The Quiet One

- Dalen Woodland, Night of 1 DSTR –

The red-haired man responded: "Answers in order. I am Lafayette. If you spend enough time wondering you learn to spot camps even if you don't see them. Heading to the next town, I see no reason to stop walking just because it got dark. I have dealt with far worse conditions."
“It's always a pleasure to make the acquaintance of another fellow traveller,” Kalena said, mustering a friendly tone.
“I will get us some wood. Kalena can show you in the tent,” Kline said.

Kline stepped away from the light and started gathering loose wood. The forest had given up many branches and dead wood. It was the nature of old woods like this to let the dead trees of the past rot and fade on the forest floor. Collection of firewood was not difficult, and it would be sure to burn well.

Kline looked over watching the two and checking his dagger in his boot when he had the chance. He was not completely unarmed. Though he suspected that this fellow would be more dangerous then he anticipated. The way he moved was just something that set off red flags someplace in the back of his head.

The former assassin casually rested a hand on the hilt of her scabbarded sabre and hid a smile at the pretense of collecting wood. Kline obviously intended to make sure the man was really alone. That he would leave her by herself spoke of his confidence in her that she could handle the stranger should the man prove dangerous.
"I assure you, you have nothing to fear," Lafayette said. "There are more you then me, I am not..how you say suicidal. I wouldn't fight a group."
“Well for the moment it's only the three of us, but there are more of our party yonder by the road,” Kalena told him, gesturing back through the woods to somewhere the wagons were parked and Van and the others were camped. She approached within a few feet of Lafayette and her suspicions of him faded more as he took off the cover of his pack revealing it to be a small travelling trunk one did not ordinarily see in this part of the world. It was filled with supplies that had been packed with care.
"Wine or Mead?" he asked with a smile.
“Thank you. Either would be fine,” Kalena said, returning a genuine smile at the offer as she saw him already working a cork free on a wine bottle with his teeth. She knelt gracefully on one knee, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “I haven't had good mead for quite some time, and if I recognize your accent correctly, I know your people are famous for their superb wine. Kline actually owns a local vineyard and was bringing a shipment to market in the city. Was that where you were headed... to the capital? How long have you been in Dalen?”
She watched Lafayette's face closely for signs of deception or threat. She knew more than anyone that the best killers and criminals knew how to put their victims at ease, and often employed feigned joviality and charm to do so. A friendly accented foreigner was just the type of persona that might cause some to lower their guard.
"Ambercrest Mead it is." Lafayette said taking an oddly shaped bottle from the trunk he went back to the wine managing to pull the cork free of the wine. He gave the bottle a sniff. "Magnifique." he said, though he didn't have wine glasses he did have cups in his pack taking out 3. Pouring himself a glass of wine. "Not how one should enjoy such a vintage but can't gagnez-les tous...oh...win them all." he corrected himself to speak the local tongue.
He pulled the much easier to remove cork from the mead bottle pouring her a bottle of the fairly rare mead. You had to know people to get his in the home land, and getting it in these parts it wasn't anything you would ever see unless you traveled. "Please enjoy, you will never drink a finer mead. You do not have an allergy to roses or lilies do you?" he asked not handing the glass over yet. His voice carried what one could consider a tinge of worry. "Wouldn't want such an amazing drink to kill, beauty is far less striking on a corpse." he said sitting in her hand. "You can have wine if this would kill you." he said.
Lafayette was strange in the way he carried himself. He stood like a warrior, sat like a man who knew how to mingle, but his voice carried some air of authority at least where he came from.

Kline added a few logs to the embers, the fire erupting in sparks and then flames as the coals took hold of the dry rotten wood. He piled the other wood next to the fire pit. Giving a few strong breaths into the fire to feed it, it was soon crackling and filling the campsite with light.

One thing Kline knew how to do was to keep quiet and listen, and he could see the red head was romancing the woman. He was not going to intrude, it was not his place, and he figured the woman was smart enough to handle it on her own.

He sat down as well, leaving the mead alone. He did not stare as they chatted, but he did not want to seem aloof. He just took his place at the fireside, while they spoke at the edge of the camp. He was ready to take watch if they wished to sleep, but he did not wish to rush them off to the tent.