In the morning, Mary saw the foolish knights off, trying and failing to avoid eye contact with that Sir Dante. In the daylight she realized he looked quite familiar, but with his chainmail hood up, she couldn't get a good enough look to place it.
During this contemplation, he winked her way, a smirk on his face.
The egotistical fool.
After the farewell, she made an excuse of feeling ill. Once her alibi was set, she changed out of her fine gown and washed off the make up. Dressing in her mail, her mother's heraldry, and donning her helmet, she snuck out in plain sight. She secured her shield, spear, and crossbow, and of course took her ever present dagger on her belt. She swiped some rations from the kitchens and then left to the stables to retrieve her horse, Thompson.
Finally set, she rode out after the group of ten. No one questioned her presence. She had snuck out thus before, and everyone had assumed her a rather young knight. It was vexing to be treated like a child rather than a woman, but it was the price of freedom.
Soon enough they were at the first challenge. The dragon was the greatest danger, but there were lesser dangers on the way to the dragon. The first, and most screening, was the swamp that surrounded the mountain that housed the dragon's lair. There were all manner of evil wraiths and spirits trying to lead one astray.
Mary had ventured past it enough to know how to deal with the wraiths, they disliked holy things as well as fire. As the mist began to thicken, she lit her torch and watched as Sir Dante, who rode at the front, simply observe his surroundings as if he were strolling through a garden. A few others followed her example, watching the shadows and pools of dark water with fear. Already one had wandered off, likely to their doom.
After a while of riding, the first wraith struck. Mary was the only one to notice how a shadow seemed to leap out and cut the man's throat, she drew her spear and prepared for the onslaught. Sir Dante swung his sword in a massive arc, rending the material shadows into its ghoulish original form, flopping into one of the pools.
"Now this is my sort of party," he called, "Wraiths and dragons? What else is there?"
The wraiths seemingly egged on by his mocking, erupted from the shadows. Mary was ready, fending the ghouls away from her with her spear and torch, keeping mind to move forward. Once out of the swamp she'd be safe, from those monsters at least. A few of the knights rallied around her torch, perhaps sensing she knew the way out. Somehow her and Sir Dante were riding point, taking down wraith after wraith.
They worked well together, she noted. It was almost like dancing. Though she enjoyed this dance more than the ones in a ball room. One was about to sneak up on him while he was more focused with a flashy sword strike.
Mary drew her crossbow and shot it, the twang of the bow string drawing his attention as an alien sound to the previous scene.
The bolt didn't put the monster down, but Sir Dante grabbed it by the bolt, twisting almost cruelly. The wraith let out an inhuman shriek before a one handed stab sent it back to hell.
"Nice shot," Sir Dante called, tossing the bolt her way Mary caught it and placed it back in the quiver before bashing one of the creatures with her torch. Mary said nothing, but strove forward.
Finally, they made it to the other side of the swamp. All five of them. They'd started with ten.
Everyone besides her and Sir Dante was rather shocked from the endeavor. "I warned you before we set out," he said, "I'm not going to protect you just because you don't know what you got into. It's only going to get worse from here."
No one said anything. It was too late to turn back after all. One of the men asked Sir Dante where they should camp for the night to which he derisively responded, "What're you asking me for?"
Mary knew where she wanted to rest but didn't want to talk if she could help it. She didn't sound much like a man after all. She doubted they'd listen to her if they thought she was a boy.
She dismounted to rest her horse some, and couldn't help the frown when Sir Dante rode up to her. Of everyone he'd seen her the closest at the banquet last night. She hoped the combination of her scar being on display and her obviously short hair would distract from any similarities he might glean. She wondered briefly how many other noblewomen had short hair under their wimples. It would only be their husbands and maids to know after all.
"Where'd you get a bow like that?" he asked, eying where it sat hanging from her body.
Mary wanted to ignore him, but had the feeling he would only grow more obstinate if she did. In an effort to keep up the appearance of at the very least a male, she lowered her voice just slightly and answered, "Local blacksmith."
Sir Dante raised a silver brow. She realized now his hair was silver white, much like Lord Vergil's. In the hall she'd thought him a pale blond. "Care to introduce me when this is over? I'll have the coin."
Mary bit back the sharp retort and answered gruffly, "Dragon got him."
"Unfortunate," Sir Dante said. Mary hoped he would leave, but to her dismay he did not. "Say, why are you doing this?" he asked, "I mean, Lord Arkham's daughter is quite a looker, but isn't she a bit old for you?" Before Mary could respond, he added, "Actually, tell you what, I don't really need a wife right now, so after I kill the dragon I'll let you have the woman, while I get the money. Sound fair?"
"I don't care about the reward," Mary said truthfully.
"You don't?" he asked.
"Someone like you wouldn't understand," she said harshly.
"And what do you mean by that?" he was still friendly, but his voice had gained an edge.
"You're motivated by greed and thought you deny it, lust. Though I don't know if it is for women or battle."
"I have one more motivation," he said, "But true enough. What motivated you, Oh Noble One."
"The dragon killed my mother."
At that, Sir Dante smiled. "Then we're more alike than I thought," he answered before riding off.
Mary ruminated on his words. If they were true she didn't think it changed much. And she didn't know this Sir Dante, he could be a liar.
As the sun began to hang low on the horizon, the remaining men decided to make a camp, chipping together to make a small meal with their rations. Mary kept to herself on the outskirts, even as the temperature made her want to get closer to the fire.
The remaining men sat around the the fire sharing stories of home and motivations. As if they hadn't done it the night before with more men. They spoke about glory in battle, love of herself and the castle, money, and a title as if they weren't all lucky to be alive. Finally they got to Sir Dante who seemed to already be half asleep.
"I've not heard of you before," one of the knights said, "you fought well enough to surprise me."
Sir Dante frowned at being roused. He closed his eyes again and said, "You wouldn't've. I tend to only face down monsters. Human opponents don't interest me, they die too easy."
"Where are you from," another asked.
"Redgrave," he answered. Before someone could say anything, he said, "You won't have heard of it either. A dragon burned it down, oh… probably over a decade ago at this point."
Condolences were muttered. Sir Dante then glanced Mary's way and seemed to think about calling over and forcing her into the conversation, but then he winked and said instead. "You know, you three should turn back. Get a torch and ride hard and you could probably make it through that swamp again."
"You just want the glory for yourself!"
"Sure I do," Sir Dante agreed, "but as it stands, me and that boy over there are the only ones that stand a chance."
"What do you mean?"
"We're the only two who managed to kill those things on our own without injury. We're also the only two who brought weapons that could kill a dragon." He continued, "So turn back now before your precious lady's words become true and she really did entertain a bunch of corpses."
The steel that entered his eye seemed to convince them, as when morning came, only Mary and Sir Dante were left.
As they set off on the path again, she couldn't help but ask, "Why aren't you trying to convince me to leave?"
He wobbled his head from side to side as if shaking around the thought. "Would you have listened to me?"
Mary glared.
"See? And that answers my question. Besides, whoever your smith was clearly knew what he was doing. I haven't seen steel like that in sometime. I assume the spear was made by him too."
Mary accepted the praise for her weapons. "He was quite skilled."
"You're still tiny," he said, "so when it comes down to it, don't kill youself going overboard. Until then you're at least smarter than the others and actually researched what's going on here."
She said nothing.
"So," he started, "How much further until we reach the lair?"
"A few more days," she said, "Maybe a week?"
"A week?" he asked, "That's way too long. Ugh. I shouldn't have scared those other guys off so soon."
"How can you know so little about this quest?" she asked.
"Well…" Sir Dante said, "Believe it or not, I came here looking for my brother."
"Your brother?"
"Yeah, see, until recently, I thought he was dead."
Mary swallowed. "What's your brother's name?"
"Vergil," Sir Dante said, "Don't know what title he's using nowadays, but he is older than me, so I guess 'lord' wouldn't be wrong."
"Lord Vergil's your brother?" Mary asked. The resemblance was suddenly quite clear. How many young men with white hair did she know? It was just Sir Dante's styling of himself was so opposite. Where Lord Vergil styled himself more as a scholar, Sir Dante wore bright heraldry over plate armor. Mary had never seen Lord Vergil smile.
"Well," Sir Dante said, "Quite possibly. You're telling me you know him?"
"Yes, he is my-" she caught herself, "Lord Arkham's advisor on dragons. I've seen him around the castle, although he keeps to himself."
"Damn, so he was that close and I missed him?" Sir Dante asked. "Just my luck."
"You're still only a day's ride from the castle" Mary reminded him.
He looked at her and then laughed. "You'd like that wouldn't you? So eager to prove yourself to that ice princess? I always thought you needed hair on your balls for a woman to look your way."
"I told you-" Mary protested, a testament to her composure she didn't balk at his crude language.
"Right," Sir Dante said, "Revenge for your mother. Revenge can have something sweet after it though…"
He trailed off in thought and Mary imagined he was thinking perverted things about herself.
"Anyways, I may as well slay this dragon. I imagine if I returned to the castle Vergil would be out on a pilgrimage or something else. That's the sort of luck I have after all."