There's ALWAYS Time For That

[Marlboro]

The command tent for the Eagles of Hope flew the descending eagle device on a tremendous white banner, though the Marshal was not in occupancy. Instead, he was at a nearby manorhouse for one of the minor nobility of Bil Havil, which he had 'taken over' with but a few words. Those words, spoken to a man who knew full well what had transpired in Tepmona, spread quickly throughout the land, but in the meantime Red had suitable quarters.

In the courtyard, he inspected his men. Their equipment showed wear and tear from hard riding, and they were running short on fresh lances, but everything seemed to be in order. He was called away then by one of his healers, an elderly robed man. "I am afraid that some of the wounded will not make it through the night." The cavalier nodded, frowning in thought. "Well then," he finally said, "When the battle begins, tie them to their saddles; at least make sure they die on their damned horses." He waved him off and then stepped inside his ersatz dwelling.

There he ran into his Captain, a jousting prodigy by the name of Ehrl who looked several years younger than his sixteen winters. "M'lord. A letter has come from Lady Cataryna. She says Melhed is coming, and wants to know if we are to retreat." Sir Red fixed the young man with a stern glare. "No, I don't think so. We are here precisely to impede their retreat. In fact, I've even forced their hand with this 'takeover'." In his mind, the strategy was akin to hiding a diamond inside of a gator's mouth and then telling the town fool to climb in and get it. He would tell Cataryna as much in person, though much more tact.

Ehrl blinked, and looked away. "Well, the men shot a boar and are roasting it now for your supper. Do you intend for the evening to be romantic?" The knight, who had continued his stroll, stopped once more, and without looking back, said, "I cannot imagine what business that would be of yours." This time, his Captain was ready for the venomous tones of his Marshal. "Well, I found some bards at a tavern nearby and they've 'volunteered' their services. They even know the Rose of Tralee."

"Hm, that would seem to be rather inappropriate." He knew that the song was about his own dearly departed cousin, though that was not common knowledge. "Have them compose an ode to raven-haired Ladies in general." "Very good, Sir," Erhl responded, quickly nipping off.

His tasks concluded for the day, he stomped toward the kitchens, his armor clanking with each step. He seldom removed it, particularly in enemy lands, and the heavy plate-and-chain seemed like a second skin to him. "Now, where in all the hells is a corkscrew..."

[Miriam Ics]

The weather was good. A calm wind was blowing, bring the smell of flowers and forest. Waiting for the answer of Marshal Red, Cataryna stood over her white horse, looking around.
It was so different than the last time she went there, when the air was almost unbreathable and magic was all around.
To fight men was easier than to fight the Overlord.

With a last look around, she turned back to her tent.

"Better try to look more like a woman before he arrive, if he arrive."

Animated with the expectation of a good company and a good wine, she cleaned up, keeping the Armour however, and left his hair dark brown fall on his shoulder, while brushing until it begin to shine. "This is the best I can do for now." With a long sigh, she sat down in front a small desk and waited.

[Marlboro]

Sir Red had finally found his corkscrew, and some time to shave as well. His blonde hair was cropped close to his scalp, so that it would not be caught up in the great steel helm he wore to battle. Over his armor he draped a flowing white cloak with the descending eagle upon the back, then he gathered up his motley crew. Only the innermost circle of his Hellblazers set out with him, all the sons of some lordling or another, perhaps to be lesser knights if they lived through this war. And with them, they brought the pig, as well as a gaggle of minstrels.

Of course, the Marshal had sent a messenger ahead to warn of their impending arrival, but their warhorses were fast without the usual barding and they arrived only moments after. He dismounted and retrieved the bottle of wine from his saddle-bags, along with a carefully-folded piece of parchment, and went to Lady Cataryna's quarters while his men set up a proper dinner. The bards set up, as well, among their instruments a harp, a flute, and a balalaika.

The knight rapped upon her door carefully. Hopefully he had not come too soon.

[Miriam Ics]

A messenger arrived a few moments before Sir Red. Cataryna was ready and waiting for him. She did not expect much of this dinner because they were in enemy lands and as she went outside to meet him, she was gladly surprised by the bards and the dinner table.

It was not usual to see Sir Red without his helmet and she stood a moment admiring his strong face, the short blond hair.

With a brief nod, she stretched out her hand for the Marshal.

"Be welcome, Sir Red, I was waiting for you."

[Marlboro]

Red was tall, over six feet, and his features were severe, with high cheekbones and a hawklike nose that looked as though it had been broken once or twice. He was also rather muscular, and his armor certainly did nothing to suggest otherwise. However, he had left his well-honed mace upon his horse, a sign of goodwill towards his hostess, feeling strangely comfortable being unarmed in her presence.

The only reason he did not notice her admiring him was because he was engaged in the same, himself. They had never met on such... informal terms before, and though she wore armor rather than a dress he knew well enough how she looked beneath. She did not need to pretend to be coquettish around him; he respected her as a warrior, which was what had drawn him to her in the first place.

"I apologize for taking so long. My men were having some... troubles," he said, understating the situation somewhat. He started to reach out to take her hand, then seemed to think better of it, and first pulled off his gauntlet before doing so. Leaning in, he kissed her ringfinger. "Thank you for having me."

[Miriam Ics]

"No need for apologize, Sir Red" said Cataryna, blushing when he kiss her finger.
"The night is just beginning and I hope we can have a long talk before things get busy again. I received your message to stay and be ready to the next battle and my men are all ready as you ordered, therefore I believe we can relax."

Still staring at Red, she noticed details she never noticed before like his nose that looks to had been broken and his tall. She needed to raise her head to look at him.
Cataryna was of small stature, thin but strong. Her long hair loose, was the only way that she found to appear more feminine. She knew Red for some time now, and trusted him as no one, probably because he was a relative of Benedicta. The remembrance of Benedicta made her face turn sad but her death was the reason of Red being there now and she definitely was liking this.

[Marlboro]

"Oh, things are always busy," he said with a smile. His eyes were a brilliant blue, though emotion rarely touched them. However, here they did appear every bit as alive as when he was on the field against a true foe. "I hope that the road was good to you." He had his own aches from the mountain riding, no longer the fresh young knight he'd once been.

He looked down at the smaller woman, pursing his lips as he examined her face once more. She truly was just as beautiful as the painting that had been made in her likeness. He had to restrain himself from reaching out to touch her hair, unbound and undeniably feminine, adding rather than subtracting from the figure she cut in her armor.

He seemed to sense what had troubled her, as Benedicta's death still plagued him as well, and particularly what had come after. But before he could say anything about his cousin, a page arrived at his left. "Scuze me, sir, but the table's ready." Distracted, Red gave him a dismissive nod, then turned and offered his arm to guide the Lady to her place.

[Miriam Ics]

With a large smile, Cataryna accepted his arm and followed him to her seat at the table.
She was feeling very comfortable at his side. With only one sister, she was not accustumed to men, except for her cousin Mattias, but she had learned to lead them to battles. Red was now the Marshal of the same Army she had lead once and she truly believed he was the best person to this task. He used to give clear orders and precise and the other soldiers of the Eagles of Hope seemed to respect him.
He was too handsome to be her marshal though.
With those new feelings provoking new emotions, Cataryna sat in front of him, and begin to talk. She had this bad habit of talking too much when she was nervous.

"The travel was good, Sir Red. The roads were in good state. Not sure the travel back will be so good. My horse like to exercise and my men were enjoying the time at Lastfell while we were scouting around but not enough to participate on that context. I am so glad you give me the advise to recruit cavalry. You know, I love horses and it was very sad to me to leave mine behind when I had emigrate to here."

Taking a break, she forced herself to stop talking.

[Marlboro]

The bards began playing quietly once the two knights were seated. Thankfully, there were no lyrics, at least not yet; perhaps he would even compensate them for their time if they kept this up. Though it was a hasty battlefield supper, their places were set up as if they were eating at a proper manorhouse. Both plates had slices of barbecued pork, along with some boiled potatoes and carrots. Sir Red worked on his meat with a knife that he pulled from his belt, cutting it into smaller pieces and trimming the fat. Unfortunately, he had not brought his hounds afield; they loved the cuttings above all else.

He listened to her speak, enjoying every accented syllable. They were from entirely different parts of the world, yet providence had brought them together. He wondered to what end, ever distrustful of the unseen hands of the gods above, but for the time he was not anxious. It was not often that he let down his guard, but it was easy around her.

"I left a great bull of a charger in Cagil; my sister is taking care of him on her estate," he offered, sympathetic to the loss of her prized horse. Carefully, he chewed a piece of the meat, confirming it to be well-prepared. Then, he changed the subject, suspecting she might be more at ease if he were to guide the flow. "Did you know that my cousin painted you?" He brought out the piece of parchment, and unfolded it, passing it across the table. It was a rough sketch in lead, a woman resting beneath a tree clad in what was unmistakably the padded clothes one might wear beneath heavy mail. "The painting hangs in her study. It was one of the first things I saw when I went through her things."

[Miriam Ics]

"Your cousin painted me?" she asked, surprised. She remembered one afternoon they were resting near some trees and she saw Benedicta painting, but she didn't know she was the model.
Was a hot day and they were relaxing and talking. She remembered to laugh loud with Bene that day but did not look at what she was painting. Looking closely to the charcoal painting, she recognized that Benedicta was a good painter. The picture showed a lot of similarity with her face, even the thin black line that enhanced their bright eyes black, as was usual in sultanate. They were drinking and if she was not wrong, she even danced a bit, barefoot.

Cataryna was not so nervous anymore. The sound of the bards playing, the table well served and the smell of the goodlooking food, made her almost forget they were in a battlefield.

They were from entirely different parts of the world, but she feel like home, same feeling she had once with Bene. Feelings of youth.

"I miss your cousin, Marshal Red. I miss her very much. One reason that make me stay away from Thalmarkin was her death. I knew I could go away because I knew you were there", she said and trying to move away from the sad subject she asked: "Did you find more paintings? I would like to have one if I may ask."

[Marlboro]

The knight simply nodded. Benedicta had been a prodigious artist when she was a child, and though she had been taken away at a young age he was not suprised to find that her skills had only matured along with her body. He hadn't known whether the painting was done live or from memory; however, the precise circumstances did not matter. The oil version was far superior, but too awkward to easily pack. Instead, he had just had it hastily copied. "She admired you greatly. When I saw her work, I knew that I had to meet you."

He chewed on a bit of potato next, trying not to betray his emotion on the matter. He and Benedicta had been engaged to marry, long ago; though they carried the same surname, their bloodlines were distant enough that such would not have been questioned. He was thankful when she shifted the topic, and even moreso when his squire did pop the cork on the wine and pour them both a glass. "There are a few more, though I worry that many were lost. We can select one together once this is all finished, if you like." He raised his glass across the table towards her, offering a wordless toast before drinking it dry.

[Miriam Ics]

"I am glad you did it" she smiled, "I admired her too".

Noticing his relief when the subject changed she continue to eat slowly, playing with the food with her fork and trying to remember what else she knew about him. She didn't know if he would like to talk about himself, but she was eager to know more about his life and travels.

Grabbing the wine he offered, she raised its glass also in a silent toast.
"I would like this. Wine is the perfect complement to a perfect night."

[Marlboro]

The silence between them as they ate was not uncomfortable, but Sir Red suddenly realized that she might be feeling the same way that he did. That is to say, a warrior in a social setting such as this was not so adept as a true courtier or diplomat might be. Of course, that was what attracted him to her. Red had no use for the young, soft maidens that most other men preferred. He rather more appreciated a seasoned combat veteran, a true warrior woman that was every inch his equal.

And he had found that in Lady Cataryna. After another glass of wine, he decided to cut through the pretenses. They were not at some gala ball, there was no need for politick at this table. "I rather fancy you, Cataryna," he admitted suddenly, like many men before him experiencing a little difficulty in expressing his emotions. "Would you... care to dance with me?" Truly they wore the wrong attire for such a thing, but the knight moved better in his plate-and-mail than he did in silk anyways.

[Miriam Ics]

Many thoughts crossed the mind of Cataryna while they ate in silence.
The war, battles and now this unexpected - but much desired - meeting.
Hearing him talking about his sister and the bull, memories of her own family made ​​her go back to her past life. Her life changed a lot since she left her family home. Although women were allowed to learn how to fight at the Sultanate, was because they needed them, otherwise they would be confined in harems, or at least that was their view of the Sultanate. The other memories like belly dancing with all her girl friends, to play with veils, horses and children's games were the good remembrances that came to her mind now.

Immersed in her thoughts, as she heard him speak suddenly "I rather fancy you, Cataryna" brought her back to reality quickly and the reality was that in front of her was a handsome man, inviting her to dance, regardless of their attire war, her age or her unfeminine looks, due to the circumstances.

"I like you too, Red," she said, offering her hand, thus accepting the invitation.

[Marlboro]

Sir Red knew little of her people, having spent most of his life in a Republic. In the Cagilan Empire, attitudes towards women were born of a healthy respect. They were able to fight not because they needed to but because nobody expected them not to. Different worlds, perhaps, but all that mattered to him was where they were now.

His hands were bare for supper, and his strong fingers wrapped around hers as he helped her from her chair. As there was no particular floor set out for dancing, he swept her about slowly as soon as she was standing, gradually drifting away from the table. His movements were stiff, practiced; it was a very technical display, but it would soon become clear that he was not exactly a natural.

Still, to him at least, the closeness of the two of them was more important. His rowel spurs clanked with each step, his eyes closed in concentration, trying to anticipate her movements so that he did not step on her toes.