Beffelet rounded one last wagon, slowly lifting her head as she studied it from top to bottom before crisply turning away. Her cadence faltered at last, as the chipper heiress's shoulders fell into a slump beneath the heavy weight of her coat. A forced smile remained on her face as she walked away, taking up a more normal spot on the sidewalk where most pedestrians not lurking the marketplace took themselves. As she walked by the odd couple sharing a morning or the ubiquitous newspaper bearing observer, a sensation like being judged began to set in, an odd and discomforting warmth. Whether or not she was comfortable with the fact, there was no private army awaiting her in the marketplace. Her more pragmatic mind was quick to provide explanations for her. Public dissent was not yet at an acceptable level, mercenaries favored taverns over markets... The rest of her simply wanted to crawl away and sit down for a moment. 

That simply wouldn't do. She stopped, holding her head up for a moment to look around her at the crowded city. A smile dashed her face almost instantly as her eyes settled on something utterly unmistakable. A large man bearing a large sword. There was something oddly familiar about his countenance, some feature of his that brought out absolute revilement within her, and that gave her pause. She stood on tiptoe to get a better look, staring across the street with tightly narrowed eyes at the armed man and not caring a bit what the people sitting at tables nearby thought. She scoffed at her own reaction as soon as she had a better look, unable to make any connection and thoroughly taken by the prospect of finally having found a mercenary. She had no proof of that, but he was armed and had an eye patch. [i]That counts for something,[/i] she assured herself, looking him over once more for security. [i]He'll at least know someone.[/i] Decided, Beffelet took a preparatory step back and brushed off the outer layer of her jacket. With a firm adjustment of her collar, she began to stride forward towards her newfound future. Her stride faltered instantly and unintelligible wailing filled her thoughts as a dark haired youth engaged her mark. [i]Beaten to the punch?[/i] He was implacable, hopefully a simple merchant but the apparent age of the newcomer left her with the impression of an errand boy. She restrained herself across the road, crossing her arms and watching the duo with occasional glances in the hopes of spotting an opening. No matter what conduct a mercenary was used to seeing, she had an obligation to maintain a certain sort of image. Interrupting a matter of business wouldn't do, even if it meant losing her chance. [i]Ah, don't grind your teeth.[/i]


[hr]


The carriage came to a gentle stop, and the driver began to stow his things for their stay. A multicolored bill was thrust into his vision from beside him, and he froze momentarily before accepting the payment. His eyes wandered up from the reigns to the provider. It was one of the few times his riding partner was awake. The man sitting next to him was dressed like some kind of office worker, in well cared for black pants and a pristine white collared shirt. A blue tie added the only color to his accoutrements, although the same couldn't be said for the man himself. Medium length brick red hair, and eyes the greenish blue of shallow, clear water met his eyes. He had boyish looks, with a slight pout to his features that spoke of high birth and clashed with the unregulated cheer in his demeanor. A slight flush colored his face, because he was a pale man whose red-toned skin responded poorly to everything. "Treat yourself, and keep safe too," the man said, shaking the money at the driver, who finally took the bribe. His contract already stated the method of payment for his government service, and given the nature of the work being paid on site struck him as bizarre. Rudolph Traugott, however, was in a good mood. They were safely to Geltreis, and his lengthy time riding mostly alone with the Prestons was over. They were good company, or so he thought, but he wanted to be on with his job. Turning away from the driver, he dropped from atop the carriage to the ground and nearly buckled. It was the first time the ground had been beneath his boots that day. With a stretch and a sigh of relief, he looked around them. The streets of Geltreis were busy, almost as busy as the capital he'd left behind, but Lieda was orders of magnitude larger. His work, and the work of his fellow scouts, was cut quite nicely for them. The civilians had slowly stopped paying them so much mind, going about their lives and disappearing into crowds, but a few fellows in blue coats caught his eye. The trio of gentlemen stood at a corner, watching them from afar but without much engagement in their postures. [i]That's cute, they dress like the capital gendarmes,[/i] he mused, before rounding back on the carriage. Gingerly, he opened the door and motioned for the man inside to depart with a broad wave. "We have arrived, Mister Preston. Our lodgings are only a few blocks away, if you'll come with me."