Swordpoint Diplomacy 24

Chapter 24

Rose was mildly appalled that no one in the equipment department stopped her from taking out a set of armor that obviously would not fit her. Did no one care about misuse of equipment anymore?

She glanced sideways at the armorer through her lashes, torn between her desire to demand more diligence and her need to get away with a crime.

As far as she could tell, they were positively absorbed in their maintenance duties. If they hadn’t greeted her when she entered she might have thought they were in a trance.

Well then. “I’m taking this,” Rose said of the armor, and received no critique whatsoever. She stalked out with it under her arm, silently outraged.

Back in her personal tent she wrapped the kit up in a blanket, wincing at the noises it made, but decided that it would have to do. When everyone else was at lunch, she took it to the prisoner’s tent at a brisk, officious pace. People didn’t often stop her to talk at the best of times and they certainly weren’t going to try when she looked busy.

It didn’t take long to reach the right tent. The guard who was closest jumped in place when he saw her, eyes widening in alarm. She didn’t see his mouth move but she heard the hasty sound of contraband being hidden away by his companion. When she got closer, she could guess what it was by the smell of tobacco hanging in the air.

“Good afternoon,” she said crisply, and then ducked inside. She saw them bow in her peripheral vision, but they were probably too breathless from their near miss to  wonder why she was coming by so often.

‘That works out neatly. If they’re guilty of something, they’re not likely to think about me or gossip.’

The prisoners were exactly where she'd expected them to be. Rose frowned at them, still perturbed.

'They're not even trying to get out, are they?'

"Good morning, Princess." LaGown lounged with an arm thrown carelessly over a knee. Her hard eyes were icy chips in the shadows of the tent. No matter how correct her greeting was, the older woman was definitely hostile.

“Indeed- good morning.” The elderly Chamberlain cleared his throat. His usual dignity was brought down a bit by his circumstances, but he gave her a regal nod nonetheless.

"To you as well," Rose said, deciding not to correct them about the time. "I'm afraid I'm going to borrow your nephew, Castellan."

"You'll have to take her as well," Marcel said swiftly. He stood up. "I won't go without her."

Rose gave him a faintly condescending look. "And then my Father will send someone to retrieve her, court martial me, and probably notice you. Clever. What's the next step in this plan?" She kept her tone low and steady, a pitch that she knew from experience would be hard to understand from outside.

Willame snorted.

"Let's just listen to her." LaGown said shortly.

Right. Rose held up her burden. "He's going to dress as a soldier and come back to the front lines with me." She shot him a sideways look. "He's going to be very quiet and helpful, since of course I'd only have a personal assistant who was competent. They’ll assume you were just assigned by my Father."

The Castellan raised an eyebrow. "And won't your regular companions ask questions?"

Rose blinked. What, like who? Etienne? No one was really following her around at her heels. Except maybe… "No, I don't think so," she said contemplatively. "The squire is too scared to talk to me."

Willame coughed. "Fascinating, that statement doesn’t bode one particular way over the other. What's your squire's name?" The knight sounded like he wasn't sure he wanted the answer.

Rose went very still as she tried to remember. She’d definitely heard it at least once.

'...I know I should have asked but come on, give me a kindness. I hate this. I don't need a test right now.'

She rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to cross her arms. It helped that her hands were still full. "I'm sure his brother will tell me eventually," she hedged. “Look, I know a lot of people. I can’t remember all of their names.” Rose put her chin a little bit higher.

Willame looked at her. He looked at Marcel. He put his big hand over his face and sighed. Marcel made a face at his old friend.

Whatever. She sat down the bundle and began to unravel it. “We’re going to wait until the shift change. The new watchmen might find it odd, but will assume you came in with me. No one ever asks me questions if they can help it.” She squinted at what she had. Now that it was next to him, she wondered if this was going to fit well enough to look like he’d been sized properly.

‘He had better not complain. This is a much better plan than anything he has. He couldn’t plan his way out of a box.’ Mulishly, Rose shot Marcel an acidic look. ‘He couldn’t even properly hold me prisoner for a day. I can’t believe the lack of supervision…’

“What’s that look for, then?”

She ignored Willame and gave one more check over what she’d brought- helm, wool, and a chainmail hauberk. He could use his own shoes, and she’d brought his belt as well. “We’ll grab you a wooden shield later,” Rose said, mostly to herself. She stood and walked over to Marcel, reaching out to tug his hands closer to her using the center of the chain between his handcuffs. He let out a quiet ‘oof’ that she felt on her forehead as an expulsion of air. With brisk professionalism, Rose removed the handcuffs and took a quick step backwards to wind up the bindings.

“And a sword?”

Like hell she was going to arm him until she absolutely had to. Marcel’s needling wasn’t cute, no matter how innocent his tone was.

Rose paused in her task, metal making a slight sound when her grip tightened. She cut him an unimpressed look. “Just get your damn clothes off already.” Rose was fed up with the japery. “I don’t have all year.”

Marcel’s mouth shut and he gave a nod. He didn’t look at her.

“You might turn for his precious modesty,” Willame said quietly. His tone wasn’t quite carrying off the joking words– Marcel probably was quite shy, then.

Rose sighed. She took a few steps away to give the prince a little space to dress. “I’m not turning my back to an unsecured prisoner who disagrees with my plan.” She cut the Castellan a sideways look. She was mature enough not to say anything about how it was important to be careful with prisoners. Judging from the tight lines around Castellan LaGown’s eyes, the older woman knew where her thoughts had gone anyway.

‘She’s not one to be flippant with, still. I don’t believe she’s changed her mind about this plan at all. She’s probably advising the Prince to get out, get back up, and either rescue them or just make a clean escape. I can’t be confident that he’s committed to working with me, not while I have the upper hand. Offers that he made from a position of power are probably not extant now.’

It wasn’t hard to guess the conversations that had gone one when she’d been gone. If it was Rose and her family caught like this, they’d have- they’d have-

Rose took a deep breath through the tightness in her  chest and tried not to doubt that her Aunt would act any less ferociously on her behalf. Even now, the Castellan (former Castellan?) was fixing Rose with a deeply unpleasant stare that was likely related to the indignity of supervising her nephew while he disguised himself.

Marcel handled that problem by layering the woolen clothes over his own clothing, which worked well enough. It was going to be miserably hot in there, but she didn’t say anything while he worked to pull the chain hauberk over his head.

Rose leaned sideways to glance out of the tent and guess at the sunlight. How many minutes had passed? She tapped her fingers against her belt in a restless staccato. With one last suspicious glance back at Marcel, she crept silently across the tent to stand inches away from the unsuspecting guards.

From this close, she could hear breathing.

There were two people, but that told her nothing except that she hadn’t been discovered. They were on the wrong side of the sun for their shadows to be visible, so unfortunately she couldn’t compare their height to the guards that she’d seen on her way in.

‘I should have paid attention, I should have listened by the door for the shift change.’

Rose took a steady inhalation through her nose- and paused.

‘...It’s pretty bold to smoke while I’m in here.’

She couldn’t help the grin that stole over her face. That was just so shameless that she kind of wanted to poach them.

More importantly, it almost certainly meant it was the same guards. Rose crossed her arms and waited, turning warily so that she could keep an eye on the people inside the tent. Minutes passed in tense silence.

Eventually there were heavy footsteps. Rose held her breath and leaned closer to hear the conversation outside. It was held in such quiet, professional tones that it was lucky she could make it out at all.

“Here for your relief.”

“Thank you. There’s a visitor inside, so do not disturb.”

“Acknowledged, thank you.”

Rose relaxed and cut a look towards Marcel. He was fiddling with the helmet and whispering something into Willame’s ear.

‘I wish I didn’t have to separate them.’ She squirmed. ‘It’s… It is necessary, but I wouldn’t have chosen to do it if I had a better option.’

Getting caught by Father would be the worst outcome, though. There was no chance he’d be sanguine about her hiding such a valuable prisoner. He was not famous for his forgiving nature, and leniency had never been one of the bonuses associated with being his favorite child.

‘He might actually kill me if I finds out what I’ve done before it’s public.’

That made her feel less guilty about what she was doing to the four people in front of her, so Rose gave a little stretch and made meaningful eye contact. When the Chamberlain met her gaze, she gave a pointed head tilt towards the tent entrance.

She couldn’t really let them have a private farewell, but she focused on the sound of her own breath and thoughts of what she’d do next. Before too long, Marcel disentangled himself from an embrace with his aunt and was at her side.

“Lovely,” Rose said, and nodded goodbye. “Come along.” She stepped out into the sunlight and instantly turned to frown at the guard on the left. The poor man was already waiting with impeccable posture, so he merely froze in place at the thought that she might be annoyed with him in specific. “Afternoon,” she said, keeping her tone deliberately short. The tent rustled as Marcel came out behind her.

“Good afternoon,” he echoed. Rose started walking again. Marcel fell into step behind her and slightly to the left.

She should have been nervous, but Rose realized that she wasn’t. No one was going to question her here. Marcel was just one more visor in an army encampment, and no one was going to question what had happened to her 4th prisoner because no one above her knew about him.

‘It’s actually not that hard to commit treason,’ Rose mused, idly listening to the sounds of hundreds of people going about their work. That didn’t seem right. ‘...Maybe I am just very good at it. I am good at most things that I do.’

She had a little extra bounce in her step for the last few minutes of the walk.

Marcel knew better than to talk but the air had a strain to it. It might have been her imagination, but she thought that he was dying to talk to her about something.  She couldn’t say that she knew him well, but she had the feeling that quiet was not his natural state of being.

Whatever confrontation he was aching for, it was going to have to wait. Rose blew through the camp, checking in with officers and snapping out marching orders. She wanted to be on her way out within an hour.