Ruby wanted very much to lie through her teeth. She had enough over her long years and another upstart was the last thing she needed now. In a forest of mud and shit and mire she couldn’t think of anything worse than dealing with ‘authority’.

“Oh, we’re just, you know, enjoying the scenery.” Her eyes smouldered as much as her tone.

The wood cracked and shuddered in response, reminding them that they were very much not alone. Somewhere out there in the fetid heath skulked beasts and villains and yet, despite all the horrors nature could unleash on them at any moment the thing that concerned her most was the man before her.

“By which I mean I’m teaching this little scamp a thing or two about bravery.” She turned to Duffy, who baulked beneath her glare. He whimpered, to emphasise her point.

“I learnin’ to be a man again,” he said, fighting through the urge to run away and not have to face up to his innumerable problems.

“Again?” The supposed gentleman raised an eyebrow.

“I ain’t always like dis.” Duffy blinked. The adult behind his eyes tried to make sense of what the man could be doing here, in a place like this. All told, the Tantalum Troupe were always neck deep in the thick of it. This man appeared to be more used to parlours and debutante balls than turning tricks in the backwaters.

“Forgive us.” Ruby sighed. “I can categorically state that we are not necromancers.” She shuddered. “We’re quite alive and unfortunately not able to summon a horde of the undead to get us out of this mess.” She folded her arms across her ample chest. Though still guarded, she relaxed to show that she was growing at ease with their new company.

“Then, I ask again, what are you doing here?”

“Duffy here is supposed to be duelling with another compatriot of the ego but unfortunately he is…having one of those days. The Osiris Open doesn’t usually let children compete, so I’m trying to shock it out of his system.” She thought for a moment. The still silence, thick as the swamp waters that threatened to swallow them up all around, served to solidify the severity of their situation. She smirked.

“Perhaps you might like to indulge a lady for a moment?” She pointed at Duffy. “Show the whelp a thing or two. You noblemen like to wave swords about to prove you’re not all talk and there’s actually something in your codpiece besides dust.”

Duffy looked to his sister, cheeks still tarnished with rivers of salty tears, and then looked at the gentleman opposite. He took a dutiful step back, swords clutched lie a teddy bear in his arms, and then cleared his throat. Ruby seldom asked questions. She more made statements with assertive inflections. He fumbled his hands to the hilts of his blades and jolted them, losing them from their sheaths and taking them into his diminutive confidence. He walked forwards, altogether far too small for the daggers (longswords to him), and not entirely sure if he’d last five seconds.

“Whaddya ya say, mister?” His eyes told the stranger that he was far from ready to do anything other than piss himself. But, Ruby Winchester had a strange way of making men do things that even the strongest willed tyrants would find hard to resist.