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Rather than heavy armor, as Jaune had expected, Cardin and his volunteers arrived at the gate in just their gambesons, with thick cloaks on their backs, hoods drawn up over their arming caps, and a mix of furs, cloth and rawhide wrappings. Gone were their shields, too, replaced by what looked rather like somewhat shorter doors with grips on the back and cloth laid down the front, to better take the shock of impacts. But, all of it, bare-bones and without an ounce of iconography or Order colors.
Perfect.
"You're all ready?" He asked, standing just to the side of the gate, in the shade of the chapel.
"Yes, brother." Cardin nodded, voice low. "We should pass as militia this way. Right?"
"That's the hope…" It would add something to the test - as Cardin had said, if they were too valuable looking a target, then what they could learn from this could be swayed. This way, at least, they were more likely to attack or not based on what the 'militia' did. Turning, he looked up at the priest standing on his porch, frowned thinly and asked, "Are you ready for the worst?"
"As best my Chastened and I can be, yes." He nodded, turning as the slight woman appeared.
"Cleaned water and rags," she explained, dark brown eyes downcast and brown hair messy, "as ordered."
"Good." He nodded, "Thank you both."
Her eyes flicked to him at that and then to the priest before he waved a hand and she left. Running fingers along the braids in his brown beard in thought. Humming, he asked, "What do you think to gain from this, I wonder?"
"I don't know." Jaune lied, eyeing the priest, the door his Chastened had slipped through and then the other villagers nearby watching them all quickly and as subtly as he could manage while he turned to Cardin. "When you're ready, Cardin."
"Aye." He nodded, turning to bark over his shoulder, "With me! And mind your spacing!"
With a chorus of affirmation, the four volunteers spreading out to either of Cardin's sides a couple of yards inside the open gate. Traditional, Knightly reasoning held that shields packed closed together and facing the attackers. Which, theoretically, worked well enough and for obvious reasons. But right now, they weren't trying to look like Knights at all. And besides, they didn't know precisely where the shots would come from, and even a few inches of angle were enough to let the shots through.
So in this case, it was better to be spread out - groups couldn't fire on them as easily, and they'd look less professional.
He hoped…
The soldiers only waited a few more moments to take steadying last breaths, mutter prayers for protection and ready themselves before Cardin raised his borrowed short-spear and waved them forward. Moving in their loose formation, the soldiers rushed out of the gate, shields raised over their heads. Jaune leaned against the wooden struts holding the gate up to peer out into the gray, snow-mushed field as his men ran towards the nearest of the collapsed, partly dilapidated carts.
They only made it fifteen feet before arrows struck, thwacking into their shields and, twice, into one of his soldier's arm.
She screamed and two of his men flew into action, shielding her while the rest turned to cover them on their retreat. More arrows came down on them, but with their comrade wounded, they'd abandoned any semblance of disorder and withdrew in a tight, protective line of soldiers. A line that did not break until they were only a couple yards from the gate, and the arrows started to fall short or thunk weakly off of shields, their force and momentum lost to the wind.
"Come on!" Jaune shouted, waving them in and then turning as they scrambled to lay the wounded woman on the steps while Peter and his Chastened came to get a look at her injuries. "Close the gate!"
The villagers waiting for the order rushed to do as he said while Jaune turned and strode over to where Cardin was watching the woman's armor be stripped away, left along the old, rundown porch as she was carried into the chapel.
"I guess that confirms your thoughts." Cardin growled as he turned, taking a seat on the old wood and yanking his hood off. He scowled at the ground and avoided meeting Jaune's eyes but asked, "Doesn't it?"
He opened his mouth, wanting more than anything to say yes, that it was just that and so simple. But…
Instead, casting a wary eye around him, he sat and said, "Somewhat…"
"Somewhat?" Cardin repeated, finally meeting his gaze with every ounce of suspicion that he could bring to bear inscribed across his face.
"They attacked, true enough, but…" Jaune friend, scratching at his chin and finding it dry and stubbly. He'd need another shave, and soon. More importantly, though, he shook his head and sighed, "It just seems odd."
"How?"
"Wasn't their reaction… A bit too quick?" Jaune asked, flicking the man a look, "Too quick, and too ready? Like…"
"Like they were expecting it." Cardin realised, eyes widening just the smallest bit as he, too, thought it through and seemingly came to Jaune's conclusion. "Then they must-"
Jaune cut him off with a look and said, "Have more men than we had planned for. I agree. What do you suggest then? We can't stay here forever, sequestered away behind our walls. Eventually, we have to make our escape."
"I…" Cardin frowned, then nodded and stood, "I agree. I'll tell the men to be ready for anything."
"Good."
"And I do mean anything." Cardin chuckled as he turned to leave, calling back, "These animals are clever! I won't fall for their shit anymore, though."
Jaune grimaced at the phrasing but… Well, Cardin had gotten the message, at least. And the first test had answered a handful of questions. Now he had to face the second, and fished out a simple meat-wrap from his pocket.
Unlike the fresh fish and bread he'd eaten since he got there, this was a fine slice of smoked fish, thick and tender in spite of having been smoked. It even had a thin slice of what he assumed to be goat-cheese around the fish, which wasn't to his tastes, to be certain, but was more than edible. And the bread was thin and flaky. All of it spoke of having doubtless been baked to ship days ago, to be eaten sooner than other items.
And, at his behest, it had come straight from the nobles' leased houses - a special request for Jaune himself, as opposed to the smoked meats and cheeses he was having sprinkled throughout the public stores.
He had spoken to the headman who managed the warehouses for the season, who would have the resources and, to an extent, motivation to do all of this. If only to get a better price on the goods after the fact, setting aside any chance that he was, in fact, working for whatever group was at play in the woods. Black Cat and Ember had alluded to someone above them, someone directing them, even someone in the Kingdom itself, he feared, and this could be to their ends. If so, there was plenty of cause to poison the food he'd asked for. And if not, if the headman was simply connected to another group, then the same applied.
Only his innocence would answer Jaune's suspicions…
The sandwich tasted dryer than Jaune had expected, but was salty and tender regardless. And, hungry as he was - and forcing himself to get it over with as he was - it vanished fairly quickly.
He spent the next hour making his way along the wall, patrolling it and waiting. To feel ill, like he running nerves said he should, or for something else entirely to happen. But nothing did and, as he returned to the chapel's porch and leaned against its wall, waiting for word on his wounded soldier, he felt the tiniest bit of relief rush through him. Cardin himself had pointed out how good a target Jaune would be, which was where he'd gotten the seedling for this entire plan so with his survival, he had two clues.
It wasn't the headman, unless he was only after more Lien - which would be proven if, in a few days or even a weeks' time the siege relented, presuming they were still here.
Or it was someone else…
"But who?" He murmured, brows knitting tight, "Why?"
The fishermen and cooks and boat-tenders all needed coin and space for food before winter worsened, so this couldn't benefit them. Not now, at least. Without Jaune's orders, they were already starting to run thread-bare on goods. And besides, they would need mercenaries for this and what few wouldn't be serving the Kingdoms themselves would be expensive. Too expensive for fishermen, bakers, storehouse workers or anyone else liable to live in such a village.
Which only left…
He heard the door open and turned as the Priest's Chastened emerged, hands bloody. Bloodier than he'd expected…
Jaune stood, panic racing through him, "What-"
"We could not save her, Lord." She bowed her head, "One of the arrows found an artery… My Master tried to stymie it, but-"
"There was nothing he could do." He nodded, understanding doing little against the rage that flickered to life in his breast. Another person under his command, dead by it… Quietly, letting out a shaky breath, he said, "Go away, please."
"We are sorry, Lord Arc, we-"
"Go. Away." He snapped, turning away and leaning his head against the cold wall of the building. Distantly, he was aware of her leaving and, when she was gone, snarled, "Damn it!"
His fist slammed into the old wood of the wall twice, with enough force to bruise his knuckles and echo around him. His hand still ached as he turned around and stepped off the porch, looking up at the snow drifting down around them from another gentle storm rolling through. He watched it, for a while, until a snowflake drifted down and he opened his hand to catch it.
It melted on his skin and he closed the fist, looking at the bloody cuts along his knuckles and frowning, "What am I not seeing…"
Opening his hand as another snowflake came down, he saw the little bit of blood that had run between his fingers and pooled in his palm.
"Brother…?" He looked up as Coco reached him, frowning gently and looking at his hands. She grabbed his hand and turned him to get a better view and frowned, "You've hurt yourself…"
"She died." Jaune explained quietly, yanking his hand free, grabbing Coco by the hood of her cloak and dragging her away from the chapel. She struggled for a moment, more for surprise than anything, but went still when he asked, "You know how to treat wounds, right?"
"Everyone from Beacon does…" She murmured, grunting when he shoved her into an alley between a pair of houses, wide enough to fit two but only tightly. Her eyes went wider when he pressed her in a bit and closed the distance, so close he could smell the ale on her breath, and grabbed her shoulder. "What are you-"
"Pretending." He grunted, resting his head against the wall to talk into her ear directly. "There's a spy."
"A spy?"
"There has to be." He muttered, hands tightening until they hurt. "I had ideas, tested them, but…"
"But?"
"I want you to take care of the woman, Alicia's, body." He said quietly, "When you do, check her wounds. And do so carefully."
"You think the Priests' Chastened…?"
"She helped with the treatment." He nodded, "It could be her or him. Plus, the clothes he left out in the storm after we arrived…"
"A signal…" Coco muttered, the very clear lack of a question in her mind. Nodding against his cheek, she grabbed his shoulder, playing the part he wanted, and asked, "What will we do if I find something… Strange?"
"Say and do nothing." He grunted, "Clean her up, then ask Peter to administer Rites and come find me. Apologise for hitting me if I was right to be suspicious, or hit me again if you don't."
"Hit you…?"
"For forcing a woman into an alley." He leaned back just enough for her to see him smirk, just a bit, and then said. "Now shove me out, slap me, whatever- Make it look good."
"If that's your order…" She murmured, "Though I fear it won't do your reputation well."
"It is." He murmured, "And I don't much care for reputation."
"Good." She sighed, "Because I did not want a man shoving me into a dirty damn alley tonight."
He didn't have time to over-think her words before her hand balled on his shoulder and she slammed an armored knee, gently as was probably feasible, into his thigh and turned. She was powerful, and that let her hurl him out of the alley and into the slush while she stormed out, glaring with her teeth bared.
"Don't touch me you bastard! If you need a harlot, grab one of the Chastened!" She snarled, storming away - pointedly away from the chapel - and heading for the the tiny, over-packed little cookery that his men had turned into a sort of tavern.
Jaune just lay and groaned, muttering under his breath, "Oh… I hate how good an actor she is…"
"Yeah, some women play hard to get." A man laughed, pushing off the door of his house and stooping to offer him a hand that Jaune took and let pull him up. Dusting is back off for him, the kindly older man smiled and said, "Keep after it and you'll get what you want though, lad."
"Yeah…" He nodded, flicking a look at the chapel, "I should hope so."
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Blake watched the young man limp off towards the tavern and smirked, chuckling under her breath. "Cleverer and cleverer, every day…"
It was almost impressive.
Almost…
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So, not entirely confident in this one. Mystery is still something I'm learning, I think. Any critiques - if not rude - are welcome. As for the scene with Coco, I'm playing to period and some elements I already set up. I'm not super, duper happy with that one, either, but… I welcome thoughts.
Have a good time!
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Seklarian :
Yeah, his mind is something I'm trying to play to. A good head for plans, and a good instinct for tricks. I hope you enjoyed the chapter!