Rainer Zverev

Rainer Zverev

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He sat back from where he’d been hunched over, reading. The flame from the oil lamp betwixt them licked back and forth in the draft, glowing off the dark skin and yellow eyes of the elf sat across from him. Filatoff, second to Lieutenant Katina of whose passing he’d just been informed of. Though perhaps calling it demise was more apt.

“ You think it’s betrayal? “ Rainer inquired dryly, voice lowered for how quiet it was outside. Crickets and the gentle sway of tentcloths in a camp gone to bed, though fires yet glowed to keep the nightcomers at bay. There were old trees here and he didn’t much like the voices they had.

Filatoff seemed to think for a moment, then nodded. Pointed to the late Lieutenant’s journal, prompting him to turn it in his hand idly.

“ There was a page missing, last one. “
“ Which could mean nothing. “ He retorted, putting it down on the makeshift table next to them — an almost empty crate that, based on the letters burned to the side, had once held an officer’s ration of liquor. He didn’t much drink, so he’d used his for bribing whomever did. The road had been rather long.

“ But it is something. “ Filatoff shot back, undeterred.
“ People choke on their dinner all the time. “ He swat at the air with his hand, dismissive. Filatoff’s smile was wry, baring teeth.
“ Suppose I’ll say that when it’s your turn, hmh? “

The affectionate nickname for Katina had been Kutina. Katina-Kutina — he imagined it was for how she wore herself at parties, rather cute, but in where he was from kutina stood for itch. Either way, they’d all found each other smiling at the ages old moniker, together and alone.

Bloody shame. She’d promised to come visit him and Klaus at Crown’s Hold once he’d finally retired, permitted that neither of them died in battle before then. Wouldn’t had been her, the beast with a sword that she was, towering an inch taller than his damn self.

Damn fucking shame, if there ever was one. He relented with a nod, weary, and braced a hand on his knee. Filatoff was up before him, chin up and with that leisurely swagger about the way they stood, arms at the front and held loosely together, palm on the wrist. Upright in the second following, Rainer inspected the sight of them and rose a brow.

“ Is that a smile I see, Filatoff? “

The elf cleared their throat and smiled wider.

“ Of course not, Lieutenant Zverev. “
“ A grimace most abominable, then— “ He agreed, measuring them up and down. “ I’ll advice you to wipe it off all the same. Can’t have the entire camp knowing we’ve been scheming in here. Or worse— “

He picked up the journal and slipped it into the satchel at his belt, nimble enough for an old man.

“ That you should’ve convinced me of something, finally. “
“ Sensible you are, Lieutenant. “
“ Don’t insult me. “ He tapped them on the shoulder. “ At your most disappointed, Filatoff. “
“ Yes, Lieutenant. “
“ Grab a bottle from that crate and heel. We’re making a social call. “



*​


The spring was still early, cool on the skin of their faces and lungs that transmuted it to steam as they walked through camp. The way wasn’t long, but nothing was in the small hours without the weight of steel — he could’ve strolled hours like this, aimless. A glorified cow in pasture.

The tent with the telltale banner was there all too soon. He tapped the thick canvas at the entrance.

“ Captain — You’ve a minute? “

Liquid sloshed as bottle changed hands. He summarily offered it through the tentflap.

“ We brought dinner. “
 
Long were the days, and cold were the nights. Laid back, fingers knitted atop her chest, Agatha regarded the coloured canvas above her head with the vacant look of a mind left to wander. Of all the thoughts that had filled her head during the course of the day, what they had turned to now was perhaps the surest sign that she had given up.

For nothing could explain what had happened to Lieutenant Katina. Not really.

'Choked on a fishbone.' It beggared belief. So much promise, wasted. Everyone who was anyone in the company knew that the leiutenant would have gone far, given half the chance. It was written in the stars. The way she handled herself -on and off the battlefield- and those under her command. For rare was the soldier whose ambition was rivalled only by their acumen. One in a thousand, that had been Katina. And now she was gone forever.

Pity.

Her next of kin had been informed of her passing. Mender was in the process of carrying out a postmortem, though, Agatha doubted she would find anything they didn't already know. Cut and dry. A boring explanation for a boring death. No guts and glory. 'Just a fucking fish,' she huffed, quietly and to herself. It was hard not to see the tragedy in it.

The guard detail outside her pavilion stirred as a couple of someones appeared from the torchlit dark. Agatha heard voices.

A knock.

'For you? Always.' Sitting up, Agatha swung her legs over the side of her cot. The inside of her pavilion was richly-decorated. Duckboards kept her feet out of the mud whilst a bearskin rug welcomed any and all visitors with an open maw.

A mahogany desk dominated the space. Opposite her cot, a small woodstove crackled away merrily, keeping the cold at bay.

'Dinner? Looks to me like that's courage you carry in your hand. Wouldst that I needed it right now.'

Wearing a smile she didn't feel, Agatha stood to receive her guests.

'Make yourself at home, Zev. You too, Fil. And stop grinning or you'll scare the hogs.' Dusting off some camp stools, Agatha took a seat by the stove, ready to receive Rainer's offering. She hummed. 'Must be bad, if you've broken out the good stuff,' she said, tracing the faded label with her thumb.

'Lay it on me, then, 'fore I have you both thrown out for disturbing me with shit tidings.'
 
He made himself plenty homely directly across from the Captain by the stove, sitting as straight as he managed, arms folded. Lips pressed, attention drifting from the Captain to the elf who remained standing, hands braced against hips. There was that little lag, an awkward moment where no one said nothing, but himself wasn’t terribly keen to cross two sticks to remedy the effort. He appeared to almost be enjoying it, the weighted silence, a little too nondescript in the face when Filatoff met eyes with him expectantly.

Well? As if in understanding, the elf cracked a smile and bobbed their head, braving a look at the Captain. And spoke.

“ Lieutenant Katina’s death — feels more like a killing to me. I don’t have names or hard proof, just— “

He held his breath lest a weary sigh leave him. Filatoff went on.

“ Intuition. She didn’t debrief me about what happened on the supply run, when those two scouts went missing. “
“ One went missing. The other they found at the tavern. “ He corrected icily, disappointed to boot.
“ Yes. “

Another lull, wherein he produced the journal from the satchel. Just held it for now, ignoring the little hopeful stir on the elf that remained hovering betwixt Lieutenant and Captain.

“ Suspects. “ Rainer spoke next into the crackle of burning tinder, in way of order. The elf blew a breath and combed a hand through their dark curls.
“ Anyone who was there. Or wasn’t. It must be in a log somewhere. “

At that, they both eyed the Captain. Rainer for his curiousity, Filatoff in way of pleading.

“ There are ways for bloodless murder. Poison, a hex. “
“ Conspiracy of bones. “ Rainer added wearily, slapping the empty stool left next to them with the journal.

Filatoff finally slumped down to a seat in surrender. Kept their stare locked upon their Captain.

“ Don’t figure she would’ve— recited any fears, something — to you? Captain. “
 
Surprise was not a look Agatha wore often nor then. Rainer could be a dismissive fuck sometimes, but if Filatoff had managed to talk him around, then perhaps there really was cause for doubt. 'Sadly, no.' Katina had been a member of the inner circle, true enough, and yet there was more than a splash of assumption in the elf's tone.

Watching the hope leave his eyes, the she-ork turned her gaze upon the Leiutenant, brow furrowed.

'The incident with the scouts was a first for her, as I recall.' Katina had been a strict disciplinarian, but not unfair. Punishment details were reserved for those whom earned them. Digging latrines, extra watches. Particularly stubborn mules got the lash.

''Bad was in one helluva mood when they caught that fool soaked to the gills.' Aye, the Captain could count on one hand the number of times she had seen the Master of Scouts lose his temper. A true stoic, felt cap and all. They never did uncover what happened to the second man either. Dead or deserted was anyone's guess, though the latter seemed less likely since morale had been on the up as of late, courtesy of all the work the skinflints had been putting in.

Fresh supplies. Meat and beer. Pay arriving on time from their sponsor. The last part had wrested a sigh of relief from the captain. Praise be, it's a miracle! She remembered thinking at the time. Not anymore.

Opening the bottle Rainer had brought her, Agatha took a swig, sampling the fruits of someone else's labour, and savouring the taste.

Not the best, not the worst, she thought, swallowing it down.

'Question for you, Filatoff.' Golden eyes flitted to the elf. 'Why is it you took your suspicions to the Leiutenant here, and not one of your sergeants? Or rather one of Katina's sergeants.' May the soil rest lightly upon her. 'Don't tell me none of the others were convinced.'
 
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Captain spoke and the rest listened. In the corner of his view he could see Filatoff struggling to remain as they were, sat down and still. Their hands, brought to the front, were fidgeting. Tearing into what remained of fingernails.

They perked up the tad when directly addressed, making an effort to not seem so defeated. Even bright-eyed, almost, despite the question. They’d all know it was coming, logic, and Rainer bore down with his stare from the side of it all. Unsubtle curiousity, but relatively straight-faced.

Filatoff drew in a worrisome breath. The silence was stretching, eating at credibility. Too long.

“ I don’t know, I think I just— “ They started, to fill the horrible empty air betwixt with something. Any sound. “ They wouldn’t care like you do, Captain. Or the Lieutenant. “ They continued, glancing at Rainer. He retaliated.

“ That’s rather thin, Filatoff. “
“ You were equals. “ And he hated how sheer it sounded.
“ Are. “ Rainer corrected, a little knifepoint. “ A soldier doesn’t lose her rank in death. In fact, she might even get promoted. “

At that, amused, he bounced his attention to the Captain in turn.

“ Were that she lost her life valorously in service to the company. “ He posed it as one might a question, two warring parts of him betting for the answer. It’d have to be resolved for the funeral tomorrow.

Time was a wasting. And the elf was not helping any of the cause.

“ Filatoff suspects one of ours did Katina in. Her personal log has been tampered with — “ He droned on, untying the bit of age-softened leather string around the journal. Leafed through a couple pages of feathery handwriting, all the way to where it cut off.

“ The last two weeks are missing. ”
 
Agatha smiled, genuinely amused by the elf's answer. You gone soft on us, trooper? She thought amid the humming and hawing, allowing Rainer to apply some pressure whilst she watched the pair of them, gauging time and response, like any true tactician would, given the opportunity.

Rainer's attention shuffled back to her shortly thereafter, his expression deadpan, tone decidedly less so.

'A loss is a loss, Zev,' she answered, wondering what point he was driving at. 'A woman chokes on a fishbone, it's tragic. But when a warrior falls in battle, it's business.' The Captain's smirk had an edge to it. Whatever amusement she had felt just moments before was gone, choked to death by fond memories and the suspicions of her subordinates. 'Either way, the Company is weaker for it.' Whether Filatoff's doubts were well-founded remained to be seen.

Taking the leatherbound journal in hand, Agatha flicked through the pages, gaze softening as she read from foreign thoughts. 'Very neat. Perhaps, in another life, I would have named her my adjutant.'

The pages ended abruptly. A whole chunk had been removed, the tear unclean, as if made in haste.

'The influx from Crorefell arrived a fortnight ago,' she spoke quietly and to herself, 'and the incident with the missing scouts happened the following week.' She looked up at Rainer and Filatoff. 'Be interesting to see who shows up tomorrow,' she murmurred, closing the journal with a soft thwump. 'Once Mender's done with the autopsy.'

Setting the log aside, Agatha picked up the bottle Rainer had gifted her, gave it a swig in order to wash away the vile taste in her mouth. Sour, like betrayal.

'Time you returned to your troop, Filatoff.' Agatha rumbled, lost in thought. 'Leave it with us. Tell no one of your suspicions. If there really is a murderer among us, it's best they don't feel the noose until it's sitting snug around their neck.'
 
Katina, an adjutant? That got a chuckle out of him, if for the image alone. The lot of them trussed up in silks, confined to some office where swords were but mere decorations on mantles. Balls.

He assumed his businesslike neutrality from there, watching Filatoff’s face as it settled to something resembling hopeful. Though he would always recognize and appreciate the Captain for her heart and resolve, to his liking the air had become a touch too heavy with affirmation. Anyone of Filatoff’s station and lower would’ve been well off with way less.

Thankfully, such ripples of disapproval were hardly distinguishable from the general judgemental look he sported at pretty much everything. Or so he’d been told.

“ Right. “ He said once the Captain had concluded, in that particular tone people employed when they were about to announce an end to their visit. Once they realized he was rising from his seat, Filatoff also hurried to do the same.

“ Yes, of course— Thank— “ They begun, daring to smile again, all the while being summarily ushered out the tent by the Lieutenant. A firm grip on the shoulder.
“ Thank you, Captain. Lieutenant. “
“ Yeah, yeah. “
“ And good night. “

In a final salute and a rustle of canvas, the elf was gone. Rainer hovered at the exit for a couple seconds, as if to see them properly off into the camp and out of sight, drawing in the night outside. His exhale left him in a cloud as he turned to face the Captain anew, approaching a couple steps to close the private distance.

“ Autopsy, huh? Not really the everyday procedure when a man goes. “ No preamble, just his grave honesty.

“ Mender’s idea or yours? “
 
Sweeping up Katina's journal, Agatha went to her desk as Rainer ushered the elf on his way. 'You make it sound like an accusation.' Golden eyes found the Leiutenant's as she opened the top draw, depositing the book inside, the secrets written therein hers to keep, if only for the time being.

A key materialised in her hand. There was a twist, followed by a click.

'Don't you think we're both a touch long in the tooth to be harbouring doubts?' She asked, pocketing the key, and sweeping up the cloak draped over the chair she so often occupied when entertaining sponsors.

'I fancy some fresh air,' she said, fastening the cloak in place. 'Would you care to accompany me?' She made it sound like an invitation rather than a order. Rainer was a big boy, he could take it. 'Mender should be done with her examination by now,' she spoke into the space between them, voice softening as her gaze fluttered to the entrance, back again. 'It's awfully dark out there. A lady's like to get lost, when left to her own devices.'

Linking her arm through his, Agatha drew him towards the exit like a grandaughter leading a doddery old granpapa back to bed. There was certainly enough grey in his beard to sell the impression.

'Need an escort, ma'am?'

The guards on duty roused themselves as the Captain stepped out to stand beneath the Thief's cold gaze. Gold-wreathed bascinets marked them for Company men. Veterans. The tried and true. Agatha had met many a principled mercenary. Almost all of them had marched under the black banner at one point or another.

'No, thank you. The Leiutenant here will keep me safe,' she smirked, patting Rainer's arm affectionately.

'Are you sure, Captain?'
'Yes, I am certain.'
'Very well, then. Enjoy your evening, ma'am.'

So very polite, she mused, listening on as the trooper returned to his seat about the fire, the men of her bodyguard waiting until she was out of earshot to start laying into him. Poor bastard, she grinned. 'A good man, is Robard. Not like the rest of these unruly sods,' she gestured about them, at the mass of tents, carts and cookfires.
 
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He quirked a brow as she floated the outdoorsy idea, but that was about the extent of his objections — by the way she seized him by the arm, there wasn’t but to summarily surrender like small fry to ocean current. He wasn’t much of a fighter, when it came to her. Sure leadership even through softer tone, the jokes and the jabs.

He’d let her have all that fun too as they exited, the easy chatter while he merely wore his customary frown, utterly unimpressed with the insistence of the guard at present. What does it take for a man in this damn camp to listen at once — apparently plenty, which was merry sufficient to rile up a gentle simmer in him. The sort of persistent annoyance that’d not let up until he had the educated opportunity to bark it out at someone. He’d remember everything and then some, cursed to be perpetually irritated by any which little thing, to some measure or other.

The pat on his arm tempered the hottest edge off his weary huff, inspiring that he turn the daggers in his eyes away at the moon. Or something, like checking weather, until they were finally moving again. Robard. He’d commit that for future use.

“ Disappointing. I was under the impression there were no good men here. “ He started, idly tracing what surrounded them. “ More is the pity for him, considering what usually happens to his ilk in this line of work. “ The regular hollow sentiment, non-committal and full of world-weary gravel. The sort of things that people said, but rarely meant.

Katina was too good too. And by some strange little coincidence, she got fucked. What if it is nothing, just poor luck? Gods’ will.

“ Whatever buries us, suppose it won’t be fun regardless. “ His tone fell lighter then, floating off to that silence that suggested a man had meant to speak more, but reeled up nothing. An exhale replaced the tail end, heavy.
 
Agatha smiled a knowing smile, a gentle squeeze of Rainer's arm accompanying the words that followed. 'The men are only as good as we aspire to be,' she said, trapping him with her gaze. 'Whatever buries you will have to get through me first, Zev. And you know how much I hate to lose.' Katina's untimely death was a blow they all felt, be it accident or cold-blooded murder. The pages missing from her journal hinted as to the latter.

Yet Agatha knew better than to make assumptions when lives were on the line.

Passing the Quartermaster's tent, the Captain hove close to Rainer, boots thudding against duckboards lain in the mud. Mirror and Beast steered a sure course through the sea of tents and pavillions. Lit torches burned like beacons in the night. Few were awake at this hour. Sentries walked the earthworks, or else manned the temporary palisade, black cloaks helping stave off the cold.

Mender's tent was one of the largest in camp. Had to be, considering how often the men succumbed to illness. Genuine illness, mind. The layabouts had learnt right quick not to waste Mender's time lest their woes become reality.

The Blackshields guarding the entrance straightened at the sight of their Captain. Even during peacetime, Agatha was loth to leave the most vulnerable of her people unguarded. A gesture most appreciated.

'Evening, gentlemen.'
'Captain,' the pair answered in unison, drawing a warm smile.
'All quiet?'
'As the grave, ma'am,' said the elf on the right, reaching for the flap.

Nodding, Agatha slipped her arm from Rainer's before ducking inside. A wash of shroudlight painted the interior in hues of silver, blue and purple, reminiscent of the sky beyond the confines of whispering canvas. Agatha was pleased to see many of the cots empty, though there were always a few bodies to keep Mender and her attendants busy. Curtains offered some measure of privacy for the afflicted.

Heading towards the alcove located at the back of the tent, Agatha called out to Mender, alerting the she-ork as to their presence. There was a pause as something metallic clattered, then a curse.

'In here!'
 
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