Adora's surreptitious trips to the forest became more difficult to achieve after the ball. In part due to the bandits and a tightening of security, but more it seemed due to the presence of Sylven. Prince Nicobar had, through a letter written in confounding and infuriating court speech, expressed that he was none too pleased with Adora's indiscretions at the ball. The Prince made it quite clear that he did not want her fraternizing with and wasting time on strangers whose nobility was still a mystery.
Especially when there were far better alternatives, making note to remind her once again of his particular favorite, Count Cinbran. He ordered her to not show any further favor, and suggested that Lady Hersillia should be less disorganized in the future.
Suffice it to say, the mood at court was even more stifling than usual.
On this particular day, the princess had finally managed to escape thanks to a calculated switch of her guards using slightly altered information about her schedule. It wasn't quite a lie, but closer to one than she liked to come and she was worried sick she would be found out. Her troubles were further compounded when she became hopelessly and pathetically lost within the King's Forest.
There was no sign of the Keeper today. The sun that had shone during the refreshing, freeing ride to the woods was now hidden by the very same trees and she was lost in the shadows. Sebastian could sense her anxiety as she tried to decide which overgrown path to follow.
Hope was all but gone for the sullen pair when she heard a distant sound. Faint, far away. Music and voices joined in song.
"Bandits," she whispered to Sebastian, her pace quickening. "But... do they not sound rather... jovial? Maybe the Forest Keeper is wrong about them. Perhaps we could ask them for directions?" The horse stamped his hoof and huffed miserably in response. "Yes, I know that it is dangerous and I know Keeper told me to stay away from them. Oh, but we shall both perish in these woods if I do not try something! Besides, I am the Princess. Would not they be compelled to heed me? Sebastian you are such a fine, strong horse you could carry us away if the mood should turn sour, couldn't you?"
He practically swelled with pride at remark, growing calmer and awaiting her command. She steeled herself, slipped off the saddle, and began to follow the sounds of merriment to their source. Together they pushed through the underbrush until they found a clearing. The river ran lazily through it, and there were friendly blue skies and warm sunlight.
What the Princess had not been prepared for, was the bustling and fully lived-in campground of sorts that spread out before her. A secret hide-out full of outlaws who all snapped their attention to her at once, their music and singing ending abruptly.
"P-pardon me," she said, suddenly feeling quite small. "I hate to intrude, but I am dreadfully lost. Could you fine folk p-perhaps point me in the direction of the port?"
The hulking figure of a man approached. He loomed over her, but she could see there was a ghost of a smile upon his face. Like he wasn't quite used to not smiling. His voice was low and penetrating, like rumbling stones. "You the Princess then?"
"That... would be me." In response, to her great surprise, there was a sudden and uproarious cheer. The gnawing fear that had been creeping into her veins was soothed, just a bit. They were celebrating her?
The big man crashed his huge hand down onto her shoulder, with his rightful smile back in place. It was a very good smile, she thought. "Aye, there she is! Come on in, little lady, come right in."
"I must confess I am confused. Pardon my manners, but aren't you all...?"
"Outlaws? Oh yes! The most loathsome, low down, rotten kind in fact. Wretched, awful creatures ain't we, gang?" He spoke with such palpable and infectious glee, she couldn't help but smile despite her bizarre situation. "Oh, but nice to be making your acquaintance, Princess. They call me Gristle, because I'm sort of the cook 'round here."
He took her and Sebastian to a makeshift stable, where her stallion was quick to abandon her for the company of other equine. The gray mare in the stable, however, seemed less enthused about him.
The camp returned to its previous bustling state as Gristle took her on a tour. He introduced her to one colorful character after the next, each with a their own strange name and sometimes a scar or two. When she would inquire delicately again about directions to return home, she was assured she would get them, but there was still more on the tour to see first.
She could see women down at the river washing was they passed. The clothing of the outlaws ranged from rags to elaborate costume pieces. There was also a massive stage in the center of their camp, clearly worn from use. If she did not know for a fact that they were bandits she would believe they were a traveling theater troupe.
Gristle was just about to tell her about their stage when two new men, one with long curly hair and the other with cropped hair and an eye-patch, came swaggering into camp, looking self satisfied. The man with the eye-patch saw Adora first and froze like a statue, his eyebrows shooting up. He held out his arm striking the other man across the chest and stopping him with an audible, 'oof!'
"What's the big idea, Hurricane?" Asked the curly-haired man when he recovered.
"That!" Said the man with the eye-patch, Hurricane. He jabbed his finger where Adora stood. "Oh, Princess Adora is here! Wait. Why is the Princess here?!"
The pair marched over to her. Hurricane looked especially mean, a deep cavern of a scar marring his dark face. She tried to shrink back behind Gristle, but the huge man instead scooped her up like a rag doll and set her mercifully upon the stage.
"What's the word, then?" Gristle asked unbothered by their hot and hostile approach. "Gristle! What do you think you're doing?" Hurricane asked through clenched teeth, his
agitation barely contained. "Why is shehere?"
"The little Princess? Oh, she was stumblin' around like a lost lamb. Came wanderin' right on into camp, she did! What was I 'pposed to do, eh? Kick her out? Come on, Echo, I know you're on my side."
"You don't get it!" The curly-haired man, Echo, whined. He hopped nervously from one foot to another as he spoke. "Grimholt is coming!"
"Oh." The huge man's face fell, then he let out a booming, hearty laugh as he shook his head. "Well, that's not good."
"You don't say?" Hurricane took a deep breath, then turned his attention to Adora. "Okay, kiddo, let's get you out of here."
Adora scooted back further on the stage, serving only to frustrate Hurricane more.
"Better go with 'em, Princess. Don't worry. Hurricane's bark is worse than his bite. You don't want to be here when Grimholt gets back."
"He can not find out about this!" Cried Echo as he jumped up on the stage to gather the Princess. "If he does, I'm not gonna defend you, that's all I can say."
Adora was swept up off the stage, onto her stallion and riding away from the bandit camp behind Echo and Hurricane before she could get another word in. They navigated through empty back roads, taking an overgrown route even she did not know existed. She demanded they explain just who this Grimholt character was. If the other bandits were all so kind and welcoming, then why couldn't she meet this one?
Echo slipped her a rolled up a paper, but her new companions evaded further questioning. The ride home was not, however, a silent or somber affair. Echo was a keen conversationalist, and more interesting than the stuffy old courtiers she had been cooped up with of late. Hurricane was quiet, but Gristle had been right, and he was much less frightening than Adora first assumed. He reminded her of the Phantom a bit, and she thought they might make rather good friends. If he wasn't a bandit, anyway. The Phantom would sooner eat glass than even think of befriending an outlaw.
The scroll Echo gave her turned out to be a wanted poster for Grimholt. She knew very little about the bandit. Only that Prince Nicobar hated him passionately. Even the blame for the latest robbery during the ball had been pinned upon the bandit. Not only was Grimholt the leader of the outlaws, he was in fact also the most wanted outlaw in all of Stormwatch.
He was notorious for evading capture, due in large part to the people of the kingdom protecting his true identity and helping them escape. The people rather fancied him a bit of a hero. The poster couldn't even capture his likeness, instead listing his many crimes. The list was dominated by crimes committed against the Crown. The poster also included a reward for capture. A staggering number that made even the pampered Princess balk.
Wanted: Dead or alive.
The sun was preparing to settle in for the night when the chattering trio arrived at the palace. The bandits stashed their horses just out of view, and picked along the path until they crept up to the neat hedge fence that surrounded the gardens. The hedge connected to the maze that sat at the center of the grounds. The stunning gardens were filled with roses of every color and kind; planted long ago by the beloved gardener of her childhood.
Peeking through the gaps, they saw the Phantom and Lady Hersillia. The Phantom, her sinewy arms exposed, was sparring with a battered training dummy. The Lady lounged in a chair, reading the thick tome by the light of a floating, enchanted orb.
"Who is that?" Whispered Echo.
"Who is that?" Echoed Hurricane concurrently. The bandits looked at each other, then to Adora, then to each other once again.
"Lady Hersillia is the woman reading. She is my mentor, and a palace mage. The other woman is my personal guard, the Phantom."
"Lady Hersillia," mused Hurricane in a dreamy tone.
"The Phantom," said Echo, in the same spellbound voice. Then, "wait, she's called the what?"
"Well her real name is Varena. Everyone calls her 'the Phantom' because-"
An arrow burst through the hedge, which missed the trio by only the thinnest of margins, and sunk into a tree behind them with a thwack that sent wood chips flying.
"-she sneaks up on you."
The door to the fence door banged open, and the Phantom came flying out. She stashed the bow, and readied the daggers hidden in her sleeves. Lady Hersillia appeared behind her, staff aglow in a sickly emerald green. The women both stopped suddenly upon seeing their Princess, the mage slamming into the Phantom's back. Both parties, bandits and guardians, looked to Adora who wished she could melt into the shadows like the Sheriff.
"Princess?" Asked the Phantom roughly. "What is going on? You are supposed to be gone until moonrise. Who are these people?"
"Oh, Varena, funny story. You see, oh dear, well I got lost in the woods and-"
"We discovered the Princess and delivered her safely back home to you."
The Phantom moved with tiger-quick speed, launched herself at Echo and shoved him into the tree with the arrow. She pinned herself against him, and held the daggar to his throat. If he even swallowed too hard the metal would bite into his flesh.
"Was I speaking to you, churl? Am I to trust the word of a stranger over that of my lady?"
"You do not understand!" Adora cried in alarm. The Princess, smaller than
her guard, tried in vain to peel the Phantom off. She yanked hopelessly against the other woman's ironclad arm, her feet slipping in the dirt. "Oh, but he does speak the truth, Varena! Stop, you'll hurt him!"
As the three squawked and squabbled, Hurricane leaned over to Lady Hersillia, who was watching the scene coolly, and asked, "the Phantom always like that, then?"
"Not always, no. Is your friend always an idiot?" Lady Hersillia responded, not looking at him. The Phantom dug her blade into the tree above Echo's head, getting into his face to intimidate him further. By all accounts, it seemed to be working.
Hurricane could only shrug as he watched alongside her. "Yeah, usually." The Lady made a small noise, like a little puff of laughter. He cast a sidelong glace at the beautiful, stoic mage, surprised she would talk with him. He wouldn't mind hearing what a real laugh from her would sound like.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're beautiful when you're angry?" Asked Echo to the Phantom with a grimace, as though some part of him already knew the comment would not go over well.
Varena was silent for a moment, then she turned away from him with a growl. She ripped the blade out of the tree and stashed the daggers back into her sleeves with a quick, practiced movement. Then she angrily took the Princess by the hand, and pulled her back towards the gardens. "Come along, majesty. Let us get you away from the riffraff." The Phantom muttered hotly to Adora about manners and morals as they left.
Lady Hersillia turned her attention to Hurricane for the first time. The bandit straightened slightly under the new and intense gaze, unable to shake the feeling of his value being calculated, of being appraised. "You're not outlaws, are you?"
Hurricane froze. Had they been found out so easily.
"Certainly not, fair lady!" Said Echo, slipping an arm around Hurricane's shoulders. He was laying it on thick. Echo was a smooth talker, and sometimes it even worked. "Simply two humble servants of the crown.
"Then thanks are in order. Thank you, gentlemen, for returning the Princess." Hersillia glanced back at the palace, as though she were running equations in her head and calculating outcomes. "My hands are currently tied. Are you going to the contest that Nicobar is holding? All of Stormwatch is invited to attend. I could arrange something by then."
"Payment?" Asked Echo, and Hurricane elbowed him in the ribs.
"Your thanks is enough," said Hurricane, surprised by the noble words leaving his mouth. "I don't know if our boss would want us to attend. Isn't that right, Reynard?"
Echo almost recoiled at the use of his real name. "Well Calden," he bit back. "I think the boss might change his mind."
"I know what it is like to be subservient to someone whose whims are..."
"Unpredictable?" Hurricane guessed the end of her sentence.
"Exactly." She smiled, and he thought she looked more lovely than a million sunsets. "If you do attend, please find me. Until then, Calden. Mr. Reynard."
She held her slender, tanned hand out to Hurricane. The rings on her fingers looked more expensive than everything he had ever owned put together. What he wouldn't give to have a bit of Grimholt's bravado!
"Uh, until then, my lady." He stiffly took her hand, which was wonderfully warm and soft, and pressed a kiss to the back of it.
She smelled like warm spices, old books and Hurricane felt a shiver of weakness at her touch. The lady smiled curiously, then swept away back into the garden. The gate door shut behind her with a bang of finality, separating their two worlds once more.
Echo glanced at the arrow in the tree next to them, and smiled warmly. "Hey, do you think she likes me?"
Hurricane shot Echo a dirty look, and started down the path without him. Echo hurried to catch up to him.
"I think the Lady likes you, though, Hurricane. If we went to the contest you could spend a little more time with-"
"Stop right there," said Hurricane bitterly. "Let's get rid of any ideas about... you know what. Yes Lady Hersillia is beautiful, and yes she does seem kindhearted and gentle and... and..."
"You want to see her again, don't you, mate?"
"Desperately."