morriganfearn | Not Exactly a Secret [Fanfic] (Reply)

Title: Not Exactly a Secret
Author: MorriganFearn
Rating: M
Characters: Rutger, Dieck, Clarine, Sue, Fir, Klein, Saul
Genre: Romance, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort (still not clear what that is as a genre, but it's prolly the closest to accurate I'll get)
Pairings: Rutger/Dieck
Summary: It's not exactly a secret that Rutger has some aggression to work through. It is a bit of a surprise that Dieck is interested in this. But as the first half year of the War Against Bern rolls on, the status quo they create begins to change.

Title: Not Exactly a Secret - Part 9
Author: MorriganFearn
Rating: T
Characters: Rutger, Dieck, Klein, Tate, Clarine, Lilina, Wendy, Saul, Oujay, Fir, Allen, Sue, Elphin
Genre: Friendship, Romance, Introspection
Pairings: Rutger/Dieck
Summary: How to breathe and come to terms with having told the truth.

Previous Part (The Village on the Western Shore) Next Part (Leaving the Fort)

Not Exactly a Secret: Part 9

Now that the sun was falling in the sky, it seemed to have decided to make up for the cool beginning of the day by blazing, as though sheer will alone could overtake the dawn. Or perhaps the sun realized that the battle was over, and thus could shine more brightly for it.

The forecourt of the fortress was a milling mass of people. Rutger eyed the number of bodies present with distaste from the sidelines. Prisoners—some soldiers had managed to survive the day. Not so the bandits. Rutger had a sneaking suspicion that the townspeople had something to do with that last fact—were being herded into the cells. The new accommodations were dank and hidden at the very back where the fortress cut into the mountain. Rutger thought that it was too kind a fate, even so, but then he had seen the expressions on the faces of the town's delegation. The provost was probably the closest thing to someone in charge that the area held now, and he and his wife were clearly looking forward to passing judgment.

Dieck had been right. Bards were very important here. Elphin had arrived at the gates just after Zinc's defeat, along with the town delegation, and now sat in the shade of the west wall, quietly tuning a stringed instrument. He should have attracted no more attention than Dorothy oiling her bow within whacking distance of Saul's little healing station. But the Islanders who could not fit in the circle around Roy kept drifting over to the musician, before drifting back, and taking up the conversation with the young General in the place of another worthy who needed some bardic consultation.

Did the stranger know that this attention was not going unnoticed? Rutger would bet that Elphin knew he was being watched. For one thing, Oujay was trying to imitate Rutger's casual sword cleaning, and completely failing at the casual part of it, as every time Elphin murmured something, his eyes shot up from his work, and narrowed on the bard. For another, Allen, who had apparently been told the suspicions that Dieck and Oujay had formed, was not even trying to be subtle, and actively stared at Elphin, frowning thoughtfully.

The little group was so obvious that Rutger was surprised how much time passed before someone said: “What are you all staring at?”

Fir leaned over Allen's shoulder, as though by getting closer to the group she could read their minds. The threat of that worked well enough on Oujay, who started upright with a guilty expression. “Ah! Um. We just—well, it's surprising to see? Minstrels are valued in Lycia, but not quite like this. Fir, you're from the Western Isles, right? Why is everyone going to talk with him?”

The girl laughed. “Where did you hear that? I think my father is a native Islander, but I'm not really from here. We were in Sacae for a while with my mother's brother when she first fell ill, and we had to stay on the Plains until she died, and, well, I think being settled down reminds my father of that time, so he likes to keep on the move. You know, it's funny, Oujay, you're the first person who hasn't assumed I'm Sacaen. Even Shin and Sue thought I was.”

“Well, Sir Noah kinda told me something about you and being from the Islands last night on the trail. I guess I just remembered it wrong,” Oujay shrugged. “I don't know if I'd thought about it much, though. Your sword style is pretty Sacaen, and so is the way you dress.”

Fir giggled. “Rutger doesn't think so. Do you?”

“You look like any other town girl. Just not a tribesman,” Rutger replied reluctantly, not sure if he wanted to get drawn in to this discussion.

Did all this mean that she had not been in Sacae when Bern invaded? That was rich. Here he had been thinking that she was a wanderer without a family, or any people to call her own. They really had nothing in common. Even the way she approached her sword work was different. Still, she had kept him alive and uninjured today. “And even if your attack style is showy, thank you for today.”

The effect of his words had on her was like sunlight on the distant sea. Fir shone, her eyes sparkled, and Rutger wondered if this kind of reaction to compliments was common in all girls of a certain age. Clarine lit up just as brightly, though far more loudly.

Although, Fir certainly had plenty to say, as well. “It was nothing. It was wonderful fighting with you. You're so easy to match steps with, and yet, I'd swear you hadn't even noticed me a moment before. Such awareness is inspiring.”

Such awareness had Dieck calling him a focused death mill. A battle was not a game. There should be no prize beyond staying alive. Rutger glared, but Fir was impervious. Maybe she had been spending too much time around Thany?

“I would love to match swords—”

“Ah!” Allen suddenly barged between them. “Fir, I've been hoping we could have a rematch? Everyone's been telling me I've been charging too much and it leaves me and everyone around me open, and I'd like to try giving it my all against someone swift and skillful like you. Hopefully I can learn to compensate. Or at least we can learn to fight better together.”

With that, the awkward staring contest with the strange bard was truly broken, as Oujay wanted to know if he could be of any service. Dieck had been beating him during morning sparring a lot and it would be good to know if Captain Dieck was just much better than he was, or if he was really that bad.

Rutger wanted to roll his eyes. Of course Dieck was better. Every movement the mercenary made proclaimed his skill, and the power in those broad shoulders was evident. It was why Rutger had begun pressing Dieck into sparring after all.

He critically inspected where the hilt of his sword and the blade joined, seeking any left over blood flecks. They always got caught around that point, and besides, if the little company of suspicious soldiers was distracted, it was up to him to casually pay attention to the probable spy encamped in the army's midst.

At the moment, the spy was having a quiet word in Merlinus' ear. Said word seemed to encompass the total attention of the townspeople, while General Roy and Lilina remained engaged with what looked like retainers of some kind from the fort. Elphin nodded at something Merlinus said, and the blue eyes flashed around the courtyard, weighing that rapt audience.

Slim fingers descended to the strings, pulling out an idle tune like a lazy brook running through the summer heat. As the tempo changed to a lighter, more lively song, Rutger almost found himself suggesting to Oujay that they practice together, if Fir and Allen were occupied. He only managed to stop himself as the young woman who had been helped in the village square that morning whirled past with a laughing little girl in her arms. Everyone was smiling or suddenly looking satisfied with how things had turned out. The subtle shift in tone Rutger laid squarely on the bard's little tune.

Disquieted by the change in the mood, Rutger rose, intending to find somewhere a little less hypnotic. However, Dieck and Tate were approaching, engaged in discussion.

Tate's reserve seemed to have melted just a little, for she laughed, shaking her head. “That's just like her. Still, no matter the company there will always be one or two like that. Some people are drawn to small company mercenary work because they do not work well in a larger strictly controlled company.”

“I know exactly what you mean” the look Dieck shot Rutger was so full of amusement that Rutger considered turning around right then and volunteering for Fir's informal practice session. “I've got two of those people in my company right now, less luck for me. But why not bring your people along? This war isn't really about Etruria, and we'll need the help against Bern's wyverns.”

Tate shook her head. “I can't ask them to ruin their professional reputations. General Klein was kind enough to break our contract, and has promised letters of recommendation, but for the group to join against the crown that employed them not three hours ago would be a disaster.

“And, like it or not, Ilia, or at least most of the major towns and companies, are in Bern's hands. We've gotten reports that the trade routes from Bulgar are being well patrolled and supplies are reaching the isolated areas. Other reports about what is happening as Bernian lords take over the land are less good, but I think I can see the Bernian strategy. For a large portion of an Ilian company to declare war upon Bern as we head into winter would cut off all supplies to our families. After fighting on our home territory last winter there are no reserves left. All the people of the wastes would starve.

“I can't ask my soldiers to potentially make a sacrifice of their families if I would not be making the same sacrifice. And since Thany is here, and our older sister is in the far Eastern capital the enemy does not yet control,” Tate shrugged. “Enough is going on at home. I will join this army as any other volunteer, and leave my wing to return to where they belong and get money as they are able.”

“Sound reasoning to me,” Dieck agreed reluctantly. “Though, you should have someone to look out for your interests, if you are joining up as a lone mercenary.”

Rutger almost smiled. Did Dieck believe that he was looking out for Rutger's interests, by trying to recruit others to the army? Tate did smile, though probably for reasons of her own. “I have looked out for myself before. Besides, General Klein has always—I do not believe that his judgment is wrong in this.”

Rutger had the opportunity to behold Dieck struggling with both what he was about to say, and some conflicting emotions. As the mercenary's jaw worked tightly, Tate was taking in the sight of the light sparring with a slight frown on her face. “And there's another knight with impulsiveness to match my sister. How many of the people in this army are familiar with fighting as a full unit?”

Dieck drew himself out of whatever conflicted feelings he had about Etrurian nobility, and counted the troops. “You included? I would say about eight. A few others like Rutger here try hard to be professional, though.”

Tate gave Rutger a cursory glance. “Being independent is a useful thing in a swordsman. The problem is when spearmen think they're sword masters. If you'll excuse me, Captain Dieck, I think I need to discover who organizes the training for the knights.”

“That would be Sir Marcus, and I know Sir Barth has his own knights on an additional training schedule. He was fairly badly injured this morning, though. You should probably ask Dame Wendy about it.” Dieck pointed out the no longer startlingly pink figure across the courtyard sitting outside the healer's tent, earnestly working at polishing her armor.

Tate nodded her thank you, and strode across the courtyard, breaking through several knots of townspeople clustered in enchanted groups of listeners around Elphin. Rutger took the opportunity of Tate's absence to get close enough to run a curious finger down Dieck's throat. He hoped, a little vainly, to feel the impression of his teeth, but only the normal light stubble greeted him, and by Dieck's growing grin, there was nothing left of Rutger's claim.

“Sister Ellen waved away all my injuries before Lilina blasted Zinc, remember?” Dieck raised his formerly bandaged arm to grasp Rutger's wrist, casually halting the exploring fingers. “Did that ruin your day?”

“No,” Rutger caught Dieck's gaze without shame. “I hope you'll let me fix it later. Why have you been trying to recruit other people? Wouldn't half a wing of pegasus knights have meant a split in any bonus pay?”

Dieck chuckled. “Since when have you really cared about money?”

“I don't, but you do, so it makes me curious when I see you endangering that money.”

Down by the healer's tent, Clarine emerged, engaged in loud and animated conversation with Lilina. The noise around them swelled for a moment in reaction, but dipped as Clarine gestured peremptorily in the direction of Roy's little group, which included Klein's blond head. Probably she was trying to introduce her brother to every person in the army personally, and was working her way down the list of important people. Oddly, Dieck jumped a little as Klein excused himself from the circle of town and fort worthies with a bow, and the captain's expression became flavored with unreadable undertones.

“You know I'm right about wanting aerial troops to deal with wyverns. Say,” Dieck's sudden casual arm around Rutger's shoulders, guiding him towards the shadows of the gate was probably going to be about as subtle as the looming conversation switch. “Elphin actually knows how to play, huh?”

“He knows how to read his audience, certainly,” Rutger allowed himself to be steered toward the open archway.

A breeze had picked up, cold with autumn's promises of winter as it rattled the hanging bars of the bottom of the portcullis, gusting down to blow through the forecourt with abandon. It was refreshing to feel the salt laden air on his face, and even better to be moderately sheltered from it by the stones of the protective wall.

“You don't need to be thinking ahead to Bern. Leave that to the little general,” Rutger paused, thinking about Klein's title, and reflected on relative height for a moment. No, Klein probably was taller than he was, and certainly taller than Roy, but in an army that boasted men like Dieck and Barth, as well as women like Wendy, 'tall general' would not do for Klein. “And our newer general, too I suppose.”

“Newer general. What a terrible name,” Dieck shook his head. “Why not say blonder general or the Etrurian one or something?”

“You might think I meant Clarine.”

“Hmm, General Clarine. Now that has a terrifying thought or two attached to it. Do you know how many people would have to die for her to get promoted that far?” Dieck grinned, fixing Rutger with a long stare. “You could at least crack a smile or something. It's so hard to tell if I'm actually being funny when you're wearing your murder eyes.”

“What?” One day, Rutger vowed, he was going to find a looking glass and discover what this expression Dieck claimed he wore actually looked like.

Carefully, Dieck reached over to run his thumb just under Rutger's eyelid. “Your exhausted 'I'll kill you where you stand' face. You know, sleep's also part of keeping you in one piece while fighting Bern.”

“That's not your concern,” Rutger muttered, glad that it was foolish to try to fight Dieck on this, but continuing to do so because better sense should not have an easy victory.

“I said I'm helping you get your revenge, didn't I? That makes it my concern. Besides, beating you when we spar shouldn't happen because you're half gone from fatigue. It should happen because I'm better than you are.”

Rutger growled to cover a wry smile, and shoved the mercenary captain against the shadowed stones. He was completely unsurprised by the counter attack of a kiss. He doubted that they were ever more predictable to each other when he wrapped his arms around the strong neck and shoulders, digging in his nails, and pulled Dieck even lower by biting down on the taunting lower lip. The taste was cleaner than this morning, without the lingering harshness of the hard soap the healers distributed after a battle.

When they fell apart, Rutger licked his lips. “Too bad for your pride, but sleep is one thing completely out of my control.”

Dieck tutted. “Yeah, and given the state of this fort, we're likely to get put in the recently vacated barracks tonight. Enjoy getting some shut eye with the snoring and everyone needing to get up at least once to raid the kitchen.”

“Well, it's better than sleeping rough. The amenities of civilization will hopefully include fires that can't be put out by a little rain. Speaking of civilization, you really are cleaned up. Did you find a bathhouse hidden in that village?”

“Visited the fort's bathing pool on accident while we were rounding up the servants, and I thought why not? The water was only going to get colder and scuzzier if I waited for the rest of the army to come in.”

It was a beautiful day. The wind sang, the rocks shone, the salt tingled Rutger's senses. “A full bathing pool? Really? With drains and steam rocks and good soap?”

Dieck cocked his head to one side. “Um? I wasn't asking questions. Soap's easier on the skin than the stuff Sister Ellen hands around. I can't say I found the results any different than a cold wash in a stream bed, though.”

That kind of comment would have had Rutger's mother muttering 'barbarian' under her breath. Rutger managed to curb that instinct, and merely shook his head. “I haven't been in a bathhouse since Araphen, and haven't even seen a decent one since Bulgar. I'll take what the fortress has to offer and be thankful.”

“You're a snob,” Dieck said, covering his mouth against obvious laughter. “You could give Clarine a run for her money. Hellfires, I don't think I've seen Sue get that picky about her bath houses, and she's lived the cushy lady life for a Sacaen, right?”

At the idea of Lady Sue living a life similar to Clarine's expectations, Rutger also wanted to laugh. “Lady Sue is not one of your Etrurian dolls. But she is a tribeswoman. I would guess she's of a like mind with you in favor of cold brooks. In Bulgar we might not be one tribe, but there are some advantages to city life. Hot wash water and a good steam being among them.”

Rutger was not sure that he should have used the common phrasing for noble ladies, as Dieck's eyebrows went up like a shot, and he grinned. Knowing Rutger's luck, it was another one of Etruria's vast and cultured euphemisms for prostitute, which was not what he wanted to say. Still, None of the Etrurian women Rutger had met so far were very doll like, and none of them were like Lady Sue, so, it was probably a safe turn of phrase.

Before any learned exchanging of ribald language could ensue, the person most likely to be entirely outraged at the idea called for Rutger at the top of her lungs. Rutger looked over his shoulder to see Clarine looking around in a perplexed manner, while at her side, her older brother was absorbed in the now quiet music, a slight frown on his face.

Rutger sighed. “Ah. I must rate more highly in the hierarchy than I expected. She couldn't have had time to introduce him to too many others.”

Dieck stepped back a bit, cracking out his knuckles. “Well, I probably don't rate that high. But speaking of Lady Sue, she and Shin haven't returned from their perimeter patrol of the village. I'm going to grab Thany and then mosey along and find them. You enjoy our little healer's undivided attention,” Dieck broke off, staring over Rutger's shoulder pensively.

Rutger waited for whatever thoughts were moving behind Dieck's face to surface, but Clarine called again. “If you want to say something—”

Dieck shook his head with a lopsided smile. “Just remember, Klein's a general, and nice as the boy is, once we get back to the mainland, he wouldn't be able to associate with you. I'm just saying, he might be a good friend, and stars above, you could use a few, but—don't get too attached, all right?”

He waved, backing deeper into the shadows of the wall. Well, that was a first. Rutger wasn't sure how much stemmed from Dieck's distrust of Etrurian nobility and how much was his genuine interest in Rutger's well being. When they met again, Rutger would have to ask. As Dieck had taken on Rutger's cause, Rutger had no excuse to avoid Dieck's cares, and more than idle curiosity to push him to investigate.

Making plans for the coming investigation, he left the shadows, and strolled toward Clarine. “You shouted?”

“Oh there you are,” Clarine breathed out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “I thought you had run off again. Klein, this is Rutger. He's the mercenary who pushed me into the arms of this army. He's been guarding me for these last months, so you needn't have worried.”

Cool eyes swept up and down Rutger's body, probably seeing a short man with exhaustion all over his features, blood still on his clothes, and face and hands only negligibly washed after battle. If Rutger was Clarine's older brother, he would not have liked this news as all. But Klein was either a better actor, or willing to trust to his sister's judgment, as he smiled after a moment, and bowed. “Thank you very much for looking after her. I hope she was not troublesome—”

“Klein! I never am!” lying apparently made Etrurian ladies blush scarlet.

“—and if you are ever in need of work, or a place to stay, you are welcome in Reglay lands.”

“Thank you,” Rutger began.

“Well, of course he is,” Clarine rolled her eyes. “We really should introduce him to Momma and Poppa, anyway, when this is over. Are—are they back home, yet?”

“No,” Klein's glance at Clarine was troubled. “Apparently father's research in Missur was interrupted by news of the death of a family friend. The last letter I received said that they were going into the Nabatan desert to pay their respects. Are you being an asset to this army?”

“Of course! I—” but Clarine was going red again.

Just that morning she had asked for help learning offensive magic. Was the redoubtable girl doubting her own use? Perhaps her brother had asked this question in front of an audience because he doubted she would give him the truth of the matter. The little girl he probably knew might have been a healing prodigy, but had been the same pampered brat Rutger had to sneak out of a prison she had landed in through her own naivete.

Rutger tried to smile politely as he stepped into the conversation, though when Klein flinched, he decided to drop the expression. “At the moment, even three healers aren't enough to keep the army in one piece, with the size it is. We need Lady Clarine for that, and she said something about beginning the study of,” he faltered, wondering if a general wanted to hear that his twelve year old sister had expressed an interest in roasting people, but decided that anyone who was planning on entering a war his little sister had already been fighting in could take that information in stride, “combat magic. She is useful enough.”

Klein's smile and polite nod were better than any mask. Rutger had the uneasy sensation of having crossed some sort of boundary, as Klein also made it clear that he had mastered the art of speaking without giving any of what he was thinking. “I see. Thank you for telling me that. I'm very glad that you have been working hard, Clarine. Though I would like to hear more about this interest in combat magic. Father would be proud.”

It was probably the cue to withdraw. Rutger read it as such. He nodded again. “Well, Lady Clarine, I need to see about where I am to stow my gear, now that the castle has been cleaned out—”

“Oh! Before you go,” Klein refocused his calm attention. “I was wondering—I thought I saw you talking to someone while we were meeting Dorothy? But you were by the gate shadow, so I couldn't be sure.”

“I was,” Rutger began, not quite seeing Klein's point.

“I thought it might be someone I knew,” Klein persisted, but suddenly there was an outbreak of chatter. behind them, most of it sounding distinctly Merlinus-like and nervous.

All three heads turned to watch as Roy tried to calm Merlinus, and Elphin looked on with the faintest hints of a smile. Rutger realized that the townspeople were suddenly giving Roy a wide berth. Hmm. Had Elphin instructed the townspeople to give him privacy to talk to Roy, or had he simply seized the opportunity? And when had he stopped playing music?

Klein seemed just as troubled, though he couldn't possibly share in Rutger's suspicions, unless he had spoken to Dieck or Oujay. “That's odd. Who is that man?”

“He claims to be a wandering bard, calling himself Elphin,” Rutger shrugged. “I heard that the soldiers from the fort were looking for a man matching his description, though.”

“Mmm. Say, Clarine, do you remember much of my promotion ceremony before the court?”

“What? Oh yes, you looked wonderful!” Clarine smiled. “All that intense purple suited you perfectly. I think people were arguing over whether you should have been in blue or purple, since mother's relationship to the crown is so distant, but obviously purple was the best. Blue would have worked too, but only if it had gold edging to bring out your hair, and anyway, if you wore blue with silver, you would have been mistaken for the prince when he changed out of his formal wear. And the lighter peasant blues would wash you out too much. You have such a pleasing depth of coloration.”

Klein laughed. “Oh, you remember that much, do you? You even remembered Mildain's, ah, attempt at disguise.”

“Well, of course. A prince is a prince.”

“He is indeed,” Klein said thoughtfully, gazing at the ruckus in the forecourt that must seem a lifetime removed from whatever gathering they were thinking of.

Rutger wondered if promotion ceremonies were anything like festival days. Still, if that unreadable attention was focused on the suspect bard, he would be happy to leave the siblings to reminisce. Marcus was standing in the lee of Merlinus' bright wagon, looking slightly put upon, but not intervening. Rutger decided to actually do as he had said he would, and headed over intent on discovering what exactly the sleeping arrangements were for the evening.

Marcus acknowledged him with a stiff nod. “Hello, Master Rutger. You did very well in combat today. Have you seen Brother Saul, yet?”

“Thank you, and give my apologies to your warhorse,” Rutger began before raising an eyebrow. “Brother Saul? No. Was he looking for me?”

“He wished to know if your wound from our last enemy encounter had survived the day. It is very irresponsible not to see the healers on time. Particularly with the shape you're in,” Marcus began, and Rutger watched worried frown lines forming.

Rutger pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am feeling the effects of our night march. Otherwise, I'm fine. I will go see Saul as soon as I have stowed my things. Is it true we're to use the army barracks?”

“Good. Yes, we are. There is more than enough room for everything there, though it seems that the Etrurians weren't a mixed group—we will have to share barracks space with the ladies. But I've set up a few curtains for them.”

“Mm,” Rutger reached into the back of the wagon, fishing around for his lonely sleeping roll amid the clutter of extra swords and spears attached to the personal effects of the rest of the army. “Saul will like that.”

“What did you say?”

Rutger withdrew with his prize. “I'll see Saul as soon as possible. Is he still in the tent?”

“Ah, no. Roy asked him to go inspect the castle's supplies for poison after an, um, altercation with one of the good ladies of the town.”

Rutger could imagine. He nodded shortly, before glancing over at Roy, who was now speaking animatedly with Elphin, his eyes gleaming with the joy he usually reserved for finding an accurate terrain map. Frowning, Rutger moved closer to Marcus. “Has anyone talked to you about that bard?”

The question startled Marcus enough that the old knight dropped his professional reserve to stare at Rutger. “Why, I never expected you of all people—well, anyway,” he coughed, trying to maintain his composure. “Yes. Between the end of the battle and now I have been told that there is something a little fishy about Master Elphin by no less than three people. However, Astol says that the townspeople believe him to be part of the resistance militia. I sent Astol to talk to the soldiers to see if they will confirm this. However, I do believe General Roy has this situation well under control. And even if he does not, I have plenty of experience dealing with enemy assassins.”

All right, then. Though Rutger had the feeling Marcus' words were a little optimistic when it came to his abilities to deal with assassins. Still, Marcus had managed to survive long enough to get this far. The words of experience should not be taken lightly. Rutger nodded shortly and departed for the fortress keep, hoping to run down servant who could direct him to the barracks.

He found Saul first, however, chatting very hastily with a no-nonsense looking woman wearing a kind of wimple Rutger was sure was as outdated by the standards of the West as it looked outlandish to his eyes. As he passed, however, Saul latched onto him with the relief of a drowning man.

“And I am terribly sorry, madame. But if you will excuse me, that was a patient of mine. Rutger! Did anything happen in the battle today?”

“A lot of people died,” Rutger supplied, rather wary of being the excuse used to get out of a certainly well deserved lecture.

Saul nodded companionably, tapping his staff on the flagstones as he hurried his pace to keep up. “I think I'm getting used to your sense of humor at last, sir mercenary. But I'm not sensing any breaks in your skin, though you do have a lot of lingering magic in your system.”

“Sister Ellen healed me in the middle of the main battle today.”

“Ah, of course. And how is the dear sister? Glowing with divine grace, I hope.”

Rutger remembered the bottled horror of the morning. The last thing he would want was someone overly persistent trying to hit on him while he was re-evaluating the works of mankind. “Distraught and contemplating the atrocities of war was how she was doing when I last saw her. She has probably moved on to doing good works to repair the damage the soldiers wrought. Now, do you know where the barracks we are using are?”

The career diplomat's face had fallen as Rutger spoke. Now he just shook his head. “Or possibly I will never understand your sense of humor. Very well. Just take that hall all the way to the back. It's on the ground floor this time, with officer's quarters on the second floor. And no, I can't get you medical dispensation for one of the single rooms. Bors, Wendy and Barth came way before you in line. So did Lott, but he and Wade said something about seeing their families, so competition is less fierce than you think. But we have a new general with us, which complicates matters.”

Rutger snorted, listening to the carefully calculated list of room assignment priorities. “You were looking for a room all to yourself, weren't you?”

Saul ducked his head, and then shrugged. “What can I say? I'm not a fan of dormitory living. I would have thought with your temperament, you would have at least sympathized.”

“Not particularly,” Rutger felt his chest tighten. “I lived with only three generations of my family. That's practically considered hermitage in Bulgar. But even if I can't sympathize, I will never fail to find your boundless opportunism amusing.”

Saul rolled his eyes. “Take pleasure in my pain, then. Oh! But a ray of light! Do you know that this place has an actual bathing pool? I haven't seen one since Lycia. I've always wondered why they weren't a common feature of Etrurian design, but I will let that pass.”

“I did hear something about it. And intended to take advantage, once I had stowed my sleeping roll. Where is it?”

“Take the set of stairs from the exit to the practice yard to the basement,” Saul advised, beckoning him onward.

By the time Rutger had managed to stow his things, Saul had found the sets of old sheets that had been thoughtfully re-cut to serve as towels for the garrison. With no further prompting, Rutger left his clothes in the hands of the castle laundresses, who, although wary of strange mercenaries, did not seem to resent the fact that their masters had been overthrown. They even promised to heat extra water for the bathing pool and put it in the cisterns, for which both men were grateful.

Saul, however, complained yet again about the fact that Rutger only had one set of clothing, forcing the mercenary to point out that he was unlikely to borrow priestly robes ever again, if he could help it. As they settled into lukewarm water, Saul asked what, exactly, was wrong about his devotional garments, other than the fact that Rutger should not really be wearing them. That led to a rather strange discussion about the length of Saul's arms and the overwhelming emphasis placed on Father Sky in Elimine's religion, interrupted quite frequently for exchanges of soap, draining the water, and waiting for the pool to be refilled.

At last, Saul climbed out, while Rutger lay back in the water, his head on the edge of the tile, feeling content. Saul just shook his head. “I didn't realize how very—Sacaen you were about the faith. But I suppose if you feel that strongly, then my arguments are unlikely to sway you. Still, I'm a little shocked. Most mercenaries I meet tend to be willing to allow Father Sky sort things out after their worldly life is done, and not worry about the rest.”

“You'll find that bloodletting being a soul defiling sin excludes the profession from being terribly interested in what the Elimineans have to say about the worldly life of theirs,” Rutger smirked, feeling inordinately smug. If Saul was withdrawing, Rutger was obviously winning. “And again, Mother Earth has just as much place in the afterlife as the Sky.”

From under a towel, Saul waved his hands in tired defeat. “I think I'll stick to convincing more attractive people.”

The bathing pool had obviously started out life as a cavern in the physical mountainside where water had collected from various cracks and fissures in the rock that had turned into water worn holes eventually. When the fort had been built on top of that, the planners had merely hewn away the inconvenient rounded edges of the cavern, and covered the cracks with decorative tile or used the lower ones as guides to install the drains. Noting this had led to part of the conversation about the Eliminean Church to be dedicated to Etrurian decadence.

What Rutger and Saul had not realized was that it turned the bathing room and the passage leading to it, into an echo chamber. The sloshing of the water and their conversation had covered the approach of two other members of the army. But now that Saul was no longer talking, the slap of feet on stone and a different conversation echoed towards them.

“—I would never suggest that! I promise I will try, my lady. He is very nice, and I am happy to be his friend. But you can't just go around talking to strangers trying to attack you. What if you had met someone who was planning to wait for you to drop your guard?”

“Wendy, sometimes trust has to go blind. If they're willing to stop and talk, I see no reason not to try to talk. It might same some lives at least.”

“My lady,” Wendy's voice echoed softly, without the accompanying sounds of foot falls. “You saved us all today, and kept the village from being overrun. Please, even if it pains you, remember that there is reason for what we do.”

Lilina's wet sniff covered the sound of Saul's awkward cough as he inched toward the doorway. Rutger remained frozen, torn between embarrassment at hearing this, and irritation at the sentiment expressed. Even if his inclusion in the army was a by-product of a similar recruitment strategy, this attitude was exactly what his argument with Allen had been about.

“I just—magic is such a joyful, living force. I love to weave the energies together and know the pure creation of it. It scared me today, you know?” Lilina's voice dropped. “I'm not—I don't think of myself as an angry person, but I was so furious, and I felt the lightning building within that fury, even without the spell book. I think, if I got angry enough, I could create a storm. I mean, without having properly channeled the magic, and built the foundation for the creative forces. That's—it has to be dark magic. Or something foul. I don't like that something I learned for joy can become so powerful in rage.”

Wendy sighed. “I—this is beyond me, Lilina. But I trust you to be in control of the magic, as much as I am in control of my spear. Just because it is quicker to hand for you than my weapons are for me, that doesn't mean that you will lose all discipline and start destroying everyone. You have discipline and control that your servants admire, and bring hope to the army.”

Lilina's sigh, even distorted by the echo, said very plainly that Wendy's remarks about leading by example were not helping, and the light fall of her footsteps began again, sounding a little faster if anything.

Wendy's nervous laugh bounded ahead of the two young women. “Well, I suppose that seems like a lot of responsibility. Sorry, my lady. Ah? Perhaps, if we are not enemies when we return to Etruria, you can speak to General Cecelia about this. She has, after all, lead armies with the strength of her magic.”

On the heels of that suggestion both women turned through the unbarred archway into the pool. They stopped dead, staring at the room, and the diplomat, diplomatically covered, with the mercenary, who was not.

“Excuse us!” Lilina exclaimed, as Wendy stepped smartly in front of her, in case the sight of Saul in a towel was too much. “Ah, I—it never occurred to me that there would be no partition.”

Rutger sighed, and turned over to climb out. He had intended to stay in until the water grew cold and his skin was clean to the point of pruneiness. Too bad other members of the army had heard about the wonderful alternative afforded by Etrurian decadence, and would now put the pool to the same use. If Lilina and Wendy were here, others would be coming shortly, and while he might feel up to dealing with one or two people at a time, four was definitely the limit before withdrawing. “We were just leaving.”

“Sorry to chase you out,” Lilina smiled around Wendy's shoulder. “We were supposed to be meeting Sue here, as well. We had hoped no one was using the bath this early.”

“We're done. It doesn't matter,” Rutger grabbed Saul by the shoulder, and began steering him towards the passage. “We need to tell the laundresses that there will be another call on the water.”

He was actually surprised that the priest was not trying to make excuses to stay. Pleased, but surprised nonetheless. However, when they were out in the dim passage, lit by torches, rather than clearer burning lanterns, he thought he saw a frown on Saul's features. Not wishing to have Lilina and Wendy learn about the eavesdropping, he waited until they were up the stairs and on the ground floor before pointing out tactfully: “You look upset.”

Saul tried to smile jovially. “Oh. Nothing. I—well, that kind of spiritual confusion is, well, I'm sure that being in the company of good friends will help. Dame Wendy has a good head on her shoulders. I—I can't see that I would have been needed in my role as priest and guide. Obviously, if I was, I should have stayed and tried to help her out. But, of course, you were right, to make us leave. Very right. We were superfluous. Ah well, if everyone is beginning to take formal control of this fortress, I suppose I have some letters to my archbishop to write. Or, I could be helping the heroic Captain Tate to settle in! Hmm.”

Saul wandered away in a vaguely courtyard-ish direction. Rutger wondered if the church ever was able to get him to stop chasing women long enough to do his job. Well, that was luckily not his outlook. Too bad for Dorothy, but she had volunteered to help her church in any way needed.

This left Rutger with nothing to do, however. His sword was clean, but there was little use in going over his exercises until he had his clothes back from the clutches of the laundress, and from the sounds of Chad and Lugh running in the direction of the laundry, everyone and their brother was cleaning their garments. He could take to wandering idly around the kitchens, but he was still full from the post battle repast Merlinus had sent around, and cooks rarely needed more people underfoot, even if they were no longer cooking for a full garrison.

“Excuse me, Rutger,” Sue asked, stepping out of a side hall. “Captain Dieck was looking for you. Also, do you know where the supposed bath house is? Lilina asked if I would meet her there, but I can't find anything in this stone block that even resembles a bathhouse.”

“Just down those stairs,” Rutger nodded, stepping back so that she could see clearly. “They're already down there. But if you want a towel, that's in the cupboard off the laundry. Down that hallway,” he pointed, probably unnecessarily, as the noise and steam of a laundry in full swing was hard to miss.

“Thank you very much,” Sue inclined her head politely. “I believe Dieck was trying to get Thany to put away her things neatly, but he might have left the barracks by now.”

“Thank you, Lady Sue,” Rutger nodded, not wanting to stay, but his feet were suddenly made of lead, and he couldn't take his gaze from the worn flagstones with their rush coating.

Sue did not move, either, assessing him slowly as though he was a stranger she had met that morning. “Something—you're not as—not as leaky right now. I wonder why.”

Rutger felt heat rising in his cheeks. She couldn't be— “There was a battle today.”

“Does fighting calm you down?”

In the moments when he was a nothing but a blade with flesh attached, the the world dropped away. Of course it did. But those moments didn't last forever and the tight sick anger that had engulfed him with Allen's mis-placed compassion had nothing to do with the simplicity of a sword, and everything to do with the dark whirlwind of hateful memories. “No. Someone—it was a lot like Bulgar today, in some ways. I told a friend about it.”

He could feel a smile like a sunny spring day, and then Sue did move. “Well, that's good then.”

“It might help you, too. If you talked to someone,” Rutger volunteered haltingly.

“I'm going to be late. Bye.”

And the lady left him to realize that he was probably going to be late as well. Nothing for it, but to check the most recent Dieck sighting. Rutger set off for the barracks in the vain hopes that he would not end up chasing Dieck all over the fort, trying to find him.

He was lucky, in that the barracks did contain Dieck, though Dieck seemed to have picked the most out of the way corner in the maze of double bunked beds and arms chests to place his mercenaries. Rutger picked his way around the rows, trying not to let his attention get caught by the graffiti and carvings that the previous occupants had left.

His own bunk, which was in an even lonelier corner behind the upright weapons' racks, had some religious verse chalked onto the wooden support of the bed above and an apparently on-going insult war carved into the wall beside it. The question of whether the person, who had wanted everyone to know that Efran was a stink beetle, a dullard, and a pucamole, had died in the village, or was locked in the cells niggled unpleasantly in the back of Rutger's mind.

Even without the clutter separating Dieck's mercenaries from the other beds, it was hard in the low light to know that Dieck was even there. Luckily Thany had perched herself on her top bunk, and the flash of her white uniform was enough to guide himself by, as Dieck's light hair had sunk from sight.

Rutger stepped over the last arms' chest as Thany secured her javelin quiver to the post of her bed, and leaned down to look at the lower bunk where Dieck sprawled. “Happy now, Bro?”

From the bunk underneath her, Dieck reached out a lazy hand to flick her booted heel. “Hey, no sass from you. And be more respectful of your old captain when you're addressing him. Dieck's fine.”

“Well, Thany is better,” the young girl retorted. “She is particularly sad you didn't compliment her flying, which was good enough to avoid her experienced and skillful older sister. Hey, Rutger! Well, aren't you squeaky clean. How's the fabled bath house?”

“Lilina, Wendy and Lady Sue are currently making it a women's only place, but it's nice enough. They have good soap for the skin here,” Rutger shrugged, pushing Dieck's boots from the arms chest as he sat down.

All around him, he could see evidence of packs and weapons of the army. He hoped no one else was planning to put their stuff in the barracks. At the moment Thany's talkative energy swamped him, and all he needed was Lugh to come in and join in the ruckus.

“I think I'll stick with a regular old bucket, all the same,” Thany replied reflectively. “I still don't think that full soaks are good for the health.”

“That's just because you grew up in the land of icebergs and frozen lakes,” Dieck observed in a dull rumble. “Most of us aren't familiar with having the spit freeze in our mouths.”

“It's not that bad!” Thany blew a piece of hair from her face, and hopped from her bunk. “Anyway, satisfied with my organization now, Bro?”

“Ah, quit it. Go find Wade and tease him about being a terrible brother or something, will you?” Dieck waved a hand in Thany's direction, before casting a glance at Rutger. “I would have thought you were trying to get some shut eye.”

“It's more interesting sitting here.”

“Can't think why. I'm just lying down here, and Thany's always a dull girl.”

“You're awful, and I'm not going to take that from you,” Thany leaped over the arms chest Rutger had commandeered, and waved at the two of them. “Don't let Bro push you around, either.”

Rutger held up a hand in return, but Thany couldn't see the grin that lit his face. “I won't. Anyway,” he turned to Dieck, “I'm not sleepy. Tired of dealing with people, perhaps, but not sleepy.”

Dieck shifted upright with a grunt, and moved to sit on the edge of his claimed bunk. There was a hint of nerves in the way he laced his finger, his thumbs tapping together in a rapid beat. “I know we're not likely to be on the move tomorrow, but you should—”

“You know, Captain,” Rutger drew a breath, suddenly feeling light headed and drunk. The words coming out of his mouth did not seem to be attached to him. They just floated out, like little ice floes on a spring current, “I do fine until I have to sleep. But even so, when I told you what had happened I thought—it wouldn't matter. You wouldn't change the way you treat me.”

Dieck looked down, hiding his face in shadows. “Yeah. Sorry. I'm really not—you're one of the people I keep safe. When I know I haven't done that, well, it bugs me, and I want to do something about it. So I guess ordering you to sleep isn't helping.”

Rutger tilted his head to the ceiling, trying to relieve the pressure around his throat. Counting the ceiling beams sticking through the plaster did not help. Concentrating on the dampness of his hair, and the chill in the large room only made Rutger think of Dieck's habit of wrapping around him. None of this was helping the hopeless wish that their paths would cross for longer than the length of a war.

“No, it doesn't. But thanks for trying.”

The bunk creaked while Dieck resettled himself, sprawling across it. “Then, what would help?”

Nothing, really. “Right now? Let me bask in a good victory, and not think about dragons or wyverns, or bards who might be planning to betray us—”

“Woah. Elphin came clean to the General while you were floating around like an angry soap bubble in the bath. He has been doing the co-ordination for the resistance militia on the island. Like a bard for non-noble folks,” Dieck began.

Rutger shrugged. “There have been a lot of cross currents since we arrived on these islands. This is the trail guard in me speaking, but just because he has declared his colors does not mean that he's not part of a hunting party.”

“And little Klein's part of a plot by the Etrurian military to weaken us from within?” Dieck asked, his voice light and teasing. “Never mind. No wonder you don't want to think for a while. How can one turncoat be so suspicious?”

“It's been that kind of day.”

If only it hadn't been a village this time. Turning life on the edge of his sword should be a simple exercise, all movement and focus. But that focus brought him the textures of terrain, and the similarity of place had brought back all the recriminations and the second guessing. Why hadn't the watch known an army was at the outskirts of the city before it was streaming into the merchant's quarter? Could they have saved themselves by suspecting every mountain born face in the crowd? Rutger wouldn't have minded, if that would have prevented the whole massacre.

“Alright then,” Dieck's voice was full of lazy amusement. “And how do you propose not thinking? You know what I generally do when I want to turn my mind off?”

“If the answer is 'sleep,' I don't want to hear it.”

Dieck rolled onto his side, staring at Rutger with large eyes. “But I had such a good punchline lined up to for it.”

It would not have taken a slow thinker to guess what that punchline was. Dieck had a very Etrurian sort of crudeness in his humor, after all. “If the answer is 'sleep with someone,' I still don't want to hear it. Hearing about your other lovers isn't relaxing.”

“You do have a one track mind,” Dieck laughed. “What if I said 'holding you'? Relaxing yet? This bunk's bigger than the cot in my tent.”

Pushing himself from the arms chest took more effort than Rutger wanted to admit. Still, as he slid silently onto the bunk, he had to wonder why he hadn't pressed for this solution in the first place. Dieck was certainly quick enough to arrange Rutger against his body to his liking, plucking away wet tips of hair until Rutger's cheek was cradled in the hollow of his neck and shoulder, and Rutger could feel every rise and fall of his breath.

“Now isn't this better,” Dieck murmured, running his palms slowly down Rutger's sides. He gasped as Rutger moved his own hands to hold on to Dieck's back “Hey, no tickling.”

“Only when I need to wake you up,” Rutger promised, reveling in the closeness and weight that came from their embrace. The soft soap of their recent baths did not quite cover the earthy smell of Dieck's skin, so present and around them. “So, you're just planning to hold me quietly while we wait for a dinner call, or the next strategy meeting?”

“I could hold you talkatively, too, if you like.”

“No, this is fine.”

Rutger could look forward to something so pleasant after long days, he knew. The kindness, the ease of acceptance. He would be happy to keep Dieck here forever. But even if Rutger did not die on a Bernian blade—probably because Dieck would stop it first—they each had their own hopes for after the war.

His fingers tightened on Dieck's shoulder blades. When he buried his face in the mercenary's neck, Dieck pulled him closer, too, as though he knew exactly what Rutger wanted to say but could not find the words for. At least Dieck was here right now, and willing to hold him.

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Notes

So, Klein's on board, and he's not going to get approached by Elphin for a while. When I was developing that part of the plot I realized it must be REALLY weird to be Klein no matter when he joins, as two people out of the army are actively avoiding him, and its not that big an army. It’s smaller than a lot of my grade school classes, and I sure as hell noticed when even one person was avoiding me. Even weirder, if you’re in the A Route, Elphin actually will *succeed* in avoiding Klein, as they can't support on that route. So, like, the really flashy bard tactician with the massive braid of doom manages to avoid the conversation about whether he's a prince from one of Roy’s collection of enemy generals who probably shares the same strategy meetings for the entire war.

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