[i]In the streets of Portston:[/I]

Winston babbled on another moment, but when Olivia assured him that all was well he sheathed his sword and stood.  "I wish never to hurt or offend you, m'lady ... but if it is truth you wish to hear..."

He looked again for eavesdroppers, knowing there likely were spies in the shadows who would be interested in a meeting between the Count's daughter and the rightful Duke's [i]lieutenant[/i].  Olivia had kept her hood up and told Winston she was confident of her anonymity out here this evening, so he continued in almost a whisper, "Please meet with m'lord tomorrow.  Speak with him.  Help him find answers to the questions that could..."

He was about to say [i]...could prevent bloodshed[/i].  A fight was brewing: Lars Barker didn't want to give up power, and Paul Cranston only wanted what was his, and without the truth there was going to be a fight.  Winston instead went on with, "M'lord Paul will continue to board at the Black Raven..."

He looked up at the sign over this Inn's door: [i]The Welcome Inn[/i].  He smirked and let out a [i]pfft[/i] sound, recalling the man who had earlier been welcomed [i]out![/i]  

"Evening after next, I will come here and wait..." he continued, looking between Olivia and her hand maiden, who he thought he caught checking out his massive form with hunger, though it could have been his [i]own[/i] hunger that was causing such fantasies.  He continued, nodding politely to Darma, "...for news from you or your beautiful handmaiden."  He smiled to Darma, then looked back to Olivia, finishing, "Please, m'lady.  The truth ... it begins with locating Duchess Eddithia.  M'lord does not believe her to be ill and under medical care.  He believes her to be banished from the Duchy by your fa--"  

He hesitated again, knowing that to say [i]your father[/i] would seem to glue some of Lar's ill deeds to Olivia as family.  He instead said, "By the Count.  Without drawing unwanted attention ... does m'lady think she could find the location of the Duchess and get such information to m'lord?"

..........

[i]In the Black Raven Inn[/i]

As Paul stood before the woman feeling as though a molester for having man handled the innocent girl's body so, Sophie finished her forgiving of him, [color=lightgreen]"...But it would please me if you can spare a little of your time tomorrow to walk with me and perhaps grace me with stories about you and your life as a noble."[/color]

Paul quickly bowed his head forward, allowing his eyes to leave her for the first time since they'd met in a way that was intended to reassure her that he no longer thought her a threat.  When he rose to height again, he couldn't help but let his eyes take a walk up her form.  She was a shapely young thing, and suddenly Paul found himself wishing Sophie [i]had[/i] been either a spy sent to kill him who -- after he'd caught and disarmed her -- he could defile to his heart's content; or a tavern wench or simple peasant whore who -- with the application of the proper coin -- he could ... well, defile to his heart's content. 

"I would be honored to walk with you tomorrow," he said, again bowing his head a bit.  "But ... you must tell me of your own stories as well."

..........

[i]In the Castle Westrock:[/i]

"She's gone, m'lord," Crone reported, adding, "And her handmaiden, too ... Darma."

Lars stood at the window of his bed chamber's antechamber, looking down upon the torch- and moon-lit town of Portston.  Without turning to look at his Captain of the Guard, his most trusted lieutenant, his go-to man, and his most skilled assassin, Lars asked, "Where is she ... [i]specifically![/i]"

Crone hesitated, then cleared his throat.  "My men were tasked with watching the Duke, m'lord, so they--"

His words ceased as he dodged the dagger tossed through the air at him by the suddenly turning Count.  It [i]thunked[/i] into a heavy wooden beam, never having been a true danger to his life.  He stared at the fuming Lars for a moment, then -- realizing his error -- continued, "My spies were watching [i]Paul[/i], m'lord ... not your daughter."

Lars turned back to the window, contemplating the reasons for Olivia's venture outside the walls.  Did she have a beau?  A lover?  He didn't even dawn on him that she'd be meeting with [i]Paul[/i], who in Lars's eyes was not a Duke but was a dead man walking.  Death or incarceration for treason: those were the only two options Lars had for Paul.  He preferred the former: it was so final, but it also presented dangers with those who might still feel a loyalty to the House of Cranston.  The latter might be better suited, and since Paul could always [i]unfortunately[/i] die of fever or some other ailment in prison, Lars would still get what he wanted and keep his hands clean.  Well ... less dirty.

"Find her," he commanded.  "Find her ... find Olivia ... and take her home."

"Back here to the castle," Crone asked casually, misunderstanding.

Lars turned to look at the man, his expression showing his continuing dismay.  He growled, "No ... back to Ryrstone.  I no longer want her anywhere near Westrock..."  He turned to look down on the town, in which he knew [i]Duke[/i] Paul Cranston to be staying.  He finished, "...or near [i]him.[/i]"