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

Beau

Beau bit at her lip, listening to West regale his tale of his family and failings. Murder in the mountains, it made her stomach knot. It made her want to write her mother.

There wasn't enough claimed farmland to be worth sending a whole fleet for protection, they were lucky to have a ranger wandering the area during a good year. There weren't reports of it at all. She couldn't do a thing to help, at least under the name of the crown.

She said as much.

"See you at the ship, Captain, Hawke, Princess 'Tollie'. There are a number a runs I and my subordinant must make throughout the night, but I will join you shortly."

She burst out the door the moment West took off with the one of TWO of the king's "Missing Children", and sucked at the inside of her cheeks when she rounded the corner.

"Massacres, Ghost. Across our very lands. I want you and your men to gather any and all whispers you can, contact the Broker if you must.

"Its better we face this with as much information as we can gather, the more we know, the less blood we have on our hands. This investigation is far from over, Ghost." She stepped forward and down towards the docks, the royal insignia on her chest gleaming in the night. Ghost frowned, shoved his hands into his pockets, and went back to brief his men.
She had trained under THE General Grey himself, that man who had a tongue as sharp and deadly as a Qunari Javelin, and she had not once been short to respond (or retort) to his vocals with equal velocity. She had commanded a spontaneous ocean raid with thirty men formulated in sixty minutes, ending Victorious standing in blood colored waves up to their thighs.

This is what she had trained for.

(okay uuuuhhhh im making the right hand man a half-Qunari (the big horned dudes) if thats okay WHoopie here we go!)

She took leisure haste it what direction she assumed was the docks, by way of the sickly smell of rotting seaweed, wood, and fish. One would call it an educated guess. The ocean air swept down the wide street she sauntered down, whipping her robe of heavy velvet around her calves.

There was much to consider. Much to plan.

Also, what are the odds that the very lost child of King Estevan, Princess 'Tollie' as she has titles herself, and Captain West (she can hear the courts' swoons in her mind at his name) land nearly straight in her lap all in one evening? And she let them both go? Heavens she could hardly imagine what their doing now. She had never had the pleasure of meeting Tollie, before. Estevan had more wives than she could keep track, but she'd met very few. Even fewer of his children.

Airheaded, if a Knight Commander was to be upfront about it. But attractive. Suitable for the whole place, though she'd never voice it. Actors, singers, one is around for his infectious laugh. Her thoughts paused at an especially icey draft slid against her. She had met one though, one child, with brighter eyes than the rest, she remembers because it was was unusual compared to his brothers. She remembered he liked to argue, was good with crowd control, liked to dazzle with petty hand tricks. Thin, long, pretty like the rest. Black curling hair framed a long pale face, black eyes careful but shining. He got the ladies buzzing. A silvertongue. He once got her drunk enough on strawberry champagne to spew off a bit of bad war poetry she had written herself. Vincent, his name was, although she was missing a few middle names.

The King's advisors, the professors, informants, etc., rarely bother with the court. Though they always make their meetings. They hide behind a big black curtain, far to the back of the large marble courtroom, whispering and bickering. She's never bothered to make an appearance, though she knows each person quite well, the atmosphere always made her feel ill. Though Vincent has, a time or two. He's spoken with the elven ambassadors from the west, wrapped in thick cowls and speaking in whispers. He's spoken to the visiting sorceress' that come only to speak to the king of their omens.