An Eventful Arrival

[Princess Aloisia Sorestan]

The ride to Camelot was long and hard. A large convoy had set out from the King's castle in Cenred; a mixture of knights, archers, servants and other nobles who had seen the Princess' journey as an opportunity to travel themselves in style and safety. Aloisia preferred to travel in small groups or solo if such a thing were possible. Large parties were a large target for bandits or mercenaries; both of which had been running rampant in the outskirts of Cenred for years.

On her third day in the saddle, one of the daughters of a merchant Lord had sought to engage Princess Aloisia in conversation. Pulling her pretty little riding mare in beside the better built and wilder spirited horse that suited Aloisia's purposes. The differences between the two women could not have been more apparent than in that one singular moment; one riding side-saddle on a delicate grey mare, the other seated astride her mount buckled into her armour with an anxious sword sheathed at her waist. The forest crept past them at a snail's pace. The young noblewoman so obviously wanted to speak, whilst the Princess did everything in her power to ignore her.

“Are you looking forward to our arrival in Camelot, my Lady?” the young girl eventually asked. Aloisia refrained from wincing, the precious silence having been startled away like a nervous starling.

“Mmm,” was her nondescript reply. She hoped that such an unsatisfactory response might be enough to stem the girl's chit-chat. She was disappointed.

“I've heard it's a very great place. Apparently the castle is quite extensive and beautiful.” The girl lifted a hand from her reins, twirling one of her carefully contrived blonde ringlets between the tips of her gloved fingers.

Aloisia, her hands bare and worn from activity, kept her hazel eyes stitched to the road ahead. “So I'm lead to believe,” she replied in a bored tone. The young noblewoman was not to be deterred.

“Many have said that the castle isn't the only thing beautiful about Camelot,” she continued unthinkingly. “One of the ladies of the court told me that when she visited last summer, Prince Arthur was very much admired.”

Aha! thought Aloisia to herself, her autumn gaze breaking from its course to veer sharply at the girl's face. She said nothing, though her jaw was set in a very hard line that complemented the pursing of her lips perfectly.

“She told her her heart was broken when her father brought her back to Cenred.”

“Her heart may have been broken,” answered Aloisia with droll intention, “But her virtue remained intact. Which is a lot more than can be said for many of the women to fall for Arthur Pendragon, or so I've heard.”

The girl looked taken aback, and looked at the Princess with wide blue eyes. “But â€" My Lady! Aren't you travelling to Camelot in order to win over the Prince and secure the kingdom's future?”

Now we were coming to the point of this little tete-a-tete. “So I'm told,” Aloisia replied with a smirk. She had never met the Prince in question and he may very well be a good sort of fellow, but for the most part the only thing that interested her about Arthur Pendragon was his reputation on the field of battle. She thought she could learn considerably from the older knights in Camelot, and she was determined to do just that. Confused, the girl let her horse fall back further into the procession, leaving the Princess to her thoughts.

The fourth day began without incident. The camp was packed up and ready to leave before dawn, the conclusion to their journey greatly anticipated before sunset that evening when all of them would be able to sleep in an honest bed. They had travelled quite a few leagues and were almost on the last stretch of road when Aloisia's horse stirred uneasily. Something was wrong, she could feel it. Setting her heels to her willing steed's flank, she cantered forward to speak with the head of the Royal Guard. No sooner had she warned him to be on the lookout, her unease proved to be founded.

Her sword hissed as it was released from its scabbard, lifted hastily to deflect the arrow that nearly was Aloisia's last adornment. “Get the rest to cover!” she told her guards, urging her horse forward and up the steep embankment on the side of the road to avoid the cloying manner in which they had tried to surround her with themselves. From her new position she could see three bandits nearby, with little doubt that they were greater in number as a whole. She ran the first man down on her horse, its eager hooves churning the leaf litter that blanketed the forest floor. He tumbled beneath her horse's charge with a howl of pain and lay quite still thereafter.

The second man ran forward, an angry yell on his lips and a short sword in his hand. Without the ability to house her sword Aloisia flicked her reins from her fingers. Her horse ran wilder with a free head and she worked quickly to prevent him from endangering her. Quick fingers dipped into the folds of the tunic she wore beneath her armour, drawing out two small pieces of flat metal. A lightning fast overhand cast followed in quick succession by another just the same sent both pieces humming through the air. The first hit its intended mark, sinking with a dreadful accuracy into the man's exposed throat. The second was slightly off target and embedded itself in his arm instead.

A rough pair of hands then caught hold of the leather dagger belt she wore around her right thigh and she was sent off balance. Removing her feet from her stirrups to prevent from being inadvertently dragged behind her horse, Aloisia rolled on the soft dirt road and swiftly gained her feet. The man in front of her was dirty and ragged, but he held his sword point dangerously low and steady. Whoever he was, he was no peasant. She had a horrible thought that he was a sword for hire, and that he had been hired to lie in wait for her specifically.

He obliged her by making the first move. Darting forward like an adder he struck for her shoulder. It would have been a debilitating blow if he'd succeeded, but as it was the Princess deflected his blow and dealt a well practised counterstrike. Their swords clashed again, Aloisia's impatience to have done with him wearing through her composure. She kicked out with her powerful leg, landing her foot in the man's belly and winding him. Gasping for breath, the last thing the mercenary saw in his life was a pair of blazing hazel eyes.

Her men were still at work on the rest of the fiends, but she could hear that they were breaking off into the forest in fear and defeat. She stooped to the man's body, her hands rummaging through his pockets to see if she could find any clues. A small piece of parchment was turned out of his sleeve, worn and dirty as if it had been held for hours on end. There was one word written on it, in black with with a heavy hand.

Aloisia.

The gates of Camelot were opened to them shortly after sunset that evening. Weary and looking forward to a bath, Aloisia kept her wits about her long after they arrived in the castle courtyard. Her convoy split and moved in different directions; the nobles either going into the castle or waiting to be collected by some relative or friend they were staying at. The rest of them went with their masters. Aloisia dismounted with a spring in her muscles that masked her fatigue, her hand slipping her rein from around her horse's neck so that she could hold him steady. She had no idea who would be welcoming her to the castle, but the longer she waited, the more anxious she became.

[Alais Olivia Strider]

Alais’ brows knit, and her mouth purses with a displeased sort of expression. Her gaze falls downwards to sweep across the dull cobblestone underfoot. The girl releases a vaguely irritated sigh as she shifts from one foot towards the other. Fidgeting despite the fact that she, along with the few soldiers that accompanied her, should be within ranks, hands tucked behind her back and head held high. The whole ten yards, so to speak.

Though truth be told, nigh everyone around these parts were growing weary of waiting, and understandably so. The convoy from visiting lands was long overdue by this point in the day. Though were they truly to be blamed? The trip took days, even in the most prime of conditions, and heaven knew the luck that was required for a journey to ride out so smoothly was next to unheard of. And, still, Alais found herself growing antsy, the plate armor draped across her chest - simply for show, mind you - was growing heavy, weighing upon her shoulders and near forcing her to slouch.

Some soldiers were murmuring amongst themselves. Musing sickly about what may be the cause of the delay. Alais, on the other hand, was not. Though it wasn’t for the fact that she wasn’t fond of sick jokes, in fact, throughout her stay within the army, Alais had learned to enjoy such crude jesting. Alais, however, said naught, for her friends were few and far between. Oh, sure, she’d come across a number of acquaintances well enough, though she wasn’t close enough to clap hand upon back and tease with fervor. Truth be told, Alais was fine with that. After all, she tended to be quite hot headed, and didn’t need the encouragement from some wild boys.

When the gates to the castle cracked open, though, it all was a different story, with the select few boys righting themselves. Their heels clicked together almost instantly, with chests puffed, and their hands tucked into their proper place.

The welcoming wagon. She’d been told it would be an honor, that she’d be one of the few left to tend to the nobles needs, to welcome them to the castle, and offer any and all assistance they could upon arrival.

She’d been told it was an honor. Alais saw it as a waste of time. Still, some sucking up wouldn’t do any harm. Heaven knew she needed to get on her superiors’ good sides if she were to ever get anywhere within the army. At the time, she was naught but a simple page, and while it suited her personally, it certainly didn’t suit her needs.

She hesitated a moment, allowing for the masses to dissipate at least somewhat before she found herself stepping forth, and toward a woman whom was dismounting her horse - the woman, Alais would later come to know, was the foreign princess. The girl gave a quick dip to her head, alongside a shallow bow, covering all bases, as near everyone could still be considered her superior.

“My lady,” the girl utters almost uncertainly, hoping to not make herself sound like some sort of fool, “Perhaps I can be of some assistance?” she offers thereafter, a hand lifting with a cupped palm, willing to take the reigns of that god awful beast, despite her fears of such.

“If it pleases you.”

(Hope this is all okay! It’s a lot shorter than yours! :3)

[Princess Aloisia Sorestan]

(It's wonderful! Thank you so much for replying to me and saving me from death-by-boredom! <3)

At first, Aloisia didn't even notice the assembly of servants and guards awaiting their arrival. She had been expecting the King, to be frank, and was annoyed that she had been slighted in such a way. So, Uther and his son couldn't be bothered to receive their foreign guests with grace or the semblance of a warm welcome. The Princess gripped her reins in one hand, sliding the other up the straps of leather closer to the bit to better control her mount. As if he had only just thought of it, the temperamental beast tossed his head awkwardly. With a sideways glance at her young steed, Aloisia saw a soldier step forward and acknowledge her.

'Well,' she thought to herself wryly. 'At least someone in Camelot has manners!'.

“Thank you,” she replied earnestly, keeping a firm hold on her reins as she knew the beast would be too much for the young guard. She'd only had her new war charger for two months and he was impossibly green and almost as stubborn as her, if such a thing were possible. It was part of the reason why Aloisia had chosen him. Once she had gained the creature's trust she was positive that he would be a loyal companion in battle. Her hazel eyes then fell to her Lieutenant, a man who was well past retirement age but whom her father refused to release from service. Aloisia nodded to the guard, indicating that the Lieutenant's horse should be seen to.

Her Lieutenant, Waeorp, smiled at the Princess gratefully and ushered the rest of their party off towards the castle, leaviing the other horses with other servants. Aloisia always tended to her own horse. It was not only a habit but one born from being someone that could be assassinated in order to gain control over Cenred. Another good reason for her to make arrangements for Waeorp's mount was because the old man was like a much kinder father to her. “Thank you, Your Highness,” the elderly man said as he drifted away for a well earned rest.

“You're welcome, Waeorp.”

She was so glad that they had finally reached Camelot. At night it looked like a wondrous thing; a mysterious illusion straight from one of the fairy books her mother had bought her â€" and tried to make her read â€" as a child. Princess Aloisia didn't put much stock in fairy tales. In her mind they deluded children into thinking that they could view the world through rose-coloured glasses or wander about wearing rich dresses when they were, in fact, paupers. They gave the impression that good always won over evil and that hope was always in plentiful supply. Aloisia had learned through hard experience that this was simply not the case.

“Please take this horse and show me to the stables? I fear that Radrhan is too unruly when I am not about, and he can be quite dangerous.” She clapped a calloused hand to the gelding's dusty neck, caring very little for how she must have appeared, a strange Princess from a strange place dressed in even stranger attire.

[Alais Olivia Strider]

Alais was suddenly all too thankful that she’d been denied the reigns of the woman’s horse. If there was one thing that certainly wouldn’t cure her fear of the beasts, it was most certainly an overly fiesty one, capable of stomping her brains out without even a moment’s worth of hesitation. Simply the thought of it made Alais cringe, though she did her best to avoid that creeping sensation drawing along the line of her spine.

Soldiers didn’t cringe, after all.

Still, the girl accepted the older gentleman’s reigns, and sidled toward the other side of the horse - away from the other girl’s. One never knew when an animal may snap, after all. Though in all truth, she hoped her behavior wasn’t too suspicious, and that the young woman wouldn’t notice. As far as Alais was concerned that was about the last thing she needed - to be mocked for acting fearful in the line of duty, people already believed her to be an inadequate soldier.

Still with reigns in hand, Alais gave a dip of her head forth, ushering the woman in the general direction of the damned stables, “They’re this way, M’Lady,” Alais coos almost awkwardly, the title still sounding strange and foreign upon her tongue. With those words, Alais tugged the old man’s horse forth to lead the small group on and to the stables.

“If I might inquire…” Alais asks begins thereafter, her head lolling to look back upon the rough around the edges woman, “And if you may pardon my ignorance,” Alais gives a purse to her mouth, “But I don’t believe I’ve been granted your name?” Okay, so perhaps it wasn’t quite a question, but the concept of proper manners was a new one to Alais, as before joining the Prince’s army, she’d never had the privilege of making the acquaintance of those with noble blood.

“I trust your trip was well enough?” she asks thereafter, gods help her if she was talking too much. Heaven knew Alais didn’t know where the line was to be drawn, she’d never been forced to tend to those of nobility, hell, all she truly knew how to do was serve drunks at a bar!

If naught else, her time within the army would make for a wonderful, and charming bar tale some day.

Alais’ free hand lifts upwards to soothe upon the curve of that horse’s neck, keeping in mind what Hyacinthe had told her. She needed to mind the horse, to be sensitive of its needs and wants. And feelings. Truth be told, Alais was hesitant to believe such a thing actually worked, though she was willing to give it a try before she so eagerly dismissed it.

[Princess Aloisia Sorestan]

Almost as if sensing the apprehension of the soldier, Radrhan attempted to rear and jerked his head upwards sharply. Ready for it, Aloisia tightened her grip on the reins with one fist and slapped the horse on his near shoulder. The gelding jumped and seemed to fall back into line, enticing a smirk from his mistress. She followed the young woman faithfully in the direction of the stables, pleased to see the welcoming lights ahead of them when she was spoken to. She was surprised that Uther Pendragon would send a servant out to meet her instead of greeting her himself let alone a servant that didn't know who she was. Luckily for the soldier Aloisia wasn't the type to bear ill will over such a thing.

“Aloisia,” she replied simply, the makings of a smile hovering around the corners of her mouth. She had to purse her lips when the next question was hung like a wet shift on a low lying branch, dripping cold remembrance onto her resolve in the most chilling manner. Any beginnings of a smile were now dissolved as the strange piece of paper was brought freshly into her mind. Aloisia's eyes took on a faraway cast, and she frowned slightly as they led the pair of horses into the stables. Assuming she was welcome to any of the free bays she wished to occupy, Aloisia led Radrhan into one and tied him securely. She didn't trust herself to answer the young woman's query before she had started to fiddle with the girth straps of Radrhan's saddle.

“My journey here was interrupted by bandits,” she replied at length, her voice terse and her face serious as she met the young woman's eyes over the barrier between the stalls. “We dealt with them. I will need to discuss the matter with someone in the morning. An assault on visiting royalty is usually deemed an important matter. But this Camelot,” Aloisia paused, looking around herself as though she was just seeing the place for the first time. “This Camelot seems to be a strange place.”

An idea seemed to come to the Princess in that moment. Depite outward appearances she was certain that Uther Pendragon would have assigned a servant or even several to her aid for the duration of her stay. But this young woman would be able to slip around unseen and would serve the Princess' purposes better. But was she worthy? “What information can you tell me about this place? What sort of man is your King?” She smiled, a look that made her seem all the more feminine regardless of the armour she wore. “You needn't fear any reprisals. I only mean to learn how to behave.”

[Alais Olivia Strider]

Alais found herself tensing as the woman’s horse bucks a slight. Those green eyes of hers widen, and her hands tighten upon the reigns of the beast she’d been charged with, lest he, too, get out of hand and away from her. It was something which Alais didn’t even wish to consider. An irrational fear? Sure, but to be honest, it was one of the few which Alais held onto after her months of training.

It wasn’t long after, that she was gaining the woman’s name, though the favor was not returned, as, well, it wasn’t asked of her, and Alais is fairly certain that the girl had already spoken out of turn more than her fair share. Not that she knew the customs of this woman’s homeland. Still, Alais had been scolded for speaking out of turn more than her fair share within her youth, and her lack of wit hadn’t gotten her anywhere within adulthood. Needless to say, the both of them were simply better off with her dumb yap clamped shut. It was far easier for Alais, too.

Aloisia’s next words fell heavy though, and it brought regret fluttering to her heart. Perhaps she should have simply kept quiet altogether. It certainly would have kept her from this awkward silence which passed. Miss Strider was uncertain of how to reply, “Oh,” she mutters under her breath, ducking low to busy her hands with the belt settled about the horse’s wide stomach, “I apologize for any inconveniences,” Was that even appropriate for this situation? A little late to be considering that now, or so she thinks, “I’d imagine so!” she manages thereafter, lifting toward tip toes to heft the saddle completely from the creature’s back.

“I apologize for such an informal greeting,” she manages, then, finally finding some seemingly proper words for the circumstances, “I imagine our king is a very busy man, though I also imagine that’s no excuse, Miss,” though truth be told, Alais was so low on the totem pole that she truly had no clue what their king was doing within present time, nor why he couldn’t heft his ancient ass towards the gates of his own city.

Miss Strider steps easily enough towards the horse’s front to slip the bit from the beast’s mouth, before her head tips to address the woman speaking to her. She wished to know of the king, and Alais truly didn’t know what to tell her. She wished for the truth, though Alais was within no one’s good graces, and couldn’t afford to stir up any sorts of trouble, “King Pendragon…” the girl allows for a moment to pause, genuinely mulling over her reply, “Initially I believed him to be…” another pause, “A prick, though one could argue that he’s getting better. Perhaps it is old age,” she offers up, “Perhaps he actually is learning. Though I’ve not the faintest how he behaves behind closed doors. His son seems to be much the same,” the truth, she supposes.

If naught else she supposed that she’d find herself serving ale alongside her mother once more, she offers up a charming sort of smile, then, pulling upon the swell of her pout.

[Princess Aloisia Sorestan]

Unable to help herself from being a little amused on behalf of the solider as her mount bucked, Aloisia continued to see to his tack. She removed it with a single-minded efficiency that betrayed her habits in a way that would made her feel uncomfortable if she'd noticed, and listened to what the girl was telling her, a small smile on her lips. She waved off the apology with a negligent flick of her hand; the only apology that she would have accepted would have been from the bandits themselves. As it was, they were all now in shallow graves and wouldn't be offering any words of sorrow any time soon. This thought brought her great comfort, in lieu of their half-assed condolences.

It was all the Princess could do not to laugh when she heard Pendragon labelled a prick. Such language was – by her accounts – quiet tame and she had to own to herself that she had heard him called worse than that before. Radrhan wuffled under his breath, seeming to join his mistress in her amusement. She laid a fond hand on his neck, looking at the girl. “I have heard as much,” she confessed without worry. She was a Princess in her own right, albeit one without any protection save that she could afford herself. “I am sent here by my father. He wishes for our house to be linked with that of your King.” She levelled a weighted look at the girl before she stooped to unbuckle her saddle girth.

Hefting the heavy leather seat and sliding it towards her, Aloisia lifted it and balanced it atop the stable box partition behind her before turning back to the girl with a smile.”What is your name? I don't have any friends in Camelot, or at least that's the way it seems. It would be nice to be able to call one person by their name at least!”

(Sorry for the shortness! Trying to sort out my muse. ))

[Alais Olivia Strider]

Well, at least Alais wasn’t alone in thinking Pendragon was a prick. This made her pleased, at least somewhat. Though truth be told, as of late, it didn’t take much to make Alais at least somewhat happy. After all, she had been fundamentally miserable for some weeks, if not months, now, caught beneath his son’s boot-heel; within the army.

Alais smiles then and there, though more to herself than anything else.

Soon enough though, the horse she’d been tasked with was bare, save for its own coat, and with that, Alais hoists the saddle she’d set to the side, upwards and into her lap, only to waddle almost awkwardly towards the gate of that particular stall. She seems quick to kick the heavy gate closed behind her. Or at least somewhat. The wooden door certainly does move, though not far by any means, and certainly not closed. Alais sets the saddle upon the floorboards before closing the gate properly, lest that terrifying beast sneak past, and straight out the front door.

Heaven knew that certainly wouldn’t put her on anyone’s good side, let alone this rough around the edges girl.

“Ah,” Alais mutters dumbly, “Well, good luck with your ventures.” she wishes, then, stooping to pluck up that saddle hopefully for the last time this evening, “Though as far as I know the king would be quite inclined to strengthen his house,” she reasons. It made sense, didn’t it? What king wouldn’t wish to ensure his place upon the throne? To make allies, rather than enemies. Heaven knew it would allow for countless opportunities that Alais, as a simple barmaid’s daughter, and soldier, couldn’t even fathom.

Not that she cared to.

“Forgive me,” Alais apologizes, then, “My name is Alais. I apologize for not asking your name,” Manners clearly were not Alais’ forte, well, at least not immediately.

(Sorry about my post, too. D: I’m having the same issue, too. Hopefully we’ll be able to get back into the swing of things soon!)