A/N: So universtiy stress had finally caught up with me and I find less and less time to write. I hope it won't make the gaps between updates too big, but there might be a one or two days delay at times. I still try to update as frequent as possible.
On a sidenote: I love you all my reviewers, followers and fans 3
„Can we use this one?" Francis asked and looked at the bloodstained, rain drenched uniform that Berwald had peeled with some effort from the dead soldier. "It should work as long as we cover up the chest with something. We don't really have much of a choice here." I answered as I took the uniform. I was the only one who would have a chance to fit into it, even though I didn't like the thought of exchanging my perfectly good clothes against that ragged piece of cloth.
I pulled off my coat, and the jacket I wore underneath. Then I struggled with my pants, the wet fabric sticking to my legs like some kind of second skin. But finally I managed to get them off. It felt weird to strip like this; the rain was ice cold on my skin, making me shiver even harder than I had before, Berwald had taken his sword back and was sneaking around the house to check the front side and the street for suitable victims for our plan. Francis was keeping an eye out so that I could change in relative peace but I had the slightest hunch that he was checking me out from time to time.
I wrapped my discarded clothes in my coat, not willing to throw them away like that, before I put on the soldier's clothes. I tried not to think about the fact that a human had just died in these clothes and that they were still full of blood. I squeezed my eyes shut as the cold and wet fabric slid over my skin, if possible that felt even more unpleasant, than the cold rain on my skin. Then I belted the sword belt I had taken from the man, he didn't even got to draw it, and completed my getup.
The uniform transformed me into a more or less convincing Orushian soldier, which would be essential to our plan. I stuffed the coat with my clothes inside into my bag and slung it over my shoulder. Hopefully they would just think I carried around a bag of loot and didn't get suspicious.
To be safe we shoved the now almost naked body of the dead soldier into some nearby bushes, before we made our way to where Berwald was waiting. "Do you speak any Orushian?" Francis asked and I declined, but I was pretty sure that I could pull off the accent; I had heard it often enough after all. "I am ze mighty warrior zigfried, surrender now or I vil kill you and make shoelaces out of your glossy hair!" Okay that sounded downright stupid. Francis had difficulties to stifle back laughter, but he was soon overcome and had to hold his belly, as he was shaken with mirth.
It was definitely not the right place nor the right moment to laugh, but all the pressure and the tension we had been put under needed some sort of release, so I couldn't help but join in and never once in my life had a laugh ever felt so good like this one.
But our joy was short lived, far too soon the reality of our situation came crashing down on us, and we had to face once again this almost impossible task. But the short outburst had helped, I felt a little more relaxed now, more confident about what I had to do.
We reached Berwald who hid behind the corner of the house and was watching the gate in the wall that surrounded the premises. Two soldiers were standing at the gate, they seemed to be waiting on something, scanning the area around the house and quietly talking to each other. They were probably the comrades of the guy we had just killed and it wouldn't be long until they would get suspicious and go look for him.
That was the perfect timing for us. I checked the position of the sword one last time, before I stepped out into full view. The two men noticed me immediately, for a short terrifying moment I believed that they would see through my ruse instantly, but the rain filled darkness helped to conceal my identity. The soldier's hair had been darker than mine, but thanks to all the water my hair now looked more brown than blond, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to fool them.
I waved and called out something incoherently, signaling that I needed backup. It would have probably looked suspicious if I had said something in my language as heavily accented it would have been, so instead I let the rain drown out the coherency of my words.
And to my relief it seemed to work, they came over and I quickly retreated back into the shadows of the house wall, they would sure as hell know their comrade, and on short distance not even the darkness would help me. One of them yelled something, and my heart almost stopped as I thought h had called for more backup, but soon I realized that he had called out to me, as he repeated his words, this time more urgent.
Berwald awaited them, sword ready; a determined gleam in his eyes. I felt bad that it fell again on him to do the bloody work, but even though I now technically owned a sword I didn't have the slightest idea how to use it properly. It was too dangerous for me to try, in the end I would hurt Berwald, and we couldn't afford that risk. Francis was similar inexperienced and had insistently declined the offer to take the weapon. The only one who had some prowess with a sword was Berwald, who had been trained with various weapons since his childhood, as befit of the son of a Lord.
The first soldier that rounded the corner didn't have a chance to react, expecting to be met by a friend he didn't even try to reach for his sword once Berwald was on him. The next moment he was dead, blood was gushing from the newly opened wound at his throat.
Berwald had been fast, but not fast enough; the second soldier had come around the corner the moment the other fell, the sword not yet ready again in Berwalds hand. He didn't lose one second before he reacted; he jumped backwards, dodging Berwalds slash and drew his own weapon.
Berwald followed him, trying to get a hit, but he was agile, dodging and parrying all of Berwalds attacks. The sound of sword clashing against sword echoed through the rain, it wouldn't be long until someone would notice and come looking. If we hadn't dealt with the soldier by then we would get into real trouble.
The soldier was trying to lure Berwald to the front of the house, but fortunately he saw through his plan and managed to get between the other and the front lawn. But no matter what Berwald tried, he couldn't break through the defense of the Orushian, who fought with the despair of someone faced with death. His face was distorted into a grimace and he was grunting with every slash and every parry he performed, the effort of keeping Berwalds brute strength at bay was clearly edged in his face. But he was not the only one, Berwalds usually stoic face was showing signs of discomfort, both men were sweating, their sweat washed away by the heavy rain.
Both Francis and I were searching for an opening, an opportunity to attack the soldier when he didn't expect it, but they were moving too fast, the risk was too great to hit Berwald instead.
And then Berwald lost his footing on the wet grass, his leg slipped away from under him and he stumbled, falling backwards onto the ground, his sword trapped in the attempt to break the fall with his hands. One horrid prolonged moment everything slowed down, I could see each and every drop of water spraying from the blade that cut through the air, closing down on the man that cowered beneath it.
The hit would have been deadly, no doubt, with all the force the soldier was putting behind it, but in one glorious and at the same time desperate movement, I leapt forward, tackling the man with all my might, throwing him off his balance so that his blow came too shallow. Berwald had scrambled backwards as much as he could in the short heartbeat that was given him to react, the sword slashing down on him, ripping open his coat and the fabric underneath, cutting through skin and grazing against bones, but not deep enough to be actually lethal.
The soldier had managed to stay on his feet, despite my weight shoving against him, but he was off-balance, trying to regain his posture to aim another strike, but now Francis was one him too, wrestling the sword out of his hands, while I clung to his body and tried to pull him down with me, grabbing at his other arm to keep him from overpowering Francis.
And then Berwald was up again, a deep grunt and Francis and I let go, just in time for Berwalds sword to pierce through the man's chest, right where the heart was. He died as quiet as the others had, only a soft 'oomph' escaped his lips as he fell down, face first into the grass, his blood soaking the ground beneath him.
Only then could I feel my legs go numb and the shock of the situation and the danger we all had been in, settle in on me. I wanted nothing more than to sit down and rest, but we didn't have time for this. The pain in my hands that I had forgotten until now resurfaced the struggle with the man had put a strain on the half healed wounds, but at least they hadn't reopened. I flexed my fingers in order to get rid of the pain, but it didn't help much. Still, there were more urgent matters than my stinging hands.
A long shallow bloody cut ran along Berwalds chest, soaking his clothes with the all too present blood. It was not deep, but we had to treat it nonetheless, the rain was washing the blood out of the wound in a far too fast rate. Francis pulled a spare shirt out of his bag and tried to rip it into bandages, but the cloth was too wet.
"Didn't we pack any bandages?" I asked, remembering seeing some on the pile of useful things that Tino and I had assembled. "Oui, we did, but they are all in Arthur's bag." Francis groaned. "We have to stop the bleeding somehow." I fumbled through my things, but I couldn't find anything that was suitable for the job, Berwald was pressing the shirt that Francis had tried to rip earlier, against his chest, but that wouldn't do for long.
And then we heard something, the sound of the gate opening and another call in the rough Orushian language. Someone was searching for the three disappeared soldiers.
"Quick, undress." I hissed and pulled the soldier who had died first back to where we were, ridding him of his clothes as fast as possible. Thankfully they both caught on to what I was doing instantly, Francis shrugged of his clothes faster than I had ever seen anyone undress and was slipping into clothes I had just taken from the dead man, only slightly wincing at the feel of wet fabric on skin. I repeated the process with the other soldier, who had a broader build, and whose clothes would fit Berwald, albeit barely.
Berwald had too undressed in the meantime, and I helped him into the other uniform, while Francis was redressing the corpses with his and Berwalds clothes. I felt bad for wasting perfectly fine attire like that, but we needed our story to be convincing.
Francis was helping Berwald with his sword belt, while I stuffed the shirt into his uniform, trying to apply as much pressure on the wound as possible and hide it from view. Another call echoed through the air, closer to the corner of the house this time and we hastily checked if everything was in order. At least now we had an explanation for all the blood on our clothes.
The corpses laid with faces down, as to not give away their identity, Francis had placed the swords close to their hands, as if they had just dropped them. One last glance and we were ready, as ready as we could be at least.
Not one second too late, as two soldiers, swords drawn, rounded the corner, observing their surroundings very carefully. Francis, who had drawn his sword moments before, sheathed it back into its scabbard, as if he had just used it to kill the two men. He then prodded his foot against one of them, before he shrugged his shoulders and walked past the two confused soldiers with only a nod to acknowledge them.
Just act as if you knew what you were doing and no one would suspect a thing. Francis was simply brilliant. Berwald and I followed his example nodding at the two soldiers and striding confidently towards the open gate.
It was a bluff of course. By acting as if nothing major had happened we were implying that we had everything under control, and if they fell for it they would just follow us without further checking on the bodies.
If they checked though…
I didn't want to think about what could all go wrong, so I just focused on walking, concentrating on putting one foot before the other and not let any of the fear and terror show on my face that was raging inside me. It had to be so much worse for Berwald, who had to hide his wound on top of his emotions. He was walking next to me, but neither his face nor his stance gave away the pain he must have been in, I wasn't sure if I had been able to pull that off.
When I walked through the gate, closely behind Francis, who had slowed just the tiniest bit to allow us to catch up, I dared to throw a glance backwards. The two soldiers just came around the corner, seemingly content with whatever wordless explanation they had read out of our behavior.
But now came the true challenge.
The sky around the palace district was red with flames; almost the whole city was on fire by now, only this small enclave and a path that led from this part of the city towards the front gate were still safe. After all the Orushians needed to secure their way of retreat.
The group before the palace gates had grown significantly, all waiting impatiently for the doors to open and finally being able to loot the treasures that lied behind. One of the waiting, apparently an officer called out something as he spotted us, and I broke out into cold sweat. If any of us were to answer in our language, the whole place would hear that we weren't Orushians, and we would be dead in seconds, but if we didn't answer at all, we would draw suspicion too.
And then thankfully, one of the soldiers who had found us called something back, and the officer was satisfied, muttering something to the man next to him, who raised a hand and barked an order.
The quiet talking among the soldiers died immediately and everyone focused their attention on the officer who held a short speech, before he waved for two men to bring forth a third man squeezed in between them. The man looked tattered and bruised, some of his teeth were missing, but still there was a far too eager smile plastered on his face as he mumbled incoherent nonsense directed at his two captors. Francis took a sharp intake of breath at the sight, and then a low grumble escaped his throat. I could feel him tense beside me.
"That is the personal advisor of the Lord." He hissed through clenched teeth, anger clearly displaying on his face. Berwald grunted a warning to be quiet and Francis pulled his features back into a smooth mask of indifferent, but I could see how much effort it took him.
"Open the door." The officer snarled, this time speaking in our language. The advisor directed his sickening grin at him and said: "With pleasure sir, always with pleasure." He reached out to touch the officer, but the men who had escorted him here roughly pulled him away from their superior and shoved him towards the closed palace gates.
So that was how they got in, this man must have opened the gates to them. From the looks of it, he had been threatened to do it, but his behavior spoke otherwise. And from the way he was treated it was more likely that he got those injuries from misbehaving on his own part and not from unwillingness to cooperate. But why did he do it? He seemed so eager to please the Orushians who were supposed to be his enemies, despite the fact that some of them spat at him, voicing their disgust at his betrayal even though he had helped them. No wonder Francis was angry.
The gates were heavy, but they could be opened from the outside, they were not supposed to withhold long sieges, but to keep the common people outside. The advisor pulled out a key chain and fumbled a while with the lock, all the while humming some strange tune only interrupted by an occasional out of context exclamation.
Then the door was open and he was shoved aside as the soldiers were pouring into the palace yard, eager to get in first to lay claim on whatever treasure they found, be it gold, jewels or women. I felt sick at the display of greed and lust, I had seen what those men were capable of; I didn't want to see it again. I just hoped we would find the secret passage before anyone else did.
I stepped forward to follow the other soldiers, when I heard a familiar voice behind me. I froze, Berwald next to me too, only Francis walked on in complete oblivion.
The man who had spoken was no one else than Ludwig.
...