The march back to Bowerstone was subdued. They were just enjoying the sun, and the sense of relief each felt at still being alive was enough to keep them quiet. They perked up a little when they passed the Mourningwood community. They stayed for a few days, buying drinks and recuperating in the little houses that the locals let them stay in, and when the trembling in their fingers at night had subsided, Swift ordered everyone to pack up. They soon discovered that the sewer pipes, while disgusting, brought them a feeling of security. They were no longer in danger of being attacked at any moment once the sun went down by beings that would simply rise again the next night. After Hollow Men, muggers and shoplifters would be a welcome change.
Most of the soldiers headed to the Riveter's Rest when they finally got through the maze of pipes and back to Bowerstone. Swift and Ben disappeared discreetly down a side alley as the other men filed past, covering them from view. Swift pushed open a door and he and the Captain slid through, both holding their hands up. Both men padded quietly through the sewers until they came to a large room filled with boxes. Somebody's gun clicked, and they turned to see a man holding a turret pistol at them, glaring.
"Who are you?" he growled.
"I am Major Swift, and this is Captain Finn," the Major told him. "Walter should have told you all about us."
"The Swift Brigade? A doomed group of heroes destined to die against the hordes of undead roaming Mourningwood?" Ben added. "Oh come on, tell me you've heard of us!"
"We know," the man growled again. "Name's Kidd. Head on through, but if you try anything, remember that all of us are armed."
"On my honour as a gentleman," Swift swore.
"I'm not a gentleman, so, ah, I can't promise on that," Ben chuckled. "On his life. I value that."
Kidd gestured for them to move forward, and they did, lowering their hands and moving further into the base. They walked past dirty bed rolls and broken toys, empty bookshelves and rows of guns and cannons. The ground was soggy beneath them, watery in places, and they were about to double back to make sure they'd missed nothing when they spotted a young woman through a doorway, bent over a map table. She seemed to be studying it intently.
"Excuse me," Swift began, clearing his throat. She straightened up, turning around, and Ben was treated to an eyeful of cleavage. "Major Swift, and Captain Finn. You must be Page. Walter told us all about you."
"Wonderful," the woman began. "The very type of people I wish knew nothing about me. I digress. Yes, I am Page, the leader of the Bowerstone Resistance. You are Major William Swift and Captain Benjamin Finn of the eponymous 'Swift Brigade', recently stationed in Mourningwood and having returned to the capital due to completion of the mission – or, rendezvous with the Princess of Albion and Walter Beck, unbeknownst to your king. Do you wish to know more, or shall I begin briefing you on the current situation in Bowerstone?"
"A briefing would be excellent," Swift replied politely. The woman snorted.
"Here's the easiest way to phrase it. Reaver is clamping down on the workers' freedom, whilst the taxes are being raised monthly, if not weekly. If you sleep on the streets, you get your head kicked in by an Elite," she said plainly. "Your redcoats are vanishing and are quickly being replaced by purple Elite."
"Logan's purging the army?" Ben asked. Page nodded.
"The brutes are being left in rank or promoted to Elite. Anyone who disagrees is dishonourably discharged, some even executed," Page told him.
"We knew there was trouble with the wages when we left, but this is worse than I'd feared," Swift sighed.
"After legions of undead, a few thuggish guards should be easy pickings," Ben snorted.
"Hollow Men?" Page repeated, as Walter entered the room, clapping Swift's arm genially. The old soldier turned an eye on Ben as the Captain smirked.
"Indeed. I made some crack shots on some of those shambling messes," he announced. "Three in one. The princess can attest."
"I don't believe it," Page deadpanned.
"It's true!" Ben protested. "I downed three Hollow Men in one shot! Walter!"
"Hey, I'm not getting involved!" Walter said, sticking up his hands defensively.
"I never trusted a soldier in my life. I'm not about to start now," Page quipped, turning as the door opened.
"Look, there she is, ask her yourself," Ben huffed, as Rina entered the room. Page gave her a brief smile.
"You know, for a princess, you're a pretty decent person," Page stated.
"I wish you didn't feel the need to say that, in all honesty," Rina admitted. "Logan should have never done what he did, and I'm sorry I have to represent the positive side of the monarchy."
"You are not your brother," Page told her earnestly. "I'm beginning to feel as though there is hope for Albion after all."
"Thank you, Page," Rina said gently.
"See, I knew you two would get along in the end," Walter commented with a smile. Rina let out a tiny laugh as Page rolled her eyes. What interesting timing Walter had to bestow certain comments.
"Thankyou for taking an interest in my social life, but we've got even bigger problems right now," Page said, and Ben could have sworn she ground her teeth at the thought. Rina's smile died on her lips the moment Walter uttered the next word.
"Reaver."
"He's been bleeding the city dry for years, but it's never been this bad," Page said with a sigh, leaning over the map table. Ben, ever the man willing to take a risk, had an opportunity to look down that gorgeous leather top that pushed up her breasts so beautifully, but as his eyes flicked over, he caught an expression on the princess' face that pulled him away from Page's extraordinary bosom. Rina's brown eyes were huge and soft with worry, a gentle, maternal expression that was reminiscent of Ben's own mother when he had been only young – a look she reserved for when she'd no idea what to do with her raucous, criminal sons. It made Ben swallow and feel ashamed.
"We decided it was time to fight back," the rebel began decisively, and her expression was of sorrow.
"A small group of fighters managed to get into his mansion, but they never made it out," Walter stated.
"I believe they're alive. You're going to help me find them," Page told her.
"What do you propose we do?" she asked, her full attention on Page.
"Reaver hosts some sort of fancy secret society party every week," Walter stated. "We don't know what goes on. This is Reaver, so I'm certain somebody has at least a general idea. But we do know what the guests look like. It's the perfect chance to sneak in."
Page handed Rina a package. It was squashy, and soft, and Ben could see the interest on the princess' face. It was clothes.
"Here. You'll have to wear this," Page said with a sigh, as though the idea of being in costume disgusted her. Ben wondered idly how many frills Page's costume had. He looked at the rebel gleefully.
"Great! Where's my costume?" He asked. "What, I still can't come? Even after the three Hollow Men story?"
"Everybody out. I need to change," Page growled.
"I'll stay here. Make sure no-one spies on you," Ben teased, grinning. That actually earned him a glare from Rina, and he made himself scarce awkwardly.
"Please don't let Mr Finn follow you," he heard Page warning her. "I've had enough of him for one day." Ben watched as she nodded, closing the door and heading away to the Sanctuary with a flash of teleportation, leaving Page to change and Ben to go find himself a good drink.
They found a bar somewhere in the rebel headquarters, and the soldiers currently in the sewers joined them. The air between the rebels and the redcoats was terse for a few moments, but eventually they warmed up to each other, and soon they were sharing stories like old friends. Swift sat on his chair, relaxed for the first time in weeks, and Ben was swigging on a beer, enjoying the gentle buzz of alcohol, when a blaze of light filled the room, and the Princess stepped out of it. Ben tried not to spit out his drink, laugh too hard, or let his jaw drop. The masquerade clothes she wore were simultaneously lovely and ridiculous. It was a mess of frills and pomp, in a sky blue mixed with soft pink. Still, the open square neck that exposed the tops of her breasts was not an unwelcome feature. The large skirt and trousers that came with them looked ridiculous, and yet she still looked lovely.
"Don't laugh," she pleaded. "I know it looks terrible."
"Nice colours," Ben commented.
"It's a dye job," she sighed. "The original colours were some ghastly shade of dark cream, eggshell and blue." She twirled and there was a smattering of applause from the gathered troops. "Would you take me like this?" she asked. Ben choked on his drink.
Bent over a desk? He wanted to ask, but he didn't. "It looks fine. You've probably got a fight on your hands anyway," he commented.
"I like the hat though," she added after a pause.
"The hat's ridiculous."
"Piss off, Finn."
"It is! You go through any doors, you're going to knock it off your head and it's going to get ruined," he insisted. "And then you'll cry, I promise you."
"I am a princess," she said calmly. "I don't cry over clothes."
"All I'm saying, is don't get too attached to that chapeau of yours, mate. It's a recipe for disaster," he warned her.
"You're just jealous," she decided. He spluttered.
"Am not."
"I didn't mean of the hat," she informed him. "You want to go to the masquerade, yes? Because you like Page."
"Page," Ben began confidently, "is a rather beautiful and charming woman with a great rack. Seeing her in frilly frippery would be ace." He watched the princess fold her arms, brow raising behind the mask.
"I have nothing to say to that," she decided finally, sighing. "Stay safe, Major Swift," she added.
"I shall do so, Princess," the soldier promised. "Logan will no doubt want to know the reason behind our retreat."
"Tell him insurmountable odds, insist that your men are not disposable, and assure him of your undying loyalty," Rina suggested. "But if you can think of a better strategy, then use it. At this point, I'm not sure how to talk to my brother anymore."
Her teasing mood had vanished, and Ben turned back to his drink. That gentle expression on her face, whether sadness or kindness, had a strange way of turning his gut upside down.
"I'll see you when I'm back from the party," she called, turning and vanishing into a wave of light. Ben blinked in surprise, fixated on the spot where she used to be, before watching Swift stand, brush off his jacket, and salute his men.
"I'm off to the castle, to give Logan my report," the Major said. "I shan't be too long."
"I'll pay ahead for your next drink," Ben promised.
"Better make it a port," Swift muttered. "I'm going to need something strong."
