Shake your head at the drink. You'd prefer to talk somewhere quieter, if you could.

Not missing a beat, Madeline hands the two drinks off to a passerby eager to take them. “‘Course,” she says. “Though quiet’s a bit of a challenge round here.”

Still smiling, she waves for you to walk with her. She leads you both to the outer edges of the training ground, where you trace the two storey-high stone wall in a long, slow circle around the rabble.

“Thanks,” you say. It’s a little early in the day for a drink, especially with the upcoming fete. “I prefer the chance to get to know you one on one.” You’re far enough from the clink of metal and and scrape of wood that you don’t have to shout anymore to hear yourself.

“Not a problem for me at all. I never mind a bit of one on one myself.” Smiling wider, she closes her eyes and lifts her shoulders slightly, the perfect picture of joy and comfort. “So,” she says, a little slyly. “Tell me about yourself Lord Dragoon.”

“What would you know of me?”

She ponders. “Your favorite position, how about?”

Surprised, you can’t help but be a little stunned. She laughs.

“In Gamit! You know the sport, in the wildlands?”

You’ve never heard of it. Your mouth hangs open a little, waiting for words to come out.

“I’m just messing with you,” Madeline says, giggling. “So prim and bashful up here. Gamit’s not a game with positions, just boys running around nailing each other with sticks for a ball. Bit like that right there.”

You watch a couple men run by, taking massive swings with training swords, and indeed an animal-skin ball rolls between them.

“We’re a wild lot,” she says, “but we can be stern and certain when it’s needed.” She watches you watching her people. “Would someone like you really be interested in a woman like me?”

“Someone like me?”

“All proper and high-born. Really high-born. Mine’s a title I won, not one I was birthed with.”

“Earning it is better, almost,” you say. “Some people born to status, they don’t deserve it.”

She nods, averting her eyes. It’s the first shred of shyness you’ve seen in her. “You deserve it. I’ve heard the tales. Deserving, all the way down, right to your heart.”

From somewhere in the crowd nearby, someone calls her name. A more serious fight has broken out between the two boys playing Gamit.

“And, I’m needed,” she says sadly, but then perks up. “It’s been good to meet you, Lord. I get to see more of you at the fancy shindig tonight right? Maybe we’ll find a way to play Gamit in the sheets.”

With a scandalous wink she’s back to her charismatic self, off to stop the fight before it can spill blood onto your castle’s dirt. With her last words lingering, you think to your next duties.