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Studying the back of the proud Earl, Pyotr supposed he was expected to consider himself flattered. After all, how many mercenaries were hired personally by nobility to look after what was obviously their most prized possession? Or in this case, family member. As it stood, the young warrior was practicing his very best military-blank face.

Truth be told, he was rather insulted that the Earl could not even be bothered to look in his general direction when greeting him, and could only be bothered to meet his eye when he was issuing orders. Well, it was not as though he was unused to such treatment. Nobility was all the same that way, especially when it came to someone of no social consequence like himself.

Rather than allowing any of this to show, the warrior simply remained where he stood and listened to his orders. So. He was to play guard to the little lady of the house. Nothing he had not done before, but certainly not his first choice of duties. He could only pray that the lady in question had more than the usual cotton fluff in her mind...and that she did not insist upon flirting with him.

Still, the setup was nice enough, and Pesnya would appreciate not having to share a room with others. Ah. Now he was dismissed. Pyotr sketched a bow at the Earl's back and went off in search of the lady.


Pesnya, having joined Pyotr outside, hopped along after him, appearing at first glance as counter-intuitive to a warrior's pet as it would be to use flower petals for armor. However, he was not a typical rabbit by any stretch of the imagination, and if they underestimated him, well, so much the better. Pyotr certainly did not mind what others thought of his companion. But that was neither here nor there.

As promised, he spotted the young woman he was meant to protect at the edge of the forest. Clearly, she wanted to enter, but for whatever reason, she was holding back. Perhaps one too many reprimands from her esteemed father? Or would it be her mother who protested? It hardly mattered.

When he was near enough, he gave her an appropriate bow, uncaring whether she had noticed his approach or not. "Lady Iruera," he greeted, his Common still flavored by his native Belastranan. "I am Pyotr Volkov. Your father has hired me to see to your safety."

In response to the rook's upset warnings, Pesnya glared at the bird, his bright green eyes fierce and his stance ready, if not precisely aggressive. Pyotr simply ignored the bird and quietly signaled his own companion to relax. No point in starting aggressions with one's charge. Instead, he focused on the girl's words.

"A father's prerogative," he replied smoothly, ignoring his own experience - or lack thereof - on the matter. His father, after all, had not even known he existed. "And if you insist upon informality, then I must insist that you call me Pyotr, or Wolf, if you prefer."

She was not what he had been expecting, he gave her that. Time would tell if that was a good or bad thing. Not that he was holding out much hope. For now, he could only take pleasure in the fact that she was content to remain silent. It was far better than any false pleasantries he might have otherwise been forced to share. He did, however, wonder what she found so fascinating about the forest. As intent as her gaze was, she seemed to be waiting for something.

"Expecting something?"

Pyotr eyed the doe, assessing her. She was unusually large for her species, and quite bold, to be approaching humans. Of course, many of the animals in this country seemed larger than on the mainland. His Pesnya was no exception. There was more, however.

Even in other countries, there were always rumors. Those concerning Sunderland tended to run along the lines of their strange histories; tales fraught with magic. Children's' stories, he had always taken them for, but even in stories, some truth could be found. Here, it seemed that the people were in the habit of taming deer. Unusual, but he could hardly fault them for it. They were more dangerous than most gave them credit for.

No. The only odd thing about this arrangement was the way that Iruera acted. She was treating the doe like a human, as though she expected her to understand. Pyotr was all for the intelligence of animals. Pesnya was certainly a clever beast, and he was certainly more fond of four-legged creatures than those that walked on two, but there were limits. He did not expect to hold a conversation with his rabbit about the latest politics, nor would he think anyone would have more luck with a deer.

That must be his answer, then. Lady Iruera might not have cotton inside her head, but neither was she quite sane. Her father must not have wanted to admit it aloud. Oh, well. At least it should be entertaining...unless it grew too tedious.

The warrior decided to keep his opinions to himself, and instead inquired mildly, "Your companion?"

Rather than taking the offered seat, Pyotr leaned against the next tree over and listened to her explanation.

When she was through, he decided that he was not inclined to disagree with the people around here. Clearly, the girl was mad, or at least too fanciful for her own good. A totem coming to life, indeed. However, at least it was not a violent delusion, nor a harmful one. He had more than enough experience with those, and he had no desire to deal with them, again. Nonetheless, he would keep an eye on her - not that it should be difficult, given his new job. If she showed signs of that kind of sickness, he would take his leave. For now, he would carry on with his duties.

He met the doe's suspicious glare with a steady look. What did he care if she was friendly toward him or not? He meant her no harm, but he was not liable to change his mind about the lady's sanity any time soon.

Pyotr was content to remain in silence for a time, and Pesnya had long since busied himself with sampling the local vegetation. However, after what had to be at least an hour of the lady sitting there, he did have to wonder. "I cannot help but notice what a dangerous life you lead. No wonder your father is so concerned."

"A high crime, indeed," he agreed, and could not help but smirking slightly as he followed after the lady.

Perhaps her father did not want her going off on her own for fear that yet more people would think her mad...then again, she was an aristocrat. When they had delusions, they were eccentric, not insane. So really, what harm? Oh sure, there were the usual brigands and scoundrels, but surely the Earl's own guards were enough to take care of them. What was it then? Paranoia on the lord's part? Or perhaps he simply wanted someone whose entire purpose was to watch the lady.

Yes. That made the most sense. No other duties to distract him. Her father wanted a nursemaid for her, but she was too old, so he found her a personal guard. Lovely. Pyotr would count himself lucky if he still had any skills left as a swordsman by the end of the month.

He studied her for a while, as he followed her into the forest, debating what, if anything, he would tell her. His story was hardly any of her business, and it was not likely that he would not be sharing it with her or anyone else in the near future. However, her observations were harmless enough and her question was vague enough that he could answer it as he pleased.

"Your staff is correct," he replied at last. My staff, she had said. How easily those words rolled off her tongue. She truly was used to her rank. Well, she had never known anything else, had she? How lucky for her.

"I am a mercenary of sorts. I came here simply because it has use for my skills."

Of course, so do many other places, but anyone in his business could sense that something was happening in Sunderland. There were signs to those who knew what to look for. It might not yet be clear what was going to happen here, but wherever it was, after all this gradual buildup, it would be sudden.

As for Pyotr, he was curious to see it up close. Not that that was his only reason for being here, but the other was going to remain a closely guarded secret until everything was ready.

"Hmm..." was his noncommittal reply. Pyotr would not deny that the thought of using nobility for their connections had crossed his mind, but it was equally true that the idea of owing anything to any of them was distasteful. He doubted he would take the little madwoman up on her offer. But enough of that.

"Hunt? I cannot help but wonder if you mean that literally," he observed, for indeed, that did seem to be the direction they were going. Also, from what he had heard of her, hunting would be a pastime she would enjoy.

"Of course, you might find it difficult without a bow, or at least a gun...or do you object to the consumption of meat and expect us to feast upon nuts and berries?" He had heard of such people, and really. Who knew what to expect of someone who kept a deer as a companion. Or something more, as she had said.