as she commented how they would teach her to shoot right. However, when she mentioned how she herself was caught by Roland she did her best to try and compare their stories. So Roland wasn't as hardened as she initially thought he was. There must have been reason behind his actions, and to have this many men following him he must have been doing it right.

"I am from here..." Paisley straightened her stature a bit, as if to make herself seem taller to better represent Connloath. "My childhood home used to be not that far from here, but since the war rolled through here my parents relocated." Just as many others had Paisley's life was affected by the war. When she was younger she so badly wanted to be a soldier for her home, but being a girl she wasn't allowed to join the military. " And yes you got it right, my name is Paisley."

Finishing what was left of the food on her plate Paisley then stood up and set her plate down on top of where Alyssa had put hers. She then took her place back on the stump she was provided with. "So you fed me as Roland instructed... what's next?" In truth Paisley was itching to show all of these men and Alyssa what she was really capable of. She felt her form was perfect with her bow, having spent countless hours working on it throughout her childhood. Really the only thing hindering her performance was the anxiety of killing someone.

Parents relocated? Was that a fancy way of saying they were dead? Captured? Ran away and left her behind? For now, Alyssa wouldn't pry. There was no use in getting to know someone that might not even stick around long enough to survive. She didn't want to be presumptuous but if anything Alyssa was a realist and she held no illusions.

"Next...hmm, good question. Now you're fed. Are you hurt? We have healers. They get the job done, they're good enough for this camp anyway. If you're ready, we shoot. Before we take you in, we have to make sure you're useful. Then you will talk to Roland again. He looked like you made him bleed an awful lot," she said quickly, standing, and dusting herself off again.

Unhooking the bow from her shoulder, she carefully wandered over toward the far side of camp and took an arrow, notching it and pulling the string back. She was slow about it, taking her time and breathing low and slow, aiming for a pair of painted dummies about thirty feet in front of them. There were circles on their arms, shoulders, bellies and heads, pointing to vulnerable spots.

She released the arrow and the fired the shot right into the chest of the first dummy beside her. "You never killed anyone before? And thought your first target should be Roland Harker?"

Shaking her head from side to side Paisley assured Alyssa she was in no way injured. Other than the slight pain in her neck, which she felt was nothing serious enough to call attention to. Paisley couldn't help but snicker at Alyssa's comment of making Roland bleed an awful lot. Even though now she was happy she had not killed him, at least she could that even though she missed the shot was not completely useless.

Standing just after Alyssa did Paisley followed her to the far side of the camp where the painted dummies could be seen in the distance. Standing back and watching she observed the woman's form, her technique, and was mildly impressed by it. Following the arrow with her sharp eyes she saw it strike true to the chest of the dummy and lifted her hands to offer a soft clap.

Her eyes then searched around for arrows to use, as hers were probably still laying in the mud where she had tripped earlier during the pursuit. Thankfully she managed to find some and took a handfull, placing them into her own quiver without thought. "I will replace them" she countered looking at Alyssa. The last thing she wanted was to be accused of stealing someones equipment.

Taking her own stance just beside where Alyssa stood Paisley pulled her bow from over her shoulders, grasping at the wood with her fingertips and the bowstring with her other hand. "My first thought was to get enough money to get the hell out of here." The tone of her voice telling how frustrated she was with the entire situation as reached back and pulled an arrow from the quiver.

"Can't really leave Connloath without the funds ya' know." After that Paisley fell silent, her focus now solely on the dummy in the distance as she notched the arrow in and pulled the bowstring back. She wasn't quite sure but when she held her bow in her hands the entire world seemed to slow down. Everything except her target just a non important slow motion object in the background. With each passing second she could feel each heartbeat from her chest, each strain of the bowstring as it was pulled tighter and tighter.

And then there were her eyes, locked onto the target and nothing else. She could account for the wind blowing past, however slight it was it could make or break the shot, just another thing moving in slow motion around her. Inhaling slowly she relaxed her shoulders and then with one swift motion she released the bowstring, the arrow shooting out and beyond towards the target she knew it would hit. Quickly, she reached back and pulled out another arrow. Just as before but quicker she latched it in and pulled the bowstring back took in a breath and then released again.

Each arrow hit the target within seconds of the other, both striking the dummy in the unmarked eyes center and true. She did not smile when she lowered her bow at her side, but instead stared at the target with the most serious expression. Shooting her bow was more than a passion, it was the essence of her life. It made her feel alive and like she had purpose. "Useful enough?" she asked jolting her gaze towards Alyssa, her tone flat and expression serious.

Theft was putting it rather harshly. Those arrows belonged to the Legion, although they looked as if they were any other arrows. Nothing could afford to be wasted, and everything that needed to be shared was shared amongst all the people here in camp. From food to water and shelter. It was basic sense, although Alyssa said nothing of this and simply watched Paisley work her magic.

In truth, the hunter had no expectations. But she kept her eyes steady and watched her take aim. And fire true and without hesitation.  When she turned back to her, Alyssa gave a deep respectful nod that seemed more akin to a bow of deference, although that would have been a serious stretch.

"It's a start certainly," Alyssa commented, and didn't smile. "Dead in the eyes. Where you probably meant to hit Roland."  Alyssa stalked across and retrieved the arrows from the straw dummies. and inspected them as if to find some flaw in them that made them fly so true. Nope. nothing.  And she was glad for it. "Okay, recruit, you can shoot straw. And you probably can shoot animal flesh just fine. Now can you shoot a body?"

She posed the question in all seriousness and handed the arrows back to her. "You said you were already dead before? And that you need money to leave. You can't leave if you're Red Legion, but when this war's over, maybe then. Until then you will have to learn to kill if you want to see through it to the end. Don't let anyone take your life from you. In truth, it's all you really have."

Alyssa stood back and nodded to a few other Legionnaires as they paused their own training and stalked across camp. Within a few minutes they pulled a cloth draped sack across the ground, the brown cloth soaked in blood, and hefted it up to tie to the front of the dummy. The body was already dead and out of deference the face would remain covered as would most of it.

"The enemy is in front of you. He's not noticed you, but if he does he will rush you and kill you faster than you can fire. So you ready your arrow.  But how do you kill him?" Alyssa asked. It was not a question of the precise method that Paisley would use, although it certainly seemed that way. She wanted to know if Paisley, in the end, to have the guts...to choose her own guts over someone else's to keep from spilling onto the ground.

Paisley watched Alyssa carefully as she walked up and inspected her shot before pulling the arrows from the target and examined them. She couldn't help but smirk a bit, proud of herself at what she had just done. Her smirk though quickly faded at Alyssa's next words. "Shoot a body?" And then with a small gesture a few Legionnaires pulled a bloody sack across the range and strung it up.

Her eyes then darted to Alyssa as she began to speak again as if the dead body in the sack were a real person, one that would kill her if he had the chance. Paisley didn't even raise her bow, but instead shifted her weight with a concerned look. "You have got to be kidding me right? What is the point in me shooting it?" Paisley then gestured towards the bloody sack. Despite how much she wanted to prove herself here she could not visualize what she was being asked.

After a few more minutes of hesitation though Paisley did eventually raise her bow and take aim. Notching the arrow in she quickly released it and watched as it flew forwards and hit the right corner of the sack, the same thing being what happened when she shot Roland. Agitated she pulled out another arrow from her quiver and took aim again, repeating the same steps as before only to hit just below the first arrow, nowhere near the center.

She knew she was failing miserably this time, just not able to hit where she wanted. "I don't understand" she mumbled as she withdrew yet another arrow and took aim. This time though she did not release the arrow, but instead lowered the bow to the ground, pointing the arrow at the earth in front of her before slowly letting it go. "This is pointless!"

Alyssa blinked at her carelessness. And shook her head at the way all the arrows were going. Oh no, this wouldn't do at all. And perhaps this wasn't the best way to go about it. For her though, being able to even sink a weapon into flesh was among the hardest parts for recruits, especially young recruits.

"Stop," she said simply and pulled the arrow from the ground. She stalked over to Paisley and handed the arrow back to her. "It's not pointless. Violence can make young recruits sick, seeing an arrow bury itself into a body. We have to know that you can take the sight, the action, and not buckle over. Or worse lose yourself in the act. Concentrate, take in a deep breath and focus."

"Try again. Aim for the heart."

Flinching slightly as Alyssa pulled the arrow from the ground Paisley did her best to listen. "It's just a bloody sack" she repeated over and over again as she lifted her bow once more, notching a new arrow in and taking in a deep breath.

Alyssa's words played once more in her mind "Concentrate, take a deep breath, and focus.... focus." And so that is what Paisley did. She looked at the sack as not a body, but just another target she was shooting at. With slow and deep breaths the world around her began to slow down and the target in site was just that... a target.

Nothing else existed anymore. Not Alyssa or the other Legionnaires watching... nothing. Pulling back her bowstring Paisley could feel her heart beating in her chest accompanied by the straining sounds of her bowstring as she took aim. And then just as she had before with the straw dummy Paisley released her fingers, letting the arrow fly towards the chest of the sack.

This time she knew it was going to hit, he could feel it in every muscle in her body. However, Paisley did not lower her bow until she was sure it had hit, and only then did she slowly lower her weapon. She stood in silence as she stared at the bloody sack, her arrow now sticking out where the chest should have been. "There..."

Paisley then turned her attention back to Alyssa with only one question in mind. "What's next?"

Yes. It was just a bloody sack. It was just a dead body that was soon going to be burned or buried with the rest of them. And while it might not have phased Alyssa much at all, it could just as easily have phased someone else. And that was the point wasn't it? To shake her out from the rest.

She nodded in relief and even gave Paisley a smile. "Next. Next we go and see Roland. And tell him what I think. Or we can have you run some drills. Do you have a preference? Skinny thing like you seems to be good at running yes?  Hm, maybe another day. We go see Roland now."

She shifted past Paisley, walking in the direction of the healer's tent where Roland was getting his shoulder patched up. "You can sink an arrow into meat. I have to say, I didn't think you had it in you."

To see Roland or run drills? Paisley seriously had to debate which would be better only to have Alyssa come to a conclusion for her. "Roland it is then" she sighed as she slung her bow over her shoulder in its rightful place before following Alyssa through the camp once more.

As they walked she listened to Alyssa talk about how she managed to shoot the body in a bag, something she herself was still processing in her mind. "Of course I can." Paisley trying to sound more confident than she really was about it.

She could never quite figure out why shooting a person was so hard for her. Honestly both times it had presented itself she thought all the way up until the moment she had to do it that she could. Then again Paisley wasn't one to ask for help, even though it would have been wise to ask Alyssa how to get over the real deal when she had the chance.

As they walked Paisley sighed again, realizing it would be in her best interest to bring it up. "So.... how do you do it? How do you kill someone without hesitating?"

It was a fair question. And Alyssa shrugged in response. Truthfully, she had no eloquent answer for her, if that was what she was expecting. And the fact that it had come naturally to her, perhaps might have disturbed the runt beside her.

So Alyssa could only think of the most obvious response, and glanced at Paisly with honest eyes. "Practice," she said, parting the tent of the healer and entering.

Roland sat up from the cot, sipping a container of whiskey and leaning back a little against a roll of blankets at his bare back. Of course his shirt would have to be repaired and cleaned. No thanks to her. But it was nice to know at least something good might come from his pain. For that was only temporary.

"She's good, Lord Commander," Alyssa said, saluting to Roland, and he returned the same gesture to her. "But we'll make her better. But she's got interesting stuff to tell you. Maybe you'd like to talk between the two of you."

It was a suggestion that Alyssa took easily and stepped out of her own volition. It was then that Roland carefully removed a stool his foot was resting on and nudged it toward her. "Have a seat, bean. If you please. Whiskey?"

Paisley only glared at Alyssa and her short response. For once in her life Paisley was actually asking for advice, only to be given the most basic answer known to mankind...'practice'. With a heavy sigh the two entered the tent where Roland supposedly had been nursing his 'fleshwound' and sure enough there he was lounging about on a cot living the high life as he drank what she presumed to be whiskey.

Not able to hide the discontent with being talked about like she wasn't even there, or the fact that Roland had just referred to her as a bean, Paisley let out an agitated sigh. Still she took a seat on the stool he offered her, crossing one leg over the other before doing the same with her arms across her chest. "No" her tone flat as she denied the offer of whiskey.

"Before you even have a chance to ask I ate..." Why Roland was so concerned with feeding her still puzzled the small girl. Of course she would never deny a free meal and she was hungry... but still. For that to be the first thing someone thought after being shot... there was definitely a deeper meaning there.

Moving on from that Paisley eyed his now bandaged shoulder and felt what she thought to be a pang of remorse for it. "I-I am so.." Paisley was practically choking on the the apology she was trying to blurt out. "... sorry."

Roland shifted himself upward, looking more professionally and he dropped the container of whiskey on the edge of a table beside him. There a short candle burned to bring light to the dimness of the tent. "Hey. Don't worry about it. We all have bad days," he chuckled. "I almost broke your neck, you almost killed me. We're even."

He smiled at her and peeked at the wound, now sewn up. It just needed time. That's all that remained.

"So, what do you think so far? Of our set up here? What do you make of it? Just an honest opinion will do. No professional eloquence required," Roland asked levelly, and kept his gaze steady. She said she ate...but so far there was no proof.

He was laughing.... seriously!? Paisleys eyes went wide at how the man she thought so far to only be an ass found something so humorous now. Her hand then went to her neck where it was still tender to touch. He was right.. he could have killed her if he wanted to.

So at first she may have seen offended by his reaction to her apology her features quickly softened, only now realizing that Roland had saved her life in more ways than one today.

Scooting up on the stool a bit she straightened her posture as she tried to think of a way to sum up her experience so far with the camp. "Well for one the food is good." She had already told him she ate, but felt the need to inform him that it was also of good quality. "I also think that everyone seems to have one cause in mind.. and one person they would follow to death's door."

Her eyes narrowed on Roland, insinuating that he was who she was talking about. "I have only heard of The Red Legion through rumor, and of course the adviser who sent me to kill you." Paisley was entering uncomfortable territory as she placed her hands in her lap, clutching her fists at the thought of what the war had done to her home.

"I don't remember if I told you or not but I am from Connloath. Actually my home used to be only about an hours walk from here." Paisley's expression fell almost as serious as it was when she was firing her bow. "I left home because I knew there was no place for me here. When I came back my village was gone... my parents nowhere in sight. I don't know what happened to them but I can only hope they have found solace elsewhere."

"If joining you means bringing MY country back to how it should be I will follow you to deaths door... just like your soldiers."

Now, that was an admission Roland had not been expecting. He blinked at her, remaining quiet until she was finished and he tilted his head at her. Lost her whole village. Just like that. He heard stories like that before, both honest ones and fictional of people that had lost everything they had during the war, since it's inception.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said, and raised a hand to her. "You're not the only one here just like that. A lot that came to join were exactly the same. Just wanted to live their lives, then the war came through and burned everything. Then whatever they had left, they packed up and joined. It was better than sitting around waiting to rot."

He nodded to her. "I respect your answer. But know that I would never ask you to give your life for something you don't believe in. You're young and have many years ahead of you. I simply felt it better to give you an opportunity rather than simply squander it by killing you. That and...your killshot could use some improvement."  Roland grinned at her.

"But furthermore, you were paid to kill me. The adviser gave you instruction as to my location, and to end my life. Now, do you know if this adviser acted alone, or was under the instruction of the Duke of Falkenrath?  Because I think I just found another way you can be very useful."

Whether or not Roland ever asked her to give her life Paisley didn't care. She was willing to do whatever it took to get her country back to the people who were truly affected by the war. She would not be just another statistic... she was determined to make a difference.

The serious moment though quickly faded as Roland made a jab at her killshot, causing Paisley to slip back into her usual demeanor.

"My killshot is perfectly fine. Maybe if I didn't have such a barbaric target I wouldn't have missed." She already knew this was something they would probably never agree on.

Roland's next words though caused a sinister smile to cross Paisley's lips.

"I am unaware of whether or not the actual Duke of Falkenrath took part in my hiring. However, I do know he has not been kind to his people. I believe that if his adviser paid me to kill you, it was only because the Duke had expressed some form of distaste towards you and your cause. If not then he is foolish to have such an angsty person of power next to him."

"Ahh, well, that distaste probably has something to do with the fact that my army is so close to his borders and he has no real way of keeping us out, seeing as he exhausted all resources of participating further into the war," he sighed.

"And furthermore, it might be good to know where you planned to meet this adviser, you know when you report to him the nature of your success. How else would you have gotten paid?"

Nodding at Roland's question Paisley continued. "I was supposed to meet him in a weeks time from when he gave me the task." Recounting the days it took her to find the camp, and then actually have a chance to have a shot at Roland Paisley added up how many days were left.

"Two days... at a tavern at the edge of his south border." Paisley then averted her eyes, not really sure how Roland would react to the next bit.

"I am also uh.. supposed to bring your head as proof." Thinking back on it now Paisley could see how foolish she was to take on such a job. She couldn't even imagine having to not only drag Roland's large body to safety, but to also cut off his head.

Quite literally Paisley face palmed right there, shoving her hand into her face as she groaned in complete and utter dissatisfaction with her actions. "Why in Ansgar's name was I so stupid to think I could do it!?" She wasn't asking Roland specifically, but instead just dragging her own self through the mud as she realized just how impulsively she had acted.

"Two days? That long huh? I'd say that was a very generous estimation," he said, curious and watching her tally up the number of days she had left was kind of hilarious. String Bean. It was remarkably fitting, but calling her that repeatedly might must make her finish the job she'd been intent on from the beginning.

And that wouldn't end well for her.

"I imagine you'd be well paid for taking my head then," Roland nodded. "Okay, then. Hey, now! Relax. It'll work out. I promise. I always keep my promises."  He got up and corked the whiskey container and set it back into the drawer and with it that, shuffled around some things.  He pulled out a small pin, a cloak pin to be exact with an arrow as the closing pin and he tossed it in hand before standing up and handing it to her.

"Here. You're Red Legion now. That means you have brothers and sisters at your back, willing to fight for you and with you. You'll have a head to bring that adviser. This was just the opening I was looking for. Two days is plenty of time for me and a patrol, maybe two, to follow you. We'll escort you to the tavern and you'll meet with the adviser and get your pay. He'll likely kill you. His kind always do. Get some runt to do your dirty work, make sure they're buried somewhere in a shallow grave after."

Slowly pulling her face from her hand at the sound of Roland digging through some things Paisley was confused. Eventually she sat back up, only to be more confused when he handed her a small cloak pin. She was about to ask what it was but he answered before she even had a chance.

Taking the pin she wrapped her fingers around it, the cool metal imprinting itself on her skin. She acted as if it were some small trinket, but already she felt an attachment to it that she knew was either going to damn her for eternity or lead her to the future she saw in her heart. Still admiring the pin she half listened to what Roland was going on about.

"Brothers, sisters, blah blah blah.... end up in a grave."

"Wait! What?"

Quickly stuffing the pin into one of her belt pouches she stood up, already trying to convince herself that she had misheard him. "That stuck up tightwad was going to kill me!?"

Now Paisley was mad, pacing back and forth in the tent with hands on her hips in true turmoil. One again she found herself slamming her palm into her forehead repeating out loud now what she thought earlier. "Stupid stupid stupid!"

Roland smirked at her, her disbelief causing him to snicker, although he quickly sobered it for her sake. Because her dying probably wasn't going to be a good thing. To recruit her and suddenly just send her off to her death. Because that might be what it would seem like from a passing glance. Roland quickly moved forward to grasp her hand before she could smack her head for the third time.

"Stop doing that. You'll make yourself dizzy," Roland said, and stepped away. "Don't panic. Not yet. We'll be right behind you. And if anything goes wrong. Which they will, we'll be there to back you up. And I'm going too. It'd be good to know if the adviser actually hired you with the approval of the Duke. Or if he didn't. So I'll know if I have to kill more people than necessary."

He sighed and scratched his head. "You really couldn't have been that surprised by that though... I mean, wow. This really is your first rodeo, isn't it?"

With Roland grabbing her hand Paisley half expected him to do her the favor and just knock her over the head herself. After he released his grasp on her wrist she whipped her arm down at her side, fists clenched as she was clearly agitated.

"What can I say? You may not believe it but sometimes I do things without thinking it through..." Narrowing her eyes she knew he was probably going to have some smart ass comment at that.

Taking in a deep breath she tried to calm down and think rationally for once in her life. "So I will go to the meeting then? I will walk in with the head that clearly does not belong to you and then try to find out if the Duke of Falkenrath was involved."

"Then what? Demand my pay only for them to try and kill me and pray to Ansgar that you and your men will get to me fast enough." Even just playing out the possibility of it got her worked up again.

Starting to pace back and forth once again Paisley held a hand to her chin before perking up... as if a lightbulb had just gone off in her head. Reaching down she flicked open one of her belt pouches and pulled out a small knife she carried on her just in case she needed it. Holding it up she looked quite determined as she made her next declaration.

"I will kill them all with only my knife! They will be dead before your men even try to help me" Yes that's it... she was going to take them all on with her miserable little knife.. surely that plan could never fail!

There was something about seeing the gears going off in her head that was kind of intriguing. Roland's expression was sobered and against her judgment, he kept his mouth shut, and he just watched her mull over her options. Right, it was good he didn't kill her. Because she was his key to getting closer to the Duke than he'd originally planned.

And the fact that she seemed to have a good reason not to follow through with it certainly sealed the deal. She had lost her family, and had no where else. He remembered she'd said she wanted to leave Connlaoth. And here she was fighting for a different cause.

Even with her declaration, he frowned, noticing that little knife. No, no. That wouldn't do at all. He sniffed and this time he smirked, amusement dancing in his expression. "Okay, okay, I can take the hint," he muttered blandly. "We'll get you outfitted. Properly of course. Because that thing...can barely kill an apple."

Her determined stance was broken by Roland's next statement. Ripping her attention from the knife to Roland she looked quite confused. "What?" She even went as far as tilting her head slightly to the side.

"I was being serious!" and she really was, already jumping back into her not thinking before acting state. "This knife could do some serious damage!" In fact Paisley was so sure that it could kill a man she really was considering pulling it out on the adviser and his men when the time was right. As far as she was concerned it was as good a plan as any, one that surely would never fail.

The rest of what Roland had said then registered in her mind, noting that she would be 'properly' fitted. Paisley then looked herself up and down before tucking the knife back into one of her pouches. "And what do you mean get me outfitted! There is nothing wrong with my gear or my clothes!"

The statement had been clear enough. Or so Roland had thought. Oh he had no doubt of her seriousness, but if she was intent on killing a man with that crappy little piece of metal, then she was going to find it was a lot messier than she might be counting on. For a fresh untested recruit, he'd preferred they had all the tool necessary to get the job done right the first time.

His shoulder was testament to that.

"Outfitted. Properly equipped to make sure that when you do want to drive that knife home, it's going to gouge more than just skin deep," Roland said. He looked down at the pouch where her tiny blade was housed. "It'll take some time to get the measurements right, but the crew is good. Just decide what you want to keep, and what you think you might need new. Er, newer."

They were an army on their feet after all. They needed to reuse as much material as they could.  "Come along, I'll show you. Alyssa is probably telling the rest of the camp about you. Here an hour and already you're gaining a reputation, String Bean."

Knowing that Roland was right Paisley kicked at the ground a bit as he talked to her. In truth she knew her equiptment was only sub par compared to some of the things these Legionnaires were carrying around. She was just too proud to admit it aloud. Paisley had worked so hard to get what she had, having earned it all on her own. Her bow she crafted herself, her little gadgets acquired through sale or trade. Even her clothes were either made by her or gotten through trading animal hides.

"I will keep my bow" her statement flat as she knew it was truly the only thing she could never part with. "Anything else I will leave up to you. But if I don't like it I am not keeping or using it."

And then they were off, Roland wanting to show her what he was talking about, but not before poking at her ego a bit by telling her everyone was already talking about her.

"Wait... String Bean?"

Looking at the way she clung to the bow, Roland knew that she wouldn't part with it. That much was obvious when he snatched it from her grip back in the forest. That had been a test of will, however, as much as he wanted to simply irritate her because well...she fucking shot him in the shoulder.

"I knew that'd catch your attention. Yeah. That's your name from now on, Private Maika. String Bean. You'll need to time to put on the weight a real soldier requires," Roland explained on their way to the Quartermaster's tent. Cyrus Blige was an ornery old man, and was in charge of acquiring the equipment for the rest of camp. And he was damn good at it too.

But thankfully, they didn't have to deal with him today. "Rothsfield!" Roland called out, and a young man, stepped out from the tent, and saluted Roland with a fist across his chest.

"Yes, Lord Commander?" he said, grinning slyly at the pair. He was noticeably shorter than Roland, but had similar hair and his body was sturdy enough to lug around the equipment he dealt with on a daily basis. Stellan Rothsfield stood up straight and bowed his head to Paisley beside him. "So this is String Bean huh?" Seriously, who else could it be?

Rolling her eyes Paisley continued to follow Roland, not disputing the name he had just bestowed on her. As for putting on weight she knew she was a tad on the fail side, but by no means dying from it. "We'll see about that" she commented about her weight as they walked.

Then Roland yelled someones name, causing Paisley to jump a bit. "Must you yell?" she asked, clearly annoyed with how loudly he felt he had to speak. From there she watched Roland address this Rothsfield fellow carrying the same authoritative presence he did earlier with Alyssa.

It seemed even this guy held a certain respect for Roland, one that Paisley was slowly adapting to. However, when Rothsfield addressed her as String Bean Paisley glared at him.
"I'll show you string bean"

"It is Paisley!" After that she crossed her arms and walked past him into the tent, presuming that was where they were heading to anyways.

Roland reached up to rub at his sore shoulder. He'd have to soak it again soon, but over all there was no serious damage and he instead watched while Stellan reached out his hand toward Paisley.

"All right, settle down there," Stellan laughed, reaching out for her to shake hr hand until she...walked right passed him into the tent. "Wow. Rude."  He shrugged and followed her inside, Roland as well, sitting on a stool in the corner, as Stellan removed his left arm stub from his pocket and kicked out some dirt from the mat he'd covered some of the equipment with. "So I assume you're here to get outfitted then?"

There was no other reason for her to be here unless she needed something.

"Yeah," Roland nodded. "Some armor for one. Size her up for proper greaves. And a cloak if there's one to spare."

"Right then. Okay so. Ahem. Paisley, you'll have to set your bow aside, and remove your cloak, and I'll get to measuring you, yes? We wanna make sure this shit doesn't fall off when you're moving about, yeah," Stellan murmured.

As soon as she entered the tent Paisley smirked, having felt like in some strange way she had shown this man she was a force to be reckoned with. Both Rothsfield and Roland entered the tent not long after her and Paisley turned to around. She noticed the man was missing a hand, but it wasn't something uncommon to see nowadays. The war had done so much to this country and its people and many bore scars from it. In fact the only thing she found herself wondering was the story behind it.

She would have brought it up but even Paisley had the manners not to point out such things. Instead she looked to Roland who was telling Rothsfield everything she would need. Next thing she knew Rothsfield was telling her to not only set down her bow but remove her cloak. Who the hell did he think he was?! She would have continued on with her rudeness had it not been the fact that for once she thought before opening up her big mouth again.

"Its okay Paisley. He just wants to measure you for new clothes... hes not going to take your stuff..." Her eyes narrowed as they shifted back and forth from Roland to Rothsfield. "...keep the apple killing knife though just in case." And with that Paisley nodded to herself, as if agreeing that if this man tried anything he would be missing more than just a hand.

Whether it was a gesture of good will or her simply making an attempt to show Roland a bit of trust Paisley took her bow from over her shoulder and walked over to him. "Here." She held the bow in front of him with a glare fiercer than that of a mother bear protecting its cubs. "If you break it I won't miss next time." In reality she would never have even had Roland hold it if she didn't already wholeheartedly trust him.

After that she reached up to just below her neck and unclasped her cloak and set it to the side. After that she pulled her empty quiver off her shoulder and set it next to it as well as her bag. She then walked over to Rothsfield and stood in front of him, a hand on each hip as she continued her 'bad ass' charade. "Great job Paisley! Let every single one of these ruffians know you are not one to be messed with! You may be a string bean but you are THE string bean."

Even if Stellan had any intention of trying anything, Roland was there to make sure everything went smoothly. For both of their sakes. After all Paisley did prove to be prickly from time to time. Even in response to her nickname which was now solidified here in camp.

Roland took the offered bow and set it down beside him, tilting against the tent strut, and he sat back to observe as Stellan pulled out a roll of measuring tape.  "All right, Stringy," Rothsfield laughed and stepped on the end of the roll, drawing it up against her let to draw it up to her hip with his good hand so that he could size-up her leg. "Bear with me. And when I tell you to hold the tape. Hold it."

He worked for a few minutes, drawing the roll over her shoulders, arms, back, hips, and waist. "Would you say you move better in lighter or heavier armor? And boots. Yeah, you'll have to get new ones. How you've managed to stay in those ratty things is beyond me," he chuckled, Stellan grinning at her with no small amount of amusement.

Paisley's entire 'tough guy' attitude shattered the moment Rothsfield called her Stringy. Apparently no matter how tough she acted the name was going to stick. It could have been worse, she could be known as other much worse things.

Standing as still as she could for the man Paisley watched as he pulled out the roll of measuring tape, but immediately flushed red when the tape touched her hip. Suddenly lost for words and slightly uncomfortable Paisley merely nodded at his request, willing to do whatever it took to get this over with as quickly as possible.

In fact, during the entire process Paisley was probably the quietest she had been all day. Her response to his first question barely above a meek whisper. "Lighter... With plenty of room to move my arms and shoulders without any problems please." What was this? She was being.... nice?

But then he ruined it... referring to her boots as 'ratty'. It was as if the word alone snapped her back into reality and suddenly she was very much herself again. "No boots" Her statement was stern and to the point. "I will continue 'staying' in these 'ratty' things until they fall off my feet."

She did not move away though, not sure if he was done measuring her or not.

Having her quiet was a much more welcome relief when Stellan finally finished up the measurements, moved to a table on the side of the tent and wrote them down with a quill and ink. At least of all the hands he'd lost it wasn't the one he could write with. Learning how to do that had been hard enough as it was.

"Okay, Bean," he said, bowing his head to her. "All set here. Let me know if you need anything else. Okay?"  He just smiled at her, although her flushed red face made him smirk wryly. Geeze, what was her problem? It wasn't like he asked her to bend over. She didn't have a whole lot to showcase anyway.

"And boots...well, all right then. But don't come crawling to me when you've beaten through the soles and your bare feet are bruised and blistered."

Roland stood up and grabbed the bow Paisley entrusted unto him. He held it gingerly as if it were some holy relic. And when he gave it back, Roland made a show of kneeling and surrendering the weapon in an exaggerated show of fealty.  "Your weapon, Legionnaire!"

And Stellan threw his head back, cackling.

Paisley nodded at Rothsfield when he told her to let him know if she needed anything else.

"As if that would ever happen" she said smiling as she walked back towards Roland who was already standing with her bow in hand. However, when she went to reach for it Roland did some odd knightly like thing and got on one knee as he handed it to her.

Hesitantly she took her bow without so much as a word. The moment it was in her hands and out of his she took a step away from him staring at him as if he had perhaps just contracted some kind of vile disease that caused you to lose your mind.

She would continue to stare at him like this until Rothsfield began laughing behind her. In a quick motion she placed her bow of her shoulder and stormed up to the man, who in fact was almost a half a foot taller than she was. Taking one of her fingers she jabbed it at his chest, her brow furrowed as she gave him an unapproving glare.

"Do you think this is funny?" She poked his chest again and then took a step back crossing her arms over her chest. "Am I just some kind of big joke to you?" It was happening... a full blown Paisley meltdown and poor Rothsfield had landed himself right in the middle of it.

"Yes let us laugh at 'the bean' all because she cares more about a weapon than life itself. A weapon mind you that I crafted from hand on my own. A weapon that I slaved away earning material for just so I could call it truly mine." Paisley then uncrossed her arms and turned towards Roland... What? Did he think Rothsfield would be the only one to get an ass chewing?

"And you! Acting as if I treat it as some kind of holy object! This bow is all I have and it is what kept me clothed and fed and alive after my parents disappeared!" Taking in an angry breath her whole body was shaking. Man did Roland know how to push her buttons and now she could add Rothsfield to the list.

Oh the ass-chewing that he just witnessed certainly set Paisley aside in a different light. Roland watched her stab her finger into Rothsfield's chest and Stellan put him his arms as of to ward off the evil spirit that she'd become. In fact the younger man did back up and while he was grinning, his cackling had sobered just enough.

Roland was about to intervene when she had some for him too. Roland grunted and his grin was gone, the amusement dissipated and he gripped her shoulder. "All right, Private Maika!" he replied firmly. "Noted. And that's quite enough. I think you'll fit right in here just the same. I apologize. I meant no disrespect by it. Isn't that right Lieutenant Rothsfield?"

Stellan was still smirking as Roland let Paisley go and he nodded. "Yes, sir," he murmured and place his hand an arm behind his back. "I like it," he said. "Got a good story to it."  He chewed on his lips, watching Paisley step away.

"All right. Maika, we'll walk about the camp. I like your spirit, that's a side of you that's rather refreshing," Roland said.

"It was nice meeting you, Private Maika," Rothsfield murmured.

Half expecting Roland to beat her senseless for the outburst Paisley flinched when he placed his hand on her shoulder. Turns out he was just trying to ground her from the outburst she had just submitted the two to. She then looked to Rothsfield as she awaited the apology she so rightfully deserved. She was disappointed to say the least at its lack of... sympathy.

Roland's comment of her spirit kept her from beating Rothsfield with her bow, because Ansgar knows she has no arrows right now.

Still easily set off she walked over to her cloak, bag, and quiver on the floor and picked them up placing them in their correct places on her person before pausing next to Rothsfield with her head held high. "I need some more arrows... but they have to be made right. I don't need fancy wood or expensive and rare feathers... just heart put into it." She never looked him in the eye during her request, and in fact the way she said it made it seem like more of a demand.

Paisley then began walking off again, pushing the entrance of the tent open with one hand but pausing yet again before she left. This time though she glared directly at Rothsfeild, her expression dead serious. "It's not like you would understand anyways..." she said before flipping her hair with a free hand and exiting the tent.

She had guts, maybe more than Roland was counting on, to talk to Rothsfield like that. He didn't let anyone talk to him like that. Of course it also depended much on what they said. However, in the face of her humiliation, she had a point she felt needed to be made, defended herself from their ribbing laughter.

Her bow in particular was clearly something she was attached to. And for anyone that saw her shoot, it was clear that it was more than simply a tool. It really was a part of her that did the deed. And she was a natural. So no, Roland would not fault her for defending that part of herself she felt most threatened.

Stellan just watched her leave and at her words, his smile faded. Roland sighed and shook his head, following right after her.

"Pretty ballsy, I'll give you that. Few people can talk to Rothsfield like that without getting punched in the face. But you're all right Paisley," he sighed and nodded to her. "Tonight, you'll have to be inducted. My tent is that one over there, just beside that old chapel. At midnight, I will welcome you formally to the Red Legion. So, if you're having second thoughts, you have until tonight to decide to change your mind."  He didn't think that she would, but he hoped it was best to give her that option.

"It will be a ceremony, then we'll have to organize how we approach that little thing we spoke of regarding your friend the adviser," Roland said and reached out his hand to her to shake. "Does that sound good to you?"

With eyes wide Paisley had just now registered the possibility of being punched in the face. These men and women were not simple town folk like she was used to, they were soldiers... killers... Legionnaires. "Well I am glad then that he didn't knock me flat." Raising a hand to the back of her head she gave a bit of an apologetic smile towards Roland. "If he did I probably deserved it."

Now that Paisley had calmed down she was actually beginning to feel kind of bad for jumping to conclusions like that. They were just having fun and there she was acting like a rabid dog. "He probably hates me now anyways..."

Then Roland jumped into explaining to her that she was to meet at his tent come midnight. "Yes, Sir" she said saluting him, playfully mocking what Rothsfield had done earlier when Roland gave him an order.

After that Paisley and Roland parted ways and she took a bit to explore the camp. She had even managed to find someone to tell her where she would be sleeping and to her utter disappointment she was pointed towards a tent with almost a dozen other Legionnaire's. After stepping inside she practically cringed at the mats on the floor. "I guess I've slept on worse" she noted before going over to one of the mats and rolling it out.

There was still a few hours of daylight left but if Roland wanted to initiate her at midnight and then after organize the ordeal with the Adviser she needed some rest. Perhaps it would be nice to get a few hours of sleep out of the rain. She could barely even remember the last time she was even able to sleep peacefully, having been stationed outside this camp waiting for Roland to come out for a few days.

Setting her belongings at the head of her mat Paisley curled up on, holding her bow in her hands like a child snuggling a stuffed animal as she slept.

When her eyes fluttered back open she could only assume it was near midnight by the stillness of the camp. Rolling the mat back up she gathered her things and stepped out of the tent, adjusting her hair and clothes before making her way towards Roland's tent beside the chapel.

It was amazing what even a few hours of sleep could do for the soul. Already Paisley felt a bit refreshed and surprisingly in a better mood. In fact, she was sure that not even Rothsfield could set her off right now. So as she approached the tent she was anything but in a sour mood and ready to get this all over with.

She wasn't the only one that had gotten some rest, and after checking his shoulder once again, wrapping it, Roland was dressed in his armor and cloak and the long sword Anguish resting at his side. The waning hour of midnight fell upon the camp without incident - thankfully. The Red Legion would keep the desecrated village safe enough.

"You're awake, that's good," Alyssa said as she waited for Paisley outside of the tent and opened the flap for her to enter Roland's tent. He was inside and writing something down, sealing the note with a drop of candlewax and pressing a coin down into the wax to flatten it.

"Good evening, Private Maika," Roland got up, pushing the cloak away from the chair. "It's good to see you haven't changed your mind. Are you ready to make it official??"

Seeing Alyssa she cooly walked up to the tent and bowed her head a bit before following her inside. When she stepped in she noted Roland sealing an envelope with a press. She was about to prod about what it was about, but he cut her off. "Evening..."

A bit of a smile creeping on her lips Paisley stepped further into the tent, placing her arms behind her back as she looked around. "I may be many things Roland, but I told you earlier I would serve you if it meant I could bring my country back to its people. Wether I was official at that point or not need not matter... I never go back on my word."

Acting very official indeed Paisley turned on her heel towards him, hands still clasped behind her back. "Yesterday I was convinced the only path for me was to leave. But this was before Ansgar intervened and showed me the path I was meant to take." Of course she was now blaming her missing Roland with the arrow as an act of God himself... there was no other explanation.

He did notice that swerving blame and he could respect it enough not to bring her missed-shot into question again. After all, it was much better now to have them both alive rather than the minor inconvenience of being...well, a fucking corpse.

"Then let us move to that old chapel that fell into disuse. There are no priests there. But we'll find the quiet necessary to proceed with the Binding. Don't be taken aback, it's much simpler than it sounds," Roland went on as he led the trio out of the tent and out to the chapel. It was an old stone building, and the pews were largely gone. There they would find a bowl, and bottle and goblet on the altar and Roland strode all the way to the pulpit.

He was no priest, and he felt strange being up here. This was Ansgar's house, and he knew in many lights he was no longer welcome. It didn't matter. Like all things, it would serve it's purpose.

Alyssa stood beside Paisley and gestured for her to take off her cloak. "Present your hand to the altar, palm up. Roland will walk you through the rest."

Very officially she nodded and then followed Roland out of the tent. She couldn't help but wonder what the chapel looked like in its glory days. It was a shame really... to see such a building that allegedly meant so much to her country abandoned by the war, just like its people.

Stepping into the old building Paisley saw the things laid out on the altar and suddenly she was feeling a bit of unease. Of course she wondered what exactly this 'ritual' would entail, but overall she didn't quite expect this.

Unclasping her cloak she handed it to Alyssa and then stepped up to the alter. Flipping her palm up she did her best to hide any kind of shakiness she may have been harboring. "Let's do this."

Roland in turn revealed his own palm and showed it upward. "The Binding is an oath, taken from the very first Red Legion recruit, and done to everyone that's devoted their lives to the cause," Roland explained. "It is very simple. Just repeat after me."

He poured wine from the bottle on the altar into the goblet and set it beside their hands, and took the dagger in his left hand, he made a slit into his right, a small knick across the palm and did the same for hers, reaching out to grasp her hand, pressing palm to palm.

"With this Oath, I swear my life and blood to the Red Legion. I will be my brother's protector, just as my brother will be mine. One blade, one shield, one Legion. This I swear."

He kept their hands bound and with his free hand took the goblet of wine, drank deeply and swallowed, then offered her the same cup to drink from.

Watching as Roland poured the wine into the goblet Paisley let her eyes wonder to the walls behind him. All in one day Paisley had managed to find Roland Harker, fail to kill him, almost die at his hand, and then be inducted into the Red Legion. If yesterday someone had told her this she would have just laughed at then. But then again yesterday she was hiding in the woods searching for the very man now standing in front of her.

Barely flinching Paisley watched as the blood began to trickle in her palm from the cut Roland had just made on it. He then covered the cut with his own hand and instructed her to repeat after him.

Taking in a deep breath Paisley did so. "With this Oath, I swear my life and blood to the Red Legion. I will be my brother's protector, just as my brother will be mine. One blade, one shield, one Legion. This I swear."

Roland then took a drink of the wine he had poured before offering it to her. With her free hand she took the goblet and took a drink as well before setting the goblet back down on the altar. She was anything but fun and games in this moment. She suddenly had the urge to be the best at everything she could be, including perfecting her shooting skills.

"I wonder if he is done with my arrows yet..."

Roland waited for her to finish her sip before pulling his hand away and wrapping it in a bandage himself. A small cut like that wouldn't take long to heal. Alyssa likewise approached Paisley and wrapped her hand in a clean cloth, after wiping it down and knotting it at the back of her hand. She gave the young girl a ghost of a smile and backed away enough to give Roland time to salute the new recruit.

"Welcome to the Legion, Private. Now, get out of here. Go and get some rest," he said and patted Paisley on the shoulder before stepping away and moving forward with Alyssa out of that dilapidated chapel.

The only thing he took was the small stiletto he'd used to cut their palms with and left that hefty wine bottle on the altar.

She did not refuse Alyssa's help as she wrapped her hand and knotted the wrap. Instead she gave a silent thank you nod before the woman exited with her new leader.

Now standing alone in the abandoned chapel Paisley looked around at it a bit more. It really was a spectacular bit of history and she was quite enjoying even getting the chance to check it out. However, when her eyes trailed to the alter she realized that Roland had left the wine bottle behind.

"Perfect" she muttered as she stepped back up and grabbed it, uncorking the top before bringing it to her lips. It had been a long day and quite honestly Paisley felt she deserved some relaxation methods of her own. So she spent about an hour in the chapel drinking the majority of the bottle along with admiring the architecture of the magnificent building.

Before she knew it she found herself wondering about the camp with bottle in hand. A few Legionnaires were out and about, no doubt on duty guarding the camp. The funny thing though was that not a single one of them batted an eye at her now drunken stupor. One man however did glance at her, which alone gave Paisley and invitation for some confrontation. "What the hell are-a you lookin at?" The man simply laughed before turning away and taking off to wherever it was he was headed.

"Bunch of tight wads..." she mumbled as she continued to stumble through the camp. In reality she was looking for the one she was supposed to be sleeping in, but had entirely forgot which one that was. So instead she opted for exploring instead. And then there it was. A beacon of light in the night (figuratively speaking) as she now found herself staring at the tent she was brought to earlier that day to be outfitted.

She didn't even bother announcing herself as she flung open the flap to the tent and stepped in, making sure to gently set her bow down by the entrance. "Arrows... you need arrows" Immediately she began going through Rothsfield's things, making quite a bit of noise as she did so. She wasn't even going to bother finding him to ask where they were. As far as she was concerned he should have started working on them the moment she left him... plenty of time to get them done.

Not able to recover until it was too late Paisley tripped over... well nothing... and found herself crashing into a pile of equipment nestled beside a work table. "Ouch..." she mumbled before sitting up on one of her elbows. "Thank god!" she announced as she realized the now almost empty bottle of wine in her other hand was still completely in tact. Bringing the bottle to her lips she took another large swig before setting the bottle down beside her.

She would try to get up, only to fail miserably at any attempt of standing after this.

Rothsfield never really made a habit of binding up his tent. What was the point when at any moment someone might need a valuable piece of equipment. Of course, for the most part, each Legionnaire made due with what they had. It was a good thing, however, that he was fast asleep when Paisley just barged in.

And he was rather heavily sedated on his cot, passed out for good.

Until she clattered into something.  His eyes shot open and he immediately reached for the dagger that he held underneath his pillow. Stellan rolled off the cot, holding it firmly in his right until he saw Private Maika on the ground. "Ansgar's balls!" he hissed, putting the dagger back under the pillow and moving beside her.

He made no motion to help her up just yet.  For now, he wanted to examine how pathetic she looked. And that bottle in her hand just sealed the deal.

"Private Maika," he grumbled, bending down to pick her up and settle her down on the stool in the corner. "What the hell do you think you're doing!? You're bloody drunk!"

Only slightly jumping at the yelling coming from the other side of the tent Paisley stared at Rothsfield as if he were over reacting. That didn't mean she wouldn't accept his help though as he aided her in finding a stool. In fact she found it quite hysterical how her legs felt almost like jelly.

She was about to chime in when she realized that maybe he had a point. Yes, she was drunk... but in her minds eye she deserved to be. "So what if I am." Her shoulders slumped a bit as she spoke, as if her entire center of balance was nonexistent. Paisley then began to laugh. It started out as a slight giggle before it turned into a complete and uncontrollable fit of laughter.

Clutching at her side from the pain of laughing so hard she almost fell forwards off the stool, but somehow managed to center herself before it happened. "I came to get those arrows...." giggling a bit more she continued on. "... at least I think that was what I was doing."

Her eyes then narrowed not at Rothsfeild, but at the bottle of wine she so stupidly left sitting on the ground. Convinced she could somehow will it back into her hand she reached for it, only to be disappointed that it was merely her vision causing things to spin like this. "C-could you hand me that." Her eyes then shot up at Rothsfield. "Pleaasseee."

Not at all did it register in her mind how late it was, or the fact that she had just woken him from his slumber. All that really mattered to her seeming to be that glorious bottle of wine... and the arrows.

"Arrows?" Stellan asked and whirled on her when she settled into the chair, glaring between her and the bottle and trying to forget right then and there that she was laughing and sounded a lot like a coyote in heat. So he just kept a few steps from her when at last she settled.

"I don't have any arrows ready for you, String Bean," he sighed, grinning somewhat and when she reached for the bottle, he reached down and plucked it from the ground. Damn, she put all this away herself? She was pint-sized and here she was drinking an entire bottle of Alabaster White. Fuck.

"Look, go back to your tent, Private. I'll get your arrows ready for you tomorrow. It's late and I need to get some sleep."  And he took a swig of what was left of the wine himself and coughed at the flavor. Wine never had been his cup of tea.

"You drink often, Stringy?" he chuckled. "Because you know you're going to have one massive head ache in the morning, eh."

The expression on her face quickly soured at the mention of not having any arrows prepared. Even more so as he instructed her to go back to her tent. Who in the hell did this guy think he was? "And so what if I do?" she countered as she attempted to stand up from the stool. "I drink when the opportunity presents itself and quite frankly I had a pretty hectic day." Her speech remarkable for someone as intoxicated as she was. The same could not be said for her balance though as she briefly stood up, only to fall back again onto the stool.

Completely aware of her own incapabilities her eyes then trailed the tent before finally resting on her beloved bow by the entrance. "You really don't get it do you?" With a somber expression she let out a deep sigh as her shoulders slumped. "I just... I just want to shoot."

"That feeling of notching in an arrow and pulling back the string." Her eyes lit up as she began to speak, clearly not caring whether Rothsfield was even listening or not. "And then there is that moment where everything just stops." She let the feeling play out behind her eyes as she imagined the very feeling she was trying to describe.

"Like I said earlier... you wouldn't understand" ... the moment gone.

Making yet another attempt to stand from the stool Paisley slid off of it, keeping one bandaged hand on the steady surface while the other waved in the air for balance. At least this time she managed to get both feet on the ground but now resembled a toddler learning to take its first steps. "I'm just gonna..." Each word broken as she attempted to take a step away from the stool and towards the exit.

... at least she was trying to leave. However, the direction she was headed was not towards the exit like she thought. It was as if her body knew where it needed to be and before she could stop it she was already flopping onto his cot.

Stellan knew enough about who he was that he felt he was dignified enough to not simply throw her out. Although she probably deserved it, but she was knew and she would learn her place enough on her own. Why rob her of the journey? She was lucky though that he'd found her rummaging around in his tent and not Cyrus. That old codger would have rung her out by her ears.

So instead Stellan watched and waited for her to pretty much tire herself out like a toddler. "I get it well enough," he murmured generically. It was okay to pretend he understood what she meant, until his eyes fell on the bow and he remembered the display she'd made earlier.

"I know for a fact that you can shoot," he said, exaggerating a little. Why not? A little white lie wasn't going to hurt her. "I didn't see you do it, but I heard well enough. So I'll tell you what, I'll...."

Oh...Then she....just flopped onto his cot. Just like that. Stellan stared at her, then scowled. He'd been sleeping there. In fact the surface was still probably warm! He grunted a little and took her bow in hand, testing the weight of it. Pretty good. Excellent balance for something she made herself. And she was just a runt from what he saw.  He placed it beside her and moved toward a pair of crates he had in the back.

Right, she needed arrows.  There wasn't any point in waking her. He couldn't very well use the space while she was on it.  So he set to work placing each arrow, about fifty in total, into a vice on a table on the other side of the tent and went to work, using a candle, a small fruit knife and carving a string bean into each one.

They weren't special arrows, but it would do for now, so he when they were done and set, he strapped the quiver around his waist, then shouldered her bow, and carefully pried her from the cot, holding her legs over his left forearm and cradling her upper body in his right, and deposited her back in an empty bedroll on the ground, and tucked the arrows just underneath her pillow.  And set the bow down beside her.

A heartbeat, a consistant and steady pounding in your chest signifying that you are actually alive. However, when all you can feel is it beating in your head it's not the great. Paisley's eyes fluttered open while she brought a hand up to grasp at her skull, the pounding in her head stronger than her chest.

"Son of a..." she mumbled as she sat up. Even in the tent she could tell the son was already high in the sky judging from the sounds outside. In fact, now that she was looking around she could see not a single Legionnaire was still sleeping or even in the tent. "Shit" she groaned while burying her face in her hands.

"I don't even remember how I got back to the tent... Get your shit together Paisley!"

Despite how much her body protested it Paisley drug herself into a standing position and grabbed her bow to head out to practice. She knew they would be leaving later in the day to begin their journey and she wanted to be prepared for anything. However, she stopped in her tracks as she saw the quiver full of arrows tucked underneath her pillow.

Bending down she grabbed the quiver and pulled out a single arrow examining it for any flaws. "Seriously?" Her first reaction when she saw that not just one... but all of them had a small bean carved into it. But, when she slid the arrow back in and strapped the quiver over her shoulder a small smile crept up on her lips.

It was easy enough to find the range Alyssa had taken her to the day before. A few other marksmen were there practicing and this gave Paisley a bit of pep in her step. "Show em what you got" she thought as she stationed herself in the lineup. Pulling her bow over her shoulder first she took stance and then pulled an arrow from her back.

She notched it in just as she had many times before and pulled the bowstring back, and with it anything else around her no longer existed. This was what she lived for... this feeling of complete and total synchronicity with her weapon of choice. What made it even better was that she could see the carving in the arrow before she shot, a reminder of the man she thought to be nothing more than an ass. "I guess he's not that bad"

And then she released, allowing the arrow to fly true towards the target hitting it dead center as she knew it would. Except, Paisley didn't lower her bow to see if anyone was watching. No, she was fully engulfed in practicing and so pulled another arrow from the quiver to take her next shot.

He hadn't gotten much sleep after putting he to bed, but what hours he did manage to nab had Stellan somewhat rested. And his hand was wrapped to rest for the rest of the day. Whatever gear that the camp needed was already tended to by the Quartermaster himself and he grunted when Stellan asked him if he needed any help.

The old man just waved him off, telling to take the day off. Stellan shrugged and wandered off.  Might as well see how the new recruit enjoyed her arrows.

"So how do you like them?" he murmured, finding Paisley shoot her own arrows into the target. He nodded, impressed. The thing was like a precious organ to her, it seemed. "How are you?"  It was like she wasn't even listening.

Pulling back yet again Paisley focused all of her attention on the task at hand. Nothing else mattered when she held her bow like this or better yet... nothing else existed. This included Rothsfield who was now standing near her talking although he may as well have been talking to a stone wall. Releasing her other arrow Paisley remained focused until it struck the target, practically splitting the tip of her first shot, but no quite.

"Dammit" Her bow now lowered as she stared at what she saw as a failure before her. It was the ultimate prize for a marksmen to split an arrow on a target and Paisley had yet to earn it.

Turning her head towards Rothsfield she scowled at him as if he were to blame for the missed shot. "Cool it Paisley..." her conscious beckoned as she knew full well no one was to blame but herself.

Averting her gaze for just a moment she took in a deep breath and then placed her bow in its rightful place on her back. "I'm fine." Her response was short and to the point as she went to retrieve the arrows from the target only to trip over a damned root sticking from the ground. All in one fell motion she fell forwards as the new arrows went flying from her quiver just as they had done in the woods the day before.

To her unfortunate dismay she could hear a few other Legionnaires cackling in the background at her.

[Roland is asleep in his tent 8D]

Rothsfield watched the display, even saw the shot she'd been trying to make and inside he was churning. Because he went through all that effort to fix those arrows right for her and she wanted to fucking destroy them by splitting the shaft! What the fuck was wrong with her?

Stellan stepped forward when she fell and helped her to her feet, glaring at other Legionnaires nearby that were still chortling. He helped her stand and stooped to collect the arrows that had fallen from her quiver.  "You're not trying to destroy my arrows, are you?" he asked pointedly, collecting the rest.

With the help of Rothsfield Paisley managed to stand, brushing off her knees with a defeated look on her face. It wasn't necessarily that she had tripped that was getting her down but more so the fact everyone else saw it. She knew she was klutz and by no means denied that. However, looking incompetent in front of others was never something she had been a fan of.

Rothsfield's comment of destroying his arrows only added to the misery.  "Wouldn't matter if I was." Her comment in regard to the fact she had yet again failed to split them. For many years she had been trying to do just that only to fail every single time. "And what do you mean your arrows? Are they not mine now? Do they not bare the symbol of my alleged nickname?" Of course she was referring to the bean carved into each and every single one of them.

"Calm down" she reminded herself again as she took in a deep breath. "I do appreciate you delivering them to my tent while I was asleep. If you hadn't I would have sought you out at first light for them." Paisley of course had no recollection of the night before. Nothing ran a bell including crashing into his tent.

The continued laughing from the other Legionnaires at the range though caused Paisley to quite literally snap. In a matter of seconds she grabbed one of the arrows from Rothsfield and pulled her bow back, notching the arrow in before pulling the bowstring back. Except this time she wasn't aiming for a target. No, the direction her arrow was pointed was at the group of men making a joke of her.

"I advise you shut your mouths before you lose your manhood!" She was getting herself worked up again as she continued to hold her aim at the poor men. "Don't tempt me!"

Rothsfield thought everything was going to be rather chill.  Until... shit.

"Hey! NO!" he quickly moved into her shot and carefully shifted her aim away, pushing the notched arrow and bow toward the ground. "We don't attack fellow Legionnaires. Not without a damn good reason. Private Maika," he said sternly.

Rothsfield scowled at her. "Calm down, will ya? Geeze. Take a joke. Keep shooting like your shooting, and they'll respect you soon enough. But we don't point our weapons at fellow legion members. If you gotta gripe, then you brawl it out the old fashioned way. So if you think you can punch out those guys, you go right ahead."

Biting her tongue Paisley lowered her bow at Rothsfeilds hand. "What do you mean without good reason!" She then pointed at the men who had fallen silent at her threat, only to begin laughing at Rothsfield's lecture. "Those bastards gave me plenty of reason."

Deep down Paisley knew he had a point but still, the look on their faces the moment she pointed her arrow at them would be one to remember for a lifetime. However, Rothsfields mention of settling things the old fashioned way placed an idea in her head.

"Fine then..."

One may have thought his words had sunk in and perhaps they did but not in the way he would expect. First she set her bow down followed by her quiver after she pulled it over her head. Next she reached behind her head and tightened the band holding her her back. "We will do it the old fashioned way."

And then she was off with a fury in her step similar to that of a soldier marching into battle. In no time she had closed the distance between herself and the three Legionnaires that were laughing at her earlier. "You think its funny!?" Taking action similar to the one she had used with Rothsfield the day before Paisley began poking at one of the men's chest. "I'll show you funny!"

The rest was a blur as she raised a fist in an attempt to punch one of the Legionnaires square in the face. Paisley may have been skilled with her bow but she was no fighter. If the strike did hit it would be a miracle. None of which mattered to her for as far as she was concerned in this moment she was as strong as an ox.

The other three Legionnaires were smart enough not to let some feisty young recruit that was out of her mind with being touchy-feely. If she couldn't take a little teasing, a little laughter, a little criticism then she wasn't going to get very far in the Legion, or in life. Well two of them were smart enough. And when one of them just kept cackling, and felt her fist connect with his face, he leaned backwards and twisted himself that he could simply throw her to the ground.

His companions stopped laughing by then and even one punched him hard in the shoulder.

"You fucking prick!" Stellan stalked forward, growling and nabbing the man that had shoved her off by the collar just sticking out of his cuirass. "You better fucking apologize to her. Now. Or I'll make you a stub just like mine."

"Sorry, Private Maika," he murmured. Clearly her name had spread across most of the camp enough from people speaking of her shooting skills. But now they had clumsy and a hot head to add on top of it.

"Get the fuck out of here."  Rothsfield hissed and waved him off. And he stalked over to Paisley, offering his hand. "On your feet soldier."

It all happened so fast that Paisley hadn't really realized what happened until she was slamming into the ground. Her body hit the solid dirt with a thump and the blow alone nearly knocked the breath out of her. Then next thing she knew Rothsfield was holding one of them by the collar and demanding an apology from the Legionnaire.

Despite how much her body screamed in protest Paisley sat up with her arms under her and merely nodded as the man apologized. She would have apologized herself had she known his name or wasn't so embarrassed by what she had just done. "Dammit why do I have to be so stupid!?" Yet another perfect example of Paisley acting without thinking.

Taking Rothsfeilds hand she pulled herself up onto her feet and was once again brushing dirt from her clothing. "Thanks...." she paused realizing she owed Rothsfield more than just one expression of gratitude. Not only had he just saved her from an ass beating but also had put up with her same hot headed attitude from the day before. "Listen... I am sorry. I'm sorry for being so nasty and I am sorry for trying to split your arrows." She probably would have even apologized for the night before if she had remembered it.

Bringing a hand to the back of her head Paisley's entire demeanor changed before him. Clearly that knocking to the ground did her some good. "I just get so mad sometimes ya know? I don't want everyone thinking I am just some weak thing." Of course she was referring to how she had been treated most of her life.

As a child Paisley fell ill quite often and so her parents treated her accordingly. To them she was some delicate little flower that needed protecting when in reality all she ever wanted was to be something they could be proud of. This was also why she wanted to be the very best at whatever she set her mind to. Because being the best meant you weren't weak, you weren't delicate... you weren't fragile.

He wiggled his left wrist to her. "You think I don't know how that feels? It's not easy feeling like you're useless, or people think you're not capable because you have something that sets you apart. But losing your shit like that is fucking not okay, understand?" he said gently. "If have a real problem with a fellow Legionnaire, you take it to your Captain. In which case, from your pin, would be Alyssa. If it's serious, you take it to Roland."

He nodded to her and gestured to her head. "You got a bump that needs looking at?  You okay?  Oh yeah...  We'll teach you how to do what Jaimes did. Throwing you like you were a sack of potatoes. Fighting, real fighting. We can teach you. So take it easy. And you'll prove yourself in action. Getting hot headed means your brothers can't trust you, and if we can't trust you, we've got a real problem. That's a weakness, you can't apologize for."

Rubbing salt in the wound Paisley listened as Rothsfield spoke of his own challenges. By now she felt quite horrible for acting like she had something to prove when in fact she really didn't... not like him. If she had set back and let her marksmenship speak for itself like he said then she now wouldn't be seen as hot headed. She was sure in no time at all the entire camp would be talking about how 'The Bean' lost her temper and then lost the fight.

Rothsfield then asked if she needed medical attention and just as she had done when she first entered the camp she shook her head no. Paisley hated physicians and healers and as far as she was concerned she wouldn't go to one unless she was surely dying. He then moved on to tell her that they would eventually teach her how to throw man like she had just been thrown. But he also spoke of breaking trust, something she had already done several times in one day.

Even worse she was expected to go with these men to meet the Duke of Falkenrath's adviser. Why would they even want to jump in and protect her should something happen if she had been nothing but rude to them.

Walking over to a log bench she sat down, pulling her head between her knees as she grasped at her skull. Paisley was losing it again, but not in the angry outburst like she had before. "Roland saved my life yesterday. He knew that if I had gone back even with his head they would still kill me. Yet, I am supposed to walk into a tavern tomorrow and act like I know nothing of their plan." Lifting up her head Paisley fluttered her eyelashes to fight off the tears she knew would surely come if she continued.

"Thank you for putting everything into perspective for me." She then smiled as she took in a deep breath. "If I live through tomorrow I believe I will owe you a drink." Oh yes because that is exactly what Paisley needed... more wine.

The Bean might have lost her temper, and perhaps that was what the rest of the encampment would see for some time, however, she was wrong to think if it defined her entirely. She had fire to her, that was good. And it could be reassuring to know you had a force like that at your side. Stellan was definitely glad she decided she wanted to no longer be an enemy.

He nodded to her assessment, and reached out to gently pat her back. "You'll do well," he said, nodding to her. "And I'll take you up on that drink. Provided you come back in one piece. But no flopping down and passing out on my cot. Or I'll be the one flipping you to the ground."

He chuckled and shifted to pick up the dropped quiver of arrows and handed them to her, then her bow.  "So, this beast of yours, tell me about it? I mean, while not chewing my ear off," he murmured. "It's nicely done. I like it. I used to hunt before the war got real nasty."

For some reason Rothsfield's comforting words seemed to bring Paisley back to level ground. However at the mention of plopping down in his cot her face twisted into confusion. Why on earth would he say such a thing? As if Paisley would EVER let herself get that wasted.

But then he brought up something she was more than happy to talk about. Even more so when he mentioned how he used to hunt before the war. So maybe this man did understand a bit more than she initially thought.

"I made it myself as soon as I learned how to." Reaching for her bow first and then the quiver she set them both down beside her. "Ever since I was a child I had an affinity for marksmenship. One day I picked up a bow and well... I never wanted to put it down again."

"I could never replace this bow though. It is as if it is an extension of my own arm." Cheesily smiling she held out her arm as she imagined her bow in her hand. "It's weight is etched into my muscles and anything else even a hair off would no doubt throw my shot." Pulling her arm back in she then crossed both of them over her knees, clearly more relaxed than she had been in days.

"Tell me about when you used to hunt. What kind of bow did you use? Did you make it yourself?"

It was admirable the amount of devotion she had to her weapon. He'd seen a lot of soldiers that had the same devotion, had seen it cause them their deaths because they couldn't bear to leave something behind that would have been better off in a grave. Paisley probably wouldn't fall into that same ditch. Probably.

Stellan glanced at her weapon and how she held it. "That's good to know. But while that's commendable. So is flexibility. Something to think about. I've seen you shoot, I like what you've got going for you so far. But think about it. If you're fighting and you lose your weapon, you have to make do with what you have. Even an arrowhead can mean the difference between life and death," he nodded.

Stellan moved to sit beside her on the bench.

"I used to hunt all over Ardal. Grew up in a little village called Hamstead. It wasn't on any map, so you'd never know it was there unless you stumbled upon it through the thick trees somehow. My father taught me to hunt, his father before him taught him. I used my father's old bow. It wasn't quite as nice as this one. But he showed me what good materials were better than others. His was of yew, but it broke not long after I joined the Legion."

He jerked his head toward her. "Who taught you to shoot like that? I know you have talent, but talent can only take you so far."

Rothsfield had a point in learning how to defend herself if her bow should ever not be an option. Never had she thought of using a spare arrowhead as a weapon until now. Who knows Rothsfield could have just saved her life as well should she ever have to resort to such an action.

He then dove into his own story. It was similar to hers as to where he grew up, a small village compared to some of the settlements in Connlaoth. His father had taught him to hunt and with his own bow nonetheless. However the horror of hearing that very bow broke after joining the Legion caused a shiver to travel down her spine.

In truth Paisley didn't know what she would do if her bow broke. Of course she could make another, but none would be as special as the one she carried now. It was the first thing she could call her own and on top of that she had made it herself. Her body was so attuned to it that not even the finest crafted bow in all the land could make up for the deficit of not having the familiar wood of it in her hand.

Oh boy, Rothsfield was full of questions and Paisley would have normally refused to answer them. However he had already shared so much with her that she felt she owed him her own story.

Sitting up on the bench she tried to recall the beginning...

"When I was a little girl I remember watching soldiers train that were stationed outside of our village. This was before I knew the deficit of being a woman really carried. I would dream of one day being a soldier just like them to defend the home I had been taught to love. This of course was two years before the war..."

There was a point to her starting so far back, this wasn't just meaningless rambling or her seeing an opportunity to talk about herself. There was no way to know the extent of her passion unless she explained everything from the first moment she touched a bow.

"One of the men let me shoot his bow just for fun even though it was almost as big as I was. At first I think he saw it as a man just entertaining a child but when I took my first shot everyone saw it was so much more than that. By no means did I hit the center of the target but I did hit it! My very first time ever and I had already done what some could never do."

"I watched this small group of soldiers every day when I was allowed and they taught me the technique I lacked as a means of passing time. In no time at all I was shooting as well as someone twice my age." The pride Paisley had in herself was quite evident at this point. She knew she was blessed by Ansgar with a good eye. Her vision although not magical was far better than most she had met. Where others may squint Paisley could make out the finest detail of something within a reasonable distance.

"Eventually the war began and the stationed soldiers left. After that I had no bow to practice with and so began crafting my own. You already knew that bit though." She smirked at Rothsfield and threw her head back to look at the cloudless sky. "From there I taught myself what I could and learned from the mistakes I made until I began shooting on point. I ate, slept and practiced archery every day I could... it was my life."

With her head still in the clouds (quite literally) Paisley addressed Rothsfield with a question of her own. "Why didn't you repair your fathers bow?"

Stellan listened without interruption. It was an interesting story, and rather unexpected coming from someone like her. You wouldn't think by looking at her that she had any interest in soldiering, or even learning a specific skill. But her eyes had a glimpse of resoluteness that even he would not question. Stellan kept his gaze steady, watching her expression just then.

So she really was a natural. Not just in talent but in practice. And he could tell that she had put years of her life into developing her craft, which seemed to set in his mind even more so that her attachment to her bow...could be rather devastating if she lost it.

"Hm..."

It was  fair question she leveled at him. After all, she basically did just tell him her life story. "I didn't see any point to it any more. That was a sign of my old life. When I came into the Legion, this became my life, my world. That, and well, it seemed pointless.

"I did learn how to wield a sword well enough and a shield. Since losing the hand though, shooting is all but an impossibility. And I've kept kept the skill up, thankfully. And had to adjust doing most things with just the one," he admitted.

Slightly disappointed at his mention of keeping up with the skill pointless Paisley leveled her gaze on him again. As much as she tried to wrap her head around it she would never understand why someone would set down their bow in trade for a sword.

"Do you still have it?" The sparkle in her eyes returning from talking about a bow that she thought should have been just as precious if not more than her own. "If you do I would love to see it." Paisley could practically picture it now, a bow with as much history etched into it as the rings of a tree. The stories it probably carried in its very essence enough to fill a book.

Turning her attention then to his left arm she pursed her lips. She hadn't even really paid much attention to the stump now present where a hand should be. So badly she wanted to ask him what happened but knew it would be in poor taste. If he wanted to tell her one day then she would listen, but until then she would just keep going on making up stories of her own in her head.

Another question lingering in her mind though being his old life. What kind of man was Rothsfield before The Legion? Paisley wondered if he were a farmer, maybe a blacksmith or perhaps a member of the militia like the men who were stationed outside of her home so many years ago. Yet another question she would not ask unless he brought it up. However, the mystery that was Rothsfield was now engraved in the back of her mind.

Rothsfield appreciated her curiosity. No one really asked him anything about himself beyond the usual "how are you?" That was all well and good. And made for short conversation.

"I do. But it isn't like I can get much use out of it," he joked. "I can show you another time. Something to encourage you to came back in one piece, yeah?" He slapped his hand across her back and stuff up just as Roland came toward then, dressed in armor and a thick cloak around his shoulders.

Stellan saluted, and nudged for Paisley to do the same. But Roland waved a hand to excuse it.

"Right then, Maika. I trust you've eaten and are rested enough to get started?"

When Rothsfield jokingly slapped her back Paisley fell forwards a bit on the bench yet somehow still managed to not fall off. Before she could even make a comment though he shot up and started nudging at her. As dense as ever Paisley didn't quite understand until she saw all the Legionnaires around them offer a quick salute to the now approaching Roland.

"Way to go Paisley" she thought as she quickly stood up beside Rothsfield.

"Yep" her response short as she tried to avert her eyes to anywhere but at her commander. "Good to go..." again she kept her eyes from him as she leaned down to pick up her quiver and bow. No, she had not eaten and its doubtful anyone could consider what she did last night as 'being well rested'.

Nervously she strapped the quiver to her back and smiled at Rothsfield. "Was nice talking to you.. wish me luck." The angst in her tone evident with each syllable. She was ready to get this over with and get herself out of this awful predicament she had landed herself in.

"Shall we head out then?" Finally she was able to look at Roland with honest eyes.

Rothsfield just offered her a quiet nod and smile before walking off back to his tent. Roland on the other hand quietly assessed her. She looked like refuse, but he wasn't going to say anything about it just yet. She said she was good to go. And they still had another day to camp and rest. Make sure she was really ready.

"Oh yeah. We're good to go," Roland said and nodded to Alyssa and the archers scouts behind her. They wore the same leathers and had tinges of red fabric peeking out underneath their sleeves here and there, scarves around their necks. The dark and earthen tones would lend to better blending with the trees and she would stay behind in a patrol just in case.

Roland had a sack beside him, that carried something small and round and a sheathed dagger hanging loose in the other. He handed her the sheathed dagger and kept the head in his own grip.  "It's best you don't ask what's in the bag just yet. We'll head underway, yeah? Twenty of us. Ten with me, ten with Alyssa, we've got your back.  Let's move out."

Nodding towards Alyssa and her scouts and then to Roland Paisley felt a bit of camaraderie at that moment. Twenty men and women came to aid her without question. The sight alone caused her heart to swell at least two sizes from the joy. Slowly her lips curved upwards as she began to have a moment of clarity as to what The Red Legion really was... a family.

However, the moment she realized she was starting to look like an idiot smiling before a serious mission her smile faded. "Thanks" she muttered as she grabbed the sheathed dagger and slid it through one of her belts. She said nothing else as they all began to head out, only adjusting the strap of her quiver as they began to walk.

Paisley would remain quiet as she followed behind the unit of fellow Legionnaires, a suprising turn from her normal outspoken character. In truth she was scared out of her mind at what would be taking place the next day. What was she supposed to do if they did in fact try to kill her? What if Roland and his men could not get to her in time? She wanted to believe she could take care of herself with just her bow and the dagger she now possessed but even she was not that naive.

Quickly the day had faded into night and Paisley found herself sitting by a fire with a few other Legionnaires as they ate their evening meal at a makeshift camp. Nervousness though factored in with her appetite so she could only manage to stomach a few pieces of bread she had been ripping at with her fingers for quite some time now.

"You'll want to eat more than that," Roland instructed as he took the liberty to sit down beside her. He had his own rations set out in a leather cloth on his lap and he set it between them.

"You nervous? That's perfectly understandable you know?"

So stuck in her own little world Paisley didn't even realize Roland was approaching until it was too late. Lifting up a bit of bread she made a toasting motion with it at him before plopping it into her mouth. "Don't think I could eat anything else even if I wanted to" she said after swallowing. Her nerves clearly suppressing her usually magnificent appetite.

"Of course I'm not nervous..." her words fell flat at the fake attempt of sounding collected. She knew Roland could see it too, it was apparent with every single motion she made. "Should we go over it again?" Of course she was referring to the plan for the next day.

"I go in and act as if nothing is wrong and that you are dead. I will have no proof so hopefully they believe me." Paisley had no idea that small rounded sack Roland was carrying earlier was in fact a severed head. "I then lead into asking if the Duke of Falkenrath had any knowledge of what the adviser asked. I assume since they plan on killing me that they will tell me without worry."

Paisley ripped off another bit of bread and brought it to her lips, pausing just before it would enter her mouth and then flicked it into the fire. It was pointless trying to eat right now, she was lucky to have kept down what she had eaten so far anyways. "How do I signal if something is wrong? I doubt they will kill me right there in the tavern... its too public. I bet they try and get me outside first."

"I prey they try and get me outside first " she thought realizing that if they didn't things would be so much more complicated.

"Certain men have a way of giving themselves away in the face of conditions where they think they have the upper hand," Roland explained as he took a small slip of butter and spread it across his own bread and handed it to her instead of downing that dry stuff.  He even ripped a few strips of meat to go along with it.

"Men like that will try and corner you and stick you when you're at your most vulnerable. Your greatest ally will be you confidence, or even the mask of it when you feel yourself begin to falter." Roland gave her the meat and he made a sandwich for himself with what was left.

"Alyssa has taken her men on ahead to assess the tavern. It's on the edge of a little village called Aube. A little place nobody will even know if you were buried there. But they will, and from the sound of it, catching you where they can get you easiest will be their plan. But we won't let that happen. Alyssa will cover the outside. My men will take the inside. I will be watching you. Don't worry any more than you should."

He took a long drink of water and handed her the flask as well. "You'll have to go in alone and speak to him. I'll be right behind you."

Clearly Paisley's statement of not being able to eat fell on deaf ears. As Roland went over his side of the plan he kept handing her food, acting as if she had literally not just told him anything. This man really was quite infuriating at times and now was a perfect example of it.

Still she knew food was precious and so she would not waste it despite how much she felt she may upchuck. Placing a bit of the meat in her mouth she nodded as Roland explained where Alyssa would be as well as where he would be with his men. This comforted her to an extent to know that her brothers and sisters at arms would have her back should she need it.

Paisley was so focused in listening to Roland speak that she barely even realized she was actually eating the food he was handing her with ease. It wasn't until he went to hand her the flask that she realized what he was really doing. Her disappointment at the fact it was only water though reflected in her eyes. A stiff drink would actually be quite nice right about now.

"I think we both know that I carry the essence of confidence quite well" she joked.

"As far as those men will be concerned tomorrow I am just a stupid girl with a bow and good aim. Nothing more nothing less..."

"As far as those men will be concerned tomorrow I am just a stupid girl with a bow and good aim. Nothing more nothing less..."

Roland laughed aloud and took another drink from it before looking at the other Legionnaires and taking out the whiskey he had in his belt. It was almost gone, but it would help her sleep. He handed it to her after taking a swig for himself.

"And that's exactly what we're going for. So whatever it is you're doing, keep doing it. You're an expert," he chuckled. "I mean no offense by that. Ah. Take a drink. But sparingly. It's not like that wine I know you drank last night. Alcohol is in short supply. So savor it."

When Roland laughed Paisley wasn't sure if it was at her earlier joke or at the statement of being a stupid girl. Either way she laughed with him before eagerly grabbing the flask he offered.

"Mhmm" she hummed as she popped the top off and took a hearty swig of the bitter liquid. After her face twisted at the strong taste as it burned going down her throat. Thrown into a bit of a coughing fit she then handed Roland back the whiskey and and simply smiled at the mention of the wine from the night before.

"See you tomorrow" she said standing up and completely changing the subject. Stretching her arms upwards Paisley then yawned and walked over to the area she had previously decided would be her resting place. Placing her pack on the ground followed by her quiver she used them as a sort of pillow while her bow lay in the dirt next to her.

There was no shame in sleeping on the ground anyways. Paisley had done it many times when out gallivanting in the woods before finding The Red Legion camp. All she needed was her bag to rest her head and cloak to cover should the night fall cold.

(your turn to timeskip to morning XD)

[*salutes*]

Aube wasn't on any current map of the area. It had no prominence beyond it's tavern, and thus was the perfect place for a secret meeting. And as long as the little runt had the head to prove it, that was all that mattered to him. Dyson Atrade was a skinny, beared man, with gaunt features and well oiled black hair.

He waited for that door to open. It would be any second now to be sure. He knew he was asking a lot from a novice. She was a skinny little gnat that clearly could shoot. And as long as she got her mark and got the head, that was all he gave a shit about.

In the meantime he would quietly sip his wine in this filthy little rathole of a tavern. He stroked a thin long hand against his beard and tilted his head, glancing awkwardly to the men he'd brought with him. From an outward glance he was obviously alone. But his guards were there.

He wasn't so foolish. But they were hidden, much less obvious if people merely thought them to be other patrons.  He sniffed, taking another sip of that wine, waiting for that door to open.

Meanwhile outside Roland stopped just at the village's outskirts, and produced the bloodied sack to Paisley. "There's your head. You don't show him right away. Then he'll gut you faster. Remember. Play it cool. Now go."

Taking the bag Paisley gave Roland one last look. It was evident she was still scared out of her mind but knew what had to be done. She had to suck it up if not for her own safety but for the overall well being of the Red Legion. It was her job today to find out of the Duke of Falkenrath played a part in the ordering of assassination on Roland. And if he had... well then that meant there would be others after her who would most likely be more up to the task.

So with bag in hand and head held high Paisley began making her way towards the tavern. She made it a point to never look back just in case the adviser's men were watching outside as well. Inside she was shaking at her core but on the outside by now she appeared to be as calm as could be. She had even managed to muster up the classic 'I'm a force to be reckoned with' smirk she often carried. By the time she reached the door of the tavern she was ready...

Pulling open the door Paisley made her way into the tavern, her eyes scanning the patrons and quickly finding the slick haired man who had hired her. "Here we go" she breathed as she made her way over to Dyson. Doing as Roland instructed she did not reveal what was in the bag at the start, for all Dyson knew it could have been her belongings.

"It's done" her tone emotionless as she slid herself onto a chair. "Give me what is due and I will be on my way. My lips are sealed and I will fade from your memory just as you will mine." Paisley was keeping up the charade of having a chip on her shoulder. Her eyes then shifted around the tavern as she looked at all the familiar and unfamiliar faces.

Atrade's eyes had been lazily fixated on the rim of his wine glass and his body physically jerked when the door was yanked open. And - "Ahh, there you are." he murmured.  He guised his displeasure with an adjustment of his seating and downing a good hearty sip of that wine in front of him. Then promptly poured himself another refill. Might as well with that they were charging for something not very good.

He cleared his throat, watching her enter and he sat straight, watching the sack she carried, and the small droplets of blood on it. He swallowed thickly. "Well...good. You certainly took your time getting it done," he murmured, voice a little haughty.

But his grin soon spread on his face. "Look, I've come a long way from Vermillion. I'm going to leave when I'm good and ready. So have a drink. Relax.  And I'll decide if you're ready to be paid." He sniffed and rested both elbows on the table. "How do I know you really cut off the devil's head and stashed it in that bag? You don't look like the blood thirsty type."

Almost copying Dyson she shifted in her chair as well, the clear displeasure of being there displayed in her actions and expressions. Cocking her head to the side a bit she may as well have spit at him with the amount of disdain in her voice. "And how do I know that your not just going to take off the moment I give it to you without paying me?"

Narrowing her eyes she glared at him before taking in a deep breath and letting her shoulders lax. There were other motives to her not plunging her dagger into his throat right there. The most important being that she had to get him talking, she needed to know if the duke was behind this.

Moving on to the next phase after contact Paisley crossed her arms over her chest and leaned even further back in her chair, literally dropping the bloodied sack on the ground. He had to know it was a head, he would be an idiot not to. "Tell me this..." she paused to signal for the barkeep to bring her a drink. "Why did the Duke of Falkenwrath want Roland Harker dead anyways?"

Yep, that was her plan. She was going to act like she already knew the Duke was behind it all. "I mean I get that his camp was rather close to the border, but there was no wind of them moving on Falkenrath. Why take the risk?" Reaching out for the drink now being offered to her she set the cup on the table. Like hell she was actually going to drink anything from this place. With her luck even the barkeep was working for him and that could be poison.

"I guess it doesn't really matter anyways. The Red Legion will probably disperse now that he is dead."

"Shhh," Atrade hissed sharply as she just had to go and open her big mouth. He scowled harshly at her, and let half of his face stay covered by the glass. Gods was this girl stupid. Ansgar, just make this quick.  Inwardly he was rolling his eyes and he sighed over his glass.  Yeah, he might need another bottle after this.

He took a deep drink and set the glass down, looking at her through half-lidded eyes. "If you don't know why Roland Harker has to die, then clearly you haven't been paying attention," he said with a chuckle, even going so far as to give her a cheeky grin. "Because Roland Harker is a threat to Falkenrath, as if his army right on the border wasn't already an act of aggression. You must be an idiot if you don't think he doesn't intend to march his army right through here. And burn everything in its path. The Lord of War....or so he was called."

His expression relaxed somewhat and he shrugged. "Besides...there are some things the Duke is better off not knowing. He has enough on his mind to keep him up at night. Now it's one less thing." Atrade laughed a little and looked at the drink in front of her. "Well, are you going to drink that or just sit there?"

And his eyes flitted to the bloodstained sack beside her on the ground.  He bottoms of his palms itched at the thought of touching it. She sure was taking her sweet time in opening that bag.

Toying with the glass more Paisley played dumb when Dyson shh'd her. Thankfully this man did not know her very well either, because if he did he would have never accused her of not paying attention. "I see more than you think" she thought.

"Oh my! I really had no idea he was that dangerous!" Acting as if she had just realized she was being loud she placed a hand over her mouth. By this point Paisley thought she should actually consider a career in theatre. She was just too damn good at it. "So the Duke didn't know then.." she whispered leaning into the table a bit more. "You mean you acted on your own?"

Leaning back again she portrayed the vision of a girl who was now in awe of his devotion. "The Duke of Falkenrath is so lucky to have an adviser as..." she paused to give him a suggestion smirk "... courageous as you." Paisley wasn't even sure where this devotion to playing stupid was coming from. She could have walked in and pretended to be so many things, but a maiden in awe seemed to fit the bill quite nicely.

Of course she had completely evaded his question on whether or not she was going to drink and instead opted to reach down and pick up the sack. Cautiously she then set it on the table and pushed it towards him. As soon as it was in his reach though Paisley put her hands in her lap appearing to be anxious for him to look inside and see her handywork. He would never know the dagger Roland gave her was now within a seconds reach.

Something wasn't quite right here. This girl, while, she seemed adequately stupid, was laying it on pretty thick and Atrade quirked a brow at her while she plucked up the bag she'd had at he feet. And now it was on the table. He couldn't see behind him, but he knew that the damn thing was going to attract way too much attention.

But he was glad that she brought it up rather than he. Maybe she was thinking he would just open it up and leave it at that. He instead leaned forward and while turning his head away, he did check, but was very careful about it and unbundled the bloodied sack. And he gagged, seeing the faceless skin underneath.

He coughed and immediately sealed the bag back up, knotting the rope around it. "You're a fucking barbarian. Glad I chose the right woman for the job," he said, trying to recover from nearly throwing up his lunch. Or whatever you call a few blades of grass with undercooked ham.  After a few seconds he looked across to a guard over her shoulder and he blinked twice, then back to her. "Now to tie up loose ends. You understand right? No hard feelings."

And he stood up and gripped the bag firmly in one hand and gently pushed in his chair with the other.  Atrade's men stood up at least a dozen of them, and moved in on Paisley like she was a deer caught in a circle of wolves. One man licked his brown teeth, and he flicked his tongue at her. And it was that man that was on the receiving end of an arrowhead stabbing through the back of his right hamstring, throwing him forward to the ground. He screamed and tried to clutch at his leg.

And from the rafters Roland and his patrol crouched, before crossing over the second level railing.

Even Paisley did not dare look into the bag and judging by Dyson's expression, that was a good thing. "I am a woman of many talents" she shrugged tapping her fingers on the table. Then Dyson did exactly what Roland had said. She knew it the moment he blinked oddly to a man behind her.

Furrowing her brow Paisley pulled the dagger from its sheath and shot up from the table, knocking over the liquor she refused to drink. Standing in the epicenter of a feeding frenzy her grip only intensified on the dagger as she held it in front of her. The man licking his teeth almost made her vomit right there... sick bastard.

All in a flash that man was then hit by a flash of wood and feather as Paisley pieced together he had been hit. Her entire demeanor changed in that moment. She was no longer a stranded lamb among a pack of wolves, but instead she was a part of something much bigger.... The Red Legion.

From above her fellow Legionnaires dropped from the railing and Paisley was no longer surrounded. The tavern would surely be turned around after this as she saw men from both sides exchanging blows. Paisley herself even got in on the action as a man lunged at her. With a swift swipe of the dagger whether it be luck or holy intervention she managed to slice at his side, causing the man to fall to the ground grasping at his wound but not before he managed to land his fist into her ribs.

Ignoring the pain she continued on ducking and weaving as she did her best to fight back. Of course none of this was her area of expertise and it would take a lot more than luck to get through this without a scratch. In this moment Paisley saw how much she needed to train, not just with her bow but her body as well. She was weak among these men, a fragile thing that could easily be snapped if bent the wrong way.

Another man threw himself at her knocking her to the ground with a thud and causing the dagger to clank against the floor as it slid away from her. Reaching back she pulled her bow from behind and held it like a longsword. By gods she would beat this man to a bloody pulp with her bow if she had to.

Roland dropped from the rafters last of his men as his soldiers were eager to get in on the action. Twelve against one was hardly fair, and why should the adviser's own guard get to have all the fun? His boots hit the ground with a thud and he already drew Anguish from his sheath upon landing and he spun the blade in hand, and gripped it hard with both hands.

One man turned to him swiftly and made first strike. Roland caught the edge of that ax and turned his waist, shifting his whole body to the side and moving sideways as he slashed and opened his front. The man gagged as the edge of the long sword tore open his chest and throat and he staggered backwards. Legionnaires stayed in pairs, holding blade and shield up and at the ready against these men, parrying and sending them back.

Roland saw Paisley from across the room, and he bounded onto a table, throw himself forward and thrusting Anguish into the back of a guard in front of him. Dyson panicked and tried to make his way toward the door in the midst of the chaos, crawling on the ground.

Roland's swiftly glanced between Paisley and Atrade. No, her life came first. And he crossed the distance just as the man that was on her hacked his hatchet against the wood of her bow.

Crashing and breaking echoed throughout the tavern as men began to fall at the hands of The Red Legion. All of these sounds washed out by only one in Paisley's ears.... the cracking and breaking of her precious bow. As it was struck so was her heart, the blow causing a fracture to the very essence of her soul.

Using her bow as a shield Paisley screamed out in pain as wooden shards fell upon her chest. Her scream inaudible yet the pain obvious. It was in that moment Paisley had to decide if she wanted to live or die and so she decided to fight back. With muscles strained she held the fractured wood between herself and the sharp end of the hatchet. Kicking up one of her feet she then managed to get it just above the enemies naval, pushing against him with all of her might. As gravity intervined the man flipped over top of her and toppled to the floor with a loud thump.

Normally Paisley would have had a moment of accomplishment, but this was no time for celebrating. Quickly, she rolled over and pushed herself up before lifting her bow above her head. Swinging it down with as much force as she could the bow slammed into the mans face, the sound of his nose cracking causing her to almost smile.

Again and again she slammed her bow into the man as she screamed, even when he no longer flinched. She wasn't done and probably wouldn't be until you couldn't even tell the thing beneath her was once human. He deserved it, every second of pain he endured not even close to the pain of having a fracture in her bow.

However, for reasons unknown the sight of Dyson crawling towards the door caught her attention. "You!" she growled as she stood over the remnants of the man she had just beaten to death. The sight of her alone should have been enough to cause him to wet himself. Covered in crimson splatter of her own and the man on the floor she stepped over the body beneath her towards him.

With focus completely on the man who had caused all of this to happen Paisley didn't even see the attacker coming at her side. With a swift blow he landed his fist into the side of her face, knocking her flat to the ground. Laying there the world began to spin as she faded in and out of existence.

Roland only watched the anguish Paisley unleashed when he bow was smashed and his distraction was broken when another guard crossed his vision with weapon held high. The bloodlust evident in his eyes glinted in the faint lighting and Roland drew the hilt of his blade up long enough to deflect the attack. Roland's boot came up and slammed into his chest, tossing him against a table.

And he ended there at the point of that long sword. Roland glanced back to Paisley to see her down once more and Dyson managing to scramble out the door in desperation. Roland wasn't worried, the building was surrounded.

He thrusted forward, leading with Anguish's point and the cold steel became hot red when it buried itself into that man's body and he ripped it out to the side. The other Legionnaires felled the rest of the guard. Their weaponry was poor, mishmashed and their technique crude.

Crouching down beside Paisley, he patted the side of her face.  "String Bean!" he hissed. Taking some water from a skin, he doused her face and neck. "Bean!"

Everything around her seemed to blur together. It was all comparable to what happened when she took aim, except there was no control. Perhaps it was shock or her body just wasn't prepared to move but Paisley lay there on the tavern floor, eyes trying to find something to hold onto. The ringing in her ears and the pain of her skull just a dull ongoing feeling compared to the sudden cold and wet feeling on her face.

Blinking her eyes and coughing Paisley sat up clutching her ear as she tried to get a grasp on what was happening around her. Roland of course was crouched beside her calling her that cursed name again. She didn't need to say anything as she simply nodded at him before turning her attention to the broken bow laying a few feet from her. Her expression softening when she realized none of this was a dream.... her bow was in fact broken.

"I'm fine" she muttered while trying to gather her witts. At first her knees were a bit wobbly but other than that she was fairly stable. The man that had delivered the blow to the side of her face unknown but most likely lost in the chaos that had now ended. In truth now that the adrenaline coursing through her veins had made its way through her body she was starting to feel some of the injuries inquired.

Between the ever present pain in her skull and pinching feeling at her ribs Paisley still considered herself lucky. Somehow throughout everything she had not sustained a single wound at the hands of someone with a weapon. However the same could not be said for her bow, the string all but snapped and the riser fractured.

Fine. A common word used in a rather uncommon situation. Roland kept his gaze steady and helped her where she needed it when she got to her feet, and another Legionnaire picked up the sorry state that had become of her bow. Roland waited for her to react, or rather braced himself.

Nobody laughed, nobody said anything. The Legionnaire simply stepped over to Paisley and handed her broken weapon back to her. And he took the lead toward the door, opening it slowly to reveal the ten scouts led by Alyssa outside. And there was Dyson Atrade, on his knees and his hands bound behind his back.

Roland still kept his attention on Paisley and clapped a hand gently on her shoulder. "You did well, soldier. Come on," he said. "We have cargo to take back to camp."

Again Paisley barely nodded in acknowledgement as her fellow Legionnaire placed the broken bow in her hands. The way her hands extended as if she were receiving a wounded animal close to her heart. Even she had nothing to say as she ran a finger along the fracture, the splintering wood causing her to wince when she touched it.

There were so many ways she could have reacted. Paisley could have screamed and cried or went on a rampage about how all of this was everyones fault but her own... but she didn't. This break was her fault and she knew it. She also knew she had probably only worsened it from using it as a blunt weapon on the corpse across the room. The blood stained wood reflecting the animal she had allowed herself to become in that moment.

Snapping her attention away from the bow Roland opened the door revealing the man responsible for all of this. Paisley knew everyone was watching her and when Roland referred to Dyson as cargo she smirked. Turning back inside the tavern she stepped over the bludgeoned body and picked up her dagger only to sheath it in its holster. After that she made her way out the door with bow in hand.

With each step she could feel the eyes of her fellow Legionnaires on her back. If Paisley ever wanted to make a statement now would be the time. Crouching down with a wince she leveled her gaze on Dyson before lifting a blood soaked hand to his chin. Tilting his head up so that he could see her face she fell silent, staring at him for what felt like ages before finally speaking.

"You understand right? No hard feelings."

The only words she would offer him before snapping her hand back and standing back up. It took every bit of restraint to keep herself from making the man share the same fate at the hands of her bow. She wanted to break him, splinter him... ruin him.

Roland kept his distance, standing back when she went forth to make her statement. Perhaps it wasn't as out of character as it seemed for her to react the way she did. He'd only known her for less than 48 hours and Roland was bracing himself for one surprise after another. Clearly she was not always the silly clumsy girl that was so easy to get caught up in.

Paisley Maika had a remarkable talent for taking things seriously at just the right time. Of course, there was the matter of her rather...impassioned responses at the worst times. But she seemed to have that pretty down pat as of now. And Roland felt a grain of respect begin to form in the pit of his chest. And was even more glad then and there that he didn't kill her.

"All right, take him back to Kogan," Roland ordered and Alyssa, quiet as ever, obeyed without a hitch and her scouts took  Atrade up by the arms and lifted him onto his feet.  They were out of the village before anyone could even realize what had happened. Well, aside from what happened to the tavern.

Roland stalked alongside Paisley. "You beat that man's face in. Beyond recognition," he noted. "What the hell got into you?" As if he even needed to bother asking. Which he did of course, because he wanted to hear the reason from her. He didn't want his men thinking she was a hot-head, but rather someone that could turn to her savagery in a moment of need, and do so without flinching.

And he wondered then if even she realized that she just took a life.

"I had to choose..." Paisley's gaze remained straight ahead as the two walked. "I had to choose between myself and my bow and so I chose to live." Even still her gaze remained straight ahead and her face unaltered as she spoke. Of course Paisley loved her bow but at the end of the day it was just that... a bow.

"I may be many things Roland but a complete idiot is not one of them. I know my worth compared to that of a weapon." It seemed that she was actually speaking rationally for once, but then again... this was Paisley.

Suddenly a smile crept upon her lips as she turned her face to finally meet Roland's eyes. "But that doesn't mean someone shouldn't pay for breaking my things." She was almost creepy in the way she said it, a hidden message between her words. "So when that man had me pinned and drove his weapon into something that belonged to me... something as precious as my bow..."

She had to stop herself. Thinking about it much less talking about it was already making her sick to her stomach. She was well aware that she had just killed a man, and not only killed him but brutally beat him as well. "I don't think I need to tell you what happened from there."

Of course she didn't have to tell him, she was sure he saw it, and if he hadn't the blood soaked into her clothing and skin showed it. "So what now?"

At least then the moment had been clear. And she was capable of discerning the in the brevity of a second that her life was more important than some inanimate object. Bows could be repaired, but if her wounds were too great, they would not be able to save her. She had but one life.

"I was rather shocked but to be perfectly honest, I'm impressed, Private Maika," he nodded to her. "You did well for your first time. And judging from the damage, I feel like it took more out of you than it should have. Not to be too grim, but we'll teach you more efficient ways to take a life. Less effort, places that make a man squeal without killing him. You have to separate yourself from the act just as you did. It's either you or them in each situation."

He assessed the damage to her bow and frowned. "Although your weapon will need a good looking after. Take it to Stellan when we make it back to camp. He'll make sure it's taken care of."

Roland did have a point. Despite how angry Paisley was at that man she had wasted a lot of energy bludgeoning him to death. Perhaps if she hadn't then she would have seen the other man before he delivered a blow to her face. Her ears were still ringing from it and the dull pain was slowly becoming more of a nuisance than anything. Not to mention the ever present pain in her side.

"Got it" she nodded as she locked the name 'Stellan' into her head. Of course she had no idea who this fellow was but maybe... just maybe he could help her.

Just as it had taken two days to arrive it took the same to get back. The entire journey Paisley didn't do much beside contemplate ways to fix her weapon. At times she thought there was chance while at others she thought it maybe best to retire her beloved bow. Ultimately she decided to wait and see what this Stellan fellow had to say about it.

Arriving back at camp Paisley probably looked more like a walking corpse than anything else. She was dirty, her clothes still covered in a dark brown stain and dried blood still stuck to bits of her skin. What you probably could see of her face was most likely bruised, her eye blackened by now from her previous injury. Bathing at this point was only second in priority to that of her bow as it was all she cared about taking care of first.

Asking around seemed to lead Paisley to the most confusing place. Everyone was pointing her towards the same tent where Rothsfeild was, except Paisley never remembered seeing a Stellan there. But still after the fifth Legionnaire instructed her to go there she finally caved. With broken bow in hand she poked her head in, curious eyes searching for the man known as Stellan.

"Hello? I am looking for Stellan..."

Roland parted with Paisley and wandered off with Alyssa to drag Atrade off toward a separate section of the camp. He had a sack covered over his head by this time.

By the time Paisley made her way to Rothsfield's tent, he was about settling in for the evening. Getting dressed with one hand was a right bitch, and she came in just when he was trying to shrug into his shirt. He managed to slip into it and yanked the sleeve onto his handless arm. He shrugged into it and blinked up at his intruder.

"Oh, hello, Private Maika," he said with a grin. "You don't knock when a grown man is dressing do you?" he asked.  He looked over her and approached. "You're looking for Stellan? Have a seat, he'll be with you shortly."

The fact that Rothsfield was dressing didn't really bother Paisley. It wasn't like his important bits were out on display or anything. If they had been... well that would call for a completely different reaction.

"Why would I?" Paisley made her way over to the stool as he had instructed. "Besides, your pants were already on... nothing new beyond that to me." Yet again Paisley was sporting her usual chip on the shoulder attitude. No way in hell was she going to let Rothsfield know that it did in fact cause her heart to jump a bit.

"Thank you" she finished as she fell serious waiting for Stellan to appear. In truth, if Roland had not suggested she take her bow to Stellan she would have brought it to Rothsfield.

"Good to know you're still in one piece, Maika," Rothsfield nodded to her and poured himself some tea from a pot of hot water he had hanging on a chain off a rack. Fixing it just right, he dabbed a shot of whiskey in it just for a kick and let that brew.

"You look a little worse for wear, but all the parts seem to be in the right place yeah?" he chuckled, looking her over and moving toward her, tea in hand. He stirred it in that tin cup with a wiggle of his wrist.

"Okay so now that I've made my nightcap, what can I do for you, Private Maika?"  He sipped the tea and appreciated the kick behind it. A quick swallow and he set the tea down on a table. "Stellan Rothsfield at your service."

When Rothsfield made a comment on her appearance Paisley simply tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She knew she looked like shit, or better yet dead shit, but didn't care. Now was no time to concern herself with vanity but instead on a more dire subject.

Glancing back down Paisley studied her hands as she waited for Stellan, almost completely ignoring Rothsfield making his tea. However, when he set the cup down on the table the clank of it caused her eyes to lift once more before almost squinting at his statement of his full name.

"Wait...." she paused to realize she had been calling him by his last name this entire time. In fact now that she thought of it she realized that everyone also either called her Maika or Bean. "I did think Rothsfield was a strange first name" she joked.

"I need your help." Her eyes fell at the mere thought of what she had done to her poor bow. Unwrapping her cloak from around it she stood up and placed the ruined weapon on the table. Just as she had observed before the break was more dire than anything she had the skillset to repair.

Running a hand along the riser she again winced as her fingers skimmed the splintered wood and then again when she picked up a bit of the broken string. "The riser is fractured and the string completely snapped. I fear the limbs may also be beyond repair. What it needs is beyond my skillset unless I completely scrap it and start a new one."
.
Her sites then locked onto Stellan "Please tell me you can save it."

He had to admit there was a great deal of amusement in her momentary shock. However it was short lived and Stellan could refocus himself into looking over why she was really here. Rothsfield of course was just a formality. And he preferred if people knew him by Stellan for them to call him that, but he wasn't going to begrudge her for her confusion. No one had told her otherwise until now.

And that's when he saw her bow. His jaw dropped, if only a little bit and he stood beside her, fingers gently stroking the broken weapon. And he frowned deeply. "I'm so sorry," he murmured, and glanced up at her.

"I think...I think I can fix it. I'll certainly try. What happened to her? If you don't mind me asking?" he said softly.

Pulling a hand to her side Paisley rested it on her ribs as she relived what had happened. "The man I was sent to meet did exactly what Roland predicted. He meant to have me killed and I surely would have fallen if plans had not been set in place. The first man attacked by sinking his fist into my side before I caused his untimely end at the hands of a dagger."

"Another then knocked me down disarming me. He bore his hatchet down and the only way to save myself was to place my bow between myself and him." Blinking back tears Paisley continued to relive the moment she felt wooden shards land on her chest. The cracking sound something that would haunt her dreams for years to come. "I managed to get up and then bludgeoned him to death with it."

A single tear finally streaked her cheek, washing away a bit of dirt as it made its way down past her chin. "I don't remember what happened after that." It was now a few days later and she was still feeling the untimely pain in the side of her face that caused the lapse in her memories.

"I know that I made the right call. I know that I would die a fool if I had let that man take my life in order to save my bow." Raising her arm Paisley wiped at her face with the backside of her hand smearing the dried dirt and blood further into her skin. "But it doesn't mean I don't regret it."

Shifting her eyes back to Stellan it was clear she was truly heartbroken by the tragedy. "I know I may seem silly, crying over a weapon like this. But this bow meant so much to me. It kept me fed and coin in my purse. This bow gave me purpose in a country where I wasn't meant to have one.." Again Paisley ran her hand along the fracture. "This bow is what makes me... without it I am nothing more than a girl who can't even throw a punch."

At her tears, Stellan blinked and was taken aback by the emotion she presented over her bow. It was a bow, true, but it was hers, and he could understand the emotion she put into it, the only thing she had after her family was gone, and fashioned from her own two hands no less.

He didn't know what to say, really. Except to do what he did, and it didn't require much thought at all. Rothsfield's arms fell around her and pulled her into a gentle hug. His hand patted her back and when he felt she had what she needed he let her go and patted her shoulder.

"You're more than your bow, Paisley," he said and then patted the wood of the bow. "Don't worry, I'll do whatever I can to repair it for you. You're bow gave it's life for yours. And that's what's important."

For whatever reason when Stellan pulled her into a hug Paisley did not resist. Not able to even remember the last time she had the pleasure of enjoying an embrace she treasured the moment for all it was worth. Here this man was who barely even knew her and even he could sense the pain she was experiencing right now.

To top it all off Stellan then told Paisley something she had always wanted someone to see in her. 'You are more than your bow' The words themself almost enough to break her down all over again.

"Thank you Stellan" the only words she could muster as she wiped another tear from her face. At this point he had Paisley realizing that perhaps he wasn't as annoying as she initially thought. Stellan had stepped up to offer her words of encouragement before she left. He had brought her back down when she was acting hot headed. Already he was becoming someone she felt she could talk to if a problem arose. And now he was offering to do whatever he could to fix the thing most precious to her.

Taking a step back from the table and Stellan Paisley finally felt she could stop worrying about her bow. If Stellan could fix it he would and so she now felt like she could breathe. "I will check back later to go over what can be done if that's okay. I need to go take care of a few other things now."

Walking towards the door of the tent Paisley turned around one more time to offer Stellan a smile and a nod before she pushed the flap open, her voice loud and clear the moment she stepped outside. "What the hell are you looking at!?" she screamed as another Legionnaire took a double take at her dirty form.

Stellan watched her go and he saluted her just before she left. Oh yes, it was going to be a long night ahead. And he doubted he was going to be getting any sleep with this on his mind. True, he could just give her another bow set up for any of the other scouts.

But she shot well, and with all the stock she had in this one, if it hindered her performance at all, he didn't want to be blamed for that. She needed this bow, and he saw not reason not to go the extra mile for her. If she needed any more reasons to stay in the Legion, he'd give her one more.

Yeah, sleep didn't come easy for the next few days, and even with all the other work that had to be done, Stellan set aside a few hours each day to devote to her bow, and knew that an archer wasn't of any use to anyone without a proper bow.  It took almost a week, but soon it was ready and Stellan had sent another Legionnaire out to find her and ask her to come to his tent.

Stellan had it wrapped up and any pieces that couldn't be salvaged for the bow would be repurposed elsewhere.

It had been a long week for Paisley. By now she had almost completely recovered from the bruises acquired from the incident at the tavern. However, everyday she seemed to acquire more as she focused her attention sparring with other Legionnaires. Turns out it was a great way to release pent up frustrations for her as well as build her physical dexterity. Not to mention Paisley was slowly learning the meaning of camaraderie.

Now able to throw a decent punch as well as use her small frame to her advantage in a fight she displayed such ability in the ring today. Faced with a man stockier than herself she quickly dodged an attempt at hitting her with his shield. However this did not mean she was an expert just yet and so by the end of it she still found herself on the ground with a wooden sword to her chest.

"I concede" she breathed as her chest rose and fell in exasperation.

The Legionnaire offered a hand to help her up in which she happily took as she pulled herself onto her feet. Shaking the hand of her opponent Paisley's attention was then pulled towards another Legionnaire signalling for her. It seemed Stellan required her attention at his tent. "Thanks" she laughed as she already began making her way in that direction.

Stopping just before the entrance of his tent Paisley took in a deep breath, fully prepared to be told he had finally given up repairing her bow. "Life goes on" she told herself as she finally pushed herself to step through the threshhold.

"Stellan? You sent for me?"

Thankfully he didn't have to wait long for her to show up and when she finally appeared, he released a deep breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. But he beamed regardless and he waved her to come inside. "All right, String Bean," he motioned to her. "I think it's ready. And I hope you're satisfied with how it turned out. "

He unwrapped it carefully, tugging at the strings that he tied the bow in and set them aside, and unfurled the wrapping to reveal the polished wood underneath. "To keep it from warping if it gets wet," he said. "I replaced the riser and added two prongs there, help with long distance aiming. The string as well as the handle was also replaced. I even carved a little string bean into it," he laughed.

"Maybe I can't shoot my father's bow anymore, but I took the best parts from it and fitted them into the right places. It was so strange...how similarly they were made, like they just slipped right in," he muttered. "Look, I even added a bronze knock for the arrow. And the sights were aligned with the original grip."

He took a step back so that she could take it in and he smiled softly. "So, what d'ya think?"

Stepping further into the tent Paisley could see the excitement on Stellan's face which in turn caused it to build within her as well. Moving towards the bow she watched as Stellan unwrapped it, explaining the new cover was meant to preserve it. Nodding she watched on silently as he explained everything he did to it.

Remaining silent for what probably felt like ages Paisley took it all in, slowly reaching a hand out to touch the new polished wood. This wasn't her bow anymore and she could feel it. However, pieces of it were still there as well as pieces of one that held just as much care as her own. Carefully she picked it up to feel the weight in her hand as her fingers wrapped around the wood.

Still she remained silent as she examined it, turning it slowly in her hands as she examined every single inch of it. "Stellan..." her voice was soft and almost broken as she spoke his name. Slowly she set the bow back down on the table and turned to him, wiping a stray tear from her eye. "It's perfect."

Even Paisley could see the care put into repairing her precious weapon. Stellan had done exactly what she would have should she have the knowledge to make such an extensive repair. She recalled when he told her of his father's bow and how it belonged to his father before him. It was an honor to have such an important piece in his history given up just for her.

It seemed each time Paisley ran into Stellan he was suprising her, showing her just how truly kind people could be. He didn't help her because he had to. He could have just as easily gave her the basic scouting bow most others carried around camp. But instead he opted to give her something so much more and even she realized how truly sincere and selfless an act it was.

Acting on impulse Paisley stepped towards him and let her arms fall around his form, taking him in an embrace should he allow it. "Thank you... thank you so much" she whispered before stepping back. In any other instance Paisley probably would have said something sarcastic only to show she wasn't weak or emotional, but Stellan was different. She knew he saw past the facade she liked to carry and so she didn't even try to pretend now.

It was a lot to take in, that much he had to admit. And for all the time it took to repair it, Stellan was afraid he was going to replace more than he had to. He was afraid she would scoff at all the hard work he put into it and get upset that he ruined what was once hers. It wasn't obvious by looking at him, but that nagging fear in the back of his mind certainly was ever present.

Stellan was quiet after that, anymore talking would just ruin it for her. The bow was a bow, and it was hers now. Since he couldn't use his father's old bow anymore, it was better off in her care anyway. It was better than having it wrapped and sitting in a corner of his tent, collecting dust. He knew it was in better hands now than his own - er...hand.

However, he certainly didn't expect what happened next. And when she hugged him, Stellan was only momentarily still. But soon enough his arms fell around her and he hugged her snugly, patting her back. "You're welcome, Private Maika. I'd honestly rather you have it than it fall into disuse."

He let her go and felt his face grow faintly flush. Just why he was, he had no idea. He had nothing to be sappy about, but now that she had her bow, and something that meant so much to her nonetheless, the prolonged moment was a lot more intimate than he would have thought. Oh, not that he'd been prepared for that either.  A bow was a just a bow after all.

"Well, I'm sure you'll want to try it out then, yeah?  See how it shoots. And if there's anything that needs adjusting on it, let me know."

Even Paisley found herself slightly flushed after realizing what she had done. Taking a step back she cleared her throat at Stellan's mention of testing it out. This was definitely something she could move on to talking about with ease.

"I'm almost afraid to shoot it now. It is just...." averting her eyes Paisley blushed again. "....It's just so much more precious now."

Completely turning away she walked back to the bow and carefully lifted it from the table, still completely fascinated with how well of a job he had done with it. All over again she took in every new detail as well as picking out the old ones she could remember. Just as he had done with her arrows Stellan carved a bean into the bow. At first she thought it slightly funny but now it meant so much more to her. It was who she was, a name given to her by her Red Legion family, one that she would wear with pride.

Tightening her grip with a newfound determination Paisley came to the conclusion that this bow deserved to be shot with the utmost respect. A respect in fact that she felt only she could bring to it. Some may have seen this weapon as nothing more than a tool to achieving a target. Paisley though saw an extension of her own being, a part of her arm that extended beyond any reach imaginable. With every shot an arrow would be sent, one that carried the history of Stellan's forefathers along with her own.

Turning back to Stellan her expression had changed. Paisley was excited, practically bursting at the seams ready to give the new bow a try. "Would you come with me? See if for yourself?"

Her refusal made Stellan frown. Precious or not, a bow was a bow and made to be shot. It had a purpose and like anything it wanted to serve that purpose. That and if she didn't shoot it, then he simply made it for nothing. Although he didn't voice that thought, the disappointment was there, somewhat and he shuffled his feet.

Oh...then she changed her mind.

And that beaming grin came back two fold. "OF coure! Yes! After you Private Maika," he said eagerly and led the way out of the tent, holding the flap open for her just as they we across to the training fields.

Once they were outside, he tried to curtail his own enthusiasm at seeing her shoot his bow - now her bow. And once other Legionnaires noticed that she had a bow back in her hands a few of them paused whatever they were doing long enough to watch.

"Oh looks like we've got an audience. Don't be nervous. Don't think about them," Stellan muttered as he stood beside her. "Just do what you do, so well."

As they walked Paisley could feel others eyes baring down on her, even before Stellan mentioned it. When he brought it up though it made it so much real for her. She recalled how she was told that one day she could be known for her aim and not her attitude. Was today this day?

It increased her anticipation just thinking of the redemption possible in this moment. Stellan's words of encouragement seemed to bring her back down from whatever ego was beginning to build within her. "Don't think about them" replaying his words in her own mind.

Taking her place away from the target Paisley pulled an arrow from her quiver and drew back the bow after notching it in. At first she was almost afraid to pull back the bowstring, afraid it may break in any moment... but it held. From there everything began to play in slow motion as her eyes locked onto her target.

She could feel the slightest shake in her wrist as she stood frozen with the bow drawn, almost hesitating to release. "You're Paisley Maika, String Bean, and today you get to do what you love most. Shoot your bow. May your aim remain true and your heart remain unfractured as you put all of what has happened behind you." And then release...

The release was flawless as everything fell into place and she watched the arrow make its way towards the target. It had hit, but not as centered as she would have liked. Pulling yet another arrow from the quiver she took aim again, firing it just as before and watching as it barely fared any better. However, Paisley wasn't as frustrated as one may expect. She was smiling, completely entertained with the feeling of a bow in her hand again.

Over and over again she pulled an arrow from her quiver to reshoot, each time her aim slowly improving. This bow was different yet still felt familiar in her grasp, she just needed to rebuild the muscle memory she thought to be lost. After about 6 or so arrows Paisley finally lowered the weapon, a smile on her face as she turned to face Stellan.

"It's magnificent!" She was practically jumping as she skipped back towards him. "It fires so much more smoothly than before." Placing the bow over her shoulder Paisley then placed her hands behind her back. "I will never be able to repay you Stellan."

Watching her fire off those arrows had a certain majesty to it that Stellan felt required absolutely no words. He left her to her magic, left her the music the arrows made when they sang through the air. And when they pierced the dummy with a faint thudding, even Stellan was grinning from ear to ear by then. He couldn't help himself.

There his father's bow was in action again. In some form or another. It's spirit lived on, in the wood, in the riser, in the very thwang of the string as it vibrated with motion.

"You don't have to. Seeing my father's bow back to life," he replied. He waved his hand away. "No thanks required for that. I'm just glad to see it's in good hands again."  With a chuckle he stepped forward and drew his arm around her in a brief friendly hug before letting her go.

"Hey, Bean, have you eaten? Wanna share some dinner before you turn in for the day?" he asked, looking her over, face fairly flush.

At his kind words Paisley turned her face smiling, not able to look at Stellan without feeling like her innards were doing somersaults over and over again. When he stepped to hug her she barely even lifted an arm to return the gesture, suddenly losing the excitement of shooting a bow again to something else much deeper down. In truth from the moment Stellan showed her the work put into something as precious to her as her bow Paisley felt odd around him. She didn't know quite what it was, at first putting it off as excitement of having her weapon back.

"Get it together!" she thought to herself as she dug the tip of her boot into the dirt, making strange shapes as she continued to keep her gaze averted. "I would love to" she mumbled before snapping her head up to look past Stellan. "I won't be turning in anytime soon though. I still need to practice more if I am to be of any use next time I am needed by Roland."

Walking past Stellan Paisley made her way towards the fire that other Legionnaires were sitting around. The smell of food already beginning to fill the camp as whatever kill was cooking for the day. "I assume we will all be moving camp soon." Only now did her eyes flick up at Stellan as she tried to make small talk about something other than her bow for once.

Stellan followed her to the cook fire the other Legionnaires were gathered around. And as if on queue, a plate was made for her with what meat could be scraped up, with beans, and leeks that were freshly harvested. Hmm, leeks. Not Stellan's favorite, but he wasn't going to say anything. He sat down beside Paisley and cradled his wooden plate in his lap.

He stabbed a leek and took a quick bite and crunched and swallowed quickly. "Yeah, Roland will get that underway the first thing in the morning. I had planned on getting one damn good night's rest on that cot before we left."

Tilting his head at her direction, he blinked curiously at her. "How are you feeling? About the whole...marching into Falkenrath thing?"

Happily Paisley took the plate and took a seat around the fire, an empty spot next to her before Stellan sat down. She had already begun digging in, placing a bit of meat on her tongue before letting the flavor of it build in her mouth. Still chewing she perked up at Stellan's question, swallowing before turning her attention to him.

"When I was younger I always wanted to be a part of Connloath's militia." She paused to chew on another bit of meat before continuing. "You know... before I knew that women were not allowed. After that I tried to picture the many different ways my life could go. I never really knew what else there was out there for me."

"So to answer your question, I love it. Ansgar has a funny way of leading people to their destiny, and while The Red Legion is not the Connloathian Army, I feel it is the army I was born to be apart of all along."

Almost laughing she took a bit of leek and chewed on it, again savoring the flavor of the food she was happy to have. "I envy you and that damned cot" she added as her eyes scanned the other Legionnaires sitting around the fire. "And what about you? Is this the future you saw for yourself?"

A home away from home. Stellan pretty much felt the same way. Since his family died, the Red Legion was really all he'd ever known. They took him in even after many failed efforts of trying to get rid of him. He made himself useful, and that alone secured his position.

"That whole women bit I never understood. I've seen women drop men twice their size. It's easy to underestimate people. So be careful about that String Bean. You never can know what some stranger is capable of. Be wary, and don't let them get the better of you," he said, patting her shoulder as a faint word of advice.

"As for me," he said between bites and crunching on the leeks, eating them as fast as he could before he started on the beans and meat. "I will enjoy my cot for as long as I can have it."  He laughed and snorted a piece of meat until it caught in his throat. A hard cough and he managed to swallow it instead.

"I mean, no. I don't think I really ever gave a thought as to what my future held. I guess I always just thought I'd be hunting for the rest of my life. Carrying on the tradition, living in that little village. I didn't ask for the war when it came knocking on my door. But when it did, I wasn't just going to sit down and take it. Being in the Legion kept me alive, and for that I'm thankful."

Pausing just as she was about to put another leek into her mouth Paisley thought on the words Stellan offered her. "I don't think anyone ever realizes how horrible this war is until it is as you said 'on your doorstep'." Finally sticking the leek into her mouth she chewed it and then swallowed. Her gaze then turned to another Legionnaire at the fire, one she had a run in with within her first few days at the camp.

It was the man who laughed at her and then sent her to the ground before she knew what had happened. Still speaking to Stellan she kept her eyes locked on the man who had by now noticed she was staring at him. "Underestimating someone smaller than you could also land you in some trouble." Paisley then cocked her head to the side a bit, almost mocking the man before turning back to her plate.

Digesting not only her food but the words offered by Stellan Paisley quickly made work of what was on her plate, not wasting any as she knew food was too precious. When she was done she stood up, placing her wooden slab alongside the others that had already begun to pile up. Walking back over to Stellan she adjusted the strap on her quiver "I am going back to shoot some more. I know we will both be busy starting tomorrow."

"Thanks for eating with me" Paisley then turned away as she began to head back towards the range. "And have fun sleeping on your cot" she giggled over her shoulder, raising a hand to wave goodbye to him before fully turning back towards her destination.

That evening Paisley practiced shooting beyond when the sun had set and the moon was risen in the sky. She was determined to get a feel for her new bow before setting out so that she may be prepared should she have to use it. Eventually though, she did find herself sleeping on a bedroll with her newly repaired bow tucked safely beside her.

The morning brought about a loud bustle of activity and when Paisley woke up, the other soldiers would be stirring and barking orders to dismantle tents and gather up supplies and goods. They all did it with a rather well fine-tuned machine of each squad packing up their gear with practiced motion.

Legionnaires that shared Paisley's tent helped and instructed her on what to do. And once their section was cleaned up and settled on a wagon, it was Roland that came walking up to her. "Greetings Private Maika," he said, saluting her with a fist on his chest. Did she get the hang of that yet?

"You ever been on a long march before?" he asked, grinning, trying to assess her current demeanor. Not that he expected her to go off on him again. No, that she could save for special occasions he was sure. "How you feeling?"

Loading the last bit of supplies on the cart Paisley leaned against it, her gaze towards the sky as she tried to regain her breath. "Whew..." she muttered, wiping at her brow before letting her arm slink back down beside her. Already she was tired and they hadn't even left yet and now she was questioning her own judgement. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to stay up so late practicing.

However, when Roland's voice greeted her Paisley snapped her head forwards and pushed herself off the cart. No way was she going to let Roland see her this exhausted already. When he put his fist to his chest Paisley mirrored him, almost forgetting that was what they were supposed to do. With a nod she acknowledged his greeting before taking a step around him.

Picking up another handful of supplies Paisley pretended to be hard at work while Roland talked, casually sliding it all on the cart in the way she was instructed to earlier. "A march? Of course." Paisley was yet again lying, not willing to let her inexperience make Roland think any less of her. Again she went to load more supplies, only to trip over her own feet for a second before regaining her balance. "I am fantastic!" another lie as she angrily shoved the bundle onto the cart.

Silently admitting defeat Paisley kicked at the dirt as she stepped away from the wagon, holding a hand on each hip, her chest rising and falling in exasperation. "Did you hear? Stellan fixed my bow."

She could try and pretend to be as cool as winter water all she wanted, but Roland was having a hard enough time keeping from laughing as she answered him with all the gusto that always seemed a little much. Perhaps a bit overly done? He could understand why she did it, although he wouldn't want to embarrass her in front of her squad.

So instead he walked a bit and gestured for her to follow him. The rest of the troop would begin to move in just under an hour, and the horses were getting tethered to wagons and the captains were barking orders. Stellan's tent was taken down and he waved a little to Paisley and saluted to Roland when they passed by.

"Didn't I tell you that he'd fix it for you?" he chuckled, grinning knowingly at her. "His surprisingly handy although he only has the one hand. I hope all is satisfactory in that department. And, now that it's between you and me, I just wanted to extend my apologies. For sending you into the belly of the beast like that the other day. You came out all right, but I promised I had your back. And yet you nearly died."

What started off as joking around Roland quickly turned into a serious conversation. He was apologizing, something Paisley had not even considered to be a topic of discussion... ever.

At first, Paisley was silent as she digested what Roland had said, but quickly her demeanor changed into something far more serious. "Roland stop." She almost seemed offended that he was apologizing to her, but in reality, she was expressing something far deeper.

"Don't you remember the first day we met? How I stood in your tent and vowed to follow you to death's door should it ever come to it?" Taking a deep breath Paisley did her best to keep herself calm, better yet to keep herself from yelling at him.

"I did not almost die. I was hit in the head and my bow was fractured, all things fixed now. The only reason I was even able to walk into the tavern was because I knew all of you had my back. If I ever die while fighting for Red Legion it will be my own fault. It will be because I wasn't fast enough, strong enough or smart enough."

This was why Paisley usually walked with a chip on her shoulder. This conversation alone being the cause of the bark behind the small dog. She didn't want others worrying about her or even worse feeling sorry for the trouble she herself had gotten into. Ansgar knew she had enough of that growing up and now... well now she would do everything in her power to keep it from happening ever again.

"I will do better next time."

Roland could appreciate the fact that she didn't want him worrying over her. And more to the point, she was right! He couldn't always wonder if she was going to trip on an overgrown root and break her arm trying to stop the landing. She wasn't his child. But he cared for every one of his Legionnaires. Yes, they followed him and would do so unto death.

But that spark, that little fire inside her was what he was looking for. And he was glad that she was here. His eyes inspected her features and he extended a hand out to her to shake it firmly.

"You did well, Paisley."  He laughed and he'd had enough of his own cackling, he let go of her hand. "I can at least say that I'm proud of you. You're surprisingly more agile, and more tenacious than anticipated. It's a pleasant surprise."

The sound of feet on the ground began to take place and wagons slowly began to move out of the borders of Kogan, although Roland remained with Paisley and marched along with her. "How goes your training? Well, I hope. You learning to use that dagger any?"

Finally able to let go of the breath she did not realize she was holding Paisley smiled. Roland said he was proud of her, something she had never been told before. Her parents although supportive of her need to be something more never once used the one word she had desperately wanted to hear. It all made sense really, they could never understand the skill she truly possessed due to the skillset they lacked.

"Thank you" her words genuine and true.

As she began to walk with her unit Paisley noticed how Roland never wondered off. "By no means am I an expert. I would like to think I have improved but I still have so far to go." Recalling her last sparring match where she ended up on the ground Paisley pursed her lips. "But don't you worry. One day I will be a force to be reckoned with and challengers will fall to more than just my arrow."

"As for the dagger..." Paisley smirked as her hand instinctively went to the holster at her side. "Baby steps."

"So what happened to Dyson? Have you disposed of him yet?"

Roland was much more subtle in requesting that certain things be left unsaid. Well, in regards to their guest anyway. He kept his face forward and he moved in closer to her and leaned in so that only she could hear. "Our guest is on the move with us. There's no use killing him when I need him to get into the city. He was very useful. And still is, for the time being."

Roland tilted his head at her. "You have a way of getting people to trust you, Maika. People that don't normally talk, look at you and waggle their tongues. Dyson needed a lot of convincing from me. But with you...he just let the cat out of the bag," he chuckled.

"Whatever you're doing, keep doing it. It's working," he murmured.  He clapped her shoulder and marched off toward where the horses were being gathered. And it was there he mounted the animal and cantered off toward his other advisors.

The march was going to be a long one that was for damn sure. Vermillion was at least a week away, but if there was any time to march, it was going to be now. The army was fed and ready. They were tired of waiting.

The thought of having Dyson moving with the Legion put Paisley on edge. Already her eyes were scanning the various carts and Legionnaires looking for him. Roland may have thought him useful but to Paisley, he was nothing more than a flea that had yet to be stepped on.

Her vengeful attitude though was taken by Roland's encouraging words. As he walked away she stood speechless before continuing on with her unit. She knew people trusted her easily, but it wasn't because of a pure personality. No, Paisley knew it was because she was often underestimated.

Turning to a fellow Legionnaire Paisley smiled, already trying to mentally prepare her for this long march. "Are we there yet?" Both of them laughed at the joke, the comradery continuing to grow between herself and her fellow Legionnaires.

The march was grating and hurried. And what should have taken a week instead was transferred into about five days. The legionnaires that marched into Falkenrath's border did so line by line, their gear carried, their shields up, and moved between farmland, roads, and the forests of Athervaan Lake. Roland was among them, although moving in and around the crowd to ensure that his soldiers were doing well enough.

Then Vermillion came into view, the city walls rising high around them all. Stone that was broken here and there, and what remained of the homeguard looked on at the massive army that emerged before the gates. "I am here to see the Duke!" Roland called out. "OPEN THE GATES!"

They did not budge and only when a Legionnaire was close enough to the gate, did he extend a rolled up piece of parchment, passing it through a slot in the door. And stepped back toward his line. The Falkenrath soldier read the note, blinked at them. and quickly ran toward the towering hulk of Iron Keep within.

It was some hours before the soldier returned and there the two stared at one another for the longest time. It was almost nightfall before the gates opened. And there the Red Legion passed it's way through.

Days passed and nights drug on as Paisley traveled with her fellow Legionnaires. Finally, on the fifth day, it seemed their journey almost over, Falkenrath's border now under their feet. All as one they moved through the landscape and found themselves in Vermillion, standing before a wall for hours on end as Roland awaited a response to the parchment he handed them.

Paisley in this time made her way towards the front of the line, prepared to stand by Roland as they entered the gates. An archer such as herself was not meant for the front lines, but Paisley did not care. Her commander was clearly being civil, obvious by the fact they were waiting for the gates to be opened rather than forcing their way through.

When the gates finally opened the night had already taken the sky and the torches around Iron Keep illuminated the sky. The flicker of a fire lighting Paisley's face as she took on the massive architecture in awe. As her eyes wandered a hand remained at her side over the sheath the carried the large dagger within. Paisley was prepared for whatever may come her way, knowing the Red Legion was at her side.

She need not say anything as she walked beside Roland, and if he shooed her away she would simply ignore it. Paisley wasn't going anywhere...

Forcing their way through was definitely an option that Roland had considered. He had the men for it, the supplies, and he patience for siege Vermillion for days. But he didn't want to do that. He didn't want to slaughter needless lives for the sake of a brick, of a throne, of a lonely castle that stood towering over the rest of his city. He'd read on the history of Vermillion. This used to be a thriving jewel in the southern portion of the province, and people with the coin to prove their worth settled here.

Under the Brennick family, Falkenrath became more than a farmer's homestead. Mining, textiles, smithing, jewel making, trade upon trade settled or crossed through here at some point. The duchy's nearly central position made it an important hub for merchants that made their way across the border and into Matron's Hollow.

Roland couldn't lie to himself. It was sad to see what had been such a jewel driven down into destitution by war. Even Roland had never known more coin than he could count before the Red Legion started. The gold that didn't make it here, inevitably ended somewhere else. The question of where was irrelevant.The why, however, remained a prevalent nag on the back of his mind.

He hadn't truly noticed Paisley beside him until he dropped from his horse and led the way through to Iron Keep. The castle hadn't quite been as palatial as the city proper. It's walls were thick and heldfast against the tortures of time. It served it's purpose well and lived up to it's name. Roland's eyes flicked upward as he eyed the iron spikes on the parapets above them. The contingent of guards following him made no motion, kept their eyes ahead and Dyson Atrade was held in the center of them all.

Roland stepped in through the great hall, and there sat the haggard and tired form of Duke Charles Brennick. He clutched the parchment in hand and stared down at Roland with burning eyes. He didn't crumple the paper, but instead, glared down at them. "Trespassers," he murmured aloud. "All of you." And his eyes fell on Atrade, who flailed in the grip of the two Legionnaires that held him.

"My-my lord!" he howled, trying to free himself. "Unhand me you heathens! YOU! FUCKING TRAITORS!"

"The only traitor here, my Lord, is the man in custody there,'" Roland said, standing and moving forward. Only then did the remaining guards move to impede his path. And Legionnaires beside him held their hands to their blades. "Easy now," Roland raised his hands to show he meant no harm.  "I have come to request an audience. The 'request' part being the formality here."

In the great hall, it seemed tensions were high. Even Paisley drew her bow and notched in an arrow as guards stepped in front of Roland. However, at Roland's command, Paisley kept her bow lowered, the arrow pointing towards the floor.

She wasn't afraid, her body clearly displaying a sense of calm as her arms remained still. No, Paisley was anxious, ready to fight alongside her fellow Legionnaires should the situation call for it. All she needed was Roland's command and the Duke of Falkenrath would suffer the fate his advisor intended for Roland.

"I won't miss this time" she thought as she pictured sending an arrow straight through Charles Brennick's skull.

It was a good thing she held that arrow still, and those that stood at Roland's back didn't move. And regarded only his safety. Roland blinked slowly and bowed his head to the Duke. "With all due respect, my lord, I have an important proposition that I think you'll want to hear before making any rash decisions," he replied steadily.

Charles Brennick wasn't going to pretend he welcomed this heathen into his halls. There was no use for pretending anymore. "You make it seem as if i have a choice," he said gruffly. "I guess there's some humility in that. But I won't pretend I wish you here, and I won't pretend that I don't hate you with every fiber of my being. You may have your audience, however, Lord Commander. Come then to the audience chamber above. If you have the means."

Roland nodded and followed him with the group of Legionnaires that followed, Paisley among them. And in that audience Chamber, Brennick to the seat on the raised throne that was the seat of power for the Duke of Falkenrath, and his guards too remained as stalwart as ever. Even as their forces were broken, still they stood proud and would serve their Duke to the very end.

"So this proposal," Duke Brennick murmured and lounged lazily in his chair. He kept his gaze level with all of them, even eyeing the squirt in the back with that dinky bow. "What did you have to tell me?"

"I understand the people of your duchy aren't exactly thriving as they once were,"Roland said. "I am here to change that. I do not come marching over your borders as an act of war, but as one of hope. Perhaps. With my army, I bring with me food, farmers, seed, cattle, and the people to work the land. They march with me because they too see the desperation this conflict has brought about, and together, we can change that. With all due respect."

Charles made a scoffing noise, one that resounded off the walls and he soon chuckled, cacophonous and making Atrade squirm vilely where he was held. "And? In exchange for what? I don't suppose you'd be offering all of this as means of good charity. So why did you really come here, Harker!?"

"For that chair. You're sitting on. Right. Now." Roland replied, and gestured for Atrade to be brought forward. "This man sent assassins after me. Tried to take my life, and had he succeeded, my army would have still marched forward. But instead of bearing food and sustenance, they would have burned, pillaged, and slew every soul we passed on our way through here."

"Oh, thank you for presenting me with such generosity," Brennick replied tone, half mocking but as he looked down to Atrade, he saw nothing more than a conniving little snake. "Is this true, Dyson? You look at your Duke when he addresses you!"

Atrade whimpered and was thrown to his knees. The Legionnaire beside him stepped back, stern and facing forward again. "Y-yes!" he said. "I-I only sought to do what was best for Falkenrath, your lordship! You must understand!"

"I understand that you sought to make a diplomatic decision without consulting me, that would involve me, my home, and my people. Atrade, you were among my most trusted. How could you do this?"

"He hadn't planned on keeping it secret for long it turned out. He would have gotten rid of you as well, Duke Brennick. Thankfully, he failed, for both of our sakes. But that aside, his fate shall be decided shortly," Roland answered instead, leaving Atrade there to whimper before the dais pathetically. "You're right, however, my lord. I didn't come here simply to give charity. My offer is simple. Your throne in exchange for the thriving of your people. All will be gone of the Brennick legacy, save yourself. You will remain here in a protected wing of the Keep."

He expected it, he knew he did, however Charles leaned forward in that chair and shut his eyes tightly. "You come into my homeland and give me ....this....this 'con' as a gift? And think I will simply accept! I am no fool, Harker! Why should I give you my throne!? You will stab me in the back as soon as I turn it!"

"And what good would that do me? Should you accept my offer - and you will - your death serves me no purpose. If I meant to bring such destruction, why would I be before you now to speak as men should!? I would have simply done it. That is the fact. And the truth is that you have no army to defend your borders. I do. You have no food to feed your people. I do. Your people will become my people.  That is the truth. And I will execute traitors and any other monstrosities that would threaten the fate of Falkenrath. Case in point. Private Maika, step forward."

Roland stood to the side. "Execute him," Roland murmured and gestured to Atrade.

Following Roland, to the audience chamber, Paisley remained on high alert. The grip on her bow and the itch in her fingertips to pull the string back ever present. She was ready, should the situation call for it to launch an arrow into whoever threatened her brothers and sisters in arms.

As Duke Brennick glared at her Paisley returned it with one of her own, ten thousand times more potent. Adjusting her grip Paisley was ready, prepared for whatever she may have to do on this day. However, when Roland called her forwards Paisley all but shattered on the inside. Suddenly the attention was on her, all eyes bearing down on the small woman with a 'dinky' bow.

Summoning what courage she could find Paisley appeared nothing but calm and poised as she stepped forwards, the sound of her boots echoing with each step in the silent hall. Nothing could prepare her for what Roland asked of her. He was so cool about it as he motioned towards Dyson.

Was this not what she wanted? To end the life of the man who caused the untimely end of her bow. She knew if the tables were turned he would not hesitate, the bow would already be drawn and the arrow flying at her own skull. What seemed like an eternity in her mind was only a few seconds of hesitation on the outside.

Nodding at Roland Paisley lifted her bow, pulling the bowstring back and locking her elbow in place. This was it, the moment she had been working towards. Dyson Atrade would be the first human to die from the bow she was given. This was her chance to prove she could kill someone without an angry outburst being the cause.

Taking a deep breath Paisley watched as the world around her went into slow motion. Her target, the back of Dyson Atrade's head. She could hear the tension in the bowstring as she pulled it back as far as she could, the force that would come of it enough to kill him in one shot.

As much as she wanted to say something snarky before she took his life Paisley didn't. This wasn't the time for a 'what goes around comes around' moment. She knew there was a purpose to this, to show that Roland meant business. And so, Paisley released.... the arrow striking true in the back of Dyson's head with enough force to send it through to the other side. The act alone only taking a few seconds from the time she took aim to the time she released.

Immediately she pulled another arrow from her quiver and notched it in, ready to take aim on anyone who would move towards her from the act.

As the arrow quickly ended Dyson Atrade, Roland took a step forward and watched the horror slowly leave Charles Brennick's eyes. He hadn't expected Dyson to be killed so quickly, so decisively to be sure. But now that it was done, he knew there was no going back now. Brennick stood up and swallowed hard.

"You showed him no mercy," he said slowly.

"I only showed him the same mercy he afforded me," Roland replied steadily. "Now, what is your answer,Brennick? Do you accept my offer?"

Charles dropped his head, fists clenched tightly against his form. "Yes," he murmured. "Yes, I accept. I have no other options. The Grand Duke will not lend me aid. I have exhausted all other avenues. Roland, if what you say is true. Then I give you my throne. Falkenrath is yours."

The night continued peacefully as the Red Legion settled around the Iron Keep. Paisley found her way to her unit after the occurrence with Dyson and without word helped set up their tent and unload their supplies. Sleep did not come easy that night as Paisley replayed the death of Dyson Atrade over and over in her head.

That morning Paisley opted to let our her inner frustrations in the best way she knew how. Despite how many times she was thrown to the ground by her opponent Paisley got back up, sparring with a fellow Legionnaire who by now was most likely getting amusement from knocking her down. Again she hit the ground with a thump, the dust clouding around her from the impact.

Slowly she pushed herself up and stood before her opponent, running at him as soon as she was able. In all honesty, she was getting better, able to dodge at least two or three assaults before finally, the Legionnaire caught her off guard. Every time she was knocked down her opponent asked her to concede, in which she responded with silence. Standing yet again Paisley brushed the dirt off of her clothes and held her hands in the air before walking towards her sparring partner in what looked like a signal of truce.

Just as she was in range the man held his hand out to shake, signifying a peace between the two. Paisley, however, had other plans, and instead mocked to return the gesture but instead grasped his arm with both hands. Pulling him towards her she used gravity just as she had in the tavern and flipped the man over her as she pulled them both to the ground. Both of them hit the dirt with a loud thud and lay on the ground exhausted.

"Never underestimate your opponent." Paisley now being the one to offer advice as she rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself up. Just as she was on her feet a force knocked her back down, her sparring partner using his feet to sweep under her own.

"Never underestimate your opponent" he mocked as he stood up laughing, clapping his hands together to rid them of dirt.

"I concede" she finally muttered, not willing to submit herself to further torture by the hands of her fellow Legionnaire. She had had enough and by now her body was screaming at her to take a break. Extending a helping hand another Legionnaire stepped forwards, helping her to her feet as they both brushed the dust off of her.

"You've got the moves, Maika," Roland murmured, appreciating the skill she took in getting thrown around and finally using her stature to her advantage rather than letting it get the better of her. She was tenacioius, that could be admired. Roland grinned as he approached and saluted the other Legionnaires to dismiss them as he spoke to her alone.

"It's a decent morning. Odd, how quiet it is. How are things out here? With you? Still sleeping on a cold hard mat?" he asked. She had a few scratches on her, but over all she wasn't too banged up. That was always a good sign.

Smirking Paisley continued to brush the dirt from her clothing before placing a hand on each hip as Roland approached. "I have grown quite accustomed to my cold hard mat Roland."

"And you? Still sleeping in that wonderful chamber with a bed." Now it was time to poke fun, the infamous Roland Harker sleeping like a king within the Iron Keep. "I bet you even have a bath." In truth she was jealous, but making it seem like her circumstances were better was so much more fun.

"Private Weinstein also has the most melodic snoring in all of Connlaoth. Don't know how I could fall asleep without the chest rattles and snorting, to be honest." Taking a step towards Roland Paisley then crossed her arms over one another, clearly feeling like she was on a roll. "Oh and let us not forget Bricker and his sleep walking. So much fun to wake up to a man serenading a tent pole."

"Bricker...sleep walks? I shall...keep that in mind," he replied, and Roland raised brows at her, eyes flicking to the rest of her encampment. Her squad was a rather special one at that. All Legionnaires were trained the same way until specializations were considered. Those that were more attuned to certain tasks were set to them.

"In truth, I slept on the floor. Piled up the pillows as best I could. It's been a lot of change for me too," he admitted. "That being said, I had a thought. You've gotten to be rather invaluable in this endeavor, Maika. I'd just like the opportunity to show my appreciation. How would you like to sleep off the floor for once?"

Oh, that could easily be taken out of context so Roland extended his hand to her. "I do of course mean that you'll be getting your own cot. It won't do for you to sleep on that cold hard mat any more, Lieutenant Maika."

Standing wide-eyed Paisley couldn't believe the words she was hearing. At first, she wasn't quite sure what was more exciting. Sleeping on a cot, or the fact that she was now a Lieutenant.

"R-really?" Her reply to both statements as she stood lost for any more words. Paisley's actions were never intended to gain her a promotion, or a cot for that matter. From the beginning, she had been doing what she always thought was right. Joining the Red Legion, a way to give back to her country she could only dream of. Secretly interrogating Dyson Atrade, an act only performed for the better of Red Legion. Following Roland to Iron Keep, a means to get this entire mess straightened out.

No longer did she stand with her usual cockiness, but instead represented the very essence of appreciation.

"Thank you, Roland"

Lifting a fist to her chest Paisley saluted Roland, the only thing she could think of to show him how truly grateful she was for this.

So she left his handshake hanging there, but once she finally got the salute down pat, he made a fist and slung it across his chest just as she did. The Red Legion salute was simple enough and easy to disguise as a mere gesture, but to those that knew what it meant understood the gravity and brotherhood behind it.

"No. Don't thank me. Paisley you earned it," he said, nodding to her. "Your dedication, loyalty, and tenacity are what make you useful, Maika. And I'm glad you chose to stay. Now, I'm not getting sappy here, but truly, you are an asset for the Legion. And I look forward to learning more of your triumphs and exploits."

He winked at her and pulled her hand from her chest and shook her hand firmly.

"With it, you get your own cot, and proper gear. And people that actually listen to you. Buuuut, I think you'd better get used to the name String Bean. That won't ever go away."