"My lady," Bran said pleadingly, "I know it is your way to take struggles like this upon your shoulders, but the city guard can handle this. It just isn't wise to risk yourself like this, not when the guard is capable of solving this issue without you putting your life in danger."
Sophia smiled slightly as she knelt down to lace up her boots. "Unwise? I don't believe there ever was a wiser choice than this." 1t0mIfpVc
"I agree, it is most noble of you to make these sacrifices on behalf of the city guard, but I must repeat myself: the risk is not worth the reward."
"And there we'll have to disagree," she responded, sliding Vesenia over her shoulder and buckling the sheath across her chest. She gave Bran a knowing look. "Really, Bran, how many times have we had this conversation? You know how it ends, don't you?" She slipped her hands into her leather gauntlets and, now fully geared, crossed her arms and gave Bran a half-smile.
"I do," he admitted. "I warn you of the dangers, you ignore them, and then you return to us bleeding." She laughed at that, even if she knew it to be the truth. "Maybe so, but a leader that does not bleed with her people is no leader at all, is she?" Bran sighed, lowering his voice now. "It's a good thing the leader doesn't bleed in equal measure as the people. I'm afraid you wouldn't have any left."
"Sadly true. Which is why I have to go."
"You're impossible, you know that?"
"It serves me well. I'll see you soon, Bran." She strode confidently from her quarters, a pair of guardsmen joining her. It was true, she had to admit, this was probably something she needn't involve herself in, but when the Viscount's daughter overheard trouble from a guardsmen, especially when she'd been itching to get out of the Keep for about a week now, it was too difficult for her to resist. And so here she was, about to ride out to the Wounded Coast and investigate why a patrol of guards hadn't returned from their route today.
She stopped when she saw Sparrow standing in the entrance to the Keep. She'd almost forgotten that she'd summoned the half-elf to deliver her update on the whereabouts of those men she was looking for. As much as she wanted to drop everything and help the woman (Sophia was also still getting used to that), she had already committed herself to this, and couldn't stop now, especially since time was of the essence.
"Sparrow!" she called. "You'll have to forgive me, some trouble's come up on the Wounded Coast and I've decided to see to the situation myself. We'll have to arrange another meeting time. Is that alright?"
Sparrow tip-tapped her feet against the cobblestones, creating a significantly more annoying tune whenever the guards shot glares in her direction. She only shrugged her shoulders, levelling her own lidded gaze, partly because it seemed to cause them some sort of personal affront – were all guardsmen so testy? Or did her presence somehow threaten them? Patience had never been a virtue of hers. Beams of sunlight kissed their shiny pauldrons, reflected from their breastplates like old lighthouse beacons leading other grumpy-faced back into port, and she'd actually left her sturdy set of armour back in Rilien's homestead (because homestead sounded so much better than hovel). Instead, she'd opted for a slender-fitting set of leathers, coalesced with shiny, freshly-washed vestments that might have belonged to a freebooter. Slightly better than running around in noble's wear, but not by much.
Her mace still swung neatly at her hip, looking awfully large without her bulky plate mail. Had it been anyone else, they might have arrested her for looking far too peculiar. Thankfully, they were awfully familiar with her by now. She yawned theatrically, stretching her arms above her head. In the midst of her stretch, Sparrow spotted Sophia approaching from the top of the stairwell, and deftly dropped her hands, rubbing absently at the corners of her eyes. “Sophia,” She greeted merrily, nearly bounding up the remaining stairs to meet her. Her mouth opened to say more, but was promptly shut when her well-to-do companion announced that she had other matters to attend to. It made sense, after all. A quick glimpse was all it took to see that she was geared to leave the city – or else, did she always don her armour? Disappointment weighed briefly in her stomach, anchoring her in place.
“Ah!” Sparrow suddenly chirped, nodding her head sagely. She was familiar enough with the Wounded Coast, having met with Amalia there on occasion and wandering there when she had to clear her head and her heart. “Why don't I accompany you, then? Four hands are always better than two.”
Sophia's first instinct was to refuse, considering that the task she'd taken upon herself was likely dangerous, and she wouldn't want to bring that danger upon someone who didn't understand what they were getting into. But after a moment of thought, she figured Sparrow knew exactly what she was signing up for by offering to help. Sophia was as armed and armored as she'd ever been, she had a pair of city guards flanking her, and was moving with a sense of urgency that implied impending danger. Sophia noted the mace hanging at Sparrow's hip.
"In that case, we can talk about it on the way," she said happily, continuing on down the stairs to the bottom and signaling for Sparrow to follow her. Really, she imagined even Bran would approve of this. While Sophia would have liked to believe she could place utter faith in the guard, her past experience told her otherwise. Friends outside the sphere of traditional authority had to be more reliable, and Sophia found that she had not enough in this regard. She felt that Sparrow could possibly fill that area, based on what she knew of her personality so far. She seemed bold, and while she didn't strike her as someone who had the utmost respect for authority, Sophia thought she could sense a good heart in her. If she was freely offering her services like this, it only added to that belief.
"A patrol didn't report back on time. Normally I'd let the guard handle it, but their route of the Wounded Coast has been hit by bandits pretty regularly, enough for me to think there's some kind of organization to it. We're going to put a stop to it, whatever it is." They pushed their way through the front doors and off to the side, towards the stables, where horses were already brought out and waiting. Sophia whistled loudly, gesturing to one of the stablehands. "One more for my friend here, please!" She then turned to the half-elf.
"Do you ride, Sparrow?"
Sparrow waited, eyebrows flagged expectantly. Had she been refused, she would have simply offered her services once more, perhaps a little more adamantly, until Sophia finally caved in. She could be persuasive if she wanted to, or just insufferably irritating – both of which usually worked to swaying someone to her way of thinking. Who wouldn't accept another willing hand, a steady sword, or specifically a heavy-handed mace that could crush skulls and ribs alike? Not many, she thought. When Sophia inclined her head, Sparrow threw her a lopsided grin and mock-saluted the guards flanking their dear lady. Thinking better of it, the half-elf dropped her waggling fingers and joined Sophia at her side. Usually, guardsmen were busy chasing her fading trail down dark alleyways for causing trouble, and now she'd be fighting alongside them, however temporarily.
“That's great!” She approved, tromping down the stairs two at a time. Two birds, one stone. Though, she might have offered her services even if she hadn't had business with Sophia. Sticking her nose in other peoples business, when she was around to be nosey, was commonplace, and as Rilien usually said, would get her in more trouble than she warranted – but Sophia was a beautiful lady who she hadn't yet seen swing a sword, who could walk away? She could wear all the world's emotions on her face and still not mean any of them, but this time, her smile was genuine, clearly appreciative. She could not profess to know Sophia as well as she did her other companions, but anyone who was willing to help her, without much to go on, couldn't be ill-intentioned. Sophia was, in truest form, a knight. Perhaps, a little like Lucien.
She nodded. The Wounded Coast was renown for its dangers. If there weren't bandits plaguing the roads, then there were rogue Qunari – those who'd willingly left the Qun's teachings, otherwise known as Tal-Vashoth, creeping in the underbrush. Their motivations, even still, were unknown beyond escaping their chosen vocations in their strict society. She'd questioned on more than one occasion whether or not she fit in that category. Had she not done the same thing? She'd just chosen not to do away with her life as a mercenary, hiding in the mountains like a snake. Unorganized, pathless. Sparrow pitied them. She'd found her own path through her many travels, paving a road she couldn't have ever thought possible. But, perhaps, it had been because she was not truly Qunari, nor elven, nor human. “That is worrisome,” She added, rolling her eyes skywards. Organized bandits in groups capable of taking on skilled, experienced warriors? There were few capable of such a feat. Could they be...
A horse? Sparrow's ears twitched, lowering restlessly. The whistle caught her off-guard, but what had surprised her most was when the stablehand trotted back from the stables, guiding a large beast in his wake. Horses were treacherous creatures, always snorting and pawing at the ground. Probably whispering to each other in horse-language, plotting to toss you off like a sack of potatoes, straight off a cliff. “Oh, uh...” she began, idling slightly away from the horse, who'd pushed its muzzle towards her face, “Riding. I've never really, honestly. Uh, but it can't be that hard, can it?” Fingers, unusually unsure, snatched up the reigns, dropped them and moved towards the saddle. The horn on the saddle looked useless to her, but the dangling-metal contraptions hanging on the bottom looked promising. She paused momentarily, and regarded the other guards, and Sophia, as well. Perhaps, it might be easier watching someone else mount, and she could (attempt to) follow suit.
Sophia's own horse, a white destrier equally as beautiful as he was powerful, was trotted out to meet her. He had been a birthday gift for her upon her twentieth birthday, and was certainly one of her truest friends. She stroked his silvery mane affectionately once before lifting her right boot up into the stirrup, taking a grip on the pommel and rising, swinging her right leg over and settling easily into the saddle. She turned him around to face Sparrow, smiling gently at her hesitation.
"Aiden can hold two, if you're uncomfortable. I don't mind," she said, removing her foot from the stirrup and offering Sparrow a hand if she wished to climb up. Instantly learning to ride a horse was no easy task, and they wouldn't be traveling slowly, that much was certain.
After fiddling with the reigns and the metal-contraptions for a moment, and even attempting to swing her leg the wrong way onto the horses saddle, only hopping along with the bemused creature, Sparrow halted her clumsy attempts. It would do her no good if they started galloping and she was left hanging from the stirrups, banging her head on the ground. She certainly wouldn't know how to stop the horse if it misbehaved. She gave the horse an uneasy pat on the muzzle, handed the reigns off to one of the burly, smarmy-mouthed guards and turned on her heels.
Surely, Sophia wouldn't think ill of her not knowing how to ride. She'd only been around the deer-like variety as a child, and the Qunari had no need for valiant steeds. Too proud to let another creature bear it's burdens. Sparrow circled around Sophia's horse (who seemed a little more experienced) and snatched up the proffered hand, and with a little difficulty, managed to swing behind her. For once, she wasn't exactly sure where to rest her hands, so she settled them onto her knees and laughed. “Thank you. Hrm. Perhaps, you can give me riding lessons one day. I can't remain useless on horses.”