Fetch and Carry (open)

[Grace de Beaumont]

Every day just before work, it was one of Grace's duties to fetch water needed for the daily use in the Apothecary Shop. Through trial and error, six pails seemed the right amount so three trips were required to and from the street well located four shops down.

Normally the most menial of tasks, Grace actually looked forward to the chore, especially if she got to the well early enough to hit the 'gossip wave', her private pet name for the morning rush when many would come to draw water for their daily needs. As buckets could only be drawn up one pail at a time, it offered a good opportunity for everyone to stand around and gossip. At first Grace has stood in shy amazement, listening to the others chattering away like magpies about daily affairs, but as they became used to her presence, often the other servants included her in their chats.

In a flash of brilliance one morning, Grace had cleverly grumbled about hating her boss so much, she'd like to see him offed then wondered aloud how one got it done. That's when Grace first heard talk of 'The Brotherhood'. No one seemed to be very sure if this group were myth or real, but several swore their '... cousin's husband's brother's particular friend...' had probably been part of it. Part demon-worshippers, part murder-for-hire, part thieves, part clever (and handsome) rogues, all manner of stories were exchanged, much to Grace's fascination. Each sizable city had their own shady back-street guilds, but this was the first real lead she'd had since arriving to Camelot of anyone possibly connected in the murder of her family. An organization of killers seemed the best place to start looking.

Carrying her last load, Grace walked carefully along the cobbled street, arms aching with the weight of the pails, close to the curb so she wouldn't be in the way of carts and horses. Someone was yelling across the street and she took her eyes off her path for a moment. Overbalancing the two buckets, Grace teetered as the water sloshed, a large splat hitting the pavement directly at someone's feet.

"Sorry!.... sorry!" she stammered.

[Dante Grixis]

Dante took a small step back as the girl in front of him spilled water onto the cobblestone at his feet. He was dressed in his usual cloak with the hood drawn over his face and his chainmail glinted in the sun where it was exposed. He looked at her and said, "Oh, no its fine miss. Let me help you." He took the two water buckets from her and looked at her, waiting for her to lead him to where she was going.

In the back of his mind he though about how imposing he must look to this girl. He was at least a head taller than her and his face was concealed. He hoped that he wouldn't be scared by him though. The only people he liked to appear threatening to were his targets. In that instance fear was a vital asset. Fear could paralyze a man for just long enough that Dante could deliver a killing blow.

The Brotherhood had grown in the public eye in the days since his attempted assassination of the Prince and the heist at the magic school. The town guards were increasing there investigation into the dealings of the organization and its members, but they still turned up nothing. The Brotherhood had a code of silence, and if it was broken you could be sure that soon you would become a victim of a highly trained assassin, and your death would not be swift.

[Grace de Beaumont]

Blanching as she looked up -- and up and up -- Grace's head tilted back as a stranger addressed her. Perfectly expecting to be cuffed for her clumsiness or at least ignored, she was further astonished when the man smoothly relieved her of the buckets.

"Oh.... no, sur. Ya shouldn't do that, sur!" Grace fumbled with her words, trying to get her bearings with this person. Society on the street was as precise as that in the court -- you had to size up someone's station quickly, and adjust the way you addressed them in kind. But this man confused her greatly. He was dressed plainly enough to be a peasant, but he carried himself with more natural grace than any laborer. His very soft accent was very hard to place, a mixture of many places but none could be pinned down. He had stopped to help which was curiosity in and of itself and he had called her 'miss'; no one but the lowest of the lows would treat a common shop-girl with such courtesy, yet from his inflextions and manners, he was not a street tough.

Grace pushed hair out of her face in confusion. "It's, uh.... this way?" Grace smoothed her brown skirts in nervousness as she gestured toward the Apothecary Shop. "But really, I can carry th' lot if y'need to be movin' along?"

[Dante Grixis]

Dante smiled as at the girls apparent shock to his kindness. She seemed confused, and as everyone else he met, had a million questions for him. His accent usually had a few questions, his scars a few more and his mannerisms had a whole heap. Each had an predetermined answer of lie or truth and from answering each one so many times he knew how to answer each flawlessly.

He followed the girl towards the apothecary shop. "Oh no. I'm in no hurry to be anywhere." He replied simply. The buckets didn't weigh to much to him so they were no burden. His stride was not encumbered at all by the weight and he walked easily down the streets of the town in the bright sunlight. His feet clapped against the cobblestones and a light pre-winter breeze blew. This would be one of the last days like this before winters icy grasp took hold. He was glad that he had chosen today to take his first walk in weeks.

He had been rushing to his destinations without really taking any time to take in the scenery lately. He had been apprehensive for a while after his escape from prison but it seemed that the general populous had forgotten the face on the posters that had littered the streets for a week. He was enjoying his walk to nowhere when Grace had bumped into him and he had no reservations about helping her. He had nothing better to do anyway.

[Grace de Beaumont]

Flustered but still very pleased for the help, Grace waved her arm in the direction the man should take, not sure if she should lead or follow. She opted for moving just slightly ahead.

"Yer kindness itself," she bubbled away. "I should be grateful th' well is no further than it tis, but it tis a bit of a chore." Chewing her lip as they walked, foremost in Grace's mind was the disaster with the lad Henry yesterday. She had chatted away at him unmindful of his feelings, said something to offend and he'd taken off. She didn't want a repeat but Grace also needed to start actively trying to find information about her family.

"If y' don't mind my sayin' it, sur..... looks like you've been in a bit o' rough 'n tumble." Her eye traveled curiously to the long scar across the man's face. If one had to have a scar in so visible a location, this one was certainly well placed for it gave the tall man a certain dashing quality. Like a knight from a tale. "Be you a knight?"

Grace doubted he was; knights tended to swagger a bit and wear parts of their armor about even when they didn't expect a fight. To show off.

[Dante Grixis]

Dante shook his head. "Me, no." He chuckled a bit. The girl couldn't be further from the truth with that one, but he couldn't let her know. "I haven't wielded a blade in a long time. I was a guard on a merchant caravan back in Spain but that's the closest to a Knight I've ever been." He said and looked down at Grace with his dark eyes, lightly examining her.

She was of one of the lower classes but not the lowest. Her hands indicated that she didn't do much hard labor, a housewife probably. Her father probably toiled in the fields to make wage and she needed to get this job to help make ends meet. She was pretty, younger than him and small. Kind of like a woman you would expect to have suitors left and right if she was a noble.

He made those several assumptions in a matter of seconds and he nodded thinking himself to be fairly accurate. He usually was. Years of watching people and examining their marks made it easy for Dante to discern several things about them the second he met them.

The girl led them into the apothecary and Dante set the buckets onto the counter and listened to the three men having a conversation in the front of the shop. He smiled a bit when he realized it was about him. He was hiding in plain sight.

[Grace de Beaumont]

"I say again.... thank ya kindly for helpin' with the water." Grace presented her best smile, wondering if she should be doing something else. Did he expect a coin? Something to drink? Grace felt all the inexperience of having lived a sheltered life away from common folk on the street; she could possibly be giving offense where none was intended.

While she was shifting from one foot to the next in indecision, she noted the tall man's attention flicker to some men outside the shop. Curious, she stopped speaking and listened, too. As near as she could tell, it was just more town gossip, something about a prison escape.

Coughing gently, Grace tried to fill the silence as the townmen moved on. "That's somethin' I'm havin' ta get used to, living in such a large city. There's always somethin' goin' on.... never a dull moment as they say. I'm new t' Camelot." She tried not to stare up into the man's face, half-hidden as it still was under the hood. Her head jerked in the direction of the departing men. "Do things like that happen often here? I mean.... Camelot seems peaceful and law-abidin' on th' surface, but underneath, there's somethin' just.... a little bit off?" Grace pretended to get a little flustered here, being embarrassed, but she listened keenly for what his answer would be. Perhaps he could give her some inkling about the shadier side of this fair city, some direction to aid her search.

[Dante Grixis]

Dante shrugged indifferently. "I'm new in Camelot as well but from what I've ascertained, it would seem that this peaceful city has quite the extensive criminal underworld. The Brotherhood is growing in power, so bold that they tried to assassinate the Prince, and then the assassin escaped from prison. Thieves broke into the mage's guild recently. I don't think that any of us can quite comprehend the scope of the unseen problems this city faces." He replied leaning on the counter, looking at Grace.

"And the thing with the Brotherhood is no body knows who is in it." He said. He knew who was in it, but he would never tell. "Some people you would never expect to be in it are members. Like your boss could be an assassin after the sun goes down. Who knows?"

He looked over the counter at the jars and the bottles full of elixirs and ingredients. "You have any apples back there?" He asked.

[Grace de Beaumont]

"The Brotherhood," Grace breathed. Her mouth went dry, eyes widening as the tall man went on with his news. This sinister group certainly sounded capable of killing her family! An attempt on a royal heir was an act of wanton audacity; Grace was surprised the Royal Guard had thrown the assassin in prison instead of removing his head immediately at the chopping block. A group capable of attempting such a crime as regicide would find no qualms about obliterating a minor noble family from a remote border shire.

On the point if inquiring further, Grace had to shake herself mentally as the stranger asked a question. "Apples? Uhm, sure...." In fact, the Apothecary Shop did not sell produce but Grace had brought an apple for lunch. Bringing the fruit out, she untied her headscarf, her long golden hair spilling out, and began to polish the apple with the cloth. "It's quite clean, I assure you," she chuckled. As she polished, she glanced up occasionally with small private smiles.

Grace was quite sure Richard would be horrified with her batting eyelashes at a common stranger, but if it got more information, what was the harm? "This Brotherhood.... they sound bold as brass goin' after th' Heir. Why do they do it, d'ya know?? Be they hired out by other kingdoms, enemies of King Uther?" Finished with her task, Grace held out the shiny apple, smiling brilliantly up at the man's face to show her dimples. "Or do they do it just to be.... bothersome?"

[Dante Grixis]

Dante smiled as he took the apple and thanked Grace. He knew he shouldn't answer any more of her questions but he just couldn't resist, her smile was intoxicating and Dante couldn't say no to that. He never could. Women had a strange way with him, he would do anything for them, often against his better judgement. Much like now.

"The Brotherhood are trained assassins and thieves. They'll do anything for anyone, assuming that the pay is right." He said and inwardly cursed himself for his weakness. To took a bite of the apple and after swallowing it he continued, "Contracts could come from other kingdoms, a rich citizen with a vendetta, it really doesn't matter. Money talks. They will kill anyone from a peasant to a noble."

As he chewed on the apple he realized that he should keep the seeds. Properly prepared you could extract a particularly deadly poison, cyanide. It could come in handy with a mission down the road and he never knew when he would need it.

"How much do I owe you?" He asked and gave her a charming smile, hoping to change the subject.

[Grace de Beaumont]

Grace pursed her lips in supposed thought, momentarily a bit awed at the man's winning smile. It lit his face up incredibly -- what she could see of it under the hood -- making him look years younger than her first impression of him had been. She wished he would push the hood off so she could see him better.

Grace shook her head at his offer of payment, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Tha' depends. How much do I owe you? I'd say th' rate for the toil of trudging two buckets of water 'cross the street should at least equal one apple. A good barter."

Strangely reluctant to let him leave, Grace folded her hands on the counter, giving the man a curious look. The information he had given about The Brotherhood was fascinating -- an organised guild just for assassins. Her world experience was very limited, but Grace had always understood assassins to be a solitary lot. That they had bonded together into a 'brotherhood' held ominous implications. And a brotherhood could be one step away from a small army.

Grace leaned forward, her voice dropping lower as if telling a great secret. "Ha'e you ever seen one o' these Brotherhood folk?" she whispered. "Are they terribly scary? Knife hilts sticking out o' their pockets, blood-spotted clothes, wild look about th' eye?"

[Dante Grixis]

"Well thank you." He said and smiled again. He finished the apple and slid the core into the pocket of his cloak.

"Some of them. Some of them are crazed lunatics, that run around with bloodstained clothes that want to kill anything that moves. Most of them though are normal people like you or me. They look and act completely normal. There are lunies, dashing rogues, quiet guys at the end of the bar, every kind of person you could imagine. People who come into this shop could be Brotherhood, and you might never know it."

He needed to stop talking but he couldn't help himself. She was just too pretty to not talk, and she was too nice to just abruptly leave. He knew that sooner or later though he would implicate himself as a Brotherhood member though, and that could have some bad repercussions.

[Grace de Beaumont]

An icy chill ran down Grace's spine. '...most of them though are normal people like you or me..... they look and act completely normal....' Her eyes traveled past the man to the the street beyond, and as he continued, she moved to stand by the doorway, one hand gripping the edge. People bustled by, to all appearances involved in their daily lives. Grace shivered to think each of them -- the young lad carrying a large basket of nuts, the old man with a sheaf of cornstalks, the middle-aged wife with a bundle of cloth -- each could have such a dark and secret life.

"Can it be so?" Grace murmured. "I had no idea." In her wonder, her false accent had dropped away. It was truly a year of discovery for Grace. Raised as she had been in privilege and isolation, she'd had a typical noble's view that the poor were poor because of their lower station, their lower birth. But a year of hard travel in hiding with the desperation of an empty belly and the ache of sleeping on frozen ground had opened her eyes. She was finding it harder and harder to judge another for their motivations..... but she still wanted answers.

"It's a cruel world we live in that people should be driven to such measures," Grace wondered aloud. Shaking herself from her melancholy thoughts, the girl turned, gave the man a closer look and carefully stepped in the path of the door.... thus blocking the way out. "You seem to know a good deal about the Brotherhood," she added quietly.

[Dante Grixis]

Dammit. He had said far too much. He could always try talking his way out of it, or simply kill the girl. No, he didn't have that in him, he wouldn't be getting paid for it and she was no real threat to him. He noticed a riff in her accent as she became absorbed in her own thoughts but he didn't really take much note of it.

Dante sighed and pulled his hood off and locked eyes with the girl. "You are aware I can kill you right now, with few to no repercussions." He said, opting to try and coerce her to let him walk away. Any chance or a repeat meeting was lost now which was a little saddening, but if he was to remain hidden in Camelot some sacrifices like that had to be made. "What do you want?" He asked in a low voice.

[Grace de Beaumont]

Grace remained outwardly calm, but she could feel a trickle of sweat run down her back in fear. The man's demeanor had changed, a subtle difference from ease to poised alertness as he pushed the hood from his head. Young, so young to be a killer. Spreading her hands, palms up in submission, Grace tried to keep her voice soothing. "Calm down.... I want no trouble."

Laughter sounded from outside, people walking by and her head twitched in their direction. There could be no interruptions now, not when she was taking such an awful risk. A slow step closer, Grace searched the man's face, trying to find some indication of violence, but she could see none. Wariness, certainly, and a touch of sadness but nothing yet to give her fear.

"I am a ghost," Grace murmured intently. "My name is already dead, my life means little for I no longer have a future. I will not reveal your secret, guildsman. But please.... I do need information. What price do you charge?"