Oh. This man was most certainly her elder. Stratya kept a pleasant smile on her face as Donald approached, but her apprehension was quite real. What had she gotten herself into this time? It couldn’t have been, oh, I dunno, someone anywhere near her own age?

Quite the gentleman, he was. At his age, he was certainly settled into the kind of person he thought he should be. He seemed like a decent man, which was going to make turning him down later more difficult. The impression she got from him was one of a man of moderate courage. Enough for fisticuffs, but perhaps he’d shy away from a sword or a gun. Respectable, if true.

His greeting posed the question of how to present herself. He addressed her as a lady, and went immediately to treat her as he would any other lady. He’d, surely, had many years of treating women as such. She was usually treated with a confused mixture of respect and superiority, at least by Lords and above. Yet, this man, Donald, managed to make her feel lady-like without the subordination. The look on his face was so expectant and adoring, almost like a puppy. She gazed at his hand for a brief moment, enough to reflect some amount of thought, then accepted it into her own. “O’ courrse, ser Donal’.”

She began to lead the way from the park, though where exactly they were to go, she hadn’t quite decided. Considering the recent weather, there were a few good options that should be dry and hospitable. First, however, she took note of Donald’s cane. “Arre y’ arrigh’ wit’ wauken verreh fah? Nae fibbin’ tae imprress me, nao.”

A smile immediately formed on his lips, and his cheeks flushed a light pink as he walked beside her.. Stratya had indeed stomped on his reflex of downplaying the use of his cane, but still, the man had no intention of having his ability to walk ruin his moment.

“But, m’lady, is it not my aim to impress you?” He chuckled lightly but continued walking. “I’m no fool, Captain Durmond. I’m sure you’re having many reservations about this date we’re having, and you’d likely never consider being courted by a man who needs a cane to take a stroll across the park, but I assure you, I will leave a deep impression.” His eyes finally met her, smile intact. “But as far as the cane goes. I can manage a thousand or so paces without it. The cane adds a thousand paces more, give or take… but for a woman I fancy, I would trek as far as she needs me to.”

The Captain gave a small chuckle, “ I s’ppose so, bu’ i's nowt good tae go put’in y’sen in pain, aye? It’ll nae escape my ken.” Surely, she’d see the pain on his face, when it surfaced. She met his eyes and studied him as she thought a moment.

A carriage, then. Somewhere they could get to without walking far, but would be removed enough from a settlement to promote a pleasant atmosphere for a picnic. She supposed it didn’t have to be remote, but going somewhere so accessible like the park felt like.. it wasn’t worth 100 gold. No, this man had given a lot of gold to charity for this date. He seemed a perfectly pleasant gentleman, but, well.. he’d have to really, really impress her to get her over his age.

The captain had put a finger to her lips as she went through her options before a smile dismissed the digit. “I ken a good place. We’ll go by carr’age.” There was a nice little sitting spot in the woods before Pinebrook. It was only some… 350, 400 paces or so from the road, but concealed by the trees and thickets. 800 paces there and back, leaving plenty for a walk, if Donald used his cane.

“Because it'll take us to a good place...” He raised his head, to further emphasize that was the only reason and not his ability to walk. With a closer look, the strutting confident young man he used to be could be seen somewhere beneath the years. However, it lasted but a breath, and he was quickly reverted back into the humble old man who bowed his head to Stratya. “Thank you, m’lady. I..” Initially, he thought to hold back his words, but he knew she was the kind of woman who'd make him fish them out. “I had a feeling you'd be a kind woman, but your level of generosity is quite the treat. To the carriage we go.” Though Donald had no idea where they'd be going, he could only assume it was far more comfortable than the park.

She could see it. See him, his past, just the faintest reflection, seen against the weather and age that presented him. Like looking through a dusty mirror, she could see the image of his youth, yet unlike a mirror, this was an illusion. There was a young man in there, caged by age. Pity. “Kindness?” She reflected for a moment, before a smile cracked her scrutiny, “hah, aye, I s’ppose.” Was it kindness, to do what you thought was right?

Stewart wasn’t far with a carriage. Stratya had known that she would be traveling somewhere far enough to warrant it, with whoever had won her date. What Stewart wasn’t expecting was an old man. Wasn’t his place to gawp, though. Stratya opened the door for Donald and helped him into the carriage, however he wished, then poked her head out of the forward window to speak with Stewart and give him their destination. He knew where she was referring to, though he wasn’t sure of exactly where that was. She’d recognize the specific spot, he figured.

As the vehicle pulled away, Stratya seated herself and settled in, studying Donald as she did. He was far too old for her, there was certainly that, but also... shouldn’t he have been married, by his age? Not that she cared, herself, but that was how it typically went, right? She hadn’t noticed a wedding band, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Something dreadfully familiar crept into her mind, perhaps he’d lost his wife? To age, perhaps, which would have at least been peaceful. Not like her father, who had left her mother a widow - her father, Donald.

She didn’t particularly want to press him, and had no real reason to. Perhaps she’d ask later. For the meantime, however, “so, Donal’” it was so strange to use her father’s name, “wha’s yer favorri’e scenerry?”

The man had remained quiet as a mix of pride, embarrassment, and curiosity left him mute in her presence. The first two feelings wrestled within him, with no winner to be determined yet. Perhaps, they would wrestle even into the late hours. Still, this date was important to him, so he’d push through such feelings, especially now that she appeared somewhat interested in him.

“My favorite scenery?” He repeated as he sat comfortably while peering up toward the cab’s ceiling. The answer wasn’t up there, but it was just the way the man went about thinking. “Hmm…” His eyes set upon her, and it wasn’t brief either. It was as if he was taking her in again for the first time— an oxymoron that he himself would never be able to explain. He nearly forgot the question in that moment. “I have… two that come to mind. The first are fields upon Lake George in Montague during the spring. I know most people say Vermillion is the most beautiful dutchie in Caesonia, but the sight of the lake and the cresting mountains behind the thick treeline is an unforgettable view.” The man was in the moment, unable to be short with his answer.

“But it must be Spring, Stratya, it must be. The weather is just right. Not too cold, or unbearably hot. The wildflowers bloom around the great lake as if they have been invited to come see its magnificence…” He chuckled lightly, finding himself surprised he could conjure up the memory of that place so vividly in his mind. How could such a place like that stick with him? “I only wish I could take you sometime. Spring has passed, unfortunately, but I assume you are taking us to one of your favorite scenic spots.” He smiled.

Stratya took a soft breath as she painted the image in her mind, “ aah, aye, tha’ rrings o’ beau’y. I’ve been tae Mon’ague, bu’ I nae ‘ad t’ tyme tae sigh’see, unfortuna’ly. A picnic, sit’in’ wit’ t’ wildflowerrs an’ such a scene acrross t’ ‘orrizon,” another idea came to her. A campfire under a full moon, to see the mountains in the distance, the stars reflected off the lake, “tha’ does soun’ grrand.” She’d keep the campfire idea to herself for now, but she wasn’t lying about how the daytime scenery sounded, either.

I only wish I could take you sometime? What did he mean by that? Donald seemed too earnest, too determined to have defeated himself in his courtship of her already. Perhaps he only lamented that the opportunity was so freshly passed. “Is visi’in’ durrin’ t’ fall nae good?”

“Well, no,” Donald admitted. “It’s just not quite the same.”

Donald had mentioned two places, had he not? “An’ th' ot’er?”

“The other… yes, the other.” He said before letting loose a sigh. His eyes glanced to the front window of the carriage as the smile he wore weakened under the question. “I would very much like to share that when it is just the two of us if you don't mind… It's rather intimate.” This time, he forced a smile as his cheeks reddened.

“Maybe I ought to ask about you and your duty to the crown. How does a beauty such as yourself end up becoming Stratya the Knight Captain?” He asked, picking that warm mood he had previous right back up.

Aah. Stratya nodded, understanding when she’d asked a sensitive question. From the way his mood fell, and his words, perhaps it had something to do with a late spouse. She wouldn’t press, “o’ courrse.”

Good.

She took a breath and picked her own mood right up, a soft grin forming “aye, ‘ow does a lass like m’self ge’ tae wherre I am now? Aye, aye, i’s a bi’ unusual ferr a woman tae own land an’ command men, now ain’ i’?” She let a feeling of accomplishment show for a moment before she’d actually indulge his question, “nae small amoun’ ah werrk caugh’ t’ eye o’ t’ Crrown, y’ken. Ooh, Gods, tha’ investigaetion took years. ‘ave y’ ‘earrd of t’ Lancasterr Barrony?”

“No, I don't believe so.” Donald shook his head before leaning forward. “Was it something violent?” He was deeply interested, like a child hoping a storyteller wouldn't end their tale on a cliffhanger.

Stratya took a slow breath. She wasn’t the biggest fan of talking about the Lancaster investigation, but she’d be fine. “Aye,” she began with a sigh, “ i’ werre so, aye. Maximilian Lancasterr was in deep wit’ black marketeers, perforrmin’ experrimen’s on ‘is ci’izens tae produce cer’ain.. behaviorral quirrks.” She shook her head, “After yearrs o’ figh’in’ t’ resul’s of ‘is exerimen’s an’ hun’in’ ‘im down, I did eventually figurre ‘im ou’ ‘n pu’ an end tae things. His second son, Rraynor, was a grrea’ ‘elp.” Without getting into too much detail, the knight entertained the gentleman with a tale from the investigation in question.

As the tale came to a close, Stratya’s eye caught a particular sight on the side of the road, and she turned about, taking a good look at their surroundings. Stewart was already eyeballing that same thing they’d passed when Stratya spoke to him, “aye, tha’s i’. This is t’ spo’. I’ll whis’le.”

The carriage pulled over to the side of the road, and Stratya was quick to get out first and offer a steady shoulder and arm to Donald. “Ourr picnic location is ‘erre, wit’in t’ese woods. It’s nae deep, an’ therre’s an animal trrail we c’n follow thrrough t’ thicke’.”

“How wonderful!” Donald's mouth hung agape as he exited the carriage with Stratya's assistance. “M’lady, you are truly a gem for sharing such a beautiful location to me… a stranger at that.” He planted his cane down firmly before taking her hand and planting a kiss upon it. “I will hoard every second of this time with you in my memory. Like a dragon made a slave to nostalgia. Let us go forth so we may speak more with each other.” The old man looked like he had love in gaze, but in truth, it was simply sweet opportunity.

“A stranger at that” he had said. Part of the knight grew wary, but certainly, it was just peculiar phrasing. Maybe. He was certainly laying it on thick, at any rate. “Reyt t’is way.” She motioned and led the way from the road, into the woods.

There was, indeed, a small worn path through the thicket, carved by repeated travel of various creatures. Worn groundcover and broken twigs from deer, boars, wolves. Maybe even the occasional bear. Stratya took a deep breath of the forest as they went, listening carefully to the peace of her surroundings. The birds singing to each other deeper in, the critters scurrying underfoot. The distance her companion kept. She could make out his footsteps, and the sound of his cane.

“M’lady,” His voice cut through the natural sounds of the woods. “How are you not… already spoken for? I hate to bring something up that might be considered sensitive, but I'm both surprised and grateful that you have not been courted yet.” One might say he assumed this claim, but he knew it well to be true.

Stratya drew a deep breath and spoke with a sigh, “ ooh, me? Aah, been busy abou’ t’ kingdom. S’ppose ah ne’er rreally been ‘rround f’rr t’ courr’in’ season.” She’d not sat idly on the power, wealth, and influence afforded to her by the Crown. In truth, her investigation had continued, even after her knighting. There had been one loose end she hadn’t been satisfied with. “Aah, ye’ ‘erre I am nao. Nae good tae be busy all t’ tyme.”

“A life a crime… without having to commit them.” Donald smiled gleefully. “I’m sure Darryn keeps those gears of yours spinning endlessly.” He said as easily as something quaint. So easily, that their arrival took the forefront of thought but only for a moment. “A wonderous spot, Stratya.”

And there it was, their destination. A tree had fallen, resulting in a small clearing above a creak bend. The sun shone through the thinned canopy, dappling the grassy forest floor and the moss-covered log that had been a tree. One could look down on the creek and the shore on the far side.

But it was not the focus…

What had he just said?

Stratya’s step faltered only slightly as she moved to take a seat on the fallen tree. She let her hand caress the moss as she sat. while she reoriented her mind. The nature of her outing had just changed - she no longer had to worry about turning down this old man.

“Y’ ken Darryn?”

To be honest, she was relieved. He’d seemed such a gentleman before, it was going to be a pain to turn him down for his age. This, however, changed all of that. She only wished the Princess hadn't made a big reveal at her charity event.

“Not intimately but he's a lad I don't believe I could forget…How could anyone with how his head was left there like a gift to be found.” Donald had remained standing, positioned squarely across from Stratya with a glint in his eyes as he spoke of the murdered young man. “Beheaded in the very place he spent every waking day. What kind of message did you take from that, Stratya Durmond? What happened to the rest of him?”

Captain Stratya Durmand straightened slowly, a slow breath firming her posture as her gaze slowly shifted to Sir Donald Herring. That was a detail that he should not have known. “‘at’s a bold question of ye, serr Donal’.” She rose to her feet, watching his movements closely, “I’m no’ in t’ ‘abi’ o’ sharrin’ investiga’ive details wit’ folks that arren’ involved, so why doan yew tell me wha’ ‘appened, then, aye?”

The message had been that someone felt they could do whatever they want. They were wrong. She needed to know what part Donald had in all this.

Donald took in a deep breath, reveling in this moment. “That hard inquisitive stare of yours… it…” He took another deep breath, unable to finish his sentence. “I’m afraid I don't know much about the case. I was really hoping you could tell me more about what happened, especially out here where we have so much discretion, m’lady.” He stepped closer, with that same smile of his. “His body was likely buried somewhere like this. Yes?”

“An’ ‘ow did y’ come tae know abou’ ‘is ‘ead?” His purpose was to ask her about Darryn’s case? That just made him more suspicious. Either he had a spy somewhere, watching her investigations, or he knew what had happened, himself. Honestly, it was hard for her to say for certain where the beheading had been. She remembered there had been rain before that morning, meaning blood stains would have been hard to find. But that was beside the point. Donald shouldn’t know this much.

He was moving closer. Stratya studied his posture as she moved aside, toward the small cliff over the creek bend. The creek must be seasonal, the erosion seemed extreme for the current conditions. If his intentions were hostile, she couldn't guess his game. She could overpower or outmaneuver him easily. If he wanted to try a sneak attack, he had a funny way of telegraphing his suspicious nature before doing so. So what was he up to?

Would he suddenly lunge when she least expected it? Or perhaps he’d use the reach of his cane in some form or fashion? Whatever was next, Stratya would have an answer for it, right?

Donald carefully eased himself onto the log where Stratya had sat, sighing as he relieved his lower half. He didn't immediately answer Stratya, and instead peered around at the scenery, almost paying her no mind at all.

“Quaint.” He commented. “M’lady, mouths were not made to keep secrets… and eyes were not meant to look away from the realities of life, death included. My other favorite scenery is one tattered and stained by what used to be a person. A victim, a body, blood, evidence of trauma, and even the weapon. I can't say what bloody mess is my favorite, but I could never forget Darryn’s. Just a head with an audience of calm steeds and an executioner's blade placed neatly… I suppose I should answer your question with a rather simple answer…” He peered into her eyes, that same old smile, yet this time it was far more disturbing in hindsight. “I follow you. I follow to find the scenery I yearn for.”

They were both playing it cool, though he was doing a better job of that. Whatever plan he had in mind, she couldn’t read him. He sat, she watched him, and then came his answer.

What a twisted old man. Somehow, she should have known a rich old man like this couldn’t have been so wholesome. Not in Sorian. Old men that want things enough to go out and spend 100 gold on it seem to be more or less like this, though perhaps Donald was an extreme. He had seemed so nice, too, which was.. perhaps even more alarming.

I follow you.

I follow you, he had said.

Stratya’s skin crawled, the hope that Donald was going to turn into a lead dashed by the revelation that he’d been stalking her. Creep! She brought her hand to her mouth and let out a piercing whistle that would carry far. Suddenly, it felt like Encia. A perfectly normal afternoon was, at a moment’s notice, embroiled in conflict she didn’t understand. The only thing missing this day was the violence. What was she to do?

Well, she could arrest him. Who knew how much the old man wasn’t saying, someone would have to question him. Did he work with the Black Rose, or was he just this insidiously creepy? Whatever the case, he’d walked into the maw of a lion. “Well, ‘ow d’y’like t’ decor o’ t’ dungeon, then, e’er been? We’ll get you set’led in tae a nice rroom an’ maybe we’ll even see ‘bou’ get’in’ ye a view o’ t’ torturre chamberr.” She’d have to take a closer look at Donald and his dealings, perhaps find his estate and search it?

“I knew you wouldn't accept this. I knew, but…” He peered down at the loose dirt and vegetation below with sadness painting his expression. The feeling he felt was far heavier than what he let himself display.

Rejection. It was only natural, right?

“I don't belong in such a place. M’lady, my place, whether you prefer it or not…” His eyes met hers. “I belong with you, and you, with me… I promise that I am not a criminal. I simply enjoy laying my eyes upon the scene. I had thought that nothing but seeing the aftermath of such gore could elate me in such a way. Nothing… except you standing at the center of it. To see you morph from peacemaker to vindicator. From protector to huntress… That look in your eyes. That expression upon your visage… Ooh…” He couldn't help himself anymore. Donald could barely contain the ecstasy.

There wasn't any particular reason to believe him, but neither was there reason to doubt him. The emotions seemed genuine.. Stratya was speechless. She's overreacted, just a little, perhaps. Donald was not a threat, just really creepy and weird. She'd jumped to the wrong conclusion. That didn't change that this man made her skin crawl.

But now what does she do with him? She sighed, leaning her head down into her hand and rubbing her forehead with consternation, “I.. believe you. Donal’, doan follow me.” She gave something between a groan and a growl, rubbing her hand down over her face to grasp her jaw. The knight studied this strange old man for a moment before she spoke again, “‘fore I even en’ertain t’ idea o’ sharrin’ details of a classified investigation wit’ ye, y’ll tell me all y’ve obserrved tha’ perrtains tae t’ demise o’ Darryn Fletcherr.”