Explaining to Do (Richard)

[Grace de Beaumont]

Grace had no idea what time it was when she tiredly climbed the stairs to her room. The innkeeper had grumbled at her when she'd knocked at the front, for it was long after time when the whole inn was locked against thieves. "I trust this will NOT be repeated?" he declared acidly as he let her in.

As she approached her room, Grace stepped more carefully, trying not to make a sound in case Richard was already home. She had no idea of the hour but it was late, very late. She'd been forced to stay in the back of the bakery with Dante Brixis, the Brotherhood assassin for a good while. Smiling a little in the darkness, Grace warmed at the memory of the rough gallantry displayed by the mysterious man. If she peeked out a window right now, Grace wondered if she would still see his hooded figure, waiting below in the street.

There was a light under the door of the room Grace shared with Richard, part of the cheapest but tiny rooms on the top floor. She bit her lip as she pushed through the door. Richard would undoubtedly be unhappy about her staying out so late.

"Hello, Richard," she said tentatively as she entered. Pushing off her cloak, Grace was so nervous, she was unaware that her clothing still sported several blood stains. "You're back early?"

[Richard Cabal]

One night when she was six, Naula had vanished. His eldest daughter - ever inquisitive - had simply vanished from the lives of Richard and Clarine. Richard had never been more terrified in his life. He could face death and war without batting an eye, he could stay steady as chaos raged around him . . . but the disappearance of his girl had made horrible images play through his mind. His heart had pounded hard and something had surely been lodged in his throat as he feverishly scoured the city for Naula. When he had found her again, Richard could have wept with relief.

He felt that way now.

Grace should have been back in this room before he arrived. They should have exchanged pleasantries over a meal, discussed possible leads or sat in silence. No. He was pacing like a caged beast, knowing he should not go searching. Grace needed to learn to care for herself, he knew she wasn't easy with the dependence she had for him. The dependence he probably forced on her. The door opened and he swung around, eyes flicking between her nervous expression and the blood on her clothes.

"Grace," he breathed and suppressed the urge to embrace Grace like she was his own daughter. "Nah not early, ye're very late. I'd think ye'd been canoodlin' except for. . ." Now that she was back, Richard had slowly started unbuckling the sword from his side. He only stopped to gesture at the blood on the clothes.

[Grace de Beaumont]

Puzzled, Grace looked down at where Richard motioned, and only then noticed the blood. "Oh.... oh dear." Rushing to her side of the small room, Grace pawed about among her few articles of clothing for something to change into, trying to ignore Richard's thunderous look. "I've a... a really good explanation for this. Turn please." That was Richard's cue to turn around while she dressed, a necessity in the small quarters. The room was only large enough for a single cot -- hers -- and other bedding spread on the floor in the other corner -- Richards. A single chair and washstand with a cracked pitcher and basin was the only other furniture.

"I'm done," Grace said, flicking her long hair over a shoulder as she tied on a long chemise. The room was chilled and she threw a blanket about her shoulders before turning to face Richard's ire. She took a deep breath; the events of the evening were starting to catch up with her, the attack by the two killers and what that meant now hitting home. Her knees began trembling and so did her lip. "I was.... w-walking and.... and two figures approached and..... there was a terrible fight, this other man, his name is Dante, he.... there was so much blood and Dante had hurt his arm, so I.... so I..."

With a whimper, Grace threw herself at Richard, thumping into his chest and began to cry. "I w-was s-so frightened! He s-said they weren't.... ordinary thieves! They w-were professionals! After ME!" Grace could speak no more, her tears flowing freely as she clung to Richard's shirt.

[Richard Cabal]

"Shhh sweetheart," Richard murmured and held Grace close. "Hush, sit down with me." Still holding Grace and feeling cold over the threat he had not been around to protect from Grace from, he led his lady to the bed. He coaxed her to sit and pulled the blanket tighter around Grace, then he rocked her gently.

"When ye feel up to it, please tell me everything. From start to finish. Only when ye're ready." His heart thumped with something like fear. If what little he had managed to glean was true -- Grace's secret was out and assuming she had not told anyone, then someone who knew her had seen in her in Camelot.

[Grace de Beaumont]

The low murmur of Richard's voice rumbling through his chest had the desired affect, for Grace began to calm immediately. Raising her head, she hiccuped twice and wiped her eyes and nose on a bit of cloth fished from her bundle.

"It's been.... an incredible day," Grace finally managed, sniffing. "So much has happened. Let's see...." Grace told Richard about the man who had helped her carry the morning buckets, how they'd got to talking. "He's very tall and strong," Grace said enthusiastically. "And very mysterious.... or I thought so at first. Keeps a hood over his head but I found out later it's because he has quite a long scar running here to here." Grace showed Richard on her one face, tracing a finger. "But it's not ugly -- rather it makes his features stand out. And he has very expressive eyes." Aware she was gushing slightly, Grace colored and went on with her story.

She explained how they'd been exchanging pleasantries, but how the conversation started to take an ominous tone when she started fishing around for news of this secret organization of assassins Richard had heard about in the taverns. "It exists, Richard," Grace said in earnest. "This fellow said so. He...." Grace suddenly clamped her mouth shut. Dante had taken her word she would not reveal his connection to the mysterious Brotherhood. Though she trusted Richard with her life, her very soul, she knew that Dante probably wouldn't, at least until he got to know Richard. It was not her secret to tell, so she withheld that information from her guardian. She didn't like it though, and felt very badly.

"His name is Dante and he's from the slums, so he's heard all the talk too. Said much of it is based on fact. He said he's got connections in a few places, and promises to ask about.... to see if they know of anyone hiring people last year to go to Hwicee. He, Dante that is, agreed to meet me after work to tell me what he found out. Which was nothing much, actually, and then I went to leave."

Grace's eyes grew wider, twisting the cloth about in her hands. "I was walking down the street when suddenly Dante shouts a warning. I hadn't even seen those men, Richard! Two of them, about to attack me, but Dante got to them first. Oh Richard! He was so fast! Quite incredible for one so young, for I don't think him much older than I. A short fierce battle ensued, but Dante cut them both down very easily. He sustained a cut to his forearm however. He and I hid in the back of Hilda's shop until the nightwatch had come by to remove the bodies." Grace gulped after running at the mouth with her tale. It all seemed so rushed now. "That was the blood -- it was Dante's. I tried to help bandage the wound."

Grace looked up at Richard, a tentative smile on her face. "It was very brave of him to help a stranger, don't you think? He's very strong and tall. Perhaps you could meet him sometime?"

[Richard Cabal]

Oh my dear, you have a crush. Richard was painfully aware as Grace told her tale, that she was focused on the surface of the matter. The intentions of the attackers were left out, the connections that this Dante supposedly had was also glossed over. The sudden pause in Grace's speech spoke volumes and he was reminded of the idolization that Katlyn had seemed to bear the prince. Some day, he would have to go out and meet someone older and wise. Just so he wasn't hip deep in girl crushes.

"I'm sure this stranger enjoyed rescuin' you," Richard answered softly. "This Dante, what sort of man is he to have connections? What were these connections? What 'very little' information did he give you?" Lest he force Grace into tears of despair over his questions, Richard stopped and stroked her hair lovingly.

"My lass, I know it is all very exciting. And I know ye are grateful, but I need to know everything. Please? I need to know more about this Dante than his appearance and bravery. Also, did ye observe anything about your attackers?" As of yet, he did not suspect Dante of truly suspicious motives. Perhaps he was motivated by desire to bed his Grace, or perhaps he had liked the bit of heroism offered. Still, he remained suspicious.

[Grace de Beaumont]

Grace was puzzled and gave Richard a quizzical look. "I.... don't know. Connections, you know? Like.... knowing people and stuff? Probably people he knows in the slum areas. They talk to each other, then talk to others. I've heard the place is thick with gossip and rumors." Grace blinked up at Richard. "But you don't know him yet! I'm sure once you meet him, you'll see. Dante is very kind, Richard. He could have...." Grace gulped. "He could have taken advantage of me, alone as we were in the near dark, unaccompanied by anyone. He never made an improper move, not once."

The desire to paint Dante in a good light was very strong with Grace. She knew Richard was both naturally cautious and very protective of her, but she also desperately wanted him to approve of Dante. They would have to meet, that was all there was to it. He would meet Dante and see what an honorable man he was.

Turning her mind to Richard's other questions, Grace thought hard. "I'm not sure I saw the attackers very well. It was already dark, I was walking down the street headed back here and..... and Dante shouted at them to leave me alone." Grace looked up as a thought occurred to her. "I think he must have been following me a little after our first good-byes. That was fortunate, wasn't it! He shouted and the fight ensued quickly. It all happened so fast...." Grace closed her eyes, picturing the scene. "They were dressed in black, nothing distinguishing about them. One had a long sword, the other had two shorter swords he wielded at the same time. Dante must be very skilled, for he took both of them down in short order, but he did get a bad cut on his arm. I have not seen one as skilled with the blade except.... well, except for you."

That revelation was astonishing to Grace, now that she thought of it. Richard's skill had been known far and wide back home in Hwicee; her father often bragged at dinners over it, his luck at having such a sword-master training his knights. In many ways, Grace realized, Dante reminded her of Richard. That made Grace smile and she hugged Richard's large arm, her head on his shoulder. "You must meet each other. I think you will like him." Her expression clouded a moment later, and she hugged Richard tighter.

"This means there is still danger, doesn't it? Oh Richard, how am I to walk the streets freely or work or... anything? What are we going to do?"

[Richard Cabal]

"I'll tell ye what we're going to do in a moment." During Grace's speech Richard was painfully aware of how dependent she was in the people around her. Despite his paternal love, he was gripped with a very deep desire that she would . . . grow up. Pampered as she had been by her parents however, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised.

What disturbed him was that Dante was a good fighter -- apparently trained. From Grace's words, he also had connections in the slums. Suddenly, he stood up and looked down at her.

"Dante is a trained fighter with connections in the slums then. That either makes him a liar and our enemy, or part o' organized crime. Until I know his motives I wont be trustin' him. Now don't ye start carrying on about how brave and noble he is, you have a crush so your opinion aint entirely trustworthy." The last was said with a hint of a smile. The smile disappeared quickly as he turned deathly serious.

"Grace, why do you want to find out who killed your parents and destroyed your land? Just for revenge? Or do ye want to restore the Beaumont family to nobility?"

[Grace de Beaumont]

Growing horror dawned on Grace's face. "You think he had.... Dante had something to do....?" She cut the words off sharply, color draining from her face. Her eyes rose reproachfully to Richard's.

"This goes beyond a 'crush' as you call it," Grace whispered, drawing the blanket tighter around herself. "Richard, I can't go on living like this. Suspecting everyone, the paranoia, the terror. The mistrust. It's like my soul is beginning to shrivel.... like a plant denied the sun. And then today, for once I didn't duck my head when a stranger spoke, I looked into someone's eyes and thought girlish thoughts, yes foolish thoughts, NOT 'is he going to kill me'. Do you know what that's like?" Grace gripped her throat, her voice growing tremulous. "It felt like I was alive again instead of a walking ghost."

Grace turned way miserably at Richard's pointed and direct question. "I... don't know anymore. Just after it happened, it was revenge; I wanted them dead. Then it was about the family honor, restoration of my name but..... dear god, Richard. What if it never happens? What am I to do then.... what are YOU to do then?"

[Richard Cabal]

"I know Grace. I know ye feel that way -- why do ye think we're staying at Camelot? So you can spend time with people other than me. That does not change my worrying because he still has connections in the slums and he is still trained. You'll do me a favor and invite this Dante someplace. I want to know his intentions since he can whisper to the right ears an' have us both killed. Not just you." He moved around so that he was back in Grace's field of vision. The expression on his face was one of hard determination. A fire had entered his eyes, born of duty and fervent belief.

"Forget what if's. Now why do ye want to restore the name? Because that would surely mean leading. Being the ruler of Hwicee until ye marry. And you'll need ta find a good man, one who can be lead so you can remain in control or one who is a good leader. Why do you want to be a lady again?"

[Grace de Beaumont]

Blinking away tears that had barely started, Grace looked puzzled, then thoughtful. Unconsciously, she sat up straighter, staring into space. "Why do I want to be a lady? It's.... because it's what I was born to do. What I've been trained for, part of my blood. I owe it to the family." Turning her head slowly, Grace stared at Richard with an unreadable look. "And I owe it to those who have sworn fealty to the de Beaumont name. My right by blood also demands I take responsibility for..."

Grace inhaled sharply, clarity dawning across her features. "I see," she said softly in an entirely different tone. "You are wise, Richard Cabal, and give good counsel. You are telling me to keep my eyes on the goal and stop being distracted by the periphery. Am I right?"

[Richard Cabal]

Pride shone in him and he went down on one knee in front of Grace, his hands over hers and face upturned. Silently, with his body, he acknowledged Grace as his superior.

"Close. I am reminding you of your duty. I am asking you not to forget that duty. Look elsewhere, be a woman, a peasant, a wee bit petty . . . but don't forget, my lass. Now to continue the training," as a soldier, Richard had only ever been trained. Never taught.

"I live by this: duty with honour and love. One with duty but no honour will do anything. They will be chaotic and not do their duty well. Without duty a person has no purpose. Without love a person will not do their duty to their best ability. See how all three are needed? Grace, I am your people. You have a duty to give me back my home. Do you love me?" He continued without waiting for her response.

"I have a duty to serve you in all ways I can. Right now, this means I must act as your father and guardian. I serve you, with honour and love. And with tha', I must do what I would rather not." Richard reached down and unstrapped the belt holding his dagger from his side. It would be too wide for Grace, her waist was much smaller than his. But they could stab more holes in the belt. Richard placed it in her lap.

"You should be prepared for anything. I should teach you how to defend yourself so that you are not reliant on those around you. And so ye can learn not only to trust yerself, but be prepared for betrayal. Are ye willing to be trained by me?"

[Grace de Beaumont]

For a time, Grace could not speak. Her eyes swam with unshed tears but she would not let them fall, blinking them away. She took a deep breath.

About to say she did not deserve the loyalty of one as noble as he, Grace stopped herself. To say such a thing would somehow sully the wonderful things he had just said. No.... as Richard had so ably pointed out, it was time for Grace to stand up to her birthright, to accept things the way they were and live up to her name. It's who I am.

Grace swallowed and finally managed to speak. "My father thought enough of you to place me in your care. Not the other nobles, not the village officials, not his knights. You." Grace tried to smile past a trembling chin. "Now I think I know why. My mother always said that while my brothers were his pride, I was his joy. I think that's why he took so long in finding a husband for me -- he wanted to keep me close. That he trusted you so much...."

Grace took a deep, shuddery breath and gazed at the dagger, adding in a stronger voice, "Very well. Teach me what I need to know."

[Richard Cabal]

"Hmph, I was just around." Richard brushed Grace's compliment aside, he was made uneasy by the thought of his late lord thinking of him as better than the noble born. He was in no way qualified to help Grace be a lady. After patting her knee, Richard went to his feet and stepped away.

"Put the belt on and stand up. Draw it and show me how ye hold it. We'll practice proper grip an' sheathing." To begin at the beginning. . . he grinned at Grace. "You'll find this very dull. I did when I first started but its useful, trust me."

[Grace de Beaumont]

Grace laughed and stood. "What.... in my chemise?" Gesturing to the long white undergarment she wore, Grace eyeballed Richard doubtfully, and took the knife and belt in her hands. They felt heavy and wholly foreign in her hands, and she was fascinated.

Deciding that having something tight around her waist when there was naught between it and her skin but a single layer of cloth, Grace set the belt on her bed and took out the dagger. Automatically, she shifted it in her hands to a position she would use when eating; it was her only experience with knives. It felt awkward; the hilt was much too large to be used as an eating utensil.

"Like this?" Grace asked doubtfully.