The sun had crested the battlements at around the same time as Kurt and Sieglinde. Full of strong coffee and freshly baked bread, lightly whipped butter, and fresh fruit, they ambled along the city walls.
"I honestly never thought you'd leave Serene," Sieglinde said to him, easily. "You always seemed so… content at the palace."
Kurt said nothing. He had been content, for the most part. But first Sieglinde had left the barracks for another posting, and then De Sardet had gone for her training… he tried to formulate a response but Sieglinde beat him to it.
"Perhaps it wasn't the station that made you happy but the people?" There was a teasing song to her words but an earnestness that Kurt recognised – he'd known her long enough to know that she wouldn't let this go.
Whilst he'd never served with Sieglinde directly, they'd always found one another in the tavern. Their schedules always seemed to coincide and it was nice to have a friend from a different regiment – someone who still understood the workings of the Coin Guards, but who didn't necessarily know those you were serving with. Their friendship was the perfect balance of familiarity and distance, and Kurt hadn't realised how much he'd missed it until there, on the walls of New Serene.
Still, she was asking questions that were painfully close to those he'd been asking himself all night.
"Perhaps," he conceded, reluctantly.
"Constantin always struck me as a spoiled brat," Sieglinde confessed and Kurt stared. Had… had she really not noticed the way his thoughts flicked back to De Sardet every few seconds? Hadn't she noticed the fact that he had to stop himself mentioning the legate in every sentence he uttered as they ate and walked? Did she really think that he was here because of Constantin's friendship?
"He is," Kurt said, tentative, "But I think he's got his heart in the right place. And he can play a fiddle."
"A fiddle!" Sieglinde laughed aloud at that, "And you'll be guarding him, primarily?"
"No," Kurt looked determinedly away, "I'm firmly a part of the legate's retinue."
Now she heard something amiss. Sieglinde elbowed him, "How much younger than you is she, Kurt?"
"Dunno. Never thought about it," She cocked an eyebrow then stared hard. He sighed, "Twelve years."
Sieglinde frowned, and Kurt saw her fingers flutter. "Numbers were never your strong point, Sieg. She's 23."
"Oh, well that's alright then. You should get your leg over and be done with it."
The way she said it made Kurt cough, incredulously. The words were delivered with such dead-pan pragmatism, he was caught off guard.
"And now I know it's love," Siegline laughed.
"What are you talking about?"
"When I suggested you were taken with Safii, you admitted it then bedded her and moved on. Then Kit found you, and you had no trouble talking about her… The only one that ever made you bluster like this was Ara. And you loved Ara."
Kurt was quiet for a long moment. He had loved Ara.
"I can't, Sieg," he sighed at last, "She's… her mother's a princess, for starter."
"Means nothing," Sieglinde said, easily, "Dainties are always knobbing folk, regardless of their social standing. Why do you think stable hands are called stable hands – it's what they get used for. Last house I got posted in, the hay loft was basically a brothel."
"I adore you, old friend," Kurt said, "but shut up."
She slapped his back and offered what could only be described as a pitying look, coupled with a laugh, "And I adore you. Enlightening as this conversation has been, however, I really need to get back to the barracks. The sun is high, and we're meant to be hitting the road soon."
Kurt nodded and they embraced one another again. He could never decide whether she smelled of pine sap because he knew her father had been a carpenter or because that was how she actually smelled. He drank it in regardless – safe and familiar.
"Look after yourself out there," he said as he patted her back.
"And you, friend, and you."
"Kurt!" De Sardet was smiling at him as he entered the little house, "I wondered where you'd got to. Vasco said you'd been training without me."
He heard the mock hurt in her voice but chose to ignore it, "I didn't actually get to training. I ran into an old friend."
"Wonderful! You can tell me all about it on the way to the palace – we've been summoned before the Governor," her words dripped with sarcasm as she spoke about Constantin and she leaned in conspiratorially afterwards to add, "We'll take the long way round. I want my cousin to know who's really in charge."
He smiled, despite himself and despite the sudden exhaustion he felt wash over him. It had been a long time since he'd gone a night without sleep.
His mind traced dark shapes from the last time it had happened and he turned determinedly away from his memories and towards the legate.
Love, Sieglinde had said.
When he next looked, De Sardet had her Congregation cape draped across her back, and her sword at her side. She looked every inch the dignitary. She caught his gaze and looked at him, askance.
"You look good, Greenblood," he said, then added with a smirk, "almost like a real grown up."
He regretted his choice of words as soon as he'd said them but she didn't seem to notice. That was worse than her ire, somehow – knowing that she continued to see him as a familial, almost paternal figure.
"The real question, Kurt, is do I look excellent?" He laughed despite himself at that and she sighed theatrically, "Was it three of the creatures from the port I had to kill, did you say? Or are there other ways to earn the title you should be calling me?"
"I'm sure I can think of other ways," he muttered, before he could stop himself. It was De Sardet's turn to laugh now and she opened the door, her feet sprightly and light on the cobbles.
"Explain them all in great depth on the way to the palace then. All the sordid details."
"Alright, Greenblood – bluff well and truly called."
She bowed, "Come – show me where the barracks are and tell me about your friend."
They walked together for a short while in silence as he tried to formulate a way to explain Sieglinde without making himself seem attached to her in a way he wasn't.
"We were stationed together for a long time," Kurt began, "But she was never in my unit. Our paths keep crossing though and it was nice to catch up."
"She's not the arrangement you had in Serene?" her tone was light and teasing but she didn't meet his eyes.
"No," he said it naturally, he noticed. There was none of the visceral reaction he'd had when Sieglinde had suggested he 'get his leg over' De Sardet, "But she's always been a close friend."
There was silence for a time and they concentrated on weaving their way through the maze of buildings. As De Sardet had said, they were taking the long way to the palace – they could have merely slipped behind the legate's little house but unlike Kurt, she hadn't yet walked the city streets. He enjoyed watching her marvel at the buildings, half-finished, with their wooden timbers tall and stark, waiting to be dressed – winter trees awaiting leafs.
It was busy now – or, busier than when Kurt and Sieglinde had walked the walls earlier. It felt almost like a different place. As they rounded back onto the square, De Sardet stopped and glanced sheepishly at him.
"I… wondered if you ever felt lonely," she smiled a shy smile and Kurt found himself taken aback.
"I always do," his own honesty surprised him, "Do you want to rectify that?"
She recoiled a little and he realised he sounded bitter. Why couldn't he talk to her? What was it about her which made him so utterly incapable of normal conversation?
Love, Sieglinde had said. He heard her voice warmly mocking him.
"I rather hoped I'd kept you good company all these years," De Sardet said, a little flushed, "We were always together."
"I'm glad we were. You always were… extraordinary, Greenblood."
"But not excellent," a smirk.
"Don't push your luck," he teased, then sighed, "You were my responsibility. I had to watch over you – and Constantin. It didn't exactly leave us much time for friendship."
"What about now?"
"Now? I… hope there'll be more time."
His words seemed to satisfy her and she made to walk again. At the last minute, she stopped and looked over her shoulder,
"Kurt? You asked if I wanted to rectify your loneliness," he cringed as she said it – it sounded… clinical, "What would you have done if I'd said yes?"
"I'd have told you to stop being an arse," she looked crestfallen and he added hastily, "You're a fair, fine lady and I'm a boorish soldier. I'd hardly be looking after you if I let you hop into my bed, would I?"
And there it was, laid out plain before them.
"And if I wasn't a fair, fine lady?"
"We wouldn't be having this conversation."
She cocked her head to one side and he found himself suddenly irritated. There was no point to all of this – things were the way they were and love or not, it didn't matter.
But she looked so bloody wounded. He sighed and rolled his eyes, pushing his irritation down inside him – he'd spar it out later – then clapped her shoulder in what he hoped was a friendly manner.
"We wouldn't have met, would we, had you not been a fine lady? I remain grateful for this and every conversation we have."
