A stranger in the land

[Gharvyd Varick]

The clip-clopping of the hooves on the dusty path sounded like drums in the quiet wind. Everything was dead silent save the horses walking, naught but a breeze blew and no birds flew overhead. Not even the chittering of squirrels or rabbits were to be heard over the rolling hills and grassland that ran alongside the wall.

The horse nickered at the man in front of it leading him as if telling him something was amiss. The man stopped and turned and gave the horse a gentle pat on the head as he scanned the horizon where the forest lay.

"Hush my friend, all is well." as he absentmindedly gripped his spear in a firmer grip suspecting potential trouble.

He looked beyond his horse to the mule behind loaded with the trappings of wanderer, a tent, cookery, various weapons, rations and various furs and blankets. The man checked the girth straps on both mule and horse, all the while keeping a keen eye on his surroundings. He checked the straps holding his favored weapons on the horse, his two large axes and several daggers and hand axes that he did not travel with on his person. He felt any threat that he may come across could be remedied with his spear in hand and shield on his back for easy access.

Satisfied with the way the mule and horse were packed and finding everything was in its place, he drew in a deep breath of the chilled air. Without a thought he drew his ragged cloak around him though he was used to the cold, dry wind. Picking up the lead rope that was tethered to his horse's bridle he resumed his pace walking alongside the wall that towered over the group. He hoped to make the city by nightfall.

[Gharvyd Varick]

The horse and mule nickered a greeting to the man that walked up to them. He gave each a pat on the head as he crooned to them, speaking in soft tones while checking their load as well as their feet. The man was always careful to check their feet before and after every trip.

His foster mother had always said that a horse is as good as its feet, if a horse cannot walk, then it is not a horse. This was ingrained into his mind when he first began his duties assisting his foster mother and sister. He learned fast and treated the horses and hounds well, like they were his own extended family.

Though Gharvyd had none of his faithful hounds with him on this trip, he yearned for them. He missed working with them and running through the fields as well as hunting with them. He enjoyed a good hunt and the hounds were good company.

Gharvyd finished cleaning up the area where he stayed the night. He did not risk a fire due to the constant wind, though it was chilled he stayed warm with several blankets he had packed. After ensuring the horse and mule were properly and comfortably loaded and set, they took off down the dirt path near the wall continuing their way to the city.

After several hours and many miles, Gharvyd could see the entrance sealed shut in the distance with men the size of ants patrolling the top as well as farmers scurrying about on the ground possibly getting ready their wares for market. Minutes went by and Gharvyd and his personal “caravan” reached the gates. He noticed he received looks from the farmers around him and the men atop the ramparts. Finally he figured out it was the spear and the small armory on his horse that drew the attention. None of the farmers and population carried naught but a staff and maybe a bow and a quiver of arrows, Gharvyd knew he posed a possible threat and prepared to be stopped when he noticed the gates opening.

Three soldiers came marching out of the doors, marching straight for Gharvyd. Gharvyd steeled himself rest the butt of his spear on the road while still loosely holding the lead rope of the horse in his other hand should he have need to let go and talk with his fists instead.

“Halt, state your business stranger!” called the soldier with the noticeable plume in his helmet. Gharvyd scanned all three men from head to toe, making mental note of what each men wore and what weapons they carried. He recognized the armor as that of Romans, from his studies of his foster father’s books. His foster father was the battle master of the barracks in his local town. Gharvyd had been studious pupil and learned tactics with a flair and precision that seasoned generals could not hold a candle to. Gharvyd’s prowess on the field of battle and sparring field put any doubts one had about his ability to succeed with weapons to rest.

“I am here to report to the commander of the barracks.” he stifled a yawn as this was a rather tiresome delay in his quest for ending his long trip. He looked forward to getting his team settled and something hot in his belly and hopefully a good night’s rest before beginning his duties.

The soldier with the plumed helmet took a step forward scanning Gharvyd and his horse and mule team. “And what business do you have at the barracks?” the soldier responded curtly as he rest his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“My business is with the commander and the commander alone, I was told to seek him and only him. Until then I am sorry but I am not able to answer your question.” Gharvyd clenched his spear and loosened his hold on the lead rope of his horse even more.

After a few more moments, and with the crowd clearing a good perimeter around the soldiers and the stranger, the soldier finally scoffed nodded to the men behind him. The sliding of metal against metal caused the air to resound with a ring letting Gharvyd know trouble was coming and was approaching. The two soldiers, shields up and swords at the ready marched forward as the apparent captain looked on with a smirk crawling across his face.

[Pandra]

Pandra had started her journey back to Hadrian's Wall rather late. She had been home for the winter solstice and to take part in ceremony at her village. She had run into a group of Saxons or rather came across their path unnoticed. It had made her paranoid the rest of her journey towards the wall. There were far to many Saxons around. Something was bound to happen and she would not be looking forward to it. She was not a knight but she would could take up arms if she had too. Diplomacy was more her style however. She did not like to see fighting and it might be for the fact that the last battle she had been anywhere near nearly killed her. The Saxons had left her at the wall for dead. A knight with a hawk had found her there and brought her to the King. It was for that reason and the fact that she needed to represent what she could of her tribe and Gaul that brought her back this time of year. She took her position with pride. Though she would miss her mentor while she was gone.

She rested the night under trees hoping that she would not be over taken by Saxons. Her guard was up and any little sound she did not recognize woke her. She stood up wrapping her cloak around her as she watched a man that had appeared get his belongings together. She knew not when he got to her resting area but it seemed he had a purpose for coming so close to the wall. Of course she was not sure what that was and for all she knew he could be a Saxon. She took to watching him and how he acted towards the mules and horse that he had brought. He was kind and caring to them and so she followed as he headed out. She was silent as she could be making sure that he would not realize her behind him. She couldn't help but be rather elusive at the moment. She was still trying to figure him out. She also might be of help once they got to the gate. Something told her that he would not be welcomed because of the amount of weaponry that she saw he carried. It was not a god idea to travel to the Wall with that much weaponry with you.

Pan watched as they both approached the gates. She nodded to a farmer she knew and gave them a smile. She saw the gates open and the soldiers march out. This was not going to end pretty. She was close enough to hear what the man had to say and yet he still didn't see her. He wanted to enlist to the aid of Arthur that much was apparent. It explained the amount of weapons he carried with him as well. However it was a bad idea and bad first impression on his part. She watched as the crowd cleared and she felt a hand try to pull her back. She shook her head and stood where she was. She heard the bells ring and decided to take actions. She stood in front of the soldiers with the man behind her. She looked at the Captain. "Call off the march if you would sir. He means us no harm." She was not going to start the morning with some stupid battle that did not need to happen. "He already stated that he wanted to talk to the commander of this barracks. He has made no attempt to go after you. And if he wanted to start a fight with you I do believe he would have done so already. Even the most trained spies know when it is time to break and save their own skin." In all honesty she was not sure about that but this man did not give off a bad vibe.

"Plus do you not think that this can be taken care of another way. Why show violence with so many innocent standing around. Would his majesty approve?" She took a deep breath and stood there. She was posed to attack if need be but she meant no harm to anyone either and the soldiers should know her by now. Though she was usually a rather silent person. This had to be important or something she felt strongly about for her to be standing at the moment against them. She looked up at the man. "So much weaponry that you brought with you. Was not a good thing if you wished to pass the gates without being talked too." She knew these parts well enough to know that. She gave him a small smile and then turned again to face the soldiers.

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[Gharvyd Varick]

Gharvyd watched out of the corner of his eye a lady approach from behind and address the soldiers before him. Someone that had clout with the up and ups apparently, for her to address them as such. He was grateful someone with intelligence addressed the soldiers before they reached him, for the soldiers knew not what would happen. Gharvyd had been in many situations involving sparring and battle, and practiced daily back in his home town with a group of soldiers in training under his foster father’s care and tutelage. These soldiers, though menacing, would live, but not without spending the night in their bunk suffering from headaches and other non-fatal bruises.

Gharvyd gave a slight bow of his head to the lady in front of him in thanks for her interruption. “A mistake to be sure milady, though I have no choice but to carry them with me for this is all I own.” He gestured to this horse and mule and the load they carried behind him. “A questioning by the guard I expected, but not aggressive measures that require the baring of bladed steel.”

Reaching into the depths of his cloak, Gharvyd pulled out a scroll sealed with wax and a seal that bore his foster father’s insignia. “I have in my hand the reason for my presence, but I must place this in the hand of the barrack’s commander, such are my orders given by one Thirvan Varick.” Gharvyd did not expect anyone to know the name, after all he hailed from Wolvan, an area so obscure from the mainlands that only traveling merchants and bards knew of the town.

One of the guards that had advanced, sword in hand, spoke up, “Varick? Did you say Varick?” as he moved to sheath his sword while nodding to his comrade to do the same.

“Aye sir, I did.” though Gharvyd was not yet considered part of the army, he still treated other soldiers with respect even if they were not considered to be his commanding officer or one of higher station. Shocked he was that someone would recognize the name that he himself adopted in grateful respect of his foster family, for taking him in when he had all but been abandoned in their stables all those years ago.

The soldier that recognized the name smiled as he turned to his commanding officer to explain, “Varick is the man that trained me, he is the battle master located in charge of training and instruction at one of our smaller barracks, in a town by the name of Wolvan if my memory serves me well.” the soldier turned to look at Gharvyd to see if he was correct in his memory of the town’s name, Wolvan.

Gharvyd nodded in reply as he replaced the scroll into his cloak and stood his ground waiting for his permission to seek the barrack commander.

“Shall I fetch the commander?” as the soldier that recognized the name made to run off to the barracks with a report of the stranger requesting an audience and with a nod of the captain giving him permission to do so, disappeared behind the gates in search of the commander.

Gharvyd, satisfied with the soldiers’ decision of not attacking him and finally notifying the one man he needed to fulfill his orders turned his attention to the woman again.

“Milady, thank you for your assistance. I am most grateful for your words of wisdom and warning and I shall heed them in the future.” he said with a bow and felt he could offer a small smile as well.

[Galahad]

Galahad had been on duty when the stranger arrived. He had not been at the gates, rather helping one of the wagons which had lost a wheel and was stuck right in the way of the incoming merchants and villagers. It had to be fixed and moved and by the time the wooden wheel had been repaired and reattached the stranger with the spear had already arrived at the gates. The brunette wiped his hands on his sides, cleaning off the dirt as he approached the gates with a frown. Whomever this mysterious man was he certainly looked like a soldier, spear in hand and mule loaded down with weapons. One thing that did catch his attention was the man’s blond hair. It was wild and tatty and reminded him of Gawain. Gawain being his best friend Galahad frowned instantly curious as to where this man was from.

Approaching the soldiers Galahad saw Pandra and a small smile flickered across his lips. He knew of the young woman although had to admit he did not know her well. He had seen her about the fort and knew nothing of her but her name and her beautiful face. And a beautiful face always stuck in Galahad’s mind!

“What’s going on here?” Galahad asked, looking from the blond stranger to the three Roman’s who barred his way into the fort. Galahad and the Roman’s had a strained relationship at best. Once they had been his masters and now they were equals, something the brunette still struggled to get his head around. It was hard now to restrain himself from retaliating against the men whom had treated him like a dog for most of his life.

“He’s here to see the Commander of the fort” one of the soldiers informed Galahad, looking from the blond back to the brunette.

“Arthur?” Galahad’s frown grew even more as he turned back to look at the blond. “You’re a soldier?” He asked the blond man before him.

[Gharvyd Varick]

A look of concern spread across his face as Gharvyd heard another voice join the fray. “We might as well become a troupe of jongleurs and acrobats with as many people that are joining in raising a ruckus. I guess that makes me the main act since I’m the one that started this whole thing.” he muttered under his breath, a quirk that his foster mother always felt free to point out and chastise him for.

“Don’t you mutter at me, or I’ll just hex you where you stand!” she would always say just to get Gharvyd to stop muttering. “You were gifted with voice and vocabulary, use it or be silent!” She was tough, but she was fair and loving. Loving enough to take in a strange baby with no known origins or what may happen in the future.

Snapping back into reality, Gharvyd remembered the new voice that now addressed him and his reason, yet they seemed confused or rather perhaps Gharvyd himself was confused. This new person, that appeared to be a man of some standing now that he found the face to put the voice to, thought he was here to see the King.

“I am not yet a soldier by your means, but I have trained like one. I seek to become one if all meets with the appropriate channels, by which the scroll I carry will explain once I am in the audience of the commander of the barracks. If that be the King then I humbly request that a servant of his take the scroll for I am not fit to be in the presence of royalty.” he said with an air of humility. Gharvyd had no intention of seeing the King, much less meet him. The King was a busy man, too busy to be bothered with a simple matter of enlisting if they would have him.

Gharvyd scanned the man that addressed him and realized that this may be one of the elite soldiers that served King Arthur. He had heard rumors how the King treated all his knights as if they were his own blood, his own kin, his brothers. Furthermore, he heard of these knights not like others in his journey, they dug in the earth just like peasants when they needed to help a town, or they helped with various tasks far above their station because it was right to do so. A refreshing ideal for one who has seen much need in his journey passing through various villages and towns that for all practical purposes were abandoned save a handful of people, mostly looters.

[Galahad]

For the longest moment Galahad honestly had no idea whom the stranger was referring to. A look of confusion washed across his face as he tried to piece together what the blond man was telling him. He spoke with such humility and respect, as though a Roman soldier would speak to a commander. It was certainly not the way the Sarmatian’s spoke with one another. They spoke as equals, as men, as brothers in arms whom had fought together and tried not to die. They teased one another, laughed and joked together and in the depths of the night sometimes they would even share their fears… Not that Tristan ever shared anything with anyone… but he certainly did like to tease! The strangers request was unfamiliar to Galahad and he blinked only after a few moments realising of whom the man was asking to see. It his him, like a slap across the back of the head and Galahad would have cursed himself at his own stupidity. Arthur, the stranger was asking to see Arthur!

The term King seemed like a title from a fairy tale to Galahad’s ears and he still could not get used to hearing Arthur referred to in such a manner. He was King, now at least but still to Galahad he was just Arthur. He was the Commander whom had taken him in, helped to train him, teach him. He was the only Roman whom treated the Sarmatian’s as though they were equals, that no matter if they were slaves to Rome they all fought and risked their lives together. But Arthur was King now, his King and he struggled to get used to such a title.

“You wish to see Arthur?” Galahad clarified, his eyebrow raised as he tried to gauge the reaction of the other man. Why in the name of the Gods would he want to become a soldier? When he had the chance to be a free man, to start a family, to love, to live?

[Pandra]

Pandra looked back to the stranger as the other began to talk to her. She smiled at him. It was all he owned. She looked at what was there and realized that the weapons would be welcome in a sense. She only nodded to his next words. "In these times anything is possible Sir." She bowed her head a little bit. She turned completely around to face him when she heard that he came from Varick. There was a story of a man that trained soldier passed to her tribe by a traveling bard. The name rang so true in her ears. She couldn't help but let her curious nature take over. "W..Would you be Varick's Son?" There were tales of a boy that the commander Varick had taken in as a son. She shook her head as the soldiers started talking about the man as well and went off to get Arthur. She was pleasantly surprised that she was meeting someone that her tribe had heard so much about. He began to speak to her again and she returned her attention to the stranger.

"I'm grateful to know the people that I know." She smiled at him and then was taken aback as Galahad came up to the group. He must have been on duty. It would have been nice to see him here instead of the Roman soldiers. She did not hold a grudge to them all it was just that they were trying to take over Gaul as well. She waited to be addressed by anyone else watching the merchants go into the city. She would have followed them in but she wanted to make sure that the other got where he needed to go without any other mishaps. She didn't want either side making an even worse impression then was already made. On top of that she was sure that she might see a certain knight if she stuck around long enough. She looked up to the sky and saw a hawk flying but it was without its owner it would seem. Tristan had to be close by. She returned her mind back to the events at hand as Galahad said Arthurs name.

Pandra looked at the other completely confused as he said a servant should take the scroll he had to Arthur. She looked at Galahad waiting for him to say something before she actually said something to the stranger and to Galahad. As she had direct lines to his majesty and her highness. "Hello Galahad." She said with a small curtsey to the night. They had not really seen much of her but glimpses since Tristan saved at these very gates after the battle of Badon hill some four years ago. She turned again back to the stranger. "I could take you to Arthur myself. He would not mind you meeting him as you are." It was honesty truth. Arthur treated all his men as equals even Galahad knew this. Pandra took a deep breath and smiled at the both of them. She was not used to being so close to something that could turn for the worst if the Roman soldiers at the gate decided to make it that way but they seemed to have backed off.

She took Galahad's hand and pet the horse the stranger was upon. She looked it in the eyes as if telling it that everything would be okay. She gave a stern look of sorts to the Gates Keepers as she dragged the boys in behind her in a sense. There was no use talking about this outside of city walls when one knew what the others wanted. She was sure that Galahad would drop her hand and look at her stern for over stepping a boundary or two but she wanted to be away from the soldiers and the stranger would not get in with just her by his side as the weapons he had would worry the others unless a Knight was with them as well. On top of that she really wanted to make sure that the gates closed quickly she was having bad feelings about how long the gates stayed open with rumors she'd heard of Saxon attacks and the fact that more soldier were coming in to train. She had a little girl she wanted to make sure was safe and sound. She turned to Galahad. "I am sorry but the quicker we move the less tension will be around us all." The sixteen year old was wise for her years as it were.

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[Gharvyd Varick]

Why? Why in all things Roman, Sarmatian, and Saxon, would Gharvyd’s own father, though his foster father, have made him meet the King. King! Not just a commander but King! Gharvyd came close to losing his grip on reality, he was completely taken by surprised upon requesting to see the commander of the barracks, which he assumed would have been a higher ranking or a senior officer of sorts, turned out to be the King himself. All a once it felt like a dozen Saxon blades found their way into Gharvyd’s stomach, making him feel nauseous. He could feel his head lightening as if trying to comprehend why the King would oversee the barracks. Surely he had more important things to attend to. Gharvyd submitted to the fact that the King was whom he was destined to meet at his father’s hand and nodded to the man that asked him again about meeting Arthur.

A quick mental check brought him back to the present, the woman in front of him and now having a name to go with the new voice, Galahad as the lady called him. “Yes, milady, I am who you would call Varick’s son, though I only have his name for he gave it to me with his blessing, I was not born with it.”

He noticed the interplay between the lady and Galahad, regardless though it was not his business. He came to the City of Hadrian for one purpose and one purpose only, to hopefully serve the best way he knew how.

“I would be honored if you are truly a servant or friend of the King, that you take the scroll to him. Many days of dust and dirt still cling to me like a infant clings to its mother. I am afraid to meet the King in such a manner, though if he wishes it I will stand by as you deliver the message in the happenstance that the King wishes to meet me right away.” his hands that held the spear quivered ever so slightly as he realized that he just might be meeting the King, though he wished it were not so. He did not perform well for Royalty, or rather they did not get a long with him.

He could sense what the lady was trying to do by trying to encourage the soldier and Galahad to bring their current business within the walls, and she was a smart one for doing so. Seems the Romans could learn something from the her actions and much more with a stern talking to by a superior.

With a click of his tongue, Gharvyd called to his horse and mule to follow him as he nodded to the lady and slowly began to follow her at her suggestion.

[Galahad]

Galahad smiled and nodded his head at Pandra as she turned and offered him a hello and a small curtsey. He could not get over such a reaction, it had happened to him before and it still seemed strange to him. Someone would curtsey or bow to him? But only a short time ago he had been a slave to Rome and now people were showing him respect? Unconsciously he shook his head, dark curls bouncing about his forehead as he did so. Strange, all to strange. But Galahad’s thoughts were wrenched away when Panra suddenly reached out to take his hand. Immediately he frowned in confusion and looked down at her, his lips parting in question before he was suddenly tugged away. Confused and a little taken back he let himself be dragged away from the main gates of the fort only aware of Pandra’s intentions as she finally stopped and let go of his hand. He nodded at her words and turned to look at the blond stranger, shrugging at him in a friendly manner.

In all honesty Galahad was shocked at the way the stranger spoke about Arthur. This was… Arthur! He was... he was just Arthur! He was no man to be feared or to bow down to and quiver in fright. He was a man to be listened to and respected but not to cower from.

“You have no reason to fear Arthur” Galahad said kindly, “he is a good man and welcomes any that wish to join his cause. The brunette nodded and then held out his hand in welcoming. “I’m Galahad of Sarmatia…. Welcome to the fort.”

[Gharvyd Varick]

The man’s hand reached out before him in a welcome manner, Gharvyd looked down at the hand and couldn’t help but let a small smile form across his face. Gharvyd leaned his spear against his shoulder as he took Galahad’s forearm and gripped it in greeting feeling Galahad’s own hand grip his forearm sealing the bond of a friendship anew.

“Gharvyd. Gharvyd of...Briton I guess you could say.” he was somewhat ashamed that he had nothing to put at the end of his name, but perhaps one day he would know. One day he would find out where he truly came from, but that was not important now.

“I am honored to meet you Galahad of Sarmatia, I have heard of you and your fellow knights’ stoic actions on and off the field. If what you say of Arthur is true, I hope to perhaps one day train with and maybe even serve under your command.” what a grand destiny indeed thought Gharvyd. To serve the King under one of his own knight’s command.

It is all Gharvyd ever sought other than the possibility of owning his own stable and kennel. He acquired his talent with horses and dogs from his mother and sister, great instructors both. Though Gharvyd proved gifted in any task he so chose to perform, he thought it best to serve as a warrior, even perhaps a soldier should he acquire the King’s permission. Especially with the times of war and ongoing struggle for power between the various factions in the land.

One day in the future perhaps, Gharvyd would find someone to settle down with and develop another of his dreams. However, that future would have to wait, and possibly only occur in his dreams and not ever become reality. Such is the life of one willing to offer his life in servitude of others. Such is the way Gharvyd was taught and trained by his foster family and strived to live by. Serve others and you will be provided for, though the providing may not be the richest on this good earth, yet there is no greater reward than what the hearts of men can do for others.

[Pandra]

Pandra knew that Galahad was taken aback and even confused about the way that she treated him like all the other Knight. Most had been slaves to the Romans but were to be met with respect. They had always been met with respect from her as she was taught to be that way. She was a servant to the crown as well and in service that was what you did to those that you came in contact with. Be it the lowlest pesant to His Majesty. She shrugged it off however as she noticed that Gharvyd too had taken her lead. She was glad to know that she was in good company at the moment. The Roman soldiers within the gates were eyeing them but they would do nothing with the others around least the be scolded by the King himself. Many thought Arthur had more important things to do then run the barracks. It was not the way Arthur worked. The most important thing to him was his subjects and his men. He would fight and die right along with him because that was just the man that he was.

She couldn't understand why Gharvyd was so scared of meeting the King as he was. Arthur would think no less of him she was sure of it. Then again she could be wrong but no doubt was in her mind that he would not think less of a soldier who came to work for his cause. "Please...I will take the scroll in if you wish. However I do think best that you come in as well." It may seem odd but she had not fears of being in front of the royal couple. However that might be because they had helped to hear her and they had a daughter of their own. They were just regular people like everyone else just with more responsiblity yet people that would help them. She watched at Galahad and Gharvyd shook hands. She gave a smile and decided it best to introduce herself as well. She waited for Gharvyd to finish speaking to Galahad before she said anything. It was not in her nature to interrupt or talk and be as bold as she was being at the moment. Of course being back in the wall made her a little more bold then when she was traveling out in the world alone.

"I am Pandra of Gaul...Druidess and servent to the majesties." She gave yet again a small courtsey. "Come let's get off the streets. It will be safer to talk of such things with Arthur present." She looked at Galahad for approval for a second before she moved with grace back onto the busy streets half expecting them to follow her to the castle. This would definately be a rather interesting night and day.

[Galahad]

A small smile twitched at the corner of Galahad’s mouth as he watched the blond man reach out and take hold of his forearm. The man’s grip was firm and true and Galahad returned the shake with his own strength. A strong handshake was a sign of a strong fighter and this man was sure to be a good fighter. But the handshake was not just one of welcome, it was a bond between warriors, a sign of friendship and trust between two men. With a nod of his head Galahad pulled his hand away after the shake had ended.

“Welcome to Hadrian’s Wall Gharvyd of Briton.” As Gharvyd continued to speak the brunette knight could not help but smirk and then laugh, shaking his head and causing his child like curls to bounce around his head. “Serve? Under my command?” The idea was utterly ridiculous! He was no leader of men, he was a Knight yes, but he followed Arthur and his heart. He did not lead any man rather he chose to fight alongside them. “I would rather fight beside you and protect your back if you will protect mine” Galahad said with a smile and a playful nod of his head.

When Pandra suggested that they move away from the hustle and bustle of the main gate and streets Galahad nodded in agreement, but first he thought it a better idea to let Gharvyd stable his horse and mule. The man looked as though he had been travelling for quite some time and he, if he appreciated his horse and mule, would be seeking somewhere to give them rest and water.

“Pandra wait…” Galahad called out to the young woman, “you should take Gharvyd to the stables; I’ll see that his animals are tended to.” Turning back Galahad looked at the blond man, an eyebrow raised in question to see if that suited with the man’s needs.

[Gharvyd Varick]

“Whatever the situation may call for, you can count on me to watch your back Galahad.” he thought to call him sir, but noticed whenever he tried to be formal it tended to set Galahad back and make him uncomfortable.

Gharvyd turned his attention to the woman who introduced herself as Pandra. Though she looked young, in her teens perhaps, she held herself with a grace of a lady as well as the maturity and wisdom of one. Reaching into the depths of cloak, he retrieved the scroll and handed it to Pandra with a deeper bow, one of respect and appreciation. Appreciation for the fact she came and intervened to prevent any violence that would have occurred.

“As you wish Milady, I am most pleased to have you intervene when you did. I fear the results would not have been forthcoming for either party should you not have appeared when you did.”

Gharvyd steeled himself again preparing to meet the commander, the King, though Galahad had said he had nothing to worry about. Royalty and Gharvyd just did not mix, regardless of the situation, perhaps though he may have found the one royalty that would put up with him and he them.

Gently tugging on the lead rope of the horse he motioned them to follow, looking back towards his mule to ensure it was following too. All three set off following Pandra. He heard Galahad call out to Pandra to stop at the stables first to which he would tend to the horse and mule. Grateful that Galahad had a similar piece of mind as him, he turned and called back to Galahad, “My thanks my newfound friend, it seems we shall get a long great for you read my mind about the stables.” with a wave and a smile he turned back and continued following Pandra.

“So how long have you been in the service of their Majesties? I mean no offense but you appear to be quite young in years to be so wise. I am almost ashamed that it took one so young to prove how rash us supposedly grown men can be. Not that us men ever need help proving how immature we can be” Gharvyd said with a smile and a slight chuckle recalling the situation between the soldiers and himself.

[Pandra]

Pandra listened to the two men as the two men talked of protecting one another. She was taken aback and even stepped away a bit as Gharvyd bowed to her. Her eyes went wide for a second for she was not used to people bowing to her but it being the other way around. She shook it off while taking the scroll from him. "You are welcome. You will come to find that I prefer diplomacy over fighting. A fight at the gates would have been very uncalled for and there was no need of it. Some of the Romans are anxious and with increasing...If I am correct...Saxon attacks everyone is a bit on edge." She looked at Galahad to see if she was correct on her assumption about the Saxons. She had been gone for her usual time to her tribe and words of Saxons had reached her tribe days before she left. She did thank bards for being men of travel and able to share the wisdom in such words that echoed in her mind.

Pandra lead them away. Her first stop for them was the stables. She nodded her head as she heard Galahad call to her about them. "It is where I am taking us first." She replied back to both men navigating them through the crowds of the streets smiling with a bow of the head to the few merchants that she did know. It took her a second to realize that Gharvyd had asked her a questions about her time of service with the King and Queen. She thought of a way to answer that. She had been with them for a little over four year. After the Battle of Badon Hill and they healed her. She didn't think to go into detail. Where she trusted this man to not harm any of them now she did not trust many with the personal matters of how she came to be in the service of their Majesties. The simpler answer to that question was the best answer to it.

"I have been with them for four years now. It is true I do have only sixteen years to my life but my beliefs and upbringing is what brings out the wise parts of me." Pandra knew full well that fighting men could be hot headed. Those trained from infancy or even later in life to deal with the harsh reality of battle had the tendency to want to flex their muscles. The Roman soldiers seemed to do that more. Of course their captain here in the barracks was one that allowed them to do so. The Roman Army commander to whom she'd only met once seemed to not take kindly to uncalled for fighting either. He was of course in Rome right now training more men. She wondered if he would come back to them with the impending of more attacks by the Saxons.

She turned the corner and they were at the stables. She smiled at the stable boy before pointing Gharvyd and his horse and mule to him. The boy simply nodded to her and went to look at the horse and mule. Waiting for rider to dismount. Pandra said nothing else as words in her mind did not need to be used. Then again she had talked more to these two men they she had to anyone besides members of her tribe in the last few days.

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[Galahad]

Galahad found himself laughing at Gharvyd’s words about the immaturity of men. The blond did have a point there, women, despite their age, always seemed to hold so much more maturity than their male counterparts. What could Galahad say? He enjoyed a strong drink, a good laugh and a game of cards or throwing knives – especially if there was a bet or two involved! He put his life on the line every time he went out into battle, what harm was there in having a bit of fun? Even if women considered it far too immature for their liking!

As they entered the stables Galahad stopped and took a deep breath, a silent smile spreading across his lips. The stables always reminded him of home, his home in Sarmatia. Horses were just as part of his life there as hunting and drinking were. Before his father’s death he had tended to the horses of their tribe and Galahad took great pride in helping him. With so many horses stalled within the stable, most of them belonging to the Sarmatian Knights, the smell and sound always reminded Galahad of home. He turned to watch as one of the stable hands started to tend to Gharvyd’s horse and he smiled at the blond.

“I promise they will take good care of your horse. All of the Sarmatian’s horses are stalled here and I am sure you have heard of how protective we are of our steads?” Galahad grinned and winked playfully.

[Gharvyd Varick]

His attention on his horse and mule, not wanting to give them over to some stranger, Gharvyd stroked each beast upon their foreheads talking to them in soothing tones. Galahad said they would be well looked after, and so he trusted Galahad to his word, regardless of having just met. There was something about the man, something that he saw that reminded him of himself. His playful demeanor and informality put Gharvyd at east and he welcomed it.

“At least let me remove the burden of my company before we move on if you do not mind. I always like to ensure my friends, gesturing to his horse and mule, are taken care of by my hand first before giving them over to another, though I’ve never had anyone to take care of any of my horses and mules before.” as he unbuckled the girth strap first from the horse and then the mule. He removed the load and the saddles and packs on both beast, all the while talking to them. Setting the saddles on the fencing to allow them to dry, he checked the fasteners on some of the packs to ensure they did not jostle open during the trip. The horse and mule responded with a nicker here and a whinny there, and with an occasional nudge of their noses on Gharvyd’s arm or hand. Picking up some straw from the nearby hay bale, he wiped the sweat and grime off their backs before finally settling for the stable hand to continue caring for his friends.

“I will be back shortly, you should not have any problems with them, except the mule likes to joke around a bit, so watch him when you go to feed him. He just might make a game of kick the bucket with you when you have your back turned to him.” he patted both on the neck before nodding to Galahad. “I am sure you are right, though I’ve always taken care of my own horses. And yes Sarmatians are well known for their horsemanship.”

Gharvyd couldn’t help but noticed the stable rather full of various colored steeds. Most were big and had some visible scars, obviously belonging to the knights. Yet all were magnificent, Sarmatians took very good care of their horses and Gharvyd admired them for it. One can always tell the character of a person by the way they treat their beasts of burden. For that is what beasts do, is bear the burden of man, sometimes, unfortunately the burden comes in a form that an animal should naught have to bear.

Leaving his spear propped against the wall of the stable, Gharvyd gestured to Pandra to continue leading since he was satisfied with leaving his horse and mule to the care of the stable hand, though he would be back when his business was finished. No matter how well they were taken care of, Gharvyd still enjoyed doing the task himself. A habit that was taught to him by his mother and sister when learning about the care of horses and hounds.

[Pandra]

Pandra waited outside the stables. She loved animals don't get her wrong but she did not want to be in the way of the two men. She had stowed Gharvyd's scroll in her cloak and was waiting for them to finish up. She was sure that Gharvyd would come back to check up on his animals as well. She knew that just from the way that he treated them. Galahad being a Sarmatian was the same way with his horse like all the others were. They were protective of their steeds and the animals that they loved so dearly. She waited patiently her mind wandering to the things that had happened on her trip back to her tribe this go around. While she was away another tribe had tried to attack but their warriors had stopped the advance. The night she had arrived back however their warriors had had to go out again. They won the battle but some came home serverly wounded. One of those was a childhood friend. He had died in her arms. Her mind floated to the goods times she'd had with him, while her heart dwelled on his finally words. Her heart was stiring and she was not sure how to calm it.

She looked back at the men from her spot at the stable entrance to watch Gharvyd take his things off his mule and his horse. He was coaxing them into being okay with the stable hands taking care of them. The two seemed to understand her every word and it made her smile. It was apparent that Gharvyd already trusted Galahad. She'd never understand how upon first meeting trust was established so easily. She was different though. It wasn't like she didn't trust anyone because she did. It was the fact that she had fair reason to be paranoid and not give her trust out to just anyone any too quickly. She giggled at what Gharvyd said about his mule and watched as the stable hands looked at him oddly but nodded their hands understanding what Gharvyd meant. He started to talk to Galahad once again and Pandra waited for the two of them to be ready to follow her. It was only a little further to entrance of the palace and her home for the time she choose it to be. Her home away from home. Her mind wondered what the small Princess was up to right about now. She would know shortly however.

She saw a gesture to continue to lead the way. She turned around and did just that leading them to the entrance of the castle. It would at least be warmer inside as the cold was starting to get to her. She'd be used to it in a few days. She stopped at the doors of the palace and bowed to the guards at the entrance. They opened the door allowing the three into the palaces after doing a quick look over of Gharvyd. Pandra almost said something but they waved them through before anything needed to be said. A squire came up to her seconds later gave her smile and then hurried away. Another guard approached the group. "Is his majesty within sir." The guard nodded and she looked to Galahad as to lead the way to the round table as Arthur used that at times as an office of sorts.

[Galahad]

Galahad just smiled at Gharvyd’s warning to the stable hand to watch out for the man’s mule. Galahad himself could remember a time when he was much younger and had barely managed to avoid a nasty kick from a rather infuriated mule. He had ended up eating quite a bit of dirt that day, but at least he had avoided breaking any bones and he had also learnt a valuable lesson – never walk behind an angry mule! Once Gharvyd had finished tending to his horse and mule and handed over the responsibilities to the stable hand (who looked quite bewildered at the stranger whom had suddenly arrived without warning), Galahad followed the blond and Pandra back out of the stables.

They made their way back through the streets towards the buildings where Arthur resided. Galahad’s own room was still in the barracks, still the same small room he had called home for so many years of his life. He had been offered a larger room, a room once belonging to a Roman commander but the brunette did not wish to move. Though it be small his chambers were his own, his place of peace and solidarity.

After they had entered the buildings and announced their arrival to a guard Pandra turned and gestured for Galahad to lead the way. Just because he was a Knight it was not his duty to announce the arrival of a welcomed stranger into the fort. Besides he preferred to stand back and watch so he took a step backwards and gestured for Pandra to lead the way.

[Gharvyd Varick]

The rest of the way from the stables to the building where Gharvyd assumed the King lived, due to the guards posted, was made in silence. This was fine with him as his stomach decided to bounce around inside making him feel nauseous with concern and worry.

“What if the King denies him the chance to serve? What if instead of what Gharvyd hopes to serve as is diminished to something that would be considered a waste of his talents?” all these questions and more were swirling around like a blustering wind blowing across the plains within the confines of his mind.

Gharvyd tried to keep his face unreadable, and reactively thought to try to wipe his clothes off of any dust and grime, as if magically he could make himself more presentable than what he truly looked like. He hated to see what he looked like. As if the fates read his mind, there was a puddle coming across their path, Gharvyd looked over into it as they passed by and cursed under his breath at what he saw.

“If I was King and saw a man looking like me I’d throw him in the nearest pond, lake, or even trough just to get him clean.” Gharvyd thought to himself as he stopped trying to clean himself and accepted his fate. Soon he will know what the King will ask of him, and Gharvyd knew he would serve no matter what the King chose as his service. For that is the way Gharvyd Varick was raised and taught. To honor and obey, even when one thinks it is the utmost waste of their talents. There is always a means to an end, even from shoveling dirt, all the way to wielding a sword or weapon and fighting in the name of the King and what he stands for.

Noticing the three of them reached what appeared to be their end goal in their short time together, Gharvyd watched as Pandra led the procession through inside. He noticed the dirty looks he had received from the guards they passed. He did not blame them, he rather looked like a disheveled peasant being escorted to await sentencing for punishment for some wrongdoing. Pandra had motioned for Galahad to lead, yet Galahad left the honor to her. Typical male so he thought, for he would do the same, formalities and extravagance Gharvyd was not meant for.

“Well, here goes. No turning back.” muttering under his breath as he composed himself to look as presentable as his travel weary body would allow. His hair a tattered mess, no doubt the grime on his face making him look as a Woad instead of an adopted Briton.