King Harry and the Free Company: Book Two

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August 30th, late Afternoon

You could feel the grim anger of the room the moment you walked inside. It seemed to bounce back from the thick stone walls of the castle, every time it bounced, it doubled on itself, creating this palpable haze of rage.

Sir Greystoke cut though it with his clear voice. Bringing many back to their present state, rather than fantasizing about what they would do to the man that had caused this situation. "Gentlemen. We have to search the city." He glanced around the table. All the senior officers where there, as well as most of the sergeants. "The populace isn't going to lke this, and may be difficult to persuade to copperate. If I hear of any man taking his anger out about this event on a citizen of this town..." He trailed off. "So help him God, for know one else will."

There was a few moments of silence after the declaration. Then Lochlan stepped forward now that the mood had been shifted somewhat from anger to contemplative. "Alright, here's the problem as I see it." He began, his fingers tracing lines on the map. "If were going to do this, we have to do it correctly, and very very carefully."

He pointed to the castle. "I reccomend we start at the castle, and spread the search out from there, also, all groups must maintain contact with those coordinating at all times. If there's a gap between us in the search pattern, then thats a place for this bastard to slip out."

Lochlan sat back down, and reached for his wineglass. He stopped his hand halfway there as he thoughyt about just how long a night t would be. "Oh and one other thing. My scouts, number 18 now. Since we need coordination, I offer them up as runners and couriers between whoever is coordinating the search, and the units actually doing th search." The scout sat down as the planning began.

 

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“How will we know,” said Georges as he and Fahitma walked back to the kitchen, “whether it’s working?”

“When they don’t die.”

“Oh.”

They walked on a little further in silence, finally reaching their demesne.

“Whew! That reeks!” said the young woman, opening a window.

“I’ll say! Three days of this?”

“Three days,” she replied morosely.

“Come. I’ll fix us some of that stew you taught to me. That stuff stinks enough to chase the smell of your concoction away.”

She laughed, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him. “That’s what I love about you. Always thinking about your stomach.” She tapped the protrusion in question.

There was a noise from outside the kitchen and they quickly disengaged, but no one entered. “How much longer do you think we’ll be able to hide this?” she asked.

“Not very, I suspect.”

 

[driftwood]

Tommy Two-Hands, so-called because he only had one hand left after a midday attempt to rob a butcher 3 times his size, kicked the mud morosely. Why did he always get the shit jobs? Just because he was the newest, youngest, smallest, or least competent? No, he reminded himself, because they were all jealous of his good looks and way with the ladies. At least, the ladies he paid up front.

With a start he saw a group of men leaving the castle. Which one was he supposed to follow? The Irish one? Which one was Irish?

Tommy started to panic. It had never occurred to him to ask what the Irishman looked like. Just then, he heard a snippet of conversation.

"An' tell th' guards t' shut th' gates tight! N'one gets in er out, John," Sean was ordering.

Stumbling into a nearby peasant woman, who spilled her bundles and started cursing him out with the vigor and creativity that comes of living beside the sea, Tommy Two-Hands scampered after Sean.

He would be stealthy, just like the boss said, and attentive, just like the boss said. And then Blu Morte would finally give him the respect he deserved!

driftwood

 

[Lord Durham]

August 30, 1420 - St. Malo


Constance was ashamed. She had stood near her sister and watched the horror unfold, frozen in a terror stricken paralysis. Even when the man she had grown so attached to was led away she had remained behind, her mind swirling with conflicted emotions.

Silently, she kept repeating, Not again! Not again! Not Again!

A gentle hand to the shoulder brought her out of her state of despair. She turned to look up into the gentle face of Sir Paul Greystoke. Her lips trembled and she threw herself into him so no one cold see the tears that streamed down her face.

The knight, remembering a certain day a year past, when the same woman had found her husband dead on a battlefield, waited calmly for the shudders to subside. By that time most of the crowd had departed. At one point Christina had made a move to comfort her sister, but Greystoke shook his head, and Sean led her away.


* * *


And now, hours later, the Countess hesitated outside the infirmary door, head bowed. Her hand moved to knock, then pulled back. She struggled to understand her reluctance. Was it shame at her behavior, or was she afraid to see if her Captain was dying.

Turning sharply, she took several steps away from the room, stopped and inhaled a deep breath. Steeling herself, the young woman returned to the door and rapped sharply.

Ivan's voice was gruff, "Who is it now?"

Constance took another deep breath. "It is Constance, Doctor. Can I enter?"

There was a shuffling from beyond the entrance, and then the heavy door creaked open. His gentle deep rumble of a voice matched his eyes, "He sleeps now. Pray be quiet."

Her eyes asked the forbidden question.

He shook his head. "I can't tell you anything yet, Countess, as much as I want to."

She peered beyond him at the figure laying still on the bed. "May I help? I... I need to help..."

Ivan the Doctor glanced back at Captain and Heloise. There wasn't much to do now, except wait. He smiled. "Of course you can," and let her in.

She remained at Captain's side for days.

 

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Jumping back a bit first

"Today's a day for joy." Christina said, but almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, Heliose began to cough, and Captain began to look ill even as he gave the orders.

"CLOSE THE GATES. ONLY COMPANY MEMBERS GIT IN! AN' NO ONE LEAVES!" Sean shouted. "Sheridan, giv me me gear back!" The Sergeant complied. "Ensure tha' all gates and access to the town is locked down COMPLETELY except fer the main gate. Do it PERSONALLY, and do it NOW! I want three RELIABLE guards posted a' ANY conceivable way a person could git out o' this town. And I mean ANY way, dungeons, sewers, goat paths, ratholes, ANYTHIN'! Are we clear?"

"Aye sir as you will." Sheridan went off with a purpose.

Sean saw the dread on Scherer's face as he picked up the bolt. Christina dropped to her knees and wept at the scene of horror around her. Sean walked over to Guillaume, "This monster tha' ye and Giordi created dies before another man leaves this town. There's no death slow enou' fer 'im. Bu' I'm gonna try an' find one." But Guillaume's mind was already spinning as he watched Heliose be carried away.

---------------------------------------

A Few hours later

Tommy Two-hands was stealthy indeed, Sean didn't know he was being followed at first. But as he checked the town to ensure his orders had been carried out, he began to sense someone behind him who wanted something a little too desperately. He rounded a corner, and caught a glimpse of the man right as he stumbled into the peasant woman. He could see Tommy trying to glance over to see if Sean was hearing the disturbance. Sean waited at the corner, his dagger drawn, as Tommy came to the corner and carefully peaked to see if he was looking.

He discovered first hand Sean was. Or more accurately, right-hand, as in right cross to the point of his jaw. The blow from Sean's mailed fist dropping him. Rolling him over, he grabbed some nearby twine from a vendor and bound his hands with them. Then he unceremoniously dumped a bucket of water on Tommy's face. Panic instantly came over his face as the scowling Irishmen knelt over him, dagger drawn and stuck under his chin.

"Now who would wanna be followin' me this bad...no one who werks fer Blu Morte, wou' ye..." Tommy didn't answer verbally, but his eyes grew wider at the name drop.

"Ahh, come wi' me laddie. Behave yersel', and ye mi' e'en live. Donna, an' I'll cut yer still beatin heart ou' o' yer chest while ye'r watchin' me do it." The would-be assailent slumped in resignation and fear.

-----------------------

Lochlan gave his recommendation on the use of the scouts. And Sean nodded in agreement, As the meeting began to disperse, Sean went to Lochlan and spoke lowly. "I have someone ye mi' wanna meet. Come wi' me."

Entering Sean's room, they began their interrogation of Tommy Two-Hands. It was not a gentle one. But they left no bruises that Blu Morte could have seen. And in the end, they had what they wanted... a willing guide to the places Blu Morte used in St Malo to hide, including the one he was most likely to go to this evening....one Sean intended to pay a visit to personally.

 

[Misha]

August 30 - In the Infirmary

"As you all know, we've suffered from a fair amount of attrition lately."

In his delirium, Captain was speaking to nobody in particular, but it was Paul Greystoke, sitting quietly in the infirmary by the commander of the Free Company, who heard the words & recognized their truth. It was the nature of warrior bands to bury their dead & move on. But it never got easy.

"Ah reckon that's the way of it."

The tall knight remembered something that he had often heard his scout Buckeye say. Sir Greystoke breathed deeply & sighed. For most of the knight's life, the lanky woodsman had been a reassuring presence - first as warden of the Greystoke holdings in north England when Paul had been just a lad, then as a trusted scout & soldier during the knight's errantry, & until just recently as fellow member of the Free Company. And now Buckeye was gone, lost in the suicidal attempt to save the mercenary band from destruction at the hands of the Auvergnese. Things would never be the same.

Sir Greystoke looked over again at Captain. To lose two such close friends so close together would be a terrible blow. A part of the knight wanted to cry, but could not. He had only cried once in his adult life. He would never do so again. No man could bring him to tears, although one woman had.

"Laura."

He said the name to himself & shivered. To avoid reliving all of those emotions he thought of Constance instead. She had been devastated when she had realized that she might lose Captain just as he had returned to her. Paul had consoled her as he could, but the knight wondered what happiness the noblewoman & the mercenary leader could have together. Sir Greystoke could tell that the two had fallen deeply in love - even if they had never admitted it to one another - but was that enough?

"I hope so. I pray to the Almighty that it is so. But I'm just not sure. Be careful my friend. Be very careful."

The grey-eyed warrior looked again at Captain, reassured that the former knight was resting easy. Apparently the foul-smelling concoction cooked up by Georges & Fahitma was effective, at least so far. Sir Greystoke thought that perhaps he should take his leave & join in the pursuit of Blu Morte, but rejected the thought. He was a knight. The Free Company had a surfeit of men more capable than himself of searching for the miscreant. His place was here, by the side of his friend, come what may. And if anyone tried to take advantage of Captain's present helpless condition, then he would have to go through a fighting mad knight. Paul grinned. It was what both Buckeye & Captain would do if their roles were reversed. Sir Greystoke could think of no more fitting tribute.

 

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LD

Don't worry, I wasn't going to be THAT quick about it.
-------------------------------------------------
Christina's and Sean's dinner was not the joyous one either had expected.

"Sean, are you ALWAYS going to be caught in these schemes?" Christina asked, "Because I don't know how long I can deal with this...with you taking every risk that comes up to a member of the Company. How long can you cheat death?"

"I'm a soldier, darlin'. Wha' am I supposed to do? Ye knew wha' ye was gettin'. Why are ye surprised now? Ye sai' ye got a letter from yer father, lemme giss, he doesna' approve? Did ye thin' he WOULD?"

"No, I didn't. But I guess it scared me. He promises to disown me if I go through with this. That I'm never to even write him or see him again unless it is to tell him that I have left you, left here. I haven't even told Constance yet, though I'm sure she guessed."

"I see, I cinna ask ye to abandon yer family. But wha' does yer father plan, to send ye to the convent? Is he promising ye a be'er future than what I am? I want ye to see somethin'...I drew this up, well...before the mission. If anythin' e'er happens to me, this woul' be yours. Look before ye make up yer mind." He slid the packet, which included a journal of the months apart, as well as the will and finances of his Tuscan lands to her. She opened it, and looked at the statement.

"I don't know much about our family's...but this was far better. How? What?"

"Legally, but with some hel' mos donna git. Le's leave it at tha' fer now. There's enou' there to secure yer family's position as well. I know enou' to know tha. Send him a letter back, include these statements, I have copies of 'em. Maybe the appeal to a life free from the worries tha' yer family has had as 'poor' nobility might change his opinion of me. Do ye thin'?"

"Maybe...thank you Sean."

"As fer me 'takin risks'...as I said, I'm a soldier, I'll be one fer a least a few more years, but one way or another, this Blu Morte business'll be o'er shortly, a week quite possibly, maybe more, maybe less. With tha' done, I'll still be a soldier, but the need fer me to have some of my...other interests will be lessened. Certainly the need to take some of these other risks. Blu Morte is a demon I helped create through me own inaction, I HAVE to lay this to rest, tis me penance fer the years I lacked a conscience."

"How? Why do you say that." Christina asked, and was surprised to see Sean do something he rarely did, he shifted uncomfortably, as if afraid to answer the question, unsure of the result of his answer.

 

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Sean shifted uncomfortbly, then looked at his wine glass, took a deep pull on it, and then began hollowly, as if reading a tome from the past in an empty cave, "There were three of us...no' so very long ago. We planned to raise the Medici's to a position of preminence in Italy. An' we plotted and schemed and did anythin' in our power to make it so. One of us was politically minded, one of us more interested in finances...I was the military arm of this beast. We set one state again' another, plotted wars, and made ourselves rich off of them, while I looked fer the best men tha' money coul' buy...the preminent mercenary army in Italy."

"But Captain..."

"Yes, but Cap'n. Well, we hatched two plans to deal with 'im. As ye know, he served Venice. The first was one I an' another planned, we heard that the Doge was turnin' again' 'im, and we aided his escape from Venice...no' ou' of respect fer 'im, but it would be easier to turn 'im again' the Doge in the future if he survived. The o'er I was aware of, but I didna' intervene, e'en though I didna approve. I thou' it...inefficient."

"What was that?" Christina's eyes opening in stunned disbelief.

"An assassin, but more, a man trained in the use of terror as a weapon. A bringer of fear and distrust capable of turning e'en the closest o' allies again' one another...an' then killin' both silently."

"Blu Morte...you helped create him?"

"Le's say I did no' hinder his creation as I shou've. I was a different man then, darlin'. I was still empty inside from the loss of me wife and son. All I cared abou' was power and wealth. I used my affable nature to build a network of 'frien's' who wou' owe me favors, an' I used those to be 'well-informed,' as I am. Twasn't until the night ye spoke to me a' the fire outside of Dijon...the night I fell in love wi' ye...tha' I awoke and became meself ag'in. So ye see, I HAVE to undo wha' we did. This has to end. Only then cin I start a new life, free from the evils I have wrought. Ye know more abo' me than any person on earth...more than anyone besides God Himself. Wha' I have tol' ye, ye cinna tell anyone..no' e'en yer sister. But I cinna keep this secret from ye...ye have a right to know wha' I was from me mouth, and no' from a rumor...especially if we retire to Italy. Does this change anythin?" Christina had looked dazed until Sean asked the question.

"Change anything? I suppose it does if it means do I know things now I don't. Change the way I feel? Change what I desire? Never. We're betrothed, and I knew you were a different man when you were in Italy. I knew that you were dead inside when you lost your wife and son...who wouldn't be? No. You can't chase me off that easily, Sean O' Glaigh. It will take far more than my father, or Blu Morte, or the truth even, to chase me from your side."

"Then once Blu Morte is put aside, I am yours." Sean affirmed.

"And I yours." She replied.

 

[driftwood]

Guillaume came back later to check on Heloise and Captain. The latter had been spending less and less time conscious. His mind noted the horrendous smell in the infirmary, but he did not truly notice it.

Constance was sitting on a low stool next to Captain's bed. She turned when Guillaume entered and looked at him hard, her dull eyes not revealing any opinions.

"Are you angry at me?" Guillaume asked, exhaustion plainly in his voice. "Moreso than you have been the past six years?"

She continued looking at him, but now her eyes flitted about his face. "You have a bit of grey in your hair now. I don't think it was there before."

Guillaume started to disagree, but then realized he hadn't seen his reflection in quite some time. "Matters I thought I could keep suspended in the ether above my head forever have recently been landing heavily upon my shoulders," he finally replied.

Constance nodded and studied her hands.

"I know you feel I was a poor friend to you in Paris. I *was* a poor friend," Guillaume said after a long silence. "But over the years there haven't been very many friends that I regretted losing. You were one of them. If you had merely been part of my act, I wouldn't have felt bad over the last few years about what I had to do."

Constance lifted her head now. "I was all alone in that city! With all those fat, old men practically groping me like a horse they wanted to buy, with Christina too young to travel there, with letters from my father constantly arriving to remind me of our family's precarious situation! Then when you treated me sincerely, and confided that you were not truly pursuing me, I was so happy to have a friend that I tried not to care that you wouldn't tell me anything about yourself."

Guillaume smiled ruefully. "You were quite persistant. Several times I almost did tell you everything."

Constance went on as if she had not heard. "And then when it became obvious, even to me, that all you showed was an edifice of lies, when the accusations from the Court arrived and you just disappeared into the night without even a word of farewell ..."

"It was an awful thing to do," Guillaume agreed. "But I would do it again; all of it. Because this - " he gestured to Heloise " - was what I was trying to avoid. Better I should hurt your feelings than see you buried. Better everyone should know how betrayed by me you felt than that people should think we were still close. It was better that way." He ran a finger along his jaw.

"I always have tried to place the burden of my actions squarely on my own shoulders. To the extent that actions which harm others can be limited to oneself. But Heloise was the exception. She was the bridge between my life as it is and the sane, self-respecting life that we all want to lead. And I was too careless with her."

They sat silently for a while, lost in their thoughts. Constance chewed her lip and then said, "I guess I understand now in a way I could not have back then." She looked signficantly at Captain.

Guillaume nodded. They lapsed back into a loaded silence.

"You---" After a long while, she cleared her throat and furtively wiped one eye. "You know Captain. I mean, his past. More than most other people do."

Without waiting for confirmation, she hurried on before she lost her nerve. "Is he going to do the same thing? Leave me hurt and abandonned to try and protect me? That's not a type of protection I want. I-It's not something I could survive," she said with a shiver.

Guillaume smiled at her, genuinely now. "Well, our Captain is a mysterious man, but I do not think so. Why, you should have seen how he bravely refrained from battles, clearly thinking of you, and suffered the humiliating heckles of his officers for it."

A large smile burst onto Constance's face before she could stop it. Stiffling a giggle and a snuffle at the same time, she said, "Well, I wouldn't want him *humiliated*. Just safe."

Now she looked at Guillaume squarely. "You know, that grey is interesting ..."

"Interesting how?" Guillaume said with a frown.

"It makes you look, what's the word I'm looking for ... distinguished? No ... ah, yes, old. It makes you look old." Her grin returned.

So while the Free Company scoured St. Malo, the two of them laughed as old friends do, and brought each other some comfort during a difficult time.

driftwood

 

[Forster]

The men of Free Company were going to scour the town, looking for any stranger, anyone who was not from the town. Forster deployed the light cav outside of the town, covering every possible exit and some that were impossible, to make sure no one escaped. The men were broken into groups of 5, so it would be impossible for anyone to take out a whole team at one time. They all had their orders, run down anyone who tried to escape. We preferred to capture them, but if it meant killing the runner, do so. If a person was captured fleeing, they were to be handled with gloves and hog-tied to prevent any escape. Someone was to always be behind the prisoner, so he would be under constant watch.

Forster was mad, very mad, and he made constant rounds between the teams to make sure they were alert, and nothing had gone wrong. He had not yet heard that one of Blu Morte's men had been caught.

 

[Rictus]

"It makes you look, what's the word I'm looking for ... distinguished? No ... ah, yes, old. It makes you look old." Her grin returned.

So while the Free Company scoured St. Malo, Constance and Guillaume laughed as old friends do, and brought each other some comfort during a difficult time.

Edward waited at the entrance of the room. Gazing in with a display of emotion rarely seen on the stern Infantry officers face. Even if that display was fondness. His heart ached as watched the two of them get on so well together - something that Edward did with so few people in the company. Oh, he liked people enough, and felt confident enough to say that they liked him in return, but he knew no one he felt he could really open up to and as the days lengthened, he found himself smiling less, let alone laughing.

And now, with Captain teetering (or seemingly so) on the brink of death, Edward fit a pit of despair opening in his gut. Only in Italy had it been this bad, when he had left the company over something so...so...stupid, Captain had smiled, he had also been disappointed, but had understood and had not got in his way.

Now, watching Captain lying there, Edward felt the urge to pack up and leave again. He had run from Italy and now, he might well run from France as well.

No. Not this time.

But. What if Captain did die? What then? The pit widened a few feet. Would the company disband? How ironic would it be for Edward resolve himself to stay only for everone else to leave around him? Would there be a new commander? A new Captain? Such questions were best left to those who enjoyed headaches.

Edward pulled himself away from the doorway, lest Constance - bless her, she was one of the few people who had tried to branch out to him - try and engage him in small talk. Edward was not ready, or willing, to prepare for such a conflict.

Ugh. He mentally scolded himself. Constance is, was, only trying to be nice. Just another piece of evidence to explains such emotional detachment from those around him.

He quickly exited the building, avoiding eye contact when possible. His hair hung down over his eyes, so this wasn't too hard to achieve. Once outside, Edward wandered for a long time. He knew he should be helping capture Blu Morte, he knew he should want to rip apart the assassin with his teeth, but even as he wandered down, he was seized by a growing sense of apathy and, worse, introspection.

Edward had seen dozens of fine soldiers and warriors tear themselves to pieces because of introspection. He'd seen men who could be conquerers break down into tears and vow never to let another weapon again. He'd seen two men take their own lives after a battle, at the time, Edward had been appalled by their stupidity, but now he understood.

As he strolled down the cobbled roads, booted feet rang on glazed stones, he ran a hand along the wall, feeling each crevice and gap, each mark and dent. He didn't know where he was going. All he did know was that introspection was dangerous to men like him, and he knew he was falling deeper into its depths.

A waft of cold, sea tinged air yanked him from his plunging despair and brought the lieutenant back to a semblance of his former, aloof self. Ahead of him rose the sea facing wall, its stair wells almost polished by the hundreds of feet marching up and down day in, night out, its sheer walls imposing and greying. He had walked practically the entire breadth of St. Malo and had barely registered a dozen steps.

With a faint curiousity, he mounted the steps, hanging his head so that he might watch his feet carry him upwards and onwards. He breached the top of the wall, only to blasted afresh by the winds, one hand shot out to steady him. Somewhere out there, was a salvation. Something he at least hoped existed.

Then he turned his back to the sea and gazed out over the city. A city mostly unaware. Ignorant. And happily ignorant. Edward sighed.

Captain had to live. He had to.

 

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August 30th, Evening, St. Malo

The lights of St. Malo flickered in the night. But Lochlan knew that there were more lights on tonight than most. Even from the high castle walls you could see the units of men moving around, forming an ever growing web. The search was going well, at least from an organizers point of view, and it had become a more or less self sustaining project, so Lochlan had moved up to the battlements of the castle where he could wait for Sean, he was supposed to meet with the Irish Lieutenant before the special group was sent out to tour Blu Morte's former rat holes.

Farther along the wall, Lochlan could see lieutenant Seraphim staring out into the distance. "A complicated man." Lochlan thought. "But one who doesn't want to be disturbed." It could be read in the big mans posture, even from as far away as Lochlan was. So the scout concentrated on watching the town, and waiting for Sean. Unfortunately, time flies when its most important it pass slowly, and soon enough his wait was over.

 

[Lord Durham]

August 30th, Evening, St. Malo


The boy that everyone had taken to calling Clerk sat under a bench in the main hall, legs crossed, arms draped lazily over raised knees. Beside him lay a journal, a quill and ink. A candle sat on the other side of him, it's yellow flicker causing shadows to dance against the cold stone walls of the castle. The book lay open, a ragged line marking the spot where tears welled up and he could no longer see to write.

For the first time in his young life he had felt at home, was welcomed, and tasked with an important responsibility. The history of the Company was his job, and he performed it with something akin to reverence. But never did he expect the day to come when he could possibly have to write about Captain's death. Never.

Even recording the events that led to the commander's poisoning was hard. And Lieutenant Scherer. The man had disappeared into his rooms and hadn't been seen since. The boy sighed. Was this what it was like to live in fear? To always expect the next stranger to be the man sent to kill you? He wasn't sure if he could handle living with that knowledge, and that constant dread. It was as tangible as starving to death, wondering where your next scrap of food would come from, as tangible as being caught and paying a thief's price.

Footsteps approached and receded. He could see Georges and Fahitma walking down the hall to the kitchens, hand-in-hand. Clerk smiled. They thought they were so clever, so secretive. Well, their secret was safe with him.

The boy glanced up, eyes taking in the oak pattern of the underside of the bench. He wasn't really looking at it, he attempted to penetrate the three floors to the infirmary. Suddenly, on a random whim, he began to pray, his lips moving silently. Minutes later he blew out the candle, gathered his materials, and walked to the staircase.

Three floors up he came to the infirmary entrance. Slumping down against the wall opposite the door, Clerk stared. Sometime later he fell asleep.

 

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Aug 30th, evening

Tommy led Lochlan and Sean to the place Blu Morte had told him to report to. Tommy looked nervously at the door fo the decrepit house near the stables.

"Tommy will serve you well, he will. He's heard much of the great Sean O' Glaigh! Blu Morte fears you, he does...fears and respects your cunning."

"Yer flattery is most reassuring. Just make sure not to do anything that would make it necessary fer me to show why he does."

"Oh..most certainly not." Tommy said contritely, as he reached a decrepit house near the stables.

"Af'er ye." Sean insisted, Ban Realte glittering coldly in the night.

"Cer...certainly" Tommy muttered, and opened the door. Tommy didn't get to step through it however, a crossbow had been rigged to fire with the opening of the door. It unloaded into Tommy's chest, delivering it's blue-tipped death to him.

"Well, he was useful." Lochlan said with a sarcastic grin.

"Aye, I almo' feel sad abou' usin' 'im tha' way...almos' 'til I realize he'd have done the same to me. Le's be sure to be checkin' fer traps as we go through here. I'm sure this wasna' Blu Morte's only surprise."

"Aye." Lochlan replied, after a short search, they found a note.

Sean,

I figured Tommy would be good to get you through the door. But of course, I'm not anywhere near here. In fact, by the time you get this, I should be well gone from St Malo. Did your precious Captain get my gift? Sloppy of you not to think I would be waiting for you when you returned...but I figured you'd be too preoccupied with your turncoat Frenchwoman to think about IMPORTANT matters. I guess I was right. We'll meet again...soon enough.

Love, BM

"So he's gone?" Lochlan asked.

"No, he's lying. He's always wanted to see his handiwork before...he'll want to this time as well. He thinks maybe I'll slip up and he willna have to worry abou' me anymore. He's close...very close."

 

[driftwood]

6 AM, August 31st

Over night, several units had discovered men missing. The artillery guard had the most AWOLs, but most regiments had at least a few disappearances. As sergeants began to work up a head of steam, however, word came down from Lt. Sans-Titre that the men were on temporary duty.

They fanned out across the city, verifying and reestablishing, where necessary, the network that Guillaume had begun to set up during the Free Company's previous stay in St. Malo.

Meanwhile, Guillaume was seen entering the mayor's house well after the end of dinner. By the next day, people all over the city were being more forthcoming with their aid, even if it was still given grudgingly.

However, the only fruit of the night's work came at the crack of dawn, when two men from Lt. de Bloomfielde's regiment discovered the body of one of the castle guards, a footman from Scherer's regiment.

The skin of his face had been removed, apparently in strips. To judge from the expression apparent even without the face, the man had been alive will this occurred. A note was pinned to his shirt, written neatly in blood.

You can't find me, but I can find you. Who, I wonder, shall win?

driftwood

 

[Sharur]

OOC: AARG! You all are insane! I didn't visit this thread yesterday, and look what happens! Sheesh I guess I really did disappear into my rooms...

Scherer sighed, leaning back against the wall.

"I can't stay cooped up like this forever... but what other choice do I have?"

Rising, Scherer began pacing around the room once more. The two guards in the room with him, assigned to him by Bloomfielde, the acting commander, shrugged, looking sympathetic.

"We can't keep living in fear like this, we've got to do something! But what?"

"Well, uh..."

"Oh, don't bother answering, I'm just babbling to myself." Scherer cut off the guard with a wave of his hand. Plopping down onto his bed, he said, "Oh, hell. I guess I'll get some rest. Not that I'll be able to sleep or anything..."

 

[unmerged(6528)]

10am, August 31st

The cold wind came from the sea. It whispered over the walls of St. Malo. It caused the trash in the streets to whirl around in small swirls, and the merchants in the markets to hold onto their hats. It whistled as it passed through the small gathering of company men, ruffling Lochlans hair, and causing Scherer to glare at the sky when a piece of paper blew into his face.

"Glad to see you decided to come out." Lochlan said, smiling crookedly at Scherer, who turned his glare from the cloudy sky to the scout.

"Yeah well..." Scherer trailed off, then glanced around in what had become a nervous habit.

Alberic snorted at him, Then changed the subject. "Lochlan how did the search go last night?" He asked.

"It went." Lochlan said grimly. "Not much in the way of results, Sean and I went through a few of his holes, but he wasn't there." The scout shrugged. "Sean thinks he still in the city. I... I don't really know."

"I swear when I get my hands on that..." Diego trailed off into guttural muttering in his native tounge. Too low to be heard, but the other three were certain it wasn't pleasent.

"We all want him Diego, Guillaume and Sean ae doing everything they possible. As for myself, and the rest, well do what we can when we can." The scout looked around skeptically. "Lets go inside, maybe we should go see how Captain is doing."

There was a chorus of agreements, and the four turned and went back into the castle. All of them were aware of, but pretended not to notice the squad guards that were a loose ring around them.

 

[unmerged(4007)]

Sean came to visit Lochlan and Scherer.

"Well, have you found anything new?" Scherer asked impatiently.

"Aye, me frien'. But naught ye'd like me to tell ye abou'. We lost 2 more members of the Company near the stables, probably abou' an hour af'er Lochlan and I were there."

"Well, I guess that answers the question about whether or not Blu Morte is still in St Malo." Scherer replied. Sean nodded. "Aye, too many o' our members are dyin' fer this to be random thieves. This is his attempt to try to turn us again' each o'er. Make us paranoid before he strikes."

"I see, how long until we can find him Sean?"

"Well, we're tightening the noose. Every time we find one of his safe houses, we put enough behind tha' if he e'er goes there agi'n we'll know."

"What do you mean."

"Well, fer one thing. Blu Morte isna the only one who cin rig a trap. An' I donna need to kill 'im wi' it. Only make 'im spend enou' time and noise in clearing it to attract attention."

"I see, and how long can this last."

"Well, tha's the o'er part of what I'm thinkin'. I have a plan. But obviously it'll involve yer consent. I want to draw Blu Morte into the open, but to do tha', we need to give 'im wha' he wants."

"Which is me." Scherer responded.

"Aye. Or a' least someone who looks like ye...say someone wearin' clothing o'yers. Then we drop a story to the men tha' yer tired o' bein' cooped up here, and yer goin' abou' yer duties one way or another."

"Well, that wouldn't be a hard story to get people to believe. They know I'm going nuts up here." Scherer said with a half-grin.

"Short trip." Sean replied, and then got serious again, "if we do this, I thin' we need to wait one, maybe two more days before we do it. You need to give us a convincing, but dangerous, place fer ye to go. One we could drop in the story and draw Blu Morte to."

"But won't he think it'll be a trap?" Lochlan asked

"Aye, he might, but think back to yer past. How long could ye have went before ye said to yerself ye'd have to take the chance? My bet is tha' Blu Morte is well aware he is runnin' ou' o' time, and this would be his best, last chance, trap or no. Tha's me plan, if ye donna like it, tell me why."

 

[unmerged(4007)]

"If ye donna like it, tell me why...but give me a minute to see Captain first."

Sean entered, and saw Guillaume and Constance talking. The two former conspirators locked eyes and walked over to Captain's bedside.

"Well, this isn't exactly what we planned in Florence, is it?" Guillaume whispered.

"No' wha' I had planned anyway." Sean retorted. "I apologize fer tha'...twas uncalled fer. There's enou' guilt fer all three of us o'er this. Look, I have a plan to end this...listen and tell me wha' ye think." Sean related his plan to the older man...
----------------------------------------

"Sir Greystoke?" Sean said to the knight-guardian of Captain.

"Aye Lieutenant O' Glaigh, how can I help you?" The grizzled knight replied. Sean pulled out a wine bottle.

"I know we've ne'er spent much time together...but Buckeye was yer frien', an' he saved me life...I'd be honored if ye'd join me in a drink to his memory...and Cap'ns recovery."

"I can't have my senses dimmed, so only one...but yes, I would join you."

"Thank ye." The Irishman answered as he offered the bottle to the knight.
--------------------------------------------

"Cap'n darlin', I donna know if ye cin hear me, but I wan' ye to know, I'll chase the monster who did this to ye to the gates of the Abyss itself. I willna rest 'til he's found his eternal home in its fire. As God is me witness, I swear this to ye on the graves of me wife and son. If he though' I was his demon before, he has yet to find ou' wha' Sean O' Glaigh is truly capable of..."
--------------------------

"Constance, this is not the best time I know, but I have to ask now, or maybe a 'good time' will ne'er arise."

"Of course, Sean, how can I help you."

"How much do ye know of a le'er tha' arrived from yer father in our absence."

"Next to nothing, other than it disturbed Christina greatly...why?"

"Because it told her tha' unless she left here and us, she would be disowned." The Countesses' face whitened.

"And what can I do."

"Ye know of yer families' finances be'er than me. I gave Christina the statements of the value of me land in Tuscany...see if they woul' hel' yer family, an'...if ye woul'...intercede on her behalf, pointing out the financial freedom it'll provide your family. I thin' if such a le'er came from ye, it migh' carry more weight than if from her alone."

"I'll do what I can...these relationships we have are strange...but these are strange times, the land at war and all. Certainly you'd be a better for her than the convent. I'll do what I can...as soon as Captain recovers."

"Thank ye... I appreciate yer kindness Countess."

"And your's Sean." She smiled. "To both my sister and myself."
__________________________

"Now lads, wha' holes have ye foun' in me li'l ruse?" He asked as he returned to Lochlan and Scherer.

 

[Forster]

Forster rode back into town, wanting to learn if there were any new developments.
He was frustrated, and not a little upset, with how things were going. He did not understand why Guillame and the others did not organize a sweep from one end of the town to the other, pulling everyone out of their homes, separating them from any male not known as a long time resident of St Malo, and searching every inch of the town, including every home, shop, inn, barn, stable, what-have-you. He heard how they were concentrating on supposed known hiding places of their foe.
By the time he reached the castle, he could contain it no longer. He stormed in looking for Guillame, demanding that he spread his search to look for BM.