[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220419/d955e440c95ac6f731dc5e649ad359eb.png[/img][/center][hr]Lilann tried to suck in her smile when she saw how unamused Ceolfric was with her answer, but a small smirk escaped her anyway. If he’d expected honesty from her after having introduced himself sword-first, he was bold. If it was straightforwardness he’d wanted, he was a fool—she was hardly straightforward with the people she [i]liked[/i]. Either way, the exchange helped ease what lingering worry she had for Kyreth. 

Her attention turned then to Aleka, who laid out the details of what would be their trial contract. An escort, delivering a supply of Red Fern along with the cropmaster’s daughter. Simple, true, but if she’d learned nothing else from her journeys in Dranir, it was that simple things could quite easily take a turn for the exciting. Good for the taverns, but when it came to an evaluation? Well, even then, she supposed she’d rather have the excitement. Her mind raced with possibilities at the mention of animal attacks; one or two isolated incidents were within the realm of coincidence, but [i]weeks[/i] of consistent trouble? And all in the open day?

The bardic side of her felt the strings of fate at play, detestable as they were. Her sword seemed at once heavier, and distinctly important. 

Of course the real danger—and reward—was an extended trip in the company of her fellow hopefuls. The moody hedgeman, the moodier boy, and the suspiciously kind woman. Oh, and her brother-in-hue, Cerric. A saving grace of sorts, he was interesting, but the idea of spending days and nights with him prickled at the back of her neck. He had that look to him, that peculiar demeanor that she’d seen in the strong and the cruel—you could never be certain if he was smiling because he was happy, or because he was about to do something utterly horrific. 

She decided the risk was worth it.