Private Relations, Yours & Mine

Both the lord and the attendant nodded to the first scout, even though the former seemed momentarily to suppress some sort of an expression. Dear gods he could feel all the stale smoke on her and it was a trial of sheer will to not let any of it show on his face. He only remembered one, one individual in his entire life, that smoked comparably foul stuff.

Two sets of footsteps did not surprise him, and so, he waited for the baron to emerge fully and greet them, eyes not leaving his form though his periphery caught further movement.

"Evening, Your Lordship," Walter echoed. "It has. Fog is about to drape. We'll see it arrive from north-east."
Reginald shifted, golden glow of his square lantern swaying on a short chain making the shadows shiver and shrink, to light the path where the road was dry enough to step on. Walter held his own. Walter did not need a lantern, but he needed to keep face. Civilians. Sensibilities.

His eyes, bearing flickers of pale yellow from the lantern, lingered on Zahra of Lucelley. A short inhale, a puff of breath through his nose, as if a chuckle with humor never bearing a pleasant low tone in his throat. "You may," he permitted, "if your lord allows."

His eyes travelled to the taller one, then. Perhaps it was how shadows fell onto his face, perhaps it is that lord Thornley looked a touch sharper than he used to, three months prior, despite there not being any sort of hunger. He looked older, wistful.
"Obtaining some field expertise," he offered, words landing softly like prowling on moss, "may break or temper, but a demonstration conveys better than words. That is all."

And with that, he took lead towards the gate, traversing a familiar path and showing it to others not so keen on navigation, Reginald following suit to see that none lost the footing.

Did not go up the wall to the hoardings, instead - to the sole blue lantern, one among four watchmen, her sleepless eyes registering them long before Ophelia bowed to greet the lords, her outstretched hand also indicating a line that ran up the middle of the arch, over its top, and to the other side. It was painted, and many times renewed, it seemed, in white.
"Good eve. Stay behind, if you would, Lordship?" She smiled, hand on the grip of a crossbow, tiny symbols emanating from the bolt.

The fog did not roll like a cloud, thick and slow. It unraveled, poured in like a thin flood, then more, in another wave, obscuring vision between the low hills and merging the shapes in the dark until everything was an even, billowing grey.
"We once had a man with us named Brennan," Walter murmured, voice low, his eyes fixed on the road. "He rode out to help scout for the squad that solved the main tract security issue. His uncle was in the numbers, you see, and they were falling late with no news. Brennan could find his way though all kinds of ground, tall or murky. He rode out at dusk, despite my orders, despite his brothers and sisters having warned against it."

There were no loons. No night sounds that the marshes should have been alive with. Never here. Everything that was alive - died, starved, or moved away. But then, far away, something like a voice registered. It was close, and it just wasn't right. A man was calling out, and it sounded like a word, but it wasn't. The inflection was wrong. Like someone who didn't understand what words meant was making a call out.

Reginald stood besides Lord Thornley, eyeing the rest and the road, wary for missteps.

Ophelia's face read grief, contained, solidified and quiet. Her hand did not shake on the grip of the crossbow.
"Something comes back in his stead," she continued, once she realized the lord went quiet. "That's how we know for certain. The first time, His Lordship told him he was home... just trying to put the spirit to rest, and he just... fell back and disappeared. And now he's just all wrong... But while we're behind the wards, we're safe."

Something moved in the fog. A figure, about the size of a man. It didn't sway. It walked in jerky, short steps, like a man utterly exhausted, its silhouette slowly drifting towards where lantern light would allow to discern detail.
The same call sounded out again.

'Ayon ee?'

No one responded.
All in silence, every blue lantern was watching the fog undulate and part for the man to shuffle out.

'Awe me! Io you the.'

He was dressed in Huntsmen leathers, familiar dark grey, a tri-pointed hat, a tall Bremen collar. But the closer he got, the more obvious it was the figure was notright, either.
There were no metal clasps or buckles that would glint against firelight.
The shadows hid all limbs elongated, like the figure was stretched upward ever so slightly to feel unnatural.
The features of the face blurred, as if painting pulled wider on a canvas too large. Skin devoid of color and grey. Eyes black - and they did not reflect much- no, they did not reflect, specifically, any of the blue that danced along the road and against every person present.
It looked right through them. It walked and walked forward, closer and closer still.
Lines of its clothes merged wrong, the shapes not making sense up close to how the Huntsmen garments should layer.

It stopped right in front of the line. Mouth opened, a black void, no teeth nor tongue, moving oddly as it hinges on half-open jaw.
'EE HElp.'
Black eyes filled with moisture. It ran down the lifeless cheeks in grey lines. No drops hit the ground. As if the skin parted to form an imitation of tear streaks.
It stopped, as if listening, an arm's reach away from the line across the open gate that it did not cross, its throat a gurgling mess of something like sobbing and gasping.

Jaakko bobbed his head in agreement, first at the wizard, then to the mention of field expertise. The First Scout didn’t argue, just hummed, flicking a salute off the temple to the lot once they finally departed. The door closed again, falling under firmer guard than any night prior.

They kept relatively quiet on their way, what with the sinister fog pulling in. Something about it commanded respect, as if this particular autumn night didn’t do plenty of that already. At the sight of all that tidal grey, Zahra made a gesture at her chest and mumbled a couple words beneath her breath. Jaakko couldn’t make them out, choosing to leave her be — she’d been in her best behaviour thus far, trailing by his shoulder like nothing had ever happened in the house. Back to that quiet and reverent, almost monasterial mien. If he thought about it for one second, he didn’t truly prefer it this way for how foreboding the silence in the town had grown.

The gates yawned, loose leaves and streams of cold air rolling past their ankles, leading on to a blackness that was absolute. Here, with chosen company, they’d take their stand. Sans the tale and the wards, it begun as any other vigil in the thick of a midnight. The bogs where he was born weren’t much brighter than this, but there sure had always been more sound once one stilled to listen.

In time, sound there was here too. But not that of wildlife or other usual suspects.

This was not the same awakened dead they saw at the marshes and swamps, the ones in the murk and mud of lakes wherein they preyed on the unwitting. Whomever didn’t know to stay out of reach of the too still water. Jaakko looked at it from beneath a frown, disgust winning over curiousity and ironing his mouth to a line that bowed down. His breaths had grown shallow, barely rising the chest and coming out soundlessly, though he could hear them in his ears. Huffing like a bellows.

It was all quite sad, really. A man was gone, but his skin would still walk, wearing his clothes, twisted out of shape. For how everyone in the line was quiet, he neither would say a word, just turn to leave to signify he’d seen enough.

Zahra remained. Beneath the only vaguely human wailing of the monster just a pace away, her whisper was thin, delivered sidelong past the edge of her hood.

“ What will become of him? “

Surely they weren’t going to just leave Brennan like that.

"Of our Huntsman?" Walter spoke. "Who knows. This isn't him. See."
He pulled his bronze dagger from the sheath, and stepped forward. The pommel flicked, swift and precise, at the thing's head level. It jerked, even to the sound of air and movement of what little passed the line, but Walter proved faster.

Skin caught like a draping of lace, tore into smoke and thick, woven cobwebs sticking to the blunt end of it.
What it revealed was a crevice in a gnarled tree stump or malformed, glistening necrotic flesh, ridges in the worn bark resembling a nose and misaligned eyes a set.
The creature didn't creak, though. Didn't howl.
It bent backward, lurching, retreating, its pale fingers covering its hunched form's elongated head. There was a loud sort of sigh. 'Oh'.
And beat passed, it fidgeted, as if panicked, fell onto all fours, and scampered back into the fog like a scurrying critter rather than a fledgeling humanoid.

"This one tries it every tenday, sure as season turn," the baron murmured. "There are better mimics, and they try, too. Make sure you know every face in the retinue and can put a name to it. It's not the worst that the people of Arpa have been dealing with. And since it should remember my face... well, if it stalks out there more than usual, I'll have to put it down for good, I suppose. A shame. It wasn't like this... once, but little remains."

Ophelia gave Reginald a quick glance, and he perked up, clearing his throat and indicating the withdrawing figure of Jaakko Joutsentierna, an the attendant paced after to catch up. "Your Lordship! The streets are dark. Please, take my lantern, at least." He offered the one on a chain, not the one at his belt, yellow glow making the shadows sway like branches of a mutilated tree.

Wasn’t him? Zahra shifted the tad to glance Lord Thornley in the eye. The man moved fast then, striking out, revealing exactly what he meant. Her face transmuted from forlorn to blank and then to something much more curious, even tentatively awestricken.

“ A shame. What makes you say so? “ She asked once the thing was gone, encouraged by the baron’s easy manner. How he didn’t seem to take issue with her questions. Not yet, anyway.

“ Was it a friend to you, before? “

Her stare strayed from Lord Thornley as she caught the sound of movement right behind her, catching the sight of the attendant, Reginald, hurrying after whom had unceremoniously excused himself. The sight of the big man positively hauling it down the street, cloak sprouting a fat billow at his heel like he should’ve been pursued, made her smile. Quick on his feet, for sure, when he wants to be.

“ A kind offer, Reginald. “ Jaakko called past his shoulder, not giving the slightest indication that he should’ve been about to stop or slow down. “ But I like the dark and remember the way back just fine. Good night! “

He rose his hand in a jolly wave, not looking behind him.

"I've seen how warped have things become, plants, animals and whatnot. I've made extensive notes, starting from the local herbswomen. Why? Do you seek further study?" He glanced over to Zahra, eyed Reggie stubbornly following - not hot on Jaakko's heels, but keeping him in sight. "Don't you need to take care of your lord, he seems fairly speedy in his retreat... hm."

"Would you wish to linger, My Lord?" Ophelia called, taking off the glove to rub her eyes and pinch the bridge of the nose. "Ilyn's patrol is soon to return."
"I'll walk the wizardling back," the baron shrugged, and turned, offering the woman a nod, and eyes of sympathy. Adjusted the lantern chain with his good hand, metal clinking against metal, shuffling on fabric of the glove that covered his right hand.

The gates began to close, pulled by the two Shieldbearers who were last week on duty before rotation, and a few grey hairs richer between them.
"Why would he bolt like that?" Walter tilted his head to Zahra. "I don't suppose... this alone was too much to see?"
It seemed to, genuinely, be a question. Perhaps he thought differently of lords that had the balls to come here to begin with. Perhaps, against his better notions, he was hoping that the ones afflicted by craven impulses were also intent to grow from them. Otherwise, that would be the shortest visit of duty Arpa's yet seen, and given the lethality, it was saying something.

"Don't send the birds with letters," he murmured, in advice, and started the way that they came, not in haste, "they don't make it. Send two riders. And... doubt that would tell you anything, but I share roots with the Red Briar circle. It would be very auspicious to see their ban-draoi here, once it's safer... help un-twist nature."

Something flickered in Zahra’s eyes at the mention of study, those she hid by bowing her head and rotating lightly on heel, idly.

“ A wizard never stops studying. “ She responded, offering respects in a nod. An almost laugh twisted her lips when the baron remarked on her Lord in turn, a stifled snort escaping her just so.

“ Reginald’s got him, looks to me? “ And if one had a humour about it, the sight traveling quick down the street did appear exactly that. “ I do not take care of him, as such. “ Wizard, makeshift attendant. What sort of a man doesn’t bring a proper one to a longer stay as this? They’d argue about it more on the days to come, no doubt.

“ Too much? We’ve all seen the bogwives and then some in our time. “ She responded, not entirely sure why she would be explaining in his behalf. Guess it felt honest, tickled her own honour as one from the east of Chapoilière. The good fleet-footed Lord kept estate there, strangely remote from the rest.

“ He’ll be fine in the morning. “ Perhaps they’d all talk about it with the First Scout, despite her not wanting to hear a thing as it came to this excursion. There was something soothing about the blasé way Aino disposed herself at just about anything, from the rare jubilee to actual horrors.

Zahra didn’t keep hurry on the cobbles, glancing at Lord Thornley by her side in intervals to signify attention. Letters only by riders? Oh, she was going to enjoy having to tell that to Jaakko. He’ll hate it.

“ I appreciate the warning. I’ll let them know. “ She thanked him in a keel of the head, not bothering to hide the satisfaction in her tone. A couple seconds quiet followed as she looked for recognition as per Red Briar within herself, coming up blank. Mother had never mentioned them. Nor any druids, come to think of it—

“ You share roots. “ She repeated airily, spying at his gloved hand amidst casual glances in his general direction. At whichever part, from profile to the detailing in his clothes. It wasn’t hard to do, short and shrouded as she was.

“ Through whom — not your father? “

"Reginald's got whatever snatches people's pretend chickens in the night," Walter grumbled under his breath. "You don't? He doesn't have a page of any sort, then."

They had to make way around a puddle near the works attempting to restore the drainage. Mostly for rain. So much rainfall that all the filth ran all the way downhill into the marshes, it felt like, all the way into the stagnant murky waters.

"Hopefully, he will," the baron agreed, non-committally. "The conditions here are a little harsher than an occasional drowner, I'm afraid. But we're managing." He would sound peaceful, if not for a solid, ringing dedication in his voice that made its way through the tired husk. "Little by little, the order of things is shifting to where it's supposed to be."

Behind them, fog began to fray around the pale yellow lights dancing in the spaces above larger puddles. Like little dead suns.
"Roots. Not kinship." He confirmed, and said no more on the subject, falling silent. His riding boots stamped a clean sound of heels against the smoothed out cobbles. "Why don't we establish a bit of concord, little wizard, so we may both learn something? You tell me of the bog things from home, old tales and common sensibilities - and I'll trade you one tale for another from my home, once in a while. All in... good fun."

He stopped before the doors of the coin house, where Reggie was waiting - for him, no doubt, having learned the lord's routines with a precision of a loyal hound.
"Good night," Walter wished to the air between them, and the two Bremens folk retreated, falling into step as they trekked across the main thoroughfare and into the neighborhood.

The night's quiet here was interrupted by the sound of wings. Feathery, small and multiple, as black birds came to the windows of the new arrivals, to take their measure.

“ No page. There used to be a squire, but he is gone now. “ What happened to that young man, she didn’t know. What usually befell lads too enthusiastic about swords? She’d weaseled her way into the retinue just in time to glimpse the very last sight of him.

The baron’s answer to her daring little inquiry was brief and clear, giving the impression there was no prying further in how he proceeded to change the subject. Though Zahra listened on, bobbing her head with some enthusiasm, words of argument rotated on her mind for how she couldn’t truly make out what the difference betwixt roots and kinship was. In her family, they were one and the same, for it was kin and their deep bones in the earth from which one received their power. The power of generations of people.

It’s dangerous to leave home, Zahra. You don’t have folk, out there.

“ Once in a while. “ She repeated calmly, nodding a bit firmer. “ I could sure do with some good fun. At your leisure, of course, my Lord. “

Her pace kept until she was on the steps of the house, climbing them with a sense of purpose. The doors were ajar, expectant, the darkness inside with a faint glow of candlelight. Upon her approach a creak came from the vestibule, like the timbers themselves should’ve perked to attention. The First Scout’s chair.

“ Good night, Lord Thornley. Reginald. “ She stopped to speak, bowing her head and bending at the knees to a courtly curtsy. To both of them, before turning to enter the house.

“ Tread well and wary. “

The days to follow, Walter's schedule seemed to disallow him from any kinds of social interactions past the passing greeting, if that.
The very next day he rode out with a host of Huntsmen and came back in three, then disappeared in his quarters for an entire day, and perhaps he has also managed to hold later hours throughout the week that followed as he looked a little scatterbrained, even though content.

The supply caravan arrived, and then departed after the market day. The second week, the lord's outing only took a day, but he returned slumped over his drake. Again, taken to his quarters instead of the lazaret, and no news for a couple days until he emerged again, upright and seemingly invigorated by whatever was going on during the late hours when he'd visit the study space shared with the other scholar, under watch or cleared out when not in use.

After a tenday, one of the Bremen folk, Olivier, showed up to inquire if the lord's house had all the amenities desired - and whether all ten people in service of Joutsentierna were currently indoors. The last question was uttered with a sense of hidden urgency, almost, the young man's light eyes narrowing warily.

Zahra stared at the man come to the door, taking another bite of the winter apple. They weren’t perfectly ripe yet, requiring time in the cellars to properly manifest their acidic sweetness. Right now, they were rather sour, which was clear on her face as she swallowed.

“ No, everyone is out. “ She responded, glancing into the house as if to double-check. It was terribly quiet, besides the groaning of old wood and scratch of a mouse squrrying beneath the floor. Remaining quiet for a second longer, she squinted at the sky past the eaves. Though the sun wasn’t visible, she estimated it had to be a little past midday. Was still a couple hours of light left, though when the darkness finally fell it did do so fast.

“ I do know where his Lordship probably is, though— “ She added belatedly, narrowing her look in turn at the young man come asking questions she didn’t terribly like the tone of. Something was wrong, had to be, otherwise it would’ve been very straightforward.

“ Come, you can help me take them lunch. “

With that and a weary wave of her hand, she turned in the doorframe, beelining for the pantry.




“ You really think he’ll grant permission for that? “

Aino kept her voice low betwixt them at the side of the ditch, words like gravel in a quern. Jaakko glanced at her with his usual good humour, chin inclined with implied confidence.

“ You think I’m not charming enough to get permission? “ He countered, smiling pleasantly as his eye fell back on the men currently wielding spades and a broom, clearing the clogged drainage. It’d poured again yesterday night, one of those proper autumn storms that felled trees and created flashfloods as the waterpaths failed to keep up and gathered debris. He’d enlisted his men to help clean up and mend the damage, first thing in the morning, as part of his efforts to get to the town elder’s good side.

“ I wouldn’t know. The rules stand firm as gravestones, here. “ Aino sniffed in the humid chill, trying the soaked cobbles with the soft sole of her boot. Jaakko shrugged, pursing his lips.

“ I don’t think it breaches the rules, really. But it’d be an ordeal of sorts, requiring — “ He paused to look for a word. Once he found it, he smiled a little wider. “ Accommodations. “
“ Tsh. “ The First Scout puffed out air through a smirk. “ Some man you have for that, then. “
“ Here’s hoping. “

That’s all they could do, really. They’d not seen much of the good Lord Thornley lately, only glimpsed him in passing as the retinue had gone about their days in town. It seemed prudent to try and keep busy, on account of how that helped a man keep his mind out of the horrors right outside. Zahra had filled in what he’d missed, though the late night creature’s real nature had barely been better than his assumption. Lukewarm comfort, honestly.

“ My Lord! “

On instinct he glanced around at the call, half expecting to see Lord Thornley wandering down the narrow alleyways. Instead of him, the familiar figure of the wizard in her grey robes and colourful hood was fast approaching, her hand up to wave for his attention. On the other was a bundle and behind her, a young man he didn’t recognize.

Unprecedented. Though he kept his smile, he glanced at the First Scout as to check in, which she responded in a frown and a puzzled twist of the lips. Probably some sort of bad hunch kept unsaid.

“ Lunch. “ Zahra said once she’d marched over, loud enough for the lot of them to hear.

“ Fucking finally — “ One of the men-at-arms dropped his spade at once, stepping over to the wheelbarrow where the wizard was preparing to deal out rations. “ What kept you? “

“ None of your business, Rolf. “ Zahra shot back at him, handing over his bread and cheese. With a jerk of the head, she signaled Jaakko at the young man that’d come with her. He nodded, once, and stepped on over to a private distance from the stranger. His smile was gone, replaced by a veil of concern.

“ Something the matter? “

For a moment, he looked a bit defeated, and scratched the back of his head beneath the felt wool hunter's cap. It had snow drops on it, a simple pattern in green and lighter yellow thread that could pass for white.
"Lead on, of course. Thanks," he offered, and followed in the wizard's footsteps, a recognizeable figure not only by the woolen greys and greens that the servants of Thornleys wore, garb cut for the neck to be covered - but by the bronze cage at his belt that housed the barely noticeable unlit wisps of the Hunt's lantern.

Olivier, with his freckled but ginger-hued skin and mousy blond hair, looked rather younger than his years at twenty-five summers. Still, he bowed half-way, very politely, if a bit hastily. The lord's smile gave him a bit of a pause, but once permitted to speak, he uttered,
"Your Lordship, good to find you here. Not particularly, but Lord Thornley requested that you gather your ten and ensure they are present, unless supposed to be out of Arpa, and if so, to mention which. It has to be done the soonest that is possible."
Because they had a person at the gate, bringing them full circle back to that first night when Reginald gathered everyone's names, never mentioning any sort of census. Now, that census was very much required as the lord was busy.

He eyed the exchange between the scout and the wizard. Apples kept her, probably. Maybe trying to scry on a couple spaces warded from scrying. He wasn't that kind of attuned to what this wizard did... Percival might have his hide for it, though, the young man considered, and made a mental note to keep a closer attention.
"We've either found an eleventh from your retinue, or we ought to fetch Lord Thornley to have a look," as soon as the words left his mouth, Olivier seemed to regret them, and pressed his lips closer together, adding in a lower tone. "Just security matters, m'lord."

He listened, expression unflickering. Eleventh — well, fuck. Once the young man finished, he merely gave a nod and a hum, rotating the tad to glance at the First Scout. She was already at attention, meeting the look and stepping closer. Scout’s instincts.

“ Fetch the rest. We’ve a situation — “ He started, watching her spring to swift action at the instant. “ I’ll tell you later. “ Promised, despite the fact she never pried too much to begin with. Aino gestured one man from their group to go along with her, as implored by their ‘house-meeting’ some week ago. A line of security, if small, that none tread alone.

Zahra’s stare was nailed to Lord Joutsentierna and the bearer of what could only be bad news. It took all her power to not blurt out a salvo of questions, a cloud of premonitions swirling within her chest. Tugs on a spiderweb, unintelligible whispers.

“ Two are out of town. I sent them on a matter of correspondence last week. “ He explained further, brief as he could in interest of time, meeting the Wizard’s stare in the middle. It did nothing to soothe either of them.

“ They’re both Aino’s scouts. Brune and Ezhil. They should be back any day now. “ Any sort of doubt didn’t make it into his voice. He wouldn’t allow it — once despair was let to take root, it’d never leave.

“ Where is this— Eleventh? “

Olivier seemed to clock the paired movement with precision and a glimpse of relief. He had an earnest face, that young man, easy to read compared to Reginald, and not too overshadowed by anxiety like Yvain. The 'other lord' did not make it necessary to chaperone everyone just so bodies wouldn't pile? Already amazing, maybe there was an aspiration for something. Relief switched to a thoughtful frown. Something, of course. People didn't tend to work with lord Thornley unless they really wanted something for themselves. Olivier hoped it wouldn't be about the drakehorses again. It always ended up about drakehorses.

"Thank you, Your Lordship. Brune and Ezhil. Neither matches, so not them. Found him at the Brennt Close," the Huntsman replied. "Close to the gate, but beyond it, we've had a quarantine zone there a while ago."
His narrow-sleeved hand extended, pointing the direction, his speech once again picking up pace.
"Behavior was rather odd, but he seemed to be dressed like your people, so the Shieldbearers thought he was drunk - but then one of them went on his way and didn't think it anymore. You might want to ward off against influence if you wish to take a look, yourself."

He moved the collar with his finger to scratch around something on his own neck, a dark round imprint, as if from a thumb finger. It seemed mostly rubbed off... like a thin coat of paint, perhaps.
"I'm safe, myself." Remembering the thing was there seemed to bring some comfort, and the Huntsman gently pressed the collar back over it. "Let's go."

Birds flew overhead, a small flock, quick to settle back into their basket nests around the scholars' quarters - that must have been the direction that the Aetochan shaman lived.

He led across the half-repaired thoroughfare, past the building façade undergoing an attempt to plaster it with a water-repellent mixture and a couple smaller hand-drawn carts, turned into a street not too far off from the gate, and then further to the left. Worse side of town, or was, once, most buildings one-storeyed and dilapidated. The neck of the former quarantine choke-off was still marked in the uprooted tracks of dirt framed by sparse trodden grass.

Over there, by one of the buildings that seemed to burn down until they were reduced to ash, with a precision that spoke of a powerful pyromancy rather than controlled burning, several Shieldbearers were standing in a group. They didn't seem to converge around the one that didn't match, but idled, confused, talking among themselves. Though the figure was part of their group, no one seemed to be talking to it.

Neither matches. Small reliefs, then, if with the curio that if not the scouts not in their midst, then who? What did it mean to be dressed like ‘his people’? His look regarded his own colours, then those upon Zahra and Rolf, both of whom strained at the effort of lunching as if they weren’t also actively listening. The bickering had stopped — one could hear a pebble drop in a deep well.

“ We haven’t anyone to cast wards in our midst — “ He started, shrugging, despite the feeling he should’ve been bothered by the fact by now. A sensible man would’ve been, surely? “ But if yourself is secure, then we should have nothing to worry about, eh? “

He tried a smile at that, radiating confidence. That bit of pressure on such a young man, probably already worried — a bit of fun he allowed himself. A treat, on someone else’s expense.

“ Lead on. “ He agreed to follow in a resolute nod. To the two of his own still remaining present, he jerked his head as an invitation to follow. Zahra had never collected her bits and bobs faster.


It felt different, treading in this part of town. Or maybe it was just the anticipation, broiling in his gut. Thrill, like on that night when they went out to see what ought put care and fright into a man — field expertise.

What he figured was the destination loomed, with it's gaggle of people, composed a touch strangely for how one stuck out like a sore thumb. Gone unengaged, drawing his look. The stranger seemed to hone in on that little bit of attention, perking up and returning a stare that had a chilling tinge to it. Seemed to look into a man, instead of merely at him. And he, for shame, averted his eye. At that beat, a thing mentioned in passing that he’d not inquired upon at the time, came to mind. He keeled his head to speak sidelong to whom had the lead, just a step ahead.

“ What is that influence you mentioned? There a charm or some other mind tricks they do? “

Behind their shoulders, the two following bore their stares on the leading Huntsman's back. One curious, another increasingly unnerved.

Light eyes lingered on the baron before lowering politely, and the wry smile that Olivier presented with a polite incline of the head was anything but agreement. But he supposed he could have some fun.

*

Olivier shrugged, eyeing the distant figure.
"You aren't warded, so you'll see, I suppose."

He was under instructions to not let harm come to the noble, not anything else. He didn't think that getting one's mind wrung out was harm, per se. The nobles outside Bremen were all tender plump chickens, in mind if not in body. Could use some wringing.

Wasn't an accident it was this close to the gates, either. Or that it was the least populated area of the entire town, after the almost-plague. Or that locals didn't go here, or live here, since during the war - so no clay figurines, either. Things could make themselves right at home, if they managed to slip through.

Wasn't anything strange, about the lad, it would occur to Jaakko. One of the faces that came along, certainly, the very one that marched with them on foot because his horse died! The one that showed up in the tail after the Huntsmen waved them through. Must have been that forgettable, with all the humdrum.
The rest of the Shieldbearers clearly knew this guy, anyway.

"Try asking questions," Olivier offered. "Like its name."

What was the point of questions? This was all a waste of time, and Jaakko could ask the Shieldbearers, anyway, they would probably know. Besides, the lad was staring at Olivier for the past half-minute. Not daggers, just a sort of blank expression when one doesn't quite understand what's going on. Maybe it was some kind of a jest?