Evening -- Slimbar
"Stand down Captain, you're master's had this coming for quite some time," Aednadh flexed the fresh-cut birch stave, her green eyes sparkling in the firelight as Cymak's second-in-command sought to block her path.
"My Master's currently indisposed your Ladyship," he seemed a reasonably stout fellow, brave no doubt in his own way, but this was no battle line with a dozen equally desperate lads to watch his back and the woman before him openly displayed scars no man should bear and live to tell the tale.
"Indisposed you say? Hmm... I think not Captain. Leopald?"
"Yes Ma'am?" a smartly dressed officer in the muddy-grey livery of the Ghost Watch stepped from her shadow.
"Have you the writ of challenge?"
"I have indeed Ma'am," he handed the parchment to her, its seal indisputably that of Count Cymak.
"Do you recognise this? And its purpose?" she passed it to the now squirming officer stood in front of her.
"Ye-yes your Ladyship," he backed slightly away from her, scanning the encampment for possible assistance. There was none. Everywhere he turned his eyes the feared veterans of the Ghost Watch seemed to study him in perfect silence, blades and shafts at the ready.
"This is a breach of military discipline in time of war, Captain. I'm sure I don't have to remind you what the punishment is likely to be for a commoner complicit in such a crime. Now as I'm quite determined to impose on the Count's hospitality and you clearly wouldn't be so stupid as to aid and abet your Master's folly, might I suggest you retire for the evening?" Aednadh smiled wryly as she idly slapped the birch stave in her leather-clad palm.
"I... erm...," he stammered for words as the blood drained from his face. A moment later he was gone and the Count's tent stood unguarded.
"Oh Cymak...! Are you ready to honour me with your company young Lordling?"