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Lottie Beaufort

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The laws of Oban were strict and clear for its citizens. Every one of them no matter their position in life were taught them from the moment they were born; how to bow when a noble goes past, do not defecate in the street, the cost of stealing and - the most important - the complete lack of tolerance for a woman to channel magic. Those last two in particular were perhaps the strictest in a kingdom built on the subjugation of its people and dependent on trade. It was probably a great testament to Charlotte Beaufort's love of danger that she flaunted both those rules.

Lottie glanced up from under her hood as she took another step closer to the city gates. Despite the danger of being inside of them, Oban was her home and she still got a nervous excited feeling about returning to it. Widows Wood which she lived in with her two equally law-breaking sisters just didn't hold the... the glamour Lottie loved about the city, and missed too. The squares with their opera singers and the elegant dancers... She gave a soft dreamy sigh just thinking about it. It could have been her life if she had just accepted the yoke of being a wife to a man so repulsive the thought of him turned her stomach. At least she would have been Queen. Perhaps she would have been able to find some hint of joy in that life...

Nah.

The guards had the bored look they always did as they waved the steady stream of people through the gates. Traders, workers, visitors. As long as they didn't openly carry a weapon or look like one of the several wanted posters put up proudly at the gates as a big fat warning, then they didn't care. If only they had known that it was one of the faces on those posters that slipped past them now. But it wasn't the lost future Queen of Oban that the guards saw, just a peasant girl with a crooked nose and freckles. Worth nothing. Easily forgotten.

Lottie kept the slight flow of illusion magic up as she wandered the streets, tugging the satchel she wore under her cloak closer to her side. Wren had told her to deliver the money they had exchanged ten times so it couldn't be traced and Lottie intended to do just that. Her sister had also told her pointedly to go back home straight after but ... well she wouldn't be Lottie without bending some rules.

Odd sorts sat outside of their shambolic houses and looked up as Lottie approached then away again. Lottie didn't spare them much of a second look either as she counted the doors. Finally she arrived at the one Wren had specified and she knocked quietly looking up and down the street. Eventually it opened a crack and a nervous young woman peered out. Lottie let her magic fade to reveal her true face.

"Lottie," the woman breathed out in equal parts relief and choked up gratitude.

"Wren says this is safe to use," she rummaged in her satchel and removed the purse fat with gold, pressing it into the other woman's trembling hands. "Get the medicine Sylvi, and food - fresh food - that's what your husband needs," Sylvi nodded mutely as tears rolled down her cheeks and then she was throwing her arms around Lottie's neck.

"Oh bless you, bless you and your sisters," Lottie smiled a little awkwardly and carefully pried the woman's arms off of her, catching sight of the young girl who lingered at the door.

"And who's this?" she exclaimed, dropping down to her hunches. The girl shyly hid behind her mothers skirt who fondly ran her fingers through her daughters hair.

"Jayne, what do we say to visitors?" the girl smiled and hid herself further. Lottie laughed softly and then brought her hand up. Above her palm three butterflies formed and began to dance about one another. As she intended it drew the little girl out in her awe.

"She is smart, to be wary of strangers," Lottie smiled and stood, letting the illusion linger a little longer as she said her goodbyes, drew up her hood and set off towards the heart of the city. Now it was time to enjoy herself.
 
The crowd that now gathered in the heart of Oban was not that of the usual hustle and bustle that the wealthy city was accustomed to. Today was a day marked for the entertainment and amusement of nobles and aristocrats from Dalriada and beyond. Festivities marked with bright lights born of fire shooting into the sky as if propelled by the will of gravity itself, coating the clouds with gradients of brilliant color and splendor as though the rainbow were being painted across the horizon by man itself! The latest in trends for wealthy celebrations were these fireworks, expensive to produce and difficult to use effectively; there were sparse few in all of Arethil who could handle the dazzling explosives properly.

The young elf wiped the sweat from his brow as he tossed the large cylinders aside hurriedly, the sun beating down on the back of his neck as he lugged the next set into position. The silence from the wealthy lords, nobles, and odd common folk was nice, except that it only lasted for as long as he kept something in the air. As soon as the sky was clear, the shouting and clapping for more bore down on his pointed ears like a tsunami of white noise.

Varys already hated this place.

Oban reminded him too much of home. Not to imply that Fal'Addas stood up to Oban in terms of wealth and nobility, he was more disgusted by the state of the lesser fortunate. The slums that surrounded this place were all too reminiscent of the alleys and gutters he'd grown up in, stealing and cheating his way to dinner every night before finally acquiring a job as an apprentice to one Jonathan Burr. Burr was a fireworks salesman and performer who saw something in the rat-haired elf that nobody else had, and he'd taken him under his wing. The thought of so many others struggling the way he had, while he'd been hired to entertain these overweight, over-payed animals made his blood nearly reach a scalding boil.

Looking at the elf now, struggling to catch his breath as he allowed himself to fall to his rear after firing off another set of yellow to red lights at the sky, nobody would be able to tell he'd ever been a street urchin. His once unkempt silver hair was now neatly tied into a ponytail behind his head, and he wore the slick, black dress clothes that one would expect to see on any elven nobility coming out of Falwood.

Still, rising back to his feet and wiping the dust and soot from his hands onto a small cloth that hung from his waist band, he spreads his arms to the crowd of onlookers. The cheers and adulations of the public deafened him, even more so than the sounds of explosions in the air as the fireworks burst into dazzling sparks.

"Thank you all for being a wonderful audience! May you all have a wonderful and prosperous day, and remember to come back in a weeks time, where Jonathan Burr will be returning to Oban with a display ten times as stunning as this!"

A quarter of an hour later, the crowd has all but dispersed. Excited murmurs and the haughty laughter of man and woman alike seem to echo off the tall buildings into the small alley that the wagon had been pulled into. Varys took his due diligence loading the wagon back up as he'd been taught.

"First solo show... not too bad..."

He muttered to himself. It had been unplanned, but Jonathan had overexerted himself during his last performance and the Beauforts had bought a show. You'd have to be a fool to no show a performance for the Beauforts. So Varys, still an apprentice, had been forced to put on a 'preliminary' show to whet the appetite of the masses so Jon could recover. It was a much simpler and cruder display than any that his employer would normally perform, but the client was quite insistent. In the end, he didn't truly mind it; it was good experience after all.

Still, the monarchy in Oban and the treatment of the poor here... It left far too much to be desired.
 
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Fireworks.

When she had left the slum streets there had been a great commotion in the square. Excited children pulled adults along to try and get closer to the action - not that fireworks required a person to be close, but kids always wanted to be at the front. She hadn't seen a performance like this since her 16th birthday when the Crowned Prince had proposed to her but before then her father had always done a display on her birthday. A small one, much smaller than this, but it was still a testament to the wealth of the ancient wine making family they could hold one at all. The show took her back to those carefree moments. To when she hadn't understood the complexities of the society she was in and had worried about ribbons in her hair and dancing lessons.

Lottie stood spellbound at the edge of the square long after the show was finished, staring at the sky as though she hoped that more would appear. The colours, the sounds, the smell of alchemists powder and magic... oh she could stand there all day and bathe in the memories they conjured forth. A small, secretive smile hung about her lips as her mind stayed on one in particular. When her father had laughed more and told her off less, before he had known she was like her sister and could play with magic, when she had been perfect to him. He had sat her on his shoulders and told her the stories the fireworks showed off. Daring battles, evil dragons, the first Griffons.

She wasn't sure how long she had stood there for but when she realised she was still staring at the sky she realised too she was the only one left apart from the illuminator himself. Clearing her throat awkwardly she pulled her hood back up.

"That was a lovely show, is there... a reason for the fireworks?" if the Prince was going to be down in the town perhaps it would best for her to leave earlier than she was planning.
 
Varys had just closed the wagon up, and was preparing to head to for the tavern on the other side of town where he'd left Hob and Jonathan. He prayed there hadn't been any trouble like than incident a few weeks ago. Jon still owed him a new bow. Turning his head as he hears somebody clear their throat, a gloved hand resting on the side of the brightly painted wagon carrying all his fireworks, he comes to meet the gaze of the only woman who was still standing around.

It struck him as odd. He'd been expecting a pompous noble or one of the rich folk who'd hired him. This girl didn't look like any sort of money had been thrown her way in some time. Strange enough was somebody in her garb wandering this far into the heart of Oban, but even stranger was the fact that despite her meek and humble attire, Varys still sensed an aura about her. An aura that silently commanded some level of respect.

Of course, if it had been an aristocrat, he probably wouldn't have been keen to chat. However, he'd been in this woman's place just a month earlier. A small smile crosses his features as he nods his head to her politely, brushing some of the stray silver locks from his face. "Thanks. It was actually my first go at it, so I'm quite pleased that you enjoyed. You should see when Jonathan Burr does it. He's miles ahead of me."

He steps in front of the wagon. He was dressed rich, but he certainly didn't act rich. He squatted down to sit on the floor, retrieving a rather old looking flask from his vest. Popping off the top, he takes a long drink of the water inside.

"Ah... Much better, the sun was killing me. Anyways, The Beaufort family ordered that display in celebration of some anniversary of theirs. I wasn't honestly paying attention, the nobles and high-hats don't do anything but tick me off, really."

He takes another pause, eyes moving back and forth over her. There was something not quite right about her, but he couldn't place it.

It didn't really matter, he supposed. He stands up and offers his hand.

"I admire you, coming this deep into the city to see the show. My name is Varys."

A knowing glimmer in his eye, he nods back towards the wagon.

"Awful lot of guards out this time of day. Might help if you had a ride back out of the main part of town, huh?"
 
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Anniversary of some kind? Lottie went through the list of great royal events like it was second nature, trying to remember when exactly in the year it was..

"Oh," of course. How had she forgotten that one? The King had taken the throne in December 60 moons ago this year. He was one of the longest reigning monarchs Oban had ever had when he had taken the throne from his father who had died suddenly from a winter plague. The history ran through her mind in the voice of her old governess as if it were just yesterday she had been having these things drilled into her mind. Her fingers ran down the edge of her cloak in a nervous gesture and she twisted the fabric into her clenched fist. The place would be crawling with guards soon and nobles who knew her too well would descend for the celebrations. Perhaps even her own father.

"I.. do not think I will be able to see your friends performance but I am glad I caught yours," she gave a little lopsided smile and then glanced over her shoulder at the sounds of boots on cobblestones. Two guards walked past chattering to one another. They didn't care about a peasant girl and an illuminator. When she looked back his hand was being offered and she blinked in surprise, then took is hesitantly in a firm shake. "My sister would call it stupid not brave," Lottie laughed softly. "Lottie," she returned her name for his. Her eyes wandered over his wagon than back over his shoulder.

"I..." she hadn't wanted to go so soon but Wren's voice was like an annoying itch at the back of her mind. "Yes," a frustrated sigh. "It would probably be wise."
 
He can't help but offer a snicker. "I've slept in rags in an alley before. I know what kind of bravery this is." He shakes her hand quite firmly, and then smiles. "Well then, Miss Lottie..."

He releases her hand, and then places two fingers of his opposite hand into his mouth. The piercing sound of his whistle seems to echo off every wall in the city. Hob should have been able to hear that one, he surmises. "We'd better get going." Turning around, he bangs the side of the wagon with his palm, and it falls open. He climbs half way inside, his slender form rummaging about and moving some equipment to make room for her.

This was bringing back some memories.

He slides out of the wagon's compartment and nods towards it. There was plenty of room now, the large tubes and the smaller flower like contraptions neatly pushed and secured on either side. "I'd offer the driver's seat, but that would sort of defeat the purpose." He quips, rather cheekily.

Climbing into the main seat of the wagon, they begin to move. Curiously, as there was previously nothing attached to the wagon that could be pulling it. turning around to face her, he crosses one of his legs over the other as they slowly leave the square.

"The law here is even tighter than back home. I wouldn't have made off with half of what I did in my thieving days with this kind of protection everywhere. So tell me, Lottie... where am I taking you, exactly?"
 
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Lottie couldn't help the curiosity. She had never spoken to the illuminators when she was younger; they were servants and she was nobility. But she had always wondered how they worked, what it was that made them explode and how they had managed to make them change colours or create images. What she did was a poor imitation. Illusions were fake, a trick of the mind and eyes. This was real. It took brains and it took skill to make these. As she clambered into the small space she folded herself neatly to fit and looked around with the wide eyes of a small child being allowed inside of Aladdins Cave.

"Oh," she blinked, attention reluctantly drawing away from the odd little cylinders back to the elf beside her. Another curiosity. Oban and the kingdom of Dalradia were open to all races but humanity were still the largest part of the population. She hadn't seen many elves in her life. Her eyes lingered on the points of his ears for a moment before responding. "Just by the city walls is fine, really," probably not wise to send him through Widow Woods. There was a strong possibility her sisters would try and rob him and then she would have to explain why she had done what Wren had strictly told her not to.

"My sisters will probably be worried about where I am, they won't like me showing up with a... stranger."
 
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Varys had only been what people apparently referred to as an 'Illuminator' for a little over a month. He'd been a swindler on the streets of the largest elf city in Arethil. Fal'Addas was his home, but he held little love for it in his heart. Cities such as both Fal'Addas and Oban were only beautiful if you were lucky enough to live without worry of poverty, and chose to ignore those beneath you. To Varys, both cities were ugly in their own special way.

He feels her eyes on the back of his head as he turns to look at the road ahead, that tingling feeling in the back of one's neck they feel when being watched. For a while, the only sound was that of the city around them, and the turning of the wagon's wheels against the road. If it weren't for the fact he was smuggling somebody out of town, it might have actually been relaxing.

Varys had been scrutinized enough in his life to pick up on the underlying implication of her pause. This place wasn't exactly teeming with his kin, and he'd gotten more than one suspicious look since entering the walls even with his proper attire.

"With an elf, you mean?"

He turns back around to look at her, a small smile resting peacefully on the corner of his lips. He didn't take offense to it, as he understood the prejudices that came with different parts of the world. Of course it hurt some small part of him, but Varys wasn't very in-tune with his own heritage. His race meant little to him.

"I understand. I wouldn't want your sisters to get the wrong idea."

Turning back to face the road once more, an audible swear escapes from beneath his breath.

"Shiy'za..."

A cordon of guards stood in the road, stopping every cart and wagon on it's way out of the city and searching them. Somebody must have stolen something, or they wouldn't bother with such a checkpoint. At least, Varys didn't see why they would.

"Lottie. Trouble. This could get messy."
 
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Lottie blinked. An elf? Her lips curved up into a smile that split into a wide grin and then she was laughing so hard her eyes had creased up at the corners and tears threatened to spill forth.

"An elf? No," she wheezed. They might have been an odd sight in Oban but Wren and Blanche hadn't held the same snobbery as their parents had when it came to the poor nor other races. She doubted they would have invited a Minotaur to dinner if they did care. "It's because you're a ma-" her explanation was cut off by the curse word and she poked her head over his shoulder to try and see what he was so worried about. Considering she was the one who would be in trouble if they were stopped and caught she was remarkably calm as she settled back into her seat.

"They won't bother us," she shrugged and let her hood fall back against her shoulders. Carefully she eyed up what the man was wearing, taking in every little detail down to the smudge marks on his fingers from the fireworks, and then there was a ripple. It started at the top of her head and went down to the tips of her toes. Once it was done Lottie was no longer sitting there, but a email elf in the garb of an illumiator. Pointed ears and all.
 
The sound of laughter wasn't something he'd expected to hear, and certainly not such powerful laughter given how quiet and timid she'd been thus far. Despite the irritated scowl that crosses his features at both the checkpoint and the realization that he'd completely misunderstood her meaning, a slight tinge of color finds his cheeks as he realizes what it truly was she was worried about her sister's interpreting from his presence.

There it was again, that tingle that told her she was watching him. He turns around, barking in a hushed but urgent tone all the same. "How in the Hells can you be so sure?"

But she wasn't there, instead there was a female elf in similar garb do his own offering him a rather cheeky grin. His lips part and his mouth hangs agape a bit. He'd been learning a fair bit of magic under his current master, but he'd never heard of something like this. It was astonishingly convincing; If Varys didn't still feel that lingering air about her that he still couldn't quite explain, he'd have been asking her who the hell she was.

Wait a moment, that was a valid question. Why would a peasant know that kind of magic?

A question he would have to ask later, as the guards called up to him, visibly confused as to how the wagon was moving with nothing pulling it.

"Erm... On order of The King, we're to check every vehicle leaving the city. Stay where you're at."

Varys tensed up as he seemed to hear something else coming from the front of the cart, and he murmured down at the air in a barely audible voice.

"I'm trusting her on this one. Don't even think about it. No, that's disgusting! Shut up!" One of the guards inspecting the cart 'casually' places a hand on the hilt of his blade. "What was that, Elf?"

Varys sits up straight, clearing his throat and shaking his head.

"That's what I thought."

The guard, satisfied his authority hadn't been challenged by the elf, went back to his business. He opens the back of the wagon and climbs in, his large frame causing the wagon to shift a bit as he haphazardly rifles through the metal tubes and flower shaped objects. Varys has to bite his tongue to avoid snapping at him to be more careful with the merchandise. In the end, the broad shouldered guardsman only casts a cursory glance at Lottie before leaving and waving the wagon through.

Varys wasted no time in accepting the invitation out of the walls, and hurries the cart along. They travel a bit father than planned, as the elf was determined to put some distance between himself and the walls for good measure.

When they finally do stop, he slides off the side of the wagon, dusting off his clothes again before opening the back with a loud 'thunk'.

"So, do most peasants have the ability to morph into whatever good looking race they please, or is there something you didn't tell me about who I was smuggling?"
 
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It would be a lie if Lottie said she didn't enjoy the way people reacted when she used her magic. It was like a show. When she had been younger, a young Charlotte had dreamed of becoming a singer or an actress; ballet was her favourite lesson and she was always one to sing even now. Her life had gone down a different path but the art of performing, of entertaining, that still thrilled her. She had to find other ways to do it now of course - like in their heists - but it didn't cheapen it for her. The world was a stage and Lottie saw herself front and centre no matter what costume she wore.

When the wagon finally rolled to a stop outside the walls she waited patiently for the door to be opened before stepping out. The illusion had vanished pretty much as soon as the guards had left; she was not so powerful that she could hold them for a long period of time. They were tiring work and if she could help it she wouldn't hold them for long. Her eyes scanned the surroundings and her lips twisted into a slight grimace as she realised how far into the Widows Woods they had come. Her sisters could be anywhere in the trees, or the other Bandit Clans that roamed these woods. Neither were encounters she fancied having.

"It's not morphing, I can create illusions," she corrected calmly and then turned her palm so it was facing up. Above it appeared three little golden butterflies which twirled and danced with one another. "See?" She watched, herself captivated by the display for a moment of two, before letting them fade into golden dust. "It's less about class more about gender in this instance - women aren't allowed to practise magic in Oban."
 
The Elf went quiet for a moment after she spoke. He bites the edge of his cheek, and pushes away from the wagon opening, pacing once around the wagon and muttering something to the front of it. It was the third time he'd spoken to whatever invisible being was pulling the cart. A sharp sigh leaves his throat and he pinches the bridge of his nose as he paces back around. "Women can't practice Magic. No, that figures. God forbid the fat pigs in the palace have some sensibility, right?"

He sits on the edge of the vehicle, eyes trained on the display she put on to demonstrate for him. As frustrating as the experience with the checkpoint had been... seeing such a thing did bring a little smile to his face. "I guess I can't be mad. If anything, I'm impressed. To pull a switch like that on the fly... I'm nowhere near that level yet. Teacher says I'm letting memories get in the way..."

Varys clams up for a moment, not having to say all that. What was it about life on the road that was causing him to open up so easily? He wasn't the fondest of it, but he supposed she had no reason to think ill of him.

He clears his throat awkwardly, averting his gaze to the small bag tied to his hip.

"Actually, I probably owe you an apology. The thing those guards were looking for... I actually did take it."

He'd been given orders to put a pin on any thievery by Jonathan, but this had been a special case. He pats the bag with the palm of his hand, and something can be heard jingling inside. "I witnessed a shakedown. They took some jewelry for 'inspection' from a local peddler. I was planning on returning it to them..." He looks back towards the walls, and his body falls down into the wagon with a thud, as he lets out a long, exhausted breath.

"I guess I'd better let you go then, Miss Lottie. I have to go back in there."

From his laying position, he turns his head to her.

"It was nice to meet you, Miss Lottie. Give your sisters my regards. Should you venture into the city this time next week, we may meet again."
 
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Lottie had a lot of enemies.

It wasn't just the aristocracy and guards of Oban who knew Lottie's face and thought her the victim of her sisters; kidnapped on the night of her engagement to their beloved Prince. No, since she had fled with Wren and Blanche into the Woods and turned to a life of crime, the Dandies had accumulated a whole different type of enemy. For the sisters were not the only highwaymen to prowl the roads in hopes of fat, rich nobles or merchants and rival gangs tended not to be overly friendly. The Dandies had been causing quite the stir in the forest; their patch covered the best bits of road and their magics gave them an edge many of the other robbers didn't have. Not only that, but the girls were apt swordswomen and could run circles around most of the shambolick misfits who called the forest home.

Such as one Dick Blake, leader of The Greenmen.

"Now, now, wha'sa rush aye?" When Varys turned back around he would see that from the trees had appeared a group of thuggish looking men. Dick stood behind Lottie with a nasty looking blade pressed to her slender throat. Her face was scrunched up, both hands grasping at the mans thick trunk like forearm that held her firm against him.

"Why don't you introduce us, love? I thought you Dandies didn't like men," he sneered against her ear and pressed the blade tighter. "An Illuminator's wagon would bring in a pretty penny, and I don't feel like letting you witches 'ave the lions share anymore."
 
It had all been going far too smoothly up until now. Why wouldn't it all come back to haunt him at the very end? Well, haunt may be a bit of an exaggeration. A more accurate word for the emotion running through his head as he turned to face the men who held his new acquaintance at knifepoint was annoyance. He wasn't particularly worried about the thugs; Not only did he now know Charlotte could take care of herself in a stressful situation, but he had a rather large ace in the hole.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and tucks some hair behind his ear. "You're making me look like a bad host, flytrap. It's a real shock her family isn't inviting you over for dinner. You look like such a catch." His snark was more often that not a means to distract himself from his own irritation. His eyes meet Lottie's for a moment, and then he turns back to his wagon for a fraction of a second, before raising his hands and stepping away from it.

"I'll tell you what. You can have the cart. Let the girl go and I'll even tell you where to sell what's inside at premium price. Fair enough deal?"

Of course, Varys had no intention of doing any of this. These men didn't seem to be blessed with a good deal of wisdom though. If he was lucky, they'd take his bait. If that happened, his plan would go off without a hitch.
 
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Dick hesitated for a moment. His piggy little eyes took in the wagon in question with unhidden excitement. Of course he wanted to leave Lottie a little shaken - to put her in her place you see - but the real prize was the Illuminators goods. It would fix him and his crew up for over a year in comfort, no, luxury. They would be able to even build Kevin that little cabin he had always wanted. After a moment or two of twisting the blade in his hand he nodded his head to the others and they stalked forward to seize the wagon from Varys.

"Well ain't you a lucky little girl with ol' knife ears 'ere to defend your honour?" he sneered against her cheek and trailed the blade up from her throat to her cheek. A red welt appeared as the edge slit her skin and blood trickled down to her chin. "Before I let her go, I'll be wanting that 'ere information you were talking about," he frowned. "Don't you think ye can get one over on ol' Dick 'ere."

"He wouldn't have to try very hard to do that," Lottie replied sourly but bit her lip as the knife pressed right up against her throat.
 
He offers his meekest and pitiful look towards 'Dick'. Cretins like him were a coin a dozen type, and none of them were too gifted in forethought when there was money in front of them. The only thing that wasn't totally under control was that blade pressed up to Lottie's throat. Now, technically Lottie's life didn't hold much weight in Varys' own life. A year ago, Varys would have given her up to make his escape and slept soundly the next night.

He'd grown up a bit after all, he supposed.

"That sounds fair to me, sir. Here's what you'll want to do, okay?" It physically hurt him to pretend to be so frightened. "You'll take this wagon to a place called Volta..."

His submissive expression flattened, and then curled up into a smirk. The gentlemanly tone in his voice filtered away, and he stomped his heel on the ground twice.

"You'll take a lighting bolt to that balding egg of a head, and then the townsfolk will throw coins of sympathy at your well cooked, generously sized behind."

The wagon lurched backwards suddenly as his two compatriots approached it with the force of a bucking horse, colliding with both of them and knocking them to the floor. It began rolling towards Dick rapidly, and it seemed as though it was about to run both him and Lottie over entirely. Suddenly it stopped, and the force caused by it's sudden lack of movement causes the back to open. One of the large heavy cylinders packed away slides out, colliding with the knife wielding thug's knee.

"Lottie, now!"

Charlotte Beaufort
 
Dick, valiant gentleman and embodiment of his name that he was practically hid behind Lottie as the wagon shot towards them. Her illusions whilst every now and then having substance would not have been enough force to save them if it hadn't stopped. Her cheeks were flushed with her anger. Despite her and her sisters tendency for the dastardly they still acted like the high class nobles and women of good character. They never maimed or killed unless necessary and they were incredibly polite during the whole affair.

It grated her nerves when other didn't do the same.

She didn't need much encouragement therefore when Varys shouted and she slammed her elbow back into the mans groin. As he gasped and sagged down she gripped his wrist, spun herself out from his grip and then issued a short punch to the nose for good measure.

"Gods I have wanted to do that for so long," she scowled at the groaning man on the floor and the back to the goons, drawing her whip from her waist. "Anyone else?"
 
He lets out a long whistle, impressed by the sheer impact of Lottie's elbow against the thug's groin. He certainly didn't envy how that one was going to feel in the morning. The bandit's namesake seemed quite appropriate now, and the humor of it wasn't lost on Varys. Still, before he checks on the guard, he makes a brisk walk towards Lottie, reaching out at first, then drawing his hand back when he realized she most definitely didn't need his support. "You okay? He didn't do any damage, did he? The damned hog..."

He turns his head to the wagon and whistles. "Nailed him! Nice aim!" He slides the cylinder back into the wagon and closes it up. He'd only had to use that trick once before, so he was glad it had worked twice. Taking a deep breath of the now quiet air around them. He turns around and falls to his rear. "Nah, those two are out like lights."

Behind him the soft sound of groans could be heard from the other two men. He smirks, looking up at her with a look of amusement. "Guess you've got to get going, huh? Before these morons hobble back to their feet in... oh, three hours at least?"

To be honest, he hadn't had that much fun in quite a long time. He found himself rather glad that he'd elected to help the mysterious girl. He'd almost be sad to see her go.

"Is it weird that I think I might have needed that?"

Charlotte Beaufort
 
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Lottie's frown twisted into a smirk as Varys' words and she forgot a little of how this situation could have gone in a whole different way. She was quite simple in that regard compared to her sisters; forget and let live was her motto. She wound her whip back up and put it back on her hip as her eyes swept over the other goons.

"I'm sure they'll think twice next time," maybe even thrice. Dick definitely would, she nudged his face with her boot but the man didn't stir. She doubted it would put him off the life of crime but definitely from bothering her again any time soon. And Varys too. She eyed the carriage.

"I probably have time for a drink... but how... how did your carriage manage that? Is it enchanted?" Despite possessing magic herself it made her uneasy due to how little she knew about it. It would be like trying to set off one of those fireworks herself in a moment of mischief.
 
Varys had also chosen to put aside the real danger they'd been in. What was it he'd heard humans say? All's well that ends well, right? He supposed that held true in this scenario. He watches Lottie as she prods Dick with her foot, stroking his chin in thought. "I'm certainly glad I didn't make you angry. That's a blow I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of."

He reaches up and grabs the wagon, pulling himself to his feet. He holds back a laugh when she offers some of her time for a drink. "Oh? You were anxious to get home before." He teases playfully. He certainly wasn't going to complain about the company. Life on the road in a wagon got a bit... claustrophobic. He turns to the wagon and walks over to it, patting the side with his hand and beckoning her forth.

"It's pulled by a creature invisible to most eyes. A Pooka. I'm not supposed to go around parading him, so maybe I'll introduce you later." He looks towards the front of the wagon and then leans in whisper to her. "Between you and I, that's for the better. He'd just hit on you. You'd think mythical creatures wouldn't be such perverts."

His tone said he wasn't joking.

"Well, if you really want to stick around, I won't complain. I have some drinks in the back, we can pull into the shade and talk for a bit longer. Unless you'd rather head back into town and find something to sip on?" He prods lightly, a smirk on his lips.

Charlotte Beaufort
 
"A... pooja?" She blinked. She had never heard of such a creature before but now she was curious to see it, actually see it. He following words made her laugh though at the absurdity of the thought. Though, she had had a minotaur flirt with her before so maybe a ... a pooka wasn't all that different. Either way the thing seemed to give a nasty kick so she would be glad to at least be friendly to the thing.

"As much as I love the city," Lottie sighed and cast her eyes over to the great walls that loomed in the distance. "It is probably safer to stay out of it. I fancy my chances with the Bandits than I do the Gryphon Knights if they spy my face," she would be whisked off the palace before she could open her mouth to protest and they would clap themselves on the back for the trouble, thinking they were rescuing her from a darker fate.

"There's a little lake further on, this way."

Calling it a lake was perhaps a stretch maybe an oversized pond was better but it was shaded and quiet and the song of birds filled the air. Lottie sat herself down on the shore and plucked a reed.

"So what made you become an Illuminator?"
 
He shakes his head, tucking his hair behind his ears neatly as he allows a small chuckle to pass his lips. To be honest, Pooja sort of rolled off of his tongue better. "Poo-Ka. I don't really know much about him either, except he lives on a steady lifestyle of overeating and sampling any kind of woman willing to entertain him. He's reliable though, when it counts."

The idea of relaxing lakeside for a time certainly appealed to him. He smiles and calls to his invisible friend. "Go on back into town, Hob. I'll meet you and Jon at the tavern when we're done." After a moment, during which Varys seems to scowl at something said in retaliation, the cart begins moving back into town all on it's own. Surely that will be a fun sight for the guards inside.

He follows her on foot, hands locked behind her back as they approach what he supposed could be considered a small lake. The air from the water was fresh though, and Varys allowed himself to take a deep breath of it as his upright posture slackened. Gods, he spent so much time being an Apprentice lately that he almost forgot what it was like to just relax.

He fell down onto his back beside her, totally unconcerned with his clothing being dirtied.

"Thanks for letting me help you out of town. I really needed this. Being on my own for a change... I missed it."

He turns his head, watching her as he spoke.

"I was a street thief in Fal'Addas. Didn't have a place, stayed at inns by swiping money. One day Jonathan found me, and I guess he just... saw something in me? He bought me a bath and some clothes, and carted me off with him. Ever since then, I've been on the road with him. He's been teaching me how to use those fireworks, and a little magic on top of that."

Charlotte Beaufort
 
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Lottie smiled in response to his thanks. She hadn't done much really, he had been the one doing her the favour. Of course she probably could have gotten herself out of town but with that many more guards on the gates it would have taken a lot of magical energy to pull off. Much easier to do a minor trick in the back of a wagon for a few minutes. She lay back on the grass next to the elf and put her hands behind her head to act as a pillow. The reed she had pulled she chewed between her teeth as he told his tale. It was always such an interesting thing for her to hear, the tales of other people. It put things into perspective for her.

"So he's like your dad now?" she had been staring at the clouds but she turned her head to look at Varys as she spoke now, bringing a hand up to shield her eyes from the glare of the winter sun. "I've only ever read about Fal'Addas - it's meant to be really beautiful," she sighed and turned her eyes back to the sky. "I've only ever been around Dalradia, Oban is probably the biggest place I've ever seen."
 
His body stiffens when she makes the comparison between Jonathan and a father, and his smooth facial features are drawn taut for a moment. His slim frame shifts uncomfortable under the unintended weight of the question she'd asked him.

"He's... I owe a lot to him."

He wasn't the type to open up to many people. Hell, he hardly ever opened up and admitted feelings to himself. He was as stubborn as the one who gave him his name. Under the gentle breeze of the pond, laying in the grass next to somebody who he hardly knew, but who hadn't judged him once since their meeting... He felt like he could trust her. It was probably silly of the young elf, to feel trusting of a relative stranger. Maybe it was just hopeful thinking. Maybe he was just hoping he could trust her.

Ever since he'd left, he had done his best not to think of home. He'd been a poor street urchin in the slums, so what reason did he have to miss it? Even he wasn't sure, but... thinking about the past few months, the whirlwind of leaving the only place he'd ever called home, changing the way he looked and acted, travelling all across Arethil and learning so many new things...

It made him sad.

So he told her everything there was to tell about his home. He told her about the gates that seemed to have life crawling up them as though they were a part of nature, and about the streets that weaved in and out of the forest like serpents making their way through the heart of Falwood. He told her about the time he snuck into the wealthy district, and stole the best steak he'd ever eaten from a Noble, and tried to put into words how beautiful the stars were, when you could just barely see the pinpricks of light leaking through the treetops.

"--I started living there when I was young. The cabin my father raised me in burned down in a wildfire. Some hunters from the village found me and brought me somewhere safe, but I didn't really have anybody, you know what I mean? Sometimes, I still feel like I don't. Jonathan is a dear friend to me, and I know he'll always listen to me. Still, he's got so many things to worry about. His work encompasses him, and me by extension."

He looks over at her beside him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ramble on. I just... I don't remember the last time I spoke so candidly."

Charlotte Beaufort
 
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Lottie listened in enraptured silence as he spoke. The reed was soon forgotten, cast aside, and she had rolled onto her side to give him her full and undivided attention. It was so much more enchanting than reading about it in a book. In a book you got the facts but never the emotion. Never the details about the little walkways the ordinary people who lived in the city took. Never anything about the smells or the baker who would spare a bit of burnt bread for orphans living on the streets. Never anything that really told you about the city. So she let herself be taken on the cities journey by this elf and as he spoke she watched the lines of his face. It was a trick Wren had taught her long ago about sensing emotions in a person. She had taught her because it would help her avoid their fathers moods, but it leant itself to this far nicer situation too. There were times he smiled or his eyes would crease a little as a place invoked some memory or other.

When it came to an end she sighed dreamily.

"It's quite alright, I enjoyed hearing about it," she drew her fingers through the grass. "I don't get to talk to many other people, aside from my sisters of course, and you run out of things to talk about with people you've been with your entire life," she looked up with a faint smile. "I can't pretend to even understand my life was the opposite to yours."
 
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