A big thanks to my betas for their help!
For Queen and Country
Chapter one
Once more into the breach
"Pruzah. As good a reason as any. There are many who feel as you do, although not all. Some would say that all things must end, so that the next can come to pass. Perhaps this world is simply the Egg of the next kalpa? Lein vokiin? Would you stop the next world from being born?"
"The next world will have to take care of itself."
-The Dragonborn to Paarthurnax-
Louise pushed the remains of the desk aside and found… absolutely nothing beneath. No, wait! There was a single copper coin there. It wasn't much but it was more than she had found in the rest of the village. Or ghost town, to be precise.
As she walked out of the house, she heard a rumble to her right. Instinctively she raised her crossbow and pulled the trigger. With a pained shriek, the goblin that had been stalking in the shadows fell limp with a single bolt coming out of its chest. It was still breathing when Louise walked to it and pulled the barbed bolt off with a violent jerk. The trauma the beast suffered was simply too much and was dead in a matter of seconds.
Disgusting vermin. They were as numerous as cockroaches and just as ugly.
From a distance, and with Albion's characteristic fog covering it all, the town had looked inhabited. Only after getting closer had Louise realized her mistake.
The place was ransacked, most houses in ruins and some even burnt down, and, instead of humans, the ones making it their home had been goblins.
The only saving grace was that she hadn't found the bodies of the previous inhabitants, which indicated they had probably fled the place. Or had been eaten, but it was better not to think about that.
The damage was also relatively recent. Weeds hadn't grown around the structures yet, and the few flowers she had found were just now beginning to die due to the mistreatment of the elements.
She also found the remains of military activity: the broken rings of mails, arrowheads, and horseshoes. Next to them were also many footprints that predated the arrival of the monsters.
The abhumans hadn't been the ones to chase the villagers away. Soldiers had. They then proceeded to loot and burn. Not necessarily in that order. The goblins had then seized the initiative and moved in.
The noble walked to the main plaza. Once a center of commerce and life, it had been defiled by the goblins with totems and blasphemous iconography praising their filthy gods. Little protection they had been when Louise arrived. She would burn it, but didn't have the time nor wanted to attract unwanted attention.
Sitting on what had been the goblin chief's throne, she opened her backpack and inspected her provisions.
With the recently salvaged copper coin, she had exactly… one Albionesse denier.
That would be a problem. She did have a good amount of Tristanian coins, but she didn't want to spend them and risk having to answer dangerous questions. And her provisions were running low. She had some apples but those would spoil fast if she didn't eat them, and the strips of dried meat wouldn't be enough for more than a couple days.
The initial plan had been to find the nearest settlement and trade for food and information there. But, well, goblins.
She gave a last look at the sad little town.
That image was all too familiar to her. During the final and darkest days of the Skyrim Civil War she saw far too many towns and villages ravaged and abandoned. Mostly by starving Stormcloaks desperately searching for food.
What a grim reality. At the end of the day, the Civil War had been won not by martial power, courage, honor, or even Louise's own intervention. The Empire's greatest weapon had always been gold and food. Patriotism and fanaticism carried Ulfric far, but his support structure simply paled in comparison to the gargantuan machine that was the imperial administration, and he started bleeding supporters the moment hunger arrived at their doorsteps.
That war had been a terrible, terrible mistake where humans had killed humans while the elves looked on, laughing on the background. If only she had known about the Thalmor's disgusting machinations. Of what they did to Ulfric.
Louise shook her head. There was no point in thinking about it any more.
She jumped off the makeshift throne and straightened up.
All in all, that detour was proving to be a complete waste of time, but that was when she heard the voices.
There weren't many of them, just three or four if her ears weren't deceiving her, but still she decided to hide behind what might have once been a barn just to be on the safe side. That proved to be the right call.
There was at least a dozen men. Half on foot, half on horseback, all of them escorting a cart. Most of the men wore steel chest plates, all had a blue feather adorning their caps, and one was even carrying a blunderbuss.
They approached the town and spared a dispassionate, passing glance at the corpses of the little beasts Louise had killed before continuing on their road. Strange, were they here to vanquish the monsters? If so, they were awfully unprepared for that. Unless they had a powerful mage with them, those twelve soldiers wouldn't have been enough to get rid of the infestation.
She shelved that doubt for later. Maybe it was just incompetence or misinformation on their part. They were as surprised of finding the corpses as Louise had been of finding them alive.
All in all, that was an innocuous enough scene, but then she took a second look at the cart the men were escorting and her eyes narrowed. It was a solid piece of wood strengthened by iron strips, practically a box. A vehicle like that could have several purposes, from transport of valuables to ammunition depository, but what betrayed its true nature was the tiny barred window at its side. That cart transported prisoners.
"Laas."
And it was empty. How curious.
Now, Louise had a couple of options. She could attack them and interrogate their leader. From their uniforms and general demeanor she guessed they were with Reconquista, but she risked them not knowing anything useful.
No.
If the prison cart was empty, they were probably searching for a fugitive. And, if that fugitive was a royalist, they were more likely to have useful knowledge.
So, Louise followed them.
It was a grim procession that lasted for several hours. They marched through meadows, forest, and some isolated farming villages.
Louise couldn't avoid noticing that every time they reached a populated center, the children were quickly pulled off the streets, and the adults hunkered down as if hoping to be ignored. And yet, every time one of the hunters made a question, people hurried up to answer hoping to fall in their good grace.
She frowned. She had seen that kind of behavior before.
Back in Skyrim, before the reassembly of the Blades, the Elven Justicars had roamed the frozen lands with total impunity, hunting down Talos's followers and all those who would threaten their plans. The then-young and inexperienced Dragonborn had made her personal policy to kill them on sight.
These men brought forth the same sensations the Thalmor awoke in her, but she steadied her hand. The time for reckoning would come but not yet, she still needed them alive.
It was late afternoon when they reached their destination.
It was a quiet town close to a crystalline stream of fresh water. It was a colorful and happy place, but all happiness vanished when the procession arrived.
Last time, the group had simply ignored the civilians, just addressing them to ask for directions. This time, they stopped, making the main plaza their own and drawing their swords.
The peasants paused their activities and stared at them with fear and confusion clear in their eyes. The soldiers stared back with disdain and repulsion.
The tension in the air was so thick that it could have been cut with a knife.
The captain gave a signal with his hand and one of his men walked to the front of the group, unfolding a piece of parchment as he did so. "By order of his divine lordship, Emperor Cromwell," A nervous murmur was heard from the assembled crowd. "The traitorous Umberto of Lexington shall be found and brought to justice for crimes against the Holy Republic of Albion!" Justice? Of course. "For crimes of sedition, high treason and betrayal of his own people!" Weren't all those the same thing? "Anyone found hiding this royalist spy will be declared accomplice and be prosecuted as such!"
The peasants were throwing nervous glances left and right. It was clear that the name meant nothing to them and that they had no idea where to find this man. It was also clear that the hunters didn't care in the slightest. They showed this by raising their swords, threatening the terrified people with a painful death if the wanted man wasn't delivered to them soon.
From her place at the back of the crowd, Louise readied her own weapon.
Should she intervene?
She was in enemy territory, with no support and no information. If she attacked now, with so many witnesses around, she risked complete disaster. And yet, she found the idea of leaving these civilians to their fate repugnant.
The electricity in the air was almost palpable. People were nervous, stuck in a powder keg ready to blow up at the slightest pressure, and at the verge of doing something stupid.
Louise tightened her jaw.
"I'm here, I'm here." She heard the tired, almost bored, voice of a man coming from one of the buildings. Louise tried to search for him but the crowd of nervous bystanders hid him from her sight. She caught the glimpse of a green jacket, but that was all.
"It's him." Announced one of the soldiers, inspecting the face of their quarry as one inspects an animal for sale.
"Take him in!" The captain ordered and, with no delicacy or regard for his well being, his soldiers grabbed the man from his arms and pushed him inside the cart. "Get moving, we return to Maghaberry!"
A snap of reins and the man-hunters were on their way, back from where they had come from.
At no point did they see the shadow following them. Nor did they notice when it overtook them.
Louise laid in waiting, her frame hidden by the shadows of the forest. The place she had chosen gave her an ample view of the coming road, just next to a steep curve that covered her trap, a fallen trunk blocking the road. It wasn't much, but it would do the trick.
After leaving the town she had moved quickly. She had heard the name of Maghaberry, but she didn't know where that place was, so she couldn't allow herself to lose track of the hunters. Incidentally, that also meant that she couldn't allow herself the luxury of preparing a decent snare.
It was a very simple one, it wouldn't give her more than one or two minutes to act, at best. Maybe less, but it would have to be enough.
Louise heard the sound of hoofs approaching in a relaxed stroll, and hunkered down, ready to strike.
Then she waited.
And waited.
And then she waited some more.
The hoofbeats kept getting closer, yet never enough.
The anticipation, the waiting. That was always a test of mental fortitude. Louise scoffed at the idea of standing still, of doing nothing. Stillness was death, yet that was what was expected of her now.
She closed her eyes and slowly counted to ten. She felt herself breathing heavily, and with a mental slap she corrected herself. She had no intention of giving away her own position before time.
She waited yet some more.
Where the heck were they? What was taking them so long?
She resisted the temptation of fidgeting with her fingers.
Things like this was why she left these jobs to Teldryn! Louise was simply not a trapper; she was far too impatient for that!
"Hoy! Stop!" She heard a man yelling and a horse neighing. "Obstacle on the road!"
'About time!' It seemed that they finally reached the block on the road. "And thank the founder for that." She sighed out loud.
"What was that?"
"Did you hear that?"
"That was a voice!"
And now, wasn't that embarrassing?
Oh, well, the manhunters were where she wanted them, so there was no point for subtlety anymore.
She jumped from cover and sprang into action.
The greatest threat was on the farthest horse. A blond boy. Seventeen. He was the one carrying the blunderbuss.
He was the first to die with a crossbow bolt between the eyes.
The captain, an old and grim looking fellow, was next. A bolt to his unprotected shoulder. It didn't kill him outright but it was enough to down him and throw his group in disarray.
Then Louise was in among them, her crossbow back on her belt and her blade on her hands. Among screams of fear, pain and defiance, the enemy soldiers made a noble effort to survive the onslaught. It wasn't enough.
A swift, almost effortless, swing to the right slashed a throat. A stab followed, piercing leather, cloth, and the lungs underneath. Then a kick that shattered someone's teeth before a backswing decapitated the man.
From the corner of her eye she saw one of the remaining soldiers reaching for the blunderbuss of his dead comrade. Acting quickly, Louise rushed at him, cut off his arm and then his belly. The man clenched his own stomach with his remaining hand in a desperate attempt to hold back the flush of vital fluids and internal organs spilling from the wound. It was of little use and in just seconds he was dead on the ground.
Louise had never used a firearm. That seemed like a good chance to correct that.
Placing a foot under the blunderbuss, she kicked up and caught the weapon in her left hand. She aimed at the remaining soldier and pressed the trigger.
The sound was deafening, and the kickback unexpected. Louise was simply not ready for it and was forced to let go of the weapon. But the results were satisfactory, as the head of her target was simply not there anymore.
"Nice weapon. I need to get one for myself." She said out loud inspecting the firearm. A pity it was a single-shot weapon and she had no idea how to reload it, so she left it where it was.
A quick inspection of her surroundings revealed no further dangers, so Louise walked up to the cart holding the prisoner. A heavy padlock kept it firmly closed, but that was nothing that a delicate use of Fire Breath couldn't fix.
"Yol!" The metal of the lock glowed red, then orange, then white. In that state, a good blow with the pommel of her sword was all that was needed to break it. Louise tore the door open and there she found the prisoner she had come to rescue.
Their eyes met.
Louise wasn't exactly sure how she was expecting the man to react to his rescue, but it certainly wasn't that.
The man remained crouched against one of the corners of his transports. His eyes were haunted, his skin was unhealthily pale, and he seemed to be suffering from malnourishment. But his poor state wasn't a new development. His short imprisonment hadn't caused it. He had been like that for a while now.
"Get out." Louise told him and he obeyed, if only because he didn't have anything better to do. Putting one hand under his armpits, Louise helped him crawl down as he was having problems moving on his own. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
The man stared back at her for a few moments with confusion on his face. "I'm a shoemaker." Was his short explanation.
Louise kept looking at him waiting for him to continue but it became patently obvious that he had no intention of doing so, so she pressed on. "Yes, but why did they imprison you?"
"Eh?" The man cocked his head to the side. It was painfully obvious that he wasn't fully 'there'.
"Are you with the King? The royalists?"
"The King is dead!" The man cried out. "He died weeks ago. And then…" Tears started forming in the shoemaker's eyes.
"They said you were a spy."
The man stared back at her with a crooked smile. "That… that's what they said, didn't they?" Then he threw his head back and released a powerful laugh. It was a laugh born of sadness and desperation. "I'm not a spy. I was never a spy. They didn't care, and my family…" His voice broke.
"Easy, easy," Louise told him trying to calm him down. "What happened?"
"They took them! They took them and I ran!"
"Them? Your family? What are you talking about?" Where was Lydia when she needed her? Louise was not good with the emotional stuff.
"My… my brother…" He mumbled. "He served as a butler in Winchester. They said he was spying for the duke!" Now tears were running freely from his eyes. "Then they said I was! They went to my house… they took my family! They took them and I did nothing!" The shoemaker was openly crying now. "I just ran. I just ran like the coward I am, leaving them behind to be hanged! My little Milly was just four years old."
"There was nothing you could have done." Louise told him sharply.
"I know! I know there was nothing I could've done to protect them! To save them. Useless, useless, useless." The man fell on his knees as if in a trance. Louise shook her head, feeling sad for the broken man. "I shouldn't have run! I should have stayed with them!" He cried.
"They would have killed you too."
"I know! But I'd be there with them!" The shoemaker released and anguished sob. "Why did you save me?!" He screamed, his eyes turning at Louise. "Why didn't you leave me to die?!"
"Because I need information." She told him with complete honesty.
"Of course you do." He spat those words. "Ask away, but I don't know much."
Louise took a deep breath. "I was looking for Prince Wales."
"Newcastle. The last bastion they're calling it." The man shot back. "A one day trip in… that direction." He told her, pointing to the east.
"Thank you for that." She said and started walking in the indicated direction.
"Wait!" He stopped her. "Are you leaving me here? What should I do now?"
"Don't know, don't care." Louise told him coldly, shrugging her shoulders. "I have places to be."
"Bu-but…!"
"If you're so eager to meet your family, you could just give yourself up to Reconquista. Or hang yourself with the reins of a horse." She made a pause. "But think about what your family would want. Think if you really want to meet them like that."
She then turned and kept walking with the sound of Umberto spitting curses at her back.
"Well, isn't that depressing?" Louise said out loud after crossing a small hill. There, on the horizon, was the fortified city of Newcastle, and if the bodies neatly aligned, hanging from the walls, were anything to go by, it had fallen long ago.
"You can go now, boy." Louise told the horse she had acquired from the manhunters, palming its back. The animal's help had been welcomed but she didn't have an easy way to feed him or hide it while she infiltrated the castle. "Now, where to start?"
Newcastle had been an impressive citadel. It consisted of a main keep protected by a tall wall. Then came a circle of houses and other civilian installations surrounded, in turn, by yet another formidable wall. It should have been an impregnable fortress, but Reconquista had cracked it like an eggshell.
The lands around the city had been devastated. What might have once been fertile soil was now a barren landscape scarred by the crooked lines of the trenches the besiegers had dug to approach the castle.
As she inspected her objective, Louise was in deep thought. She trusted her own abilities, but it would be foolish to approach Newcastle under the dim light of the afternoon. Only a couple hours later, under the cover of the night, she dared to get closer, with her back against a wooden palisade erected some seven or eight hundred meters from the walls. Probably the remains of a forward camp where the invaders had rested before storming the city.
From there, it was an interesting exercise to identify the differences between Newcastle and Isabella's estate.
While the Gallian Princess' keep had been surrounded by short, thick, and angular walls, Newcastle's were thin, tall and straight. Two different styles of construction from two different eras. The Albionesse fortress would have been next to impregnable if attacked by ladders or siege towers. But, against cannons?
Well, the breaches that Reconquista had opened spoke for themselves.
Louise shook her head. Later she would have time to discuss with Henrietta tactics and countertactics. For now, she had a job to do.
Lucky for her, the castle seemed to be severely undermanned, if the lack of lights was anything to go by.
No surprises there. From what she had heard from the shoemaker, Newcastle had been the last bastion of royalist resistance. With the fortress city now under rebel control, the war was practically over and there was little point in leaving a strong presence there. Who was still left to attack it?
Well, her, for starters. But she imagined that the rebel generals would laugh if someone were to tell them that a young pink-haired woman was the greatest threat to their plans, and that she was about to murder them all.
Shaking her head to dispel the funny image from her mind, Louise went back to inspect the place.
A powerful stream ran next to the abandoned encampment, going in and out of the city by a culvert on the outer walls. A perfect point of entry, if Louise had at hand a set of heavy armor and a water-breathing potion. Alas, she didn't, and the only thing that awaited her if she tried using that entrance was a slow and painful death by drowning. She'd have to think of another plan.
The second option was the most obvious one, and that was using the trenches that the invading soldiers themselves had dug to approach the fortress.
The problem was that no trench ran straight into the walls, but in zig-zag. The reason was clear, as the attacker needed to be protected from the incoming fire, but that meant that what would normally be a walk of a couple hundred meters from the edge of the forest to the castle, would turn into a slow, long and arduous crawl through filth, mud, and human remains.
The idea didn't excite her but, as the saying went, no pain no gain.
"Ugg…"
If there was a worse place to be during a battle, Louise really didn't want to know.
Trenches were disgusting, cramped and humid. If you didn't have a mage at hand dedicated exclusively to cleaning and maintaining the structure, they quickly turn into breeding grounds for vermin and diseases of every kind.
Back in the Empire, it was easy to recognize trench-fighters, as those usually lacked feet. The humidity and the lack of proper footwear was a perfect recipe for infections that, if not tended quickly by mage or healer, ended in gangrened limbs that had to be cut off.
Orcs (and far too many humans) got around this problem by using waterproof boots crafted with Argonian leather. A highly illegal, if effective, solution.
Well, Louise wasn't planning on staying there for long, so her only worry should be to not be spotted while approaching the citadel.
It was a painfully slow march. There was only one guard coming and going from the walls, but if she wasn't careful that would be enough to blow her cover.
As she advanced, zigzagging through the web-like trenches, she noticed that several sections had caved in, blocking her way and forcing her to backtrack. At first she thought that had been the work of enemy sappers, or faulty construction, but then she saw an arm raising from one of the mounds. With her own hands she pushed the dirt away and uncovered a body and, next to it, a second one.
Had they died there? Had their companions failed to rescue them when the ditch collapsed?
No.
A quick inspection revealed that one man had died from a sword to the guts, and the other from an arrow to the eye that was still embedded there.
Those men had died fighting, and then were hastily and unceremoniously buried there.
That wasn't a trench anymore.
That was a mass grave.
Thirty minutes later, Louise arose from the trench wearing a blue undershirt with a leather helmet and cuirass.
It had taken her some time, but she had managed to find armor pieces that were mostly intact, if patched far too many times, and didn't stink that bad. It was a bit repulsive, but that wasn't the first time she had to salvage equipment from a dead body. Her adventure in the Bleak Falls Barrow immediately came to mind.
"Halt! Who goes there?" Cried a sleepy voice from the top of the walls. Louise looked up at the guard and waved her arm in greetings. "What were you doing outside?"
"Visiting a friend of mine!" She shouted back straining her own voice to make it sound more masculine. "Lost track of time!"
"All right, I understand, but be more careful next time!"
"Next time, I promise!"
"Yeah, yeah. Now get your ass in here!"
Part of being a good infiltrator was to look like you belonged to the place you were infiltrating, so Louise kept walking with sure steps. The uniform she had found didn't fit right and she had to keep fixing it every few steps but, if there was a constant in warfare, it was that uniforms were always far too small or far too big, so she doubted anyone would notice.
"What time is it, by the way?" She asked the guard.
"Almost midnight, brat. Did your mama give you permission to stay up this late?" Ah, yes. Even if she was masking her voice, it still sounded too juvenile for a man. Not something she could fix, so she resorted to raising her fist and showing the guard her middle finger. "Oh, how mature of you!"
Not wanting to continue with the conversation, Louise kept walking into the city.
Newcastle was big.
Far bigger than most Tristanian fortresses. Even the Academy of magic, which was in itself a mighty stronghold, paled in comparison.
If Louise were to describe it, she would say that it looked as if someone had taken Tarbes and surrounded it with tall walls before adding a keep in the middle just to be sure.
At its peak, it would have easily housed up to four or five thousand people between soldiers and civilians. Now, though? Of the houses surrounding the main keep there was little left. Its inhabitants had been killed, then the houses had been pillaged and finally burnt down. She doubted there were more than one hundred people left now, all of them conquering soldiers.
Louise had seen the odd rebel patrolling the streets, but most of them were bandaged. Or walked with a limp. Or lacked limbs. Some others had empty eyes. Few of them had even acknowledged her presence, even when walking right next to her.
She had seen cases like those. Those men had been wounded, be it in body or in mind, and the army had decided they no longer were useful to them. But they were still trained soldiers, they still knew how to wield weapons, so their superior did the most practical thing and left them behind in garrison duty, protecting key points while the army kept marching. They couldn't serve in the front lines anymore, but were still a deterrent force and, if worst came to worst, they wouldn't be missed if a strong enough enemy army came to take them.
Not a mentality she agreed with, even if she could see the logic behind it.
In any case, that worked in her favor. Wounded and ill-disciplined, there was very little these cripples would do if violence broke out.
Reaching the keep's plaza –an easy task, considering the gates protecting it had been blown apart- Louise saw a recently erected tent with a blue flag hanging from its central pole.
The captain's tent maybe?
A good place to start in her search for information.
There was a guard protecting it, a man, seated in a chair, who was missing a leg, an eye -if his eyepatch was anything to go by-, and that was in deep sleep.
'This is plain embarrassing.' Louise thought as she walked past the incompetent sentry.
The inside of the tent was quite spartan, with no decorations or other signs that indicated it was a place of any importance.
There were no chest or drawers either, but there was a long table in the center with several papers on it. Louise walked closer to inspect them, but those were just maps of the keep and its surroundings. The only thing of note she found there was the location of a town called Saxe Gotha some kilometers to the south of Newcastle.
Walking out of the tent, Louise allowed herself a moment to inspect the walls of the fortress. More accurately, to inspect the bodies hanging from them.
She wondered, would Prince Wales be among them? She vaguely remembered his face from the time he went visiting Henrietta many years ago. But he had been just a young boy back then.
Next to the bodies were also flags, burnt and defiled in several ways. Images of seahorses were prominent.
"I know what you're doing here." Louise heard a voice to her right and slowly turned to face its owner. It was an old man, with a wrinkled face and tired eyes dressed up in simple plate mail.
"You-you do?" She asked, fearing that someone had looked through her disguise. She subtly entered a fighting position, ready to throw a kick or counter an attack.
The man kept staring at her but his eyes quickly turned to the hanging bodies. "You wanted closure, didn't you?"
"I…"
"Always so mighty, always so sure of themselves." The man continued as he inspected every body. "Always looking down at us. Well, they keep doing so, but this time it's us the ones smiling. Wouldn't you agree?"
Louise raised her eyes before composing herself. "I just… I just wanted to know…" She made a pause faking embarrassment. "Know that it's finally over."
"It's not over." Louise kept her eyes firmly planted on the man's back but flinched when he turned to look at her. "It won't be over as long as there are more of those cursed nobles around." She clenched her fists and the man shook his head. "But I know what you mean. For now, we can rest." He walked up to her and palmed her shoulder. "Come, let's go drink something. The prince's body isn't here."
"He isn't?" Louise asked walking behind the man.
"No. I don't know what happened to it. Heard he was taken back to the capital, no idea what for. Hope it's to parade him and not give him a proper burial." The man lowered his head. "Bastard doesn't deserve it."
They kept walking in silence into the keep until they reached a spacious room occupied by several long tables. There were some people here and there but, beyond that, the room was quite empty.
Louise looked around the dining room and noticed the empty spaces left by paintings and other trophies that Reconquista must have looted. There weren't bodies or other noticeable remains of the defenders, but there were big patches of dried blood that hadn't been cleaned up yet.
The fight there had been noticeably fierce.
"Come, over here." The man sat on an empty table and Louise followed suit. "So, name's Hector."
"Marc." She answered quickly.
"Nice name." Hector grabbed a bottle from the table and drank directly from it. "So, what's your story?" He asked offering Louise the bottle.
"My story?" She accepted the drink and pressed the rim against her lips, but didn't drink from it.
"Yes, what's your reason for being here? Besides, well…" He looked at Louise's hair and took another sip.
"Noticeable, isn't it?"
"That's one way to put it. I'm surprised, now that I see you." The tone of the man wasn't accusatory, just curious.
"I try to keep my helmet always on to hide it." The man hummed in affirmation. "It's that, well, I think it's quite obvious that I'm a bastard."
"Quite the strong word, isn't it?"
"It's the truth." Louise made a pause as if lost in thought. "My mother was a maid. She was quite pretty, and…"
"It's all right if you don't want to talk about it."
"Thanks." She shook her head. "And you? What brings you here?"
"My son." He responded abruptly.
"I extend the same courtesy to you. So, if you don't want to talk about it…"
"Haha, thanks. But I do. He was… he never was very strong but he was smart. He went to Flint to work in the mine…"
"He was a miner?"
"Ha! No. I doubt he could have lifted the pick. But he was good with numbers and got a place as an accountant. He was good at that. He was proud of his job." He took a sip of the bottle. "There were problems there. The miners were paid too little and the price of food kept rising." He took the bottle to his lips, but tossed it aside when he saw it was already empty. "He wrote a letter, formal complaint." He made a pause and Louise noticed he had tears running down his cheeks. "The king took that as an act of rebellion. Had him executed. Him and all the miners that tried to defend my boy. He was well liked."
Louise felt her own hand shaking. Was it true what Hector was telling her? Could she trust the word of an enemy?
If it was, then Albion's royalty had been a mockery. A bunch of incompetent fools parading as nobles. If Reconquista hadn't dealt with the Tudors, she herself would have probably ended up taking care of them. The Rule of Steel would have demanded nothing less.
Oh, Louise was still planning on murdering all the rebels with extreme prejudice for daring to strike against her country, but she would still thank them afterward for dealing with those dogs.
"You know, you remind me of him." Hector spoke again, now with a new bottle of wine on his hand.
"I do?"
"Yes," He showed her an amused smirk. "He also was thin as a stick and looked like a woman."
"I'll let you know that girls keep falling for this pretty face of mine." She retorted caressing her own chin.
"Ha! Keep talking and I'll punch you. That will make it look manlier."
They shared a laugh before falling silent again.
"Do you have any idea what we will be doing now?" Louise asked him, wondering if she could get some more information from the man.
Hector shrugged his shoulders. "No idea. I hear the Emperor wants to expand the revolution to the other kingdoms," Louise clenched her fists. "But if he does, I won't be there. I'm too tired and old for this shit."
"I understand." She replied fidgeting with her thumbs. "Tell me, do you know which one was the Prince's bedchamber?"
"Second floor, western tower." The man replied absentmindedly. "But good luck finding anything left to loot there, the main army cleaned this place up."
"I might still be lucky!" Louise replied and excused herself, leaving Hector behind with yet a third recently opened bottle of wine.
Louise shook her head. Hector wasn't a bad man, just an angry, bitter and confused one that had ended in bad company.
She couldn't bring herself to hate him, just to pity him. He would still die if he dared to interfere with her mission but, if she could avoid that scenario, she would.
'What a creepy place.' Louise thought as she ventured deeper into the keep. There was a certain electricity in the air, as if the building itself knew that its previous owners had suffered a violent death and wasn't happy about it. Every few steps Louise turned back to check her surroundings. She knew it was stupid, but she couldn't shake the feeling that, any moment now, a horde of draugr would rise to enact bloody revenge against the living. 'Wouldn't be the first time something like that happens.'
She walked past an empty room. Its door had been torn from it hinges and the only thing that remained inside were the shattered remains of a bed. The damage looked recent. The rebels probably destroyed it in a foolish act of rage.
'Idiots.' That bed looked expensive and well-crafted. If the soldiers had allowed themselves a moment to think they would have realized that they could have sold it. Louise would have easily asked a hundred gold coins for it. Now though? It was just trash.
Louise kept walking and finally reached the farthest room, the one that had belonged to the late Prince Wales.
It looked… it looked just like the rest.
Some splinters here and there, maybe some burnt marks, but nothing else.
She was expecting something worse. The Forsworn were infamous for painting the buildings red with the blood of their enemies, crafting totems with their bones, and even going as far as defecating on the chapels that they dared to occupy.
It seemed that Reconquista was a bit more civilized than the Forsworn. Not that big of an accomplishment, though, 'A giant with brain damage is more civilized.'
Smiling at her own joke, Louise started searching. She knew that was probably a pointless endeavor, that the three-cursed traitor of Wardes had probably found the letters and was already on his way to see Cromwell. But, if there was the slimmest chance that he had forgotten something, the slimmest chance that he had overlooked a piece of information Louise could use; then she would take it. If luck was on her side, she would at least find a clue about what was on those famous letters and what they were planning on doing with them.
First she started with a desk that had been turned over. Its legs were still intact, so she finished breaking them to check if they were hollow. They weren't, so she used one to tap the wooden floor, searching for hidden compartments. Again, she found nothing there. She moved to the walls. She searched for loose stones and concealed buttons. As it was typical, it was on the last place she checked, the corner next to the bed, that she found something. One of the stones of the wall had a slight discoloration and, upon further inspection, Louise noticed it had two small indentations on each side where a finger could fit. She pulled it and the stone came out smoothly, revealing…
An empty space behind.
It was fairly big, a pair of boots would have easily fit inside, but there was nothing noteworthy there.
Well, that was it. If there was a place she would have found the letters, it would be there, in a hidden compartment just next to the Prince's bed.
She sighed.
She had been too late and now she had to assume that Wardes had found the letters, and that they were now in Cromwell's power.
Louise heard some steps outside the room and slowly turned to face the newcomers.
"No, I tell you…" A man said. "I heard something and…" The door opened and Lousie found herself staring up at a young soldier, barely older than herself. "See?" The man exclaimed pointing at Louise. "I told you there was someone here!"
Next to him came a second man, this one shorter and with a thick beard. "All right, all right, you were right. Happy?" He said in a raspy voice.
"Yes, yes. And what are you doing here?" The other soldier asked, addressing Louise.
"Looking for a whore, what does it look like?" Louise shot back. "I want to see if they didn't leave anything good behind." She explained pointing at the compartment she had uncovered. "But no luck so far."
"Ha! No surprise there." The bearded soldier exclaimed. "If it was shiny or smelled nice, they took it."
"Yes, but…" Louise dismissed his explanation with a wave of her hand. "I wanted to see if I could find something embarrassing. Something to show me the kind of bastard the prince was. Like an erotic book or something like that."
The two men shared an amusing look before breaking down in a loud laugher.
"Haha! Yes, I can see it!"
"A book written by, what was her name? The Tristanian chick?"
Louise felt her blood boiling.
"Henri-something."
Disgusting dogs. Their deaths would be slow and painful.
"Can you believe it?"
"Of course I can! Inbred bastards. That's why they're all fucked in the head!"
Louise blinked. "What are the two of you talking about?"
"What? You didn't hear?" The older man asked, giving her a strange look. "Everyone was talking about it this morning!"
"I was drunk, all right?" Louise yelled back. "Now tell me what the hell you two are talking about."
"It's about the sick fuck of Wales. He and his own cousin were lovers."
A cold chill ran down Louise's back.
"Haha, yes! Love letters and everything. Is that creepy or… hey, kid, are you alright?"
"Yes, you look a bit sick."
Several emotions crossed through Louise's mind at that moment.
Anger
Confusion
Jealousy
Then they all were suddenly crushed and replaced with a cold and logical serenity.
"Hey, brat, what's wrong?"
The pieces started falling into place like a neat little puzzle.
"Wait! Wha-what are you doing!?"
That was what Agnes had told her. Their mission was to recover a letter, a letter that could put in jeopardy the alliance with Germania.
"Get off me! Get off-aghhhh!"
Of course it had to be a love letter! It was so obvious in hindsight.
"Founder almighty!"
But, since when? Since when had they been lovers? And why hadn't Henrietta told her? Heavens knew she couldn't have cared less that they were cousins.
"Kill it! Kill it!"
Her mind started working furiously.
"My legs! I can't feel my legs!"
She remembered that time when Louise had been ten and Henrietta eleven. She vaguely remembered that boy who had played with them. That had been the Prince of Albion, coming to visit.
"Fire, dammit! Fire!"
Then she remembered that other time when she had been twelve. The Princess had come with a funny idea. They would hide in each other's room and order the servants around pretending to be the other. Louise had so much fun pretending to be the princess! The next morning she found out from one of the maids that she had been strangely quiet the previous day. 'Sorry, I fell asleep.' Henrietta had told her and Louise had accepted it as the absolute truth. But, now that she thought about it, at the time an Albionesse delegation had been visiting the kingdom.
Had Henrietta been in her room at all?
"Aghh!"
And then came that summer, that last summer before parting ways. Henrietta had turned fifteen and they were celebrating her birthday. Once again, that boy was there visiting from his country, and had quickly found an empty chair in the table that Henrietta and Louise were sharing. 'You look tired, Louise. Why don't you go to your bed?' 'But I'm not tired, Princess!' 'I told you to call me by my name, Louise.' 'Sorry.' 'And don't argue. Beautiful girls like us must never neglect their rest! So go to bed.'
And of course, like the spineless lamb that she was, Louise had obeyed, leaving Henrietta and Wales alone to…
Oh, dear God above…
To do, what?
Louise really didn't want to think about that.
"Mercy! Mercy!"
It wasn't just that Henrietta hadn't trust Louise enough to share with her, her romantic escapades. It was that the Princess had used her, had taken advantage of Louise's naivety to find time to meet her lover.
"Why didn't you tell me?" She wondered aloud.
"I'll tell you! I'll tell you everything! Everything! Ju-just, please…."
Louise looked down and found she had her hand firmly closed around one of the rebel soldier's throat. "Sorry, I wasn't speaking with you." She sighed and used her free hand to grab the man's chin. With a single and coldly economical motion, she broke his neck and the man went limp.
The noble straightened up and look around. "Well, look at that." Somehow, she had walked to the opposite extreme of the keep during her mental trip. On the corridor at her back there were bodies and body parts scattered all over the place, and even a small fire had started in one of the rooms. For a brief moment, Louise considered looting the corpses for any money and provisions they could have been carrying. But no. She was feeling down and wanted to leave that place behind as soon as possible.
The sound of screams and a voice raising the alarm just cemented her decision.
She walked to the nearby stairs but stopped when she heard the sound of several boots marching on the floor below. For a moment she considered facing them, but then, above the chaotic noise, she heard Hector barking orders. It seemed the old man had put some semblance of order in his companions.
Louise sighed and pulled back. There would be other enemies more worthy of her fury.
Discarding her helmet and covering her face with the blood of her stained hands, Louise walked to a nearby window, a stretch opening in the wall covered by a glass panel.
The soldiers heard the sound of shattering glass and sped up. When they arrived at the source of the noise, they met with a gruesome scene of carnage.
"Founder!" One of the rebels gasped at the scene, his face a sickly shade of yellow. It looked as if a minotaur had been let loose in there.
"Over there!" Another said pointing at the broken window. "They jumped to the courtyard! Move!" The soldiers dashed back to the ground floor on hot pursuit of whoever had attacked them.
A few seconds after they left, with the hallway back in silence, one of the corpses started moving. It was Louise, her face split by a smug grin at her own acting abilities.
Then she remembered the events of the day, and her grin turned into a scowl of depression.
Escaping Newcastle proved to be, fortunately, much easier than getting in. The place was on high alert, yes, but they were searching for an escaped monster hidden in the shadows. When Louise walked past the sentries, she went mostly unnoticed and easily made her way to the outskirts.
From there she walked up the nearby stream to a tall tree that had survived Reconquista's advance. Tied to its tallest branch, was her backpack with her clothes.
She didn't change yet. She kept walking until she reached a small lake hidden behind the thick foliage of the surrounding forest. She disrobed and immersed herself into the crystalline waters.
Where would she go now? What should she do?
Her mission had been to recover the letter and thwart Reconquista's plan.
Well, in the former she had failed spectacularly. Louise couldn't bring herself to care about the botched marriage, but she did care about Henrietta and feared that the revelation of her complicated love life would start several poisonous rumors.
Nothing she could do about that now, but she could still do something about the second part of her mission: stopping Reconquista. Thankfully, that was blissfully straightforward. She would just have to find Cromwell and ruin the beautiful relationship his head had with the rest of his body. And if someone rose to take his place? Rinse and repeat until there wasn't a Reconquista left to threaten Tristain.
So she had a clear objective: Londinium!
But, before that, she'd have to ask for directions because she had no idea how to reach the Albionesse Capital from there.
What she did know from looking at the map in the captain's tent was that there was a port city a day or two to the south. Fairly big, she was sure to find information there.
What was its name?
Saxe Go…
Ņ̙̝ͫ͛ͪ͊̚ó͖̫̞͍̫̯̍͡
S̜̤̝̱̩ͮͯt̬͊̎͒ͥ̀ô͛̑̈͏̟͎̹̥̰̜̠pͥͧ̈́͐̄̚
W͎̮̾̏̒h̝̤͑̔̐͋̀̌à̕t̞͎̙ͣ͑͛̈́ͅ ̟͚̯͉͖̖̇͊ͅa̤̦͈͇r̼̣ͤ̊ͩ̇̂e̛̱̘͇͉̪ ͖̱̠͖͚̀̀y̱͇̬͓̣̾͛̓̏ͭo͛̉͏̣̖̥u̦ ̃ͪͪͮ̏̈́̒͝d̥́̍̅͋ͤ̔͟o̦͍̤̻͋̓i̘̳͉̱͙̜͉̽̅n̶̝̖̖̺͐̓͌̊g͌̑ͫͦ͊?͈̅ͬͨ͞
E͇̳̦ͦ̂̍̀͛̀̕R̼͕̜̦̰̘̮͐͐͆̍ͨ͢R̨͒͋̇̔҉̥̰͓̪̭Ơ̪̯̬̠̔͒̇̓R̢̢͇̖̎̿
W̶͕̦̪̦̅ͥͨ̐h̢̾͒̑o̬̬͖̝͇ͬ̆̀͌̑ ̨̼̺̹͔̖̈́ͣͩ͛ȧ̶̯̽̋̓r̯̺̠̀e͍̦͉̻ͤ͋̑͝ ̝̮͕͙̣͊̌ͫ̈̇̌̚y̝ǫ̪͕͉̠̞̬̱u̎?͓̼̳͉͚̗̖͛ͥ̄̐̔
T͍̫̫͇̭̺̅́͋̄ͥ͋̃h̆̾̅́̐ͤ̓҉̙̘̖̲̺̜é̷̠̽͋ͤͬ̒r͇̺̫͎̝͉ͪ̄ͮ̉ͫ̎e̗̹̮̘͆̄ ̵̭̼̻̗i͈̦̰̹̤͚͔͂̐͒ͤs̺̮̗͚͉̘̯̆͟ ̰͐̇͆ͩ̔ͧ́y̷̲͔̱̫̤͖͐͂ͅḛ̋̋͗͑͐͌t̎ͦ̊̄͝ ̟̰̾̇̊h̼͕̬̠̠ͯͣ̇̅̆͛̀o̸̥͔̤̺̰͉̿͊̈́̾͌͑p̮͈̟̋̊ͭ͑͆̾͝è͂ͨ̕
E͕̞̠͈͕̖̝̾ͣț̼̦͔̩̔̏ͩ̀̎̓ ̴̯̥͕̦͍̜̯̄̀ẗ̤̖̰͒̕ṵ̠͙̩͉͑,̼̣̘̖̠̪̉ͮ͝ ͋͐̆͢H̨̦̒̆j̳̞̟̠͖̠ͤ̎ã̊̑l̗̰̯ͫ̌ͨ̔̿͐̿t̻̟̪̲͚i̭̹ͥ̓ͮͭ̊̑?̯̣͇̳̻͓̣̎ͧͭͣͩ̀
Ȋ̭͕̹ͥ̋ͤ͌ͤͬ͡'̠͎͇̱̺͕͡m̜͒͊̅̈̾̒̋ ̳̩̞̂ͪͫͧ͐ͅͅͅs̡̰̩͖͙ͅo̲̗̠̹ŗ̼̝̒͆̄͌̾́͂r̛͂͑̐̓̾y̜̞̩͚͐̇ͭ̐̏͘ ̷̜̺̮̺̖̬͆͌̓͗̊̃W̠̱͉̾̈́̒͗̄̄a̮̓̐͢r̠̻̒ͮͬ̄͋ͦd̻̲̣̥̰͈̠͜e̦̣̽s̷͕͍͔ͫ̊́̚,͇̞̲̭̔ͤ̃́ ͍̭̘̂̊͟I̵̖̤̞ͪ ͇͉̤̪͎͔ͪ̓́c̶͉̣̻̞̑ͣ̌̚a̳͓̲̬̓̓ͧ̒̾ͫ͋n̙̙̹̬̣͈̱̉̚n̘̖͎̰̪̅̋ͪ͋̄̈́̎ȍͪť̵̲ͧͧͥ ͔͕̲͆̂̇m̼͉ͯͨ̓̏͊ͧ͞a̺̞ͭ̾r͍͙̬̓͞ͅȓ̄͏y̦̠̬̳͇͈̒ͫ̚ ̥̖̤͙̟̈́ͅy̷̎ͪ̅̏ou͍͙̮͛͋ͬͭͅ.̬̖̘̐̍̅̀̀̈́ͪ
Louise opened her eyes and found herself on a strange bed staring at a strange ceiling.
"Founder dammit! Why do these things keep happening to me?"
…
A/N: Another chapter down, not one I'm particularly happy with, but I think that's mostly because I was having far to much fun writting Kirche and the other students. But next chapter we have Tiffania! And that's something I'm eager to write.
Also, an announcement, we finally have information about volume 21! I'm not posting the summary here, but you can find it in Sufficient Velocity.
That will be all for now. Take care, and see you next chapter!