"Please stay."

Her words, softly spoken in that lovely throaty voice, echo through his whirling mind. Primrose was many things, charming and flirtatious very high on that particular list, but this felt different, somehow. Her vulnerability, the plea in her eyes...Olberic had seen the beautiful young dancer use her looks and wiles to persuade both men and women to do many things over the course of their travels, but the way she looked at him just now felt...genuine. Then again, how many other people had thought the same thing?

The warrior sighs in frustration, running his hands through his thick black hair and setting off at a brisk pace down the wide street as his mind wandered. It was hardly the first time a woman had shown interest in him, but pursuit of the fairer sex had never been one of his priorities. Service to king and country and the long days of training required to stay at the top of his field had consumed most of his adult life. Even after the fall of Hornburg he'd avoided falling into the trap of many downtrodden men before him: after a few weeks, the endless spiral of cheap ale and tavern wenches failed to offer him any comfort and he'd finally settled in Cobbleston. The locals in that small town took his sullen silences and serious demeanor in stride and gave him his space for the most part, allowing him privacy and taking care not to ask too many questions once it was clear that the 'hedge knight' was willing to protect them as long as he was around.

Protecting those villagers was exactly how he met the dancer, as it happened. Chance had led her graceful feet right to his doorstep and her dark magics and battle prowess had proven invaluable in his mission to rescue his young squire, Philip, from the bandits who had attacked the sleepy town. Was it chance, or fate? Either way, he was deeply grateful for her presence that afternoon and every day since, and while neither of them seemed terribly inclined to open up about their pasts beyond sharing what was necessary to accomplish their personal quests, two things were becoming very clear: whatever lay behind them would not stay buried forever, and neither of them intended to shy away when the time came to deliver some justice. Judging by the week Primrose had had and the depths of her sorrow following the confrontation with the pair of crows here in Noblecourt, it seemed that her past was coming to bear now, and it did not seem to be what she had anticipated. The dancer was shaken to her core and suffering a major blow in what was proving to be the fight of her life and Olberic Eisenberg, the Unbending Blade of Hornburg, was not the sort of man to let his brothers- or sisters-in-arms fight alone.

Abruptly, the knight realizes that his feet have led him directly to the local tavern. Squaring his shoulders, he enters the well lit establishment and ambles across the room to join a familiar figure at the only shadow-touched table. Signalling to the barkeep to send over a flagon of his finest, Olberic takes a seat opposite the slender blonde man.

"Oh sure, by all means, pull up a chair."

"Good evening to you as well, Master Therion," the knight replied, blithely ignoring the young thief's sarcastic greeting. The boy put on a fine show of being an ill-mannered reprobate, but Olberic had seen through that prickly veneer more than once on their journey. There was a good heart beneath all the barbs and daggers, and despite his constant complaints and denials, Therion had proven to be a loyal companion and valuable member of their team. "Lady Primrose has awakened at last."

Therion flicks his eyes towards the big man before resuming his careful watch of the crowd in the tavern. "I figured." When the knight simply stared at him patiently, he elaborated. "I saw the Sister running through here earlier to fetch Alfyn. Ophilia looked a bit off, she didn't stick around to remind me to behave myself today. She looked agitated, but not sad. Everything alright?"

Olberic pauses, considering how to answer. "Her health improves, thankfully."

The thief takes a long pull off his drink, eyeing the knight carefully. "...but?"

Olberic frowns, silently cursing his inability to hide things from this far too perceptive youngster. "She is in turmoil. She...wept."

Therion raises an eyebrow, waiting.

"On me. She embraced me and wept. She...ah..." The knight hesitates, staring at the bottom of his mug. When had he finished his mead?

Therion gazes at him silently.

Olberic sighs. "She asked me...to stay. With her."

The thief stares blankly at his increasingly uncomfortable companion for the space of several heartbeats until he can no longer stand it and finally bursts out laughing. "Aeber's hands, man, why are you here talking to me? Are you crazy? Get over there!"

Frowning, the knight quietly replies, "I really don't think you understand..."

Therion smirks, waving a tavern girl over for another round. "Oh, I really think that I do. Do you?"

Olberic snorts. "Of course I do. I am not some rosy cheeked squire, fresh off the farm. I am well aware of what she's offering."

"So? What's the problem?"

"It's not as simple a matter as you are making it."

Therion taps his nose, nodding slowly. "Ahh, I get it. It's that Erhardt. The one you're after."

"What has Erhardt to do with my issue with Lady Primrose?"

"You tell me, big guy. Conflict of interests? Not sure which way to swing the sword? I hear ya. Love is a battlefield, they say."

Olberic scowls. "Are you quite finished? One has nothing to do with the other. Erhardt was my brother, it was nothing like you are implying. Lady Primrose is a different matter entirely and you know it."

Therion chuckles, patting the warrior on the shoulder. "Oh calm down, I had to ask. It's a fair question, the way you're chasing the guy from one end of the world to another, hollering about your unbent blade."

"Sometimes I find myself questioning why I speak to you at all." The frustrated knight rises, tossing a coin purse on the table.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I yield!" Therion throws up his hands in mock surrender. "Seriously Olberic, what's the problem? Prim's been out in the world, she knows a thing or two. You can't possibly think you're exploring any uncharted territory here..."

Olberic lunges forward suddenly, looming over the slender blonde man. "What the Lady Primrose knows or does not know is none of our concern, Master Therion. Her past is her own, and it is not for you or I to judge."

Therion stares at him without flinching. "Great, glad you feel that way. I happen to agree. I never was much for the untouched damsel in a lofty tower schtick. What fun is that? So it's not her past, it's nothing in your present, unless I've missed something recently. What's stopping you?"

The knight slouches back in his chair, swirling his mug and staring into its depths. "What can I possibly offer her? I'm a knight of nowhere in service to a dead king. All I have my swordarm and my quest to bring Erhardt to justice."

"Uh huh. And she's the last daughter of a ruined House on a revenge mission of her own. Sounds like someone who could use a swordarm, hm?"

Shifting slightly in his chair, Olberic scowls into his mug. The thief wasn't wrong. And yet...

"None of us are guaranteed tomorrow, Sir Olberic. Sometimes you're better off not overthinking these things. She wasn't asking you to marry her, right? Anyways, you need to figure something out and quick. Avoiding Primrose is a terrible idea and it's not going to work."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because she's standing behind you."

Olberic finds his feet in an instant, whirling around to find...no one but a perplexed serving girl. He turns back to admonish Therion but the thief has vanished along with the knight's coin purse. Laughing in spite of himself, the warrior fishes a handful of leaves out of his surcoat and tosses it onto the table, taking the flagon of mead with him as he heads into the night.