Cosette had never seen beyond her village and the nearby port. Though there was quite a distance between the two, it was nothing compared to the journey she had just suffered through. Her hardships at sea started long before the wreck. From the very beginning of the voyage, she had been green around the gills. She stayed bed ridden, bogged down by the sickness the rocking boat caused. Then the storm came....

During the storm, Cosette was sure they were all going to be lost at sea. The ship was tossed around, like the raging waters were playing with it as if it was a toy. When the bottom of the ship met the rocky waters at Pemberton's shore, Cosette was almost relieved. Even death was better then the furious rocking. But, she was spared and managed to make it to the shoreline, only to find her new husband had not.

Cosette was cold, wet, and alone. Without shoes, no less. She managed to walk through the blistering pain, until she was lucky enough to find a ride to a town called Sutton. It was promised she would be able to find a job there. In the back of the cart, filled with chickens and hay, Cosette drifted to sleep for the first time in days.

When she awoke, Cosette was in Sutton. The nice couple dropped her off, then she began wandering about. She did have some money, sewed into the hem of her dress, but it wouldn't last for long. Perhaps a night at an inn, if she didn't find anything else cheaper. Food was out of her grasp, for now. Eyes wide, Cosette almost seemed at awe of Sutton. Even the cheapside was far better than any living she had seen. She was so distracted by her surroundings that she stopped watching where she was going....

Conrad was up early, like always. Rise with the roosters, his father had always said as he walked into his smithy at the first sign of the sun, warming his fires, laying off his tunic and trading it for a rough leather smock, his hands already gloved in the same leather. He had begun his days early, with the single stroke of the hammer the sound for the rest of the neighbourhood to rise. Nobody minded, it was the sign that day had started and that the work they had left in the evening still called. Some morning, a loud cursing could be heard from inside the houses, but that was intended more at the rising sun than the ringing hammer.

In the army, it had been much of the same. Of course, on the days you did not march you could just as well stay in bed, but there was always something that needed doing. Swords needed sharpening and boots padding, your muscles needed exercise and your purse needed to be spent among the followers of camp. No, in the army the day started early too, if it ended at all. Some days, night could fall and still there would be activity enough to keep a man from his sleep. When Morning dawned, Conrad was up.

He had dressed in his uniform, red brigandine with gleaming rivets and the stylized lion on his heart, the Katzbalger at his side and cloak thrown back over his back, flaring behind him in the sharp gales that ran through the twisting streets of Sutton. He didn’t like wearing a cape, it got caught in a fight, tangled up his sword arm and distracted you. Besides, it made you look like a dandy and thought Conrad would not deny that he tried to look after his appearance, he wasn’t to be called a dandy. Sure, he was clean-shaven and his hair well-tended to, but a dandy? No sirree. He growled a good morning to a trio of guards on round, the reason for him being out so early. The former Landsknecht was intent on checking on all of the city before his own shift started, just to show his guards that he would find them even if they were slacking off the premises of the manor. They all knew of course, but he still had to keep up his morning rounds.

He came from a right alley, a place where you were out of sight should you want to stand around and drink to chase away the morning chill, something his guards weren’t allowed, and headed for the main street with a swift, long stride when suddenly someone walked into him. He hadn’t seen her and she collided with his chest and most likely would’ve fallen if Conrad’s arms didn’t quickly grab her by the shoulders.

”Hold your horses there, lass. What’s got you so dreamy that you forget to look at your feet?”

He looked her over quickly. She looked aweful, not in the sense that she wasn’t a beauty, which she could have been. But her feet were unshod and her clothes dirty. She looked quite out of it…

Cosette's feet were growing weary from walking on the dirty and rough ground, and she was getting ready to slow to a stop, perhaps to sit and rest. Unfortunately, she didn't get a chance to. She found herself running smack dab into a man's chest. Stumbling back, her arms flailed for a moment, trying to stop her fall. Strong hands grasped her shoulders, however, and she was saved from a bruised behind. She glanced up at the man who was both her obstacle and her savior, of sorts.

"Oh, pardon, monsieur." Cosette knew Adesian well enough, but in stressful situations, she tended to slip back into her native tongue. She caught herself, though, a flushed a little. "Forgive me. I watch signs, not road." Her accent, as well as broken sentences, made it clear she was not from around these parts. She gestured at the buildings and businesses around them. She then glanced at his feet.

"I did not hurt feet, non?" Her fear was unfounded, since his feet were booted and her's were bare. Still, she was embarassed and naturally worried about other's comfort before her own. In the moment that followed, and she waited for his answer, she took in his appearance.

The man she had collided with was well groomed, and dressed in an impressive uniform. Coming from a port where the fanciest man was an inn keeper, she figured this man was high ranking in some way. She tried to remember the Adesian rankings as Richard explained them to her, and how to address said nobles, she frowned. Her memory was never the greatest, and she had not listened too well. She had thought he would be here to guide her into this new world.

In comparison, Cosette looked like a street urchin. Her hair, which had not been brushed in days, was gathers to the side and tied with her sister's ribbon. Still, some unmanagable curls had escaped their confines. Her clothing still smelled of the sea, and had patches of dried mud on them. Her face, as well, was smudged with dirt. In an unconcious action, Cosette brought her hand to her hair, only to have to bite back a groan when she discovered that hay from the cart had gotten tangled in her reddish strands.

Ducking her head to hide her blush, she quickly pulled the offending intruders out and tossed them to the ground.

Normally, Conrad preferred to keep some distance between him and other people, especially women. Not that he didn’t like them near, quite the opposite, but he had learned early that when someone was in your arms, you were pretty much screwed. Then said person was within the circle of your minimal reach and the force you could exert was severely crippled by the defects of the human limbs and body. She didn’t seem to be the type to slip a knife into your bowels, but a man, especially a guard, had to watch his steps carefully.

"Oh, pardon, monsieur. Forgive me. I watch signs, not road."

She had a pleasant voice, the kind that you listened to, but she had that typical Adesian lilt to her tongue, that “r” that he had always liked about the low countries. So, she wasn’t from around, but that left a lot of questions. How had a young woman gotten from Adesia all the way to Sutton, without shoes and a dress in this state. She didn’t look like she had ever known anything else. How? He looked over again, focusing his senses more this time. She smelled of hay, of dirt but also of salt. Sea salt and brine. Fresh of the boat this one was and if the markings that the waves had left on her dress were any indication, it had not been a good boat. Still, a lot of questions...He kept his eyes open, he always did.

She looked down, to his feet. Another place they differed. To the onlooker it would be a strange scene, or not. A giant in this day and age, dressed in armour and armed with a sword standing over a young girl, that would be pretty if the cloak of dirt was brushed away. The casual onlooker would jump to conclusions and would be wrong.

"I did not hurt feet, non?"

He shook his head, how could she have? His boots were strengthened at the tips, braced with a small metal plate, nailed to the inside. Weapons just as much like his hands, sword and feet. There was almost no way she could’ve unwillingly harmed him and even if so, he would’ve sucked it up. She looked like she had had a bad time, he wasn’t here to make it worse. Wahren und begünstigen Protect and honour. Conrad gave her a soft smile and replied in his best French. It had been years since he had spoken it, but once he had been quite proficient at it. It was like sword fighting, your tongue might stumble the first few times, but you never ever forgot.

”Non, pas de problème.”

He cocked his head to the side, slightly tipping his hat up so he could see her better and formulated the question that bugged him quite a bit. It was his responsibility to keep track of these things so he asked.

”Qu’est-ce que vous faites si loin de votre pays, madame? Qu’est-ce qu’il s'est passé?“

Cosette was pleased when he spoke Soleilian. Sometimes it was hard to understand foreigners when they spoke fast. Not that she had the best understanding of the language in the first place. With no formal education or tutoring in it, what she had learned was from sailors. Many of the words they used were not fit for polite conversation. Since he had don't her the favor of speaking in her tongue, she showed the same curtousy...as best she could.

Where Cosette was from, a woman never admitted she was alone and without means. Even if it was obvious by her state of dress. A woman alone was someone who could be easily taken advantage of. Though the man she was speaking to now seemed like a gentlemen, she had seen others be too trusting and regret it later. So she pasted on a smile and lied through her teeth, not that she was ever good at stretching the truth.

"I wait for....mon amour." Well, it wasn't exactly a lie. Though she figured her husband for dead, it did not mean she was giving up on finding love again. Under all her cynicism, Cosette was still very much the romantic. "I do not know for how long." She added, just so she was getting closer to the truth. She was not a girl who liked to lie very much. It was bad for the soul.

"I looking for wages while I wait." Cosette figured the kind man might be able to help her. He was obviously fimiliar with the area, she could tell by the self assurance in his stance. Also, he had been kind so far.

((ooc; Haha, I hope I didn't blotch that up too much. I did take three years of high school French, but I can still only speak the basics. As for forming complete and correct sentences, I am a lost cause.))

(OOC: That’s alright, makes my job easier too, I’ll just write in Italics when I’m “speaking French.)

She seemed to like the fact that he spoke her tongue, most people did. It provided a rock of solidity in the face of a constantly changing world, a rock one could look to as the waves of sound confused your senses. Conrad was also pleased that his familiarity with the language that he had been partially raised in hadn’t disappeared in the years of hearing only Adesian. It was indeed like swimming or fighting, you could not speak it for ages, but then, when you opened the door of your mind, it all came flooding back. It took some time to separate the right words from the wrong, like choosing ten arrows from the quiver, but when you got right down to it, he was still as good as he had been before. It pleased him that his memory still worked like God had willed it to.

"I wait for....mon amour."

Her smile was as fake as the words she spoke. Conrad had seen many liars in his time as guard and captain, the signs were there, but the why he could not fathom. Maybe she was afraid, that would stand to reason. The fact that the clothing he wore and the crest on his chest spoke of honour and greatness, anyone could wear it. She didn’t look like her love had any intention of coming for her.

"I do not know for how long."

Ah…So she had lost him…At sea or on the roads she had taken, it was of no import. She was a girl with no means and no help. This wasn’t good. He sighed and listened on. Another he would need to keep out of the arms of the pimps and the gangs…

"I looking for wages while I wait."

He nodded and looked her over. This way she wouldn’t get any work, but she looked bright and sweet under the dirt. The best way to increase her chances was to get her cleaned up. Besides, if she was fed, clothed and lodged, she wouldn’t cause trouble. He dipped into his purse and took out a few coins, handing her a pair first.

”C’est bien. There’s a cobbler on Rose street, go there and have him make you a pair of shoes…” He handed her four others, continuing with the same, matter-of-fact tone. ”Then go to the inn at the crossroads of Rose street and Chapel drive, the pelican. Tell the keeper I sent you…He‘ll let you stay for a week.”

He closed her hand across the money without changing expression, it wasn’t much and he didn’t need it anyway. He got fed, clothed and housed on expense of the Duke and Duchess, she needed the money more than him. He looked her straight in the eye.

”I’ll look around if I can find somewhere you can earn your keep.”

Cosette watched, wide eyed, as money was handed to her. She had never met one so generous. She hoped the bounty didn't come with its own heavy price. As her fingers folded around the coins, she blinked up at the gentleman. She took his instructions to heart, even though she was still a bit wary of why he was giving her the money. He seemed sincere enough, at the time. so Cosette accepted the charity. She was not too proud to admit when she needed help.

"Merci!" Cosette clasped his hand in her own dirty one, giving it a grateful squeeze. "I will do as told." She promised as she slipped the money into a small pouch she carried. For so long it had been empty, she worried that it might not hold the small fortune. With one last grateful smile, she turned and started away. "Au revoir." She called back before disappearing into the crowd.

First, Cosette went to the cobbler as was mentioned. Her poor feet needed protection. Luckily for her, a pair of shoes had been made that fit, but never picked up by their owner. Cosette only had to pay a fraction of the original price, leaving her with some money left over. With the extra money, she bought some grey fabric and some dark grey fabric.

From there, Cosette headed to the inn that the gentleman had pointed her to. She got lost once on the way, but found it around evening time. After mentioning who sent her, though it took some convincing since Cosette had forgotten to ask his name, she was allowed a small room. With a hot meal in her stomache and a luke warm bath, Cosette slipped into the straw bed and drifted to sleep.

Over the next couple of days, Cosette rested up her tired body, healing the bumps and bruises she obtained in the wreck. As she sat by the fire, she sewed herself a new dress and apron. She would keep the old one, since she still believed it to be good, but she wanted to make a better impression on the gentleman when he appeared again. On her fourth day, the innkeeper knocked on Cosette's door, telling her she had a visitor.

Cosette's appearance had improved from the last time they had seen each other. Her hair was still worn to the side, but in an intricate braid that tamed most of her curls. She was clean and no longer smelled of the sea, the only blemish marring her skin was the healing bruises. Her new dress and apron, devoid of holes made her look more respectable. Last, but not least, Cosette's feet were shod in a sturdy pair of working shoes.

"Bonjour." Cosette told the gentleman, still unsure of his name.

((ooc; I hope you don't mind I fast forwarded a bit.))