"Alright – what's going on?" Kurt asked Sieglinde as they hunched over their ales in a tavern known as one which catered almost exclusively to the Nauts. They had donned as non-descript clothes as they could find and opted for the darkest corner, hoping that no one there would see their lack of tattoos. Even so, both Kurt and Sieglinde had pushed their chins deep into the wide scarves they'd opted for.

"Notes are being passed between high ranking guardsmen," she said, as though that should explain everything. Kurt groaned, loudly enough that a head at the next table turned in his direction. He lowered his voice and frowned at his friend.

"That's all you've got for me? Notes? Notes are passed all the bloody time – you passed one to me on our way here."

She rolled her eyes, "Point is that it's some high ranking guardsmen and not all. I've asked about them directly and been told it's 'above my pay grade' even though the officers in question are my subordinates, and I've tried having an illicit peek when no one's looking. The notes are always burned immediately, though."

"So, the guard is splitting into factions? This isn't the first time this has happened… surely there's protocol for what we should-"

"I looked into it," she said, "Honestly, Kurt, what do you take me for? There's a pattern in who's getting the notes. They're going to high ranks in important houses. The Mother Cardinal sort of important houses."

"That's…" Kurt breathed. But he couldn't quite think of what that was. And he couldn't think of a reasonable explanation.

"Look, I don't need you to do anything, I just wanted to warn you. I know how much your royal ducklings mean to you, and you can't be everywhere at once."

Kurt chewed the inside of his lip and nodded, a gesture accompanied by a growl which Sieglinde knew to take as thanks.

"What are you going to do?" he asked her.

"I'm going to try and get to the bottom of it. I think you should make sure that your little pets are well-guarded though – by your men. Men you trust. You look at that roster I gave you?"

"Aye, I did. There's a name I like the look of there." If I can find him, Kurt thought darkly to himself as he recalled the days spent searching through the ranks and coming up short.

"Just make sure that they're properly yours. You still planning on leaving your underlings with the drake and staying with the hen?"

"What do you think?"

She smiled and shook her head, "I've never seen you like this before… I have to say, it's hilarious for me."

"Never seen me like this? What the hell was that on the way over? When are you going to Theleme for your 'job'?"

Sieglinde shrugged, "Don't judge me for that, Kurt. Don't you dare."

He felt a flash of shame wrack his heart and sighed, "Sorry. It's just all-"

She patted his hand, "It's fine. Just let me have my vengeance. I'll never get back at my mother, but I can make someone else's life better. Come on, we'd better go."

Kurt glanced around him and noticed how full the tavern had suddenly become. He imagined that a boat must have just come in. They stood and nodded to one another, before leaving the establishment in opposite directions.

Kurt followed the road from the docks up past the merchant quarter and then into the huge square at the foot of the palace. Up to the left was De Sardet's little house. He smiled to himself and decided to indulge a whim to walk past.

He was surprised to see the lamps lit, and hearing voices inside, he approached. She was home, then.

He was about to turn around to leave when the door opened. A messenger was leaving, but it wasn't the housekeeper that was letting him out – it was the Legate.

"Kurt!" she jumped. The messenger stared, dumbfounded at the unexpected figure before them, but De Sardet waved him away and then stepped out into the growing darkness, shutting the door behind her. Kurt stood, frozen to the spot. Down the clear side of her face, his eyes traced an angry, crimson line where she'd been hit with a weapon. And the socket beneath it was an irritated blue.

She walked towards him, seemingly oblivious to her injuries.

When she was sure there was no one there, her carefully neutral expression broke into… what was it? Relief, rage?

"Where the hell did you go?" she snarled.

"You-" he started, but he couldn't keep going. What was he supposed to say? I thought you were more than capable of looking after yourself so I was negligent and let you get hurt? I was stupid enough to trust your well-being to people who don't love you?

She ignored his flapping mouth and folded herself around him. Dumbfounded, Kurt returned her embrace, but he found his arms were stiff, reluctant.

"Greenblood," he breathed, then stepped back, realising they were in full view of every eye-like window around them. She slapped his chest, frustrated.

"I was so worried! I didn't know whether to go after you or keep going forward with Siora. If I didn't know what your handwriting looked like, I would have thought that note was a forgery – that you'd been kidnapped!"

"You know what my writing looks like?" his tone was dubious, but her face told him he shouldn't be.

She flushed – a blush so heady that he could see it beneath her mark, and beneath the swollen purple bruise on her face. "I keep important letters."

"Like the one from that knob-end in Theleme?" A bitterness he hadn't even realised he felt poisoned his question, and the legate stared, almost open-mouthed.

"Last time I share anything with you," she sniped back and physically recoiled. Kurt drew a breath through his nose and nodded.

"I'm sorry… that… wasn't called for. I came straight back here after I left you. I wanted to make sure Constantin was safe. I thought that if I made sure there were good people at his side – people I trust – then I'd be free to explore with you," Then he added weakly, "And that way, neither of us would have to worry about him."

"Why didn't you tell me? Do you honestly think I would object to you looking out for my cousin?"

I left because I knew that if I didn't go right then, that I never would. But what he actually said was, "I didn't think. I'm not used to you being the one in charge."

"Did you find someone, for Constantin?"

"There's actually something I'd like to talk to you about…"

"I'm listening…"

"I wondered if you might come with me to the barracks. The recruit I had in mind to watch your cousin should be posted in New Serene, but no one seems to have heard from him. I thought maybe we could go and use some of those diplomatic powers you have to get the quartermaster to talk."

"Shouldn't he answer to you anyway, Captain?"

"He should. But he isn't, and that's concerning in itself."

It was properly dark now and the light from inside the house framed the door like an angular halo. De Sardet glanced over at it with a longing stare.

"Shall we get some sleep first?" she asked, "Siora's got my room – I thought she needed some time and space to deal with the she's been through. And Vasco's got your room because… well, you vanished, and I didn't know where else to put him. The accommodation I can offer you is… limited…"

"Then I should go back to my bunk at the barracks. Where are you going to sleep?"

She seemed to be torn then – on the cusp of telling him something, asking him something. But she sighed and said, "I'll take the chair by the fire. After these last few days, it's a luxury – trust me."

"But you're hurt," Kurt started to object, "Didn't I teach you that a warrior's best friend is rest?"

"And where else should I go, Kurt?" her tone was gentle, tired. The mixture of acceptance and reluctance in her smile was so beautiful.

"At least let me look at your wounds?"

She sighed, "They're not as bad as they look. You've cracked me worse, just never on my face."

They stared at one another before he nodded, reluctant to go but unable to think of any more reasons the stay.

"I'll come by in the morning," she said at last, "I'll let Siora sleep, but I can bring Vasco if you want to pretend he and I are hired muscle?"

When Kurt said nothing, she went on, "With a face like this, who's going to argue?"

He laughed, the sound wry and hollow in his throat, "Who, indeed?

He waited until she let herself back into the house and wandered slowly away, his head a mess. He was so angry with himself – he'd left her in the wilds so that he could find someone to watch her cousin, but he'd found no one, and she'd been hurt without him there. The knowledge of it twisted at his stomach and gnawed his guts.

He reached the barracks without incident and went straight to the bunk he'd been using since he arrived in the city. There was a messenger hovering around inside, apparently with post for him, but Kurt merely glanced at it, saw it was from somewhere higher up the chain of command and shoved the lot into his kit bag. Seiglinde's words didn't even enter his mind - There's a pattern in who's getting the notes. They're going to high ranks in important houses.

He slept fitfully.