Serpents Nest

She walked her horse toward the gate of the fort following the peasant farmers and the people going to market. She went unnoticed as was her innate ability. She had always been a person than blended into the masses. Which was why she was here. It was the reason she was chosen to be the eyes for her uncle. She should have felt honored that she had been chosen for such a task.

Odd that she only felt grim nostalgia for it. Gwen would be riding with her band of warriors fighting Saxons and roman patrols while she twiddled her thumbs here at this hated place. Hadrians wall. Right under the nose of Arthur castus and his sarmatian knights.

'Oh the adventure she would have! The great tales she could tell! ' she thought dryly.

"Are you new here lass?" An older woman asked.

" Yes I have only just arrived. Hoping to find good work and money. " she answered both spoken and unspoken question.

"What type of work are you looking for?" She asked

"Perhaps being a serving girl in a tavern a maid to a well off family. Or a tradesmen it matters not. Work is work" she said bestowing the woman a very fake excited smile.

"And if that doesn't go well I will simply find more promiscuous means to make my daily bread. Plenty of lonely men here to keep company" Nothing more was said silence came and with it peace from annoying questions.

'I'm better for it'

She entered the muddy yard finding building and barracks. Homes and wouldn't you know a tavern. She smiled knowing that warriors enjoyed two things besides battle and bloodshed. Women and drink. A tavern would give her plenty opportunity to watch the knights and their leader. She would need to inquire for a job there once she had seen that her horse was taken care of. Noir was special to her and a constant companion.

Once having him suitably stabled in a commoners stables having paid for a night only she went to the tavern. How she detested this smelly muddy place. She stood watching for a moment as was her typical way. There she was the swirling red hair that followed in her wake. That small womanly frame bustling with energy and work to be done. The lady that would give her a job.

She walked to where she stood for the moment at the bar. Noticed immediately by those flashing eyes feline eyes. Almost the same shade as her own. Though more yellow green like that of a cat. And just as sharp. This was no fool of a simpering maid. This was a lady after her own heart.

"I don't employ prostitutes. Though yer more'n welcome to come and entertain the men here." She said with finality.

" that sounds great because I am no prostitute. Though I see that type in a plentiful number. What I don't see is someone to help you serve the customers. " she said simply returning the hard gaze the woman gave her.

"Would you like to give me a serving job or are you in no need for that either?" She asked.

"Here I will see how you do tonight. If I like your work you can have the job. If not then you can piss off. Agreed?" She slammed the mug of wine on the bar top.

"Agreed"

Vanora as she later learned the name of her prospective employer gave no quarter. The whirlwind of activity would have left any normal peasant girl breathless and quickly exhausted. The heavy jars of wine and jugs of ale made the arms grow heavy after a while. She wasn't the typical peasant girl. She had trained and wielded sword axe and how since she was seven. She very much liked her employer.

She noted the faces about her getting a feel for the crowd as the time slipped by. It was halfway into the night when many of the common men went home and mostly roman shoulders remained that she saw them. The sarmatian knights. Beautiful. Terrifying. Men after her own heart.

"Oi Issy toss this to the stoic one" vanora called as she tossed her the green apple.

Firstly the boisterous young knight with dark hair and an easy smile. Galahad. The knight with long waving locks that made him seem like a lion and just as wild. Gawain. The loud knight with a clean shaven head wrapping Vanora up tight in an embrace. Bors. The dark curling hair and darker eyes and that flirtatious smirk. Lancelot. None of those fit the description. The tallest with a clean shaven head and kind eyes. Dagonet. And finally the infamous scout. Silent stoic serious and enigmatic. Tristan.

She let the apple fly to where her instincts bid her. She wasn't wrong as the scout caught the apple and nodded in return. She carried on about her chores. Refilling drinks and avoiding drunken gropes. Always her eyes corner was focused on them. The men of legends and fairy tales. They were why she was here. To see if they had it in them to help claim Britannia as their own. To see if they were worth keeping from the slaughter.

Her job seemed to have only just begun.

"Oi Issy come'ere. I want ya to meet some regulars. " vanora called her over as the the cups needing refills steamed for a moment.

"I'm comin' ya she wolf!" She yelled back finally cracking slightly to the strain and vanora's need to shorten her name and order her about so rudely. In her tribe she would have taken her head for it.

She stood before them returning all their gazes. Taking stock of them with her keen eyes. They did the same but only in the way a man would a woman that was passable in looks. She was just only passable in her opinion. Only one pair of eyes studied her more closely. It was those eyes she had to try her best to fool.

"So who might this delicate flower be?" Lancelot asked.

" Isolde I call her Issy. Your name is a mouthful when I'm in a rush" she explained with a shrug of her feminine shoulder.

"Where do you hail from Isolde. "

"A small village a few days ride from here. No where of any consequence or splendor I assure you. "

"Ah and what brings you here?" Gawain asked.

"Work. What else would bring me to this pig sty?" She asked refilling the scouts drink as he held it out to her.

Chuckles filled the break in questioning. "A lady after my own heart!" Gawain cried holding his hand to his chest.

"The man crying your praises is Gawain. Lancelot is the charming snake calling you a delicate flower. Tristan is the one who enjoys apples. Dag is the quite one there. Galahad is the youngster. And this here is my bors. " she held her arms out " these are the sarmatian knights "

She simply nodded in greeting and found something else to busy herself with. She preferred not to gawk or be under their scrutiny for too long. Especially the scout. He was far to canny and aware of details.

So as the night went on she refilled many glasses for Romans and sarmatians alike. She cratered wine and ale to the customers delight. Collecting tip and payment as she went. All of it went to her employer. As of now she didn't feel as if she could call the tips her own. Her job was only partially guaranteed.

As the night drew to a close the stragglers went home and only the knights were left. She wiped down tables and placed stools on top. Sweeping up the floor and beginning to scrub the floors as she went.

"What are you doing?" Vanora asked eyebrow arched.

"Cleaning up. I guessed the scrubbing of floors may have been going a little too far but the distinct stickiness as I walk over them demanded me to clean them. " she retorted. Vanoras hands raised in defeat.

"Do as you like. " she muttered.

She started a rhythm of scrubbing seeming to concentrate wholly on her task at hand. And she listened.

" Van my love come home with me. " Bors said slightly more sober than Gawain Lancelot and Galahad. Tristan and Dag were the ones almost totally sober.

"I'm working love. Soon I promise. " she kissed his head.

"What do you think of your new worker?" Gawain slurred. "She is lovely and with a sharp tongue. "

"I bet you know what to do with sharp tongued wenches. You and Tris seems to like them to put their sharp tongues to better use. " Galahad slapped his back heartily.

"True a woman's more interesting with a sharp tongue. Wouldn't you agree Tristan. "

"For a woad she's lovely though I wager there are sharper things on her than her tongue. You are a woad aren't you Isolde?" He stated oh so smoothly noting her stillness.

"Yes I am. Though everyone here besides you and your roman masters are woads. After all it is where we all come from before Rome came here. " she drawled continuing her work for a moment before standing and sloshing the contents of her bucket out onto the earthen street. "And your correct in saying my sharp tongue isn't the only thing sharp about me."

"Really" he drawled with an arrogant smirk.

"I'd wager you wouldn't want to find out. " she taunted before placing the last of the money she collected and the apron back onto the bar top and walking away.

"Oi Issy come back tomorrow afternoon. No later!" Vanora called after her.

'When uncle called this place a serpents nest he didn't lie' she thought.

She found her horse easy enough after sneaking past the sleeping stable boy. She found the warm corner or his stall and curled up to sleep. Not fearful of her horse in the least. Though deep sleep evaded her for tonight she couldn't allow herself to sleep deeply. She slept in enemy territory. Never good to be caught unawares.

'A snake pit indeed'