I certainly did take my sweet time on this chapter, my apologies. Basically I wrote one version decided it was going the entirely wrong direction and then wrote this version. Much better.
Just so you know, when the talking is in italics, people are talking in Scanran so that's why I did that. You probably will also wonder, why are Kel and Cleon still together when Kel's already at Haven? Well, this is where we break away from the books a bit (more) and Kel and Cleon's romance is still going strong.
Also, for some reason I was putting "Toby" instead of "Tobe" but thankfully a reviewer caught it so I decided to go back and change it because that's just an embarrassing mistake to make.
So anyways, I love the reviews, a big thanks to everyone who wrote one and I would highly encourage anyone who reads the story to write one (or another one) as well. Alright. Well, enjoy the third installment…
Chapter Three : Claude Jacques
Claude cursed loudly, throwing his crutch at the ground. "I swear Giles, if you don't start to pick up your feet I'm going to come over there and slit your throat myself," he yelled in Scanran at the training field. The two men, both older than Claude, avoided his angry stare and pretended to look at the ground or the sky with sudden interest.
"Do you hear me? Slit your throat-" Without his crutch he stumbled and tipped to the ground, ending his last threat before he could add anything more to it. Using the hand that wasn't wrapped in a thick layer of bandages he rubbed his forehead, "You clumsy oaf," he muttered, part still reprimanding the fighter Giles, the other raging at himself. He reached for his crutch, as he did he heard the crunch of footsteps over gravel. The footsteps were unmistakable, he wasn't surprised when a man of average height came into view, the man had thin auburn hair on the top of his head, but his beard was still full. He wore a red shirt and grey breeches, all thick cotton, because Scanra was always cold. The man picked up the crutch that Claude was still reaching for and held it out to him.
"Alphonse, I hope you don't want me to say thank you," Claude growled, snatching the proffered crutch away from the man.
"Of course not, I was only doing a good deed with no thought of myself," the man, Alphonse said, "I'm a classic do-gooder."
Claude rolled his eyes and climbed to his feet, "What do you want?"
"Let's go inside and talk," Alphonse said. Claude glanced around the training grounds, which were nothing more than a rocky patch of land that no one wanted to build a house or a farm on. The training fields were surrounded on three sides by forest and visible on the fourth side was the greenish blue of a river. Across the river laid a mountain with the dark brown shapes of buildings that made up a village which nestled at its feet. Claude looked at the fighters, there were six on the training grounds, two of which were the clumsy Giles and his opponent.
"Let's go!" Alphonse's voice called, snapping Claude from his revelry. Claude turned to see the middle aged man's back disappearing behind a knot of trees. Sighing, Claude set off after him, his long legs wobbling because one was almost completely wrapped in bandages. They went up a hill to face a tattered wooden building which made pretense at serving as an inn, though the only customers that the inn served were ones that made the journey from the village, or even farther away, to frequent the inn.
Alphonse was waiting in the doorway of the building, staring out at Claude, his arms crossed impatiently on his chest. Claude didn't hurry, the crutch made navigating on the frozen ground difficult and he didn't want Alphonse to witness him falling.
"Want a drink?" Alphonse asked when Claude was near enough to hear him.
"If you're buying," Claude replied, still struggling up the hill.
Alphonse waved a hand of dismissal as if it was never in question. "Of course. You deserve a drink after that last mission, it looks like. You look like shit."
"Thanks, Alphonse," Claude said, pushing past him into the tavern. In the golden light of the tavern a bar was visible beyond a cluster of shabby wooden tables. Scattered around the room was a collection of scruffy patrons, the only ones that weren't gulping at mugs or talking with drunken slurs were passed out on the tables.
"So what exactly happened on that mission?" Alphonse asked as he slid into a chair.
Claude sat opposite him, setting his crutch across his lap. "We were intercepting army supplies that were going south to the Tortallan border on the Smiskir road. I got separated from the group and troops chased me well into the mountains, a small troop caught up with me and I escaped but, well," he gestured at his injuries, "things went downhill pretty fast."
"Why don't you just get a healer? You can't do much like when you look like that except try to train some of the boys a bit." He raised his hand to signal to the bartender that they wanted drinks.
"I know. Mathilde put some spells on me so enemy mages couldn't spell me, only problem is that no spells can get through hers. That includes spells from healers."
The bartender approached their table with two mugs, he set them on the table and wandered away, knowing better than trying to talk with the two. "Why don't you get her to take them off? The spell was obviously a bad idea."
Picking up the glass, Claude took a sip. "Well, here's the thing, she's in Galla. Someone from the Crown figured out that Mathilde was working for the Liberté and she had to run. I haven't been able to find a mage that doesn't ask questions and can get through the spells."
"So you're out?"
"I'm not out," Claude snapped, slamming his mug to the table a little harder than he had wanted and the liquid sloshed over the brim onto his hand and the table.
Alphonse raised an eyebrow. "What does Pieter say?"
"Pieter assigned me to a new mission, the one to Bique actually, if you must know."
"Has he seen you? Face to face?"
"Not for a few months. I deliver messages for him, not entertain him with my beautiful face," Claude replied. "What are you trying to say?"
"That maybe he wouldn't send you out, especially on Bique if he saw how battered you are."
"I'm as good a fighter, even with a crutch, as any man out there." He gestured in the general direction of the practice fields.
"If anyone else dared to utter that I would scoff, but for some reason I don't doubt it with you."
"Is that a compliment I hear?" Claude said playfully, lifting his mug to his thin lips.
"I won't deny your fighting skill, but I must remind you that no one is invincible. You're pride may often outweigh your sense."
"The Liberté needs me," Claude said, "I can't just come and go."
"They need you alive and well," Alphonse retorted, rubbing his beard with the hand that wasn't holding his mug. "No one will want you on their mission until you're better."
"Bique is my mission, it doesn't matter what anyone else wants," he leaned back in his chair, his high cheek bones casting shadows across his face so he looked more like a skeleton than a twenty year old man of flesh and blood.
"Bique's not your mission anymore, I'm sorry, but I have to pull you."
"You can't pull me," Claude snapped, sliding forward in his chair with violent speed. "It's my mission. I'm Pieter-"
Alphonse looked at him with raised eyebrows in a silent challenge.
"-s voix. I take orders from Pieter, not you."
"I'm sure Pieter will support my decision, unless he has a desire you do die and completely botch the entire mission by doing so."
"It's my mission," Pieter repeated lamely.
"Now it's Vivane's mission."
He buried his head in his hands, then straightened stiffly in his seat. He slammed his fist down on the table. "So I'm just supposed to sit here and rot?"
"You're supposed to heal-"
"Rot."
"No, actually," a flicker of annoyance crossed Alphonse's pale face, "we're assigning you to lead refugees across the Tortallan border to safety."
"Leading refugees? What makes you think Tortall will be any safer than Scanra for refugees?"
"You're the one that went to Corus, you still don't trust them?"
Claude shrugged, "I don't trust anyone."
"So are you worried about our refugees legitimately or are you just being a pain? Because I don't have time for you to sit here making trouble just because you don't like your new assignment."
"I don't know-" he started to reply, he didn't know and he didn't care. He was still trying to absorb the information about the Bique mission. He hated when he wasn't on missions, when he wasn't fighting, and leading refugees could take months to complete, months before he could be on another mission. The future looked blank and hopeless without a mission. Silently he cursed Mathilde, she was a strong mage, but unskilled. Now he was going to have to pay for her mistake.
"Claude? Boy," Alphonse said, reaching across the table to smack his cheek lightly. "You still with me?"
"Uh," Claude said, "I was…" Luckily he was saved from answering by the crash of a door. He looked up the staircase that trailed up back wall of the tavern and disappeared into the shadows. He could barely make out a slim figure, out lined in the frame of the door. The other men in the tavern all looked up, their murmuring ceasing instantly.
The figure descended the stairs, followed by a slightly chubbier figure. When they were about half way down the stairs and third and fourth stepped lightly on the staircase, the sound of their swishing skirts filling the silent room. Their hair was piled high atop their heads and their corsets were pulled suffocating tight around their bodies, but they moved as gracefully as if they were wearing the most comfortable clothes in the world. When all four were on the ground, one stepped out of the crowd, a haughty hand on her hip.
"Gentlemen of the court," she announced loudly, "May I introduce to you our stunning and most beautiful Queen and Lady of the Court, Mademoiselle Lisette Domenge Laurensa. Show your respect to the Queen!" she said with a smile of her thickly roughed lips, raising her hands to show that they should stand. The men clamored to their feet, some removing their hats to cover their hearts.
The door swung open, revealing a tall blonde woman who was so thin that her stomach looked to be no more than a stem. Her dress was old and tattered, at one point it must have been the most striking color of red, but now it was more of a maroon. "Greetings, courtiers," she cried, "I'm so pleased that you could attend me on this most lovely of afternoons when the sun is high and the air is warm. But please, don't let me keep you from enjoying your drink and fine cuisine. Drink and dance your coins away, now that's a royal order!" she said, her eyebrows raised and her chin tipped up. From the low, scooping neckline of her dress she produced a fan and flicked it open as casually as any court lady. Descending the stairs she fanned herself lightly, not seeming to notice the various holes in the fan. She swept across the room to Claude and Alphonse's table without a moment's hesitation.
"Ah, Claude, returned from training so soon?" she drawled. "Alphonse, darling, are you distracting the boy from his obsessions?"
"I'm afraid that I am, your ladyship," Alphonse replied with a chuckle, looking her over unabashedly.
"Well, my dear Alphonse, I'm afraid that I simply must purloin him from you, if I may?"
"We weren't done-" Alphonse started to object when she slapped him with her fan and moved in to take his seat. Without protest the man slid out of the wooden chair, to stand awkwardly beside the table.
"Merci, my darling," she dismissed without taking her blue eyes from Claude.
Alphonse stared at her, but didn't seem to be able to muster the courage to object. He hesitated for a moment, before realizing that Lisette wasn't acknowledging him, then sulked off into the tavern to converse loudly with the other girls.
"Since when have you been introduced as a Queen?" Claude said, rotating the mug on the table slowly.
Lisette cocked her head, "Since when have I not deserved to be introduced as Queen?"
"Never. That's not what I'm saying."
"I see, you aren't used to our little introduction ceremony yet," Lisette clucked her tongue in mock disapproval. "You certainly have missed all the fun."
"I'm sure I have."
"Oh, darling, have you ever. At one point I used to have a crown around here somewhere but I must have lost the silly thing." She patted her ratted blonde curls that were piled atop her head as if trying to remember the feel of the crown. Claude's eyes traveled from her blonde hair down to her thin face and swan like neck, to her bare shoulders and down to the corset that was so tight that it pressed her skin up and out of the garment.
"How's business been?" Claude asked suddenly.
"Booming," she replied, "but then again, who can resist me?"
"Me."
She waved her fan at him, "You don't matter. You're too busy chasing some highbrow ideals that you've lost touch with your most basic instincts."
"You're too busy grubbing for money that you have lost your most basic morals," Claude retorted.
"Mmm, sharp," she said approvingly, "You're getting your edge back, doll, I was worried that you would brood for months after your injury."
Claude shrugged distractedly.
"What did old Alphie want with you?" Lisette asked, seeing his expression.
He matched her expression with his eyebrow and sipped his drink without a word.
"He took you off the mission, didn't he?" She picked at her nail. "You're too easy to read when it comes to your precious missions."
Claude's head shot up, fixing her with a stare. "I was assigned to the mission. He had no right to take me off."
"You had no right to be on the mission in the first place." She stretched out her hand to find the next nail to pick at.
"I was assigned."
"By yourself."
"Pieter," he snapped.
Lisette sighed, waving the hand that wasn't being picked at. "Same thing."
Claude glanced around the room nervously, "It was all Pieter's assignment," he said.
"Right. So you're all upset about that. Did Alphie give you something else or will be spending a good deal more time together here?"
"I'm leading refugees across the Tortallan border and helping them settle in."
Lisette snorted, "You?"
"It would appear so."
"Those poor people," she said with a shake of her head. "Not only do they have to put up with you, but they have to put up with you being grumpy. How big a group?"
"I don't know. I don't care."
Lisette sighed, "See? You're already being cranky."
Claude gulped down the contents of his mug and slammed the empty clay mug to the table.
"Don't worry."
He eyed her with contempt, not knowing what she meant.
"I'll come along."
"What?" he said, reaching for his mug again.
"I said, I'll go with you. I've always wanted to go to Tortall, I here the business is booming."
Claude sipped at his mug until he realized that it was empty. He dropped it back on the table loudly. "You want to come with me?"
Lisette paused, looking back and forth, wondering if he was in the same conversation that she was. "Uh…yes. Is there a problem?"
"You're not a refugee."
"I could be."
Claude groaned. "Fine. But I'm not pleased about this." He had known Lisette for far too long to not take her seriously when she decided that she was going to do something, no matter how raving mad her endeavor was.
"Good, well, now that that's settled, I've got work to do," she stood, fanning herself with the decrepit fan, and slunk out into the room. Her hips swinging back and forth, she called rancorously, "Who will buy a pretty girl a drink?"
----------------------------------------------------
Snow fell lightly, frosting the edges of Haven's roofs. Kel was leaving the mess hall alone, she had to check on the progress of the new barracks that were being added to Haven to house a new group of Scanran refugees. The building was completed, but there were still furniture and other smaller things that needed to be built in order to be ready to welcome the new refugees when they arrived that afternoon. Kel crossed the wooden planks that had been laid on the mud to keep people off the thick mud that formed when the icy ground warmed enough to melt. People wandered back and forth on the walkways, their breath forming little white clouds then dissipate, only to be replaced moments later with their next breath.
Kel nodded absently to a few, her attention elsewhere. She approached the new barrack, the wooden building had people moving in and out, carrying tools and half built bunks.
"Will the barrack be ready in time?" she called out to the workers.
One looked up from her work long enough to reply, "By noon, no later, my lady." She ducked her head and went back to hammering at a set of shelves.
Kel nodded, satisfied with the response. They had been working almost nonstop over the last few weeks and she had no doubt of their competence. She was about to visit the training grounds to see how early morning training was going, when she saw a boy racing down the planks toward her. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for his short legs to carry him to her.
"Good morning, Tobe," she said to the boy cheerfully.
Tobe nodded as a sort of greeting, but was too winded from the run to respond properly. "The refugees-" he managed to choke out, "-they've come."
Kel stopped short, "They're early."
Tobe nodded, still trying to catch his breath.
"Is anything wrong?"
"We- The guards on the gate- They can't tell."
Kel frowned, "Are they being pursued?" She was already walking briskly toward the gate.
"No- They don't think so-" Tobe said, trailing her. His breathing was still uneven. "The group is small- smaller than we thought- Only thirty or so-"
Kel climbed the stairs that led to the top of the wall. She pushed past soldiers that had gathered to get a better view of the approaching refugees. She threw a glance over the wall to the small figures crossing the frosty ground. "Is that them?" she asked the captain that was on duty.
"They're not soldiers in disguise, if that's what you're asking. They're a pretty ragged bunch, no wagons or horses."
Kel looked again at the approaching group. Even from the distance she could see they were struggling to move at the pace they were moving. "Have the mages make sure there's no trap so I can take some men to help them."
"The mages have cleared the area," the captain informed her. "They've scoured the area well, now they're double checking."
She gave a sharp nod and trotted down the stairs. When she reached the ground she looked for Tobe, "Tobe!" she called, "Tobe!"
A moment later Tobe appeared, leading her mare, fully saddled. "Yes?"
Kel broke out into a smile, "Who do I even bother calling for you?"
"You like surprise?"
She reached for the reins, "What would I do without you? No, on second thought, don't answer that."
Tobe smiled impishly. "I told a few soldiers about the refugees, they should be on their way."
"Thank you, I'll ride ahead. They don't look like they'll make it much farther without help." She climbed on the horse, checking to make sure that her sword was secured properly to her belt, just in case. The gates creaked open, when the gap was wide enough for her to ride through she nudged the mare forward.
On horseback she reached the ragged group quickly, as she neared she realized that they seemed too weary to even notice her arrival. Only one looked up suspiciously, but his attention was quickly stolen by a little girl that stumbled in front of him. He bent down to heave her to her feet, all while still walking. "Alia, you 'ave got to keep going. We're nearly zere."
Kel called out to them, still no one noticed, just kept putting one foot in front of the other. Only the man that picked up the little girl looked up at her. His green eyes met hers for a moment and she found that she recognized them, but they had changed since the last time she had seen them. They were deeper, she realized, too deep. Perhaps they weren't the eyes she remembered at all. "Pieter-"
His sharp features formed an expression of pain, before changing to one of apparent surprise. "No," he snapped. "Not Pieter."
"Oh," Kel said, disappointment rendering her unable to remember what she wanted to tell them. The man's gaze slid back to the road before him, when she could no longer see his eyes she was able to regain her composure. "Soldiers are on their way to help you come into Haven safely. They will bring carts to help you."
"We do not need your charity," the man that she had called Pieter said. Though, as he said these words, the others in the group started to come to a hesitant stop. "Come, we are nearly zere." Around him his group had already stopped.
"Ztop with your ztupid pride, Claude," a tall woman said, "We will accept zeir 'ospitality and 'elp. You can push on if you dezire, but we will not be joining you." The other refugees nodded their silent agreement.
The man, Claude, stopped to glance around the group, who were all avoiding his gaze. "After all ze diztance we've covered, your just going to ztop now?"
"We're to zafety now," the woman snapped. Her eyes were sunken and her stance was bowed from exhaustion. "No more, Claude, you've pushed uz far enough."
Kel watched the exchange with mild interest, her mind still circling Pieter. Why had she thought that the man was Pieter? Why did he look so familiar? "Alexandre," she said, realizing where she had seen the man before, but when she had seen him last he had been but a boy, "Alexandre Corin."
The woman looked at the one she called Claude, then back to Kel, who she seemed to take in for the first time. Her blue eyes raked Kel up and down. Kel was distracted from the woman by Alexandre, "Lady Keladry, what a pleazure." He bowed awkwardly, it took Kel a moment to realize that he was leaning on a crutch with one arm and one leg completely bandaged.
"Is it Alexandre or Claude?" she asked, her eyes still on his bandages, blood smeared the fabric and his clothing, either someone was terrible at bandaging or that was fresh blood.
"Claude Jacques, actually," he replied. "Alexandre Corin is only for Corus."
"Ah, I do apologize, Pieter never said-" she cut herself off. She didn't want to lay all her cards on the table when it came to Pieter. "I mean, I didn't know that Alexandre was an alias, but I should have figured as much."
"Not to worry, I change names frequently, I- uh," he said, his emerald eyes fixed on Kel. While staring at her his words had vanished from his mind. He struggled for a moment, before finally giving up.
Kel and the woman eyed him for a moment. "You must be tiring," the woman said with a chuckle. "I knew zat you could not go on forever."
"Oui, oui," Claude said, then spoke in rapid Scanran with the woman. Kel looked up to see a wagon pulling toward them with a knot of soldiers pulling it. When the wagon creaked to a stop the refugees gratefully loaded themselves, they didn't have many belongings to carry with them.
"Why so few?" Kel asked Claude, who was undeniably the one in charge.
Claude flicked sweat away from his forehead, keeping his eyes decidedly away from Kel. "We ran into a bit of trouble with ze Scanran army on our way down. There was a zcuffle and the ones that were ztill alive ran. We haven't zlowed zince."
"I can see that you're heavily wounded. We have barracks all set up, we'll have healers see to you all."
"Yez, zey will appreciate zat," he said stiffly.
"You will too, you most certainly need it," Kel said cheerfully. She wasn't thinking about her words, though. While Claude was busy directing his gaze away from her, she was eying him thoughtfully. He probably looked like Pieter, them being brothers and all, except Pieter probably didn't have that determined hardness to his face and the thin lanky body of Claude. She blushed when she realized that she had missed Claude's last words because she had been daydreaming about Pieter. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, "Oh, what was that?"
"I zaid-" he stopped himself. "Nozing."
Kel laughed, "You said nozing?" she said, repeating his thick accent.
"Nozing. Noh-zing," Claude tried to correct himself, bringing more laughter from Kel.
"I'm going to have to teach you more common, perhaps you can pass some on to Pieter?"
Claude stiffened. "Yez. Pieter. Kel, I must tell you-"
The blonde woman slapped the back of his head suddenly. "Claude! She iz a mademoiselle knight, not 'Kel' like zhe iz a friend of yours!"
Kel blinked, she hadn't even noticed the woman approach. "It's no trouble," Kel said, surprised by the woman's vigor.
The woman turned on Kel, "You 'ave zimply got to put the boy in hiz place zome timez, if you know what I mean."
Kel didn't know how to respond to that, but the gates were nearing so she looked up at the gate to avoid the woman and Claude's further conversation. Once they were inside and the gate was creaking closed behind them, the refugees crawled out of the wagon to face the other inhabitants of Haven. They were warmly welcomed with steaming rolls, blankets, and every available healer. Claude climbed off the wagon to direct the stragglers to food, the woman was lost in the crowd. Kel wandered away, handing the horse off to Tobe's eager hands. Her mind was reeling with the discovery of Pieter's brother. She hardly noticed that she had walked all the way to her office, swinging open the door she stepped inside to the comfortable warmth of the building. Someone was waiting for her, "I'm sorry to keep you waiting," she said, trying to remember if she was supposed to meet someone now or not.
The man turned around, grinning, "Don't worry, I wasn't waiting long."
Kel's jaw dropped.
"Don't look so surprised, my company came in the back gate while you were at the front. We didn't want to rush you."
"I- uh-" Kel stammered, still shocked.
"Don't I get a hug, at least?" he said cheerfully, running a hand through his red locks carelessly.
Kel stepped forward numbly, "But- but-"
" 'I'm glad to see you' would be an appropriate response at this point."
"Oh, Cleon, I'm glad to see you," Kel said. "I just wasn't expecting this-"
"I know, that's why it's called a surprise," Cleon said, wrapping his arms around her. "I just missed you. I convinced someone to trade me assignments so I could see you."
Kel smiled, the shock wearing off quickly. "I'm glad. We haven't seen each other for awhile."
Cleon ran his thumb down the side of her face, and bent to kiss her. Part of Kel fluttered up, she had missed Cleon and his kisses, but part of her was unmoved, she ignored that part as best she could.
"I-" she started, but was interrupted by a knocking on the door. She sprung away from Cleon and went to the door. A soldier stood outside the door, "Yes?" Kel said.
"My lady, the Jacques boy refuses to see a healer and the healers keep insisting. It's starting a ruckus-" the soldier explained.
"Jacques? You have Pieter here?" Cleon said standoffishly.
Kel turned, fixing him with a level stare. "No, it's his little brother, Claude. Pieter's not here, nor never has been."
"Oh," Cleon replied slowly, almost thoughtfully. "I see."