A Princess, a Knight, and an Assassin Walk Into a Tavern...

Knight Captain Beau Dunningham

'Be good, be strong. Don't let them see you cry.'

Those were words often spoken in comfort, hidden in her mother's arms.

'Be a good little boy.'

She'd sniffle and force her breathing to calm, drawing away. Her mother would stand and take her by the hand, back to her instructors.

It was just them.

For a very long time it was just the two of them, mother and son.

Or what everyone was meant to believe.

Her mother hired who she needed to raise her child to be the ideal noble of royal standing.

Her mother married who she needed to for a time when their cover was to be kept.

In return, Beau was required to learn and to train. To learn and train hard. For years. Until she stood at the seat of her family's legacy, and renewed the Duhningham name back to its former glory.

Glory from centuries ago, and the only son of the Duhningham family name made it shine again.
Monday it was literature of poetry, myths, and studies of local fauna and fae... her knuckles carrying the evidence of her shortcomings from the long, flexible training stick her instructor carried around.

Tuesday was fencing, fighting, swordplay, and riding. She refused any aid offered when her legs nearly gave out walking back to the estate each Tuesday evening.

Wednesday was social and Court etiquette training, and although it was a constant threat, she never once fell asleep.

Thursday was more literature, reciting poetry, memorizing historical texts, and noting the laws of the land, elven, qunari, and faerie courts alike.

Friday was the day she visited the Royal Court with her mother via invitation by the Queen, a close friend, where she was instructed to keep with current information and news.

Saturday was a day spent in the aid of her mother and carrying out duties held to the house Head, or in their instance, future Head. She decided and dictated anything that needed to be decided or dictated around her land.
Her talents grew in riding and swordplay, gaining favor with her tutors and instructors, soon being transferred to train with the soldiers of Royal Command through personal written recommendation from noblemen and respected tutor alike.

At sixteen, she became renowned as the soldiers in training's star pupil.
The avoidance of the truth of her gender was of utmost importance. Now among grown men, even more so. Yet she settled herself with ease, her slight figure and tall frame making her seem no more than a gangly young man.

For a time, in her training among soldiers, it became popular to brawl together, like brothers. Beau proceeded to puff out her chest and received each blow and physical tangle at great stride, even so much as to enjoy herself.

Brotherhood bonds were formed over the years, and as her official training ended and the time for actual service to their country came, Beau had behind her a pack of men more loyal than wolves.

Hesitation in placing Beau into the seat of Knight Commander, shortly after her return of mandatory military service, wasn't even considered. (Even though, by then, her true gender was known, if not outright spoken of.) But what did that matter? Duningham was who they needed, because Duningham was who the men would follow - any and all other pesky details be damned.

And here she was, cantering down a small trail, to a just as small and sorry looking Port Town, to a sorry looking inn."How... Quaint." She forced out, tying the rather weary looking horse to the post out front.

She stepped into the inn, long legs clad in practical dark gray linen pants, long black riding boots squeezed snug against her calf. She wore her family's signature dark royal blue cloak with a simple silver clasp. She kept her face and head clear of any hood or helmet, her head standing a good near foot above everyone else, so it wouldn't have been practical anyhow. If she wanted to hide, she would have made herself come off shorter. The customary royal insignia sparkled on the front of the silver breastplate and the pauldron plates on her shoulders.

She, was soldier. She, was a Knight.
Many things brought her to the small little inn and its similarly dinky tavern in the port town of... Well, Port Town.
The first, a contact from the bogs a few miles down had spotted qunari trickling in through customs via hiding in barrels.

The other reason was far more discreet.

"Not a soul, Commander, you are not to tell a soul. Whispers have gone about, Duhningham, that the king can't keep track of his children. Of an uprising of the throne. That they run away to conspire against him!"

"I am no spymaster, my lord, to confide in me with such informa-"

"You are the only one, for now anyway. There are plenty here who wish that very fate for our King. What kingdom doesn't? If, in your travels, you don't the root of this, I will send aid."

She picked a well lit spot, nearest a window, and sat in grand fashion to wait and watch for her contact.