Electra Rose
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Swordpoint Diplomacy 21
🕑 Added 2022-11-23 13:55:41 +0000 UTCShe felt less confident in her plans as the hours passed. Rose paced a line of footprints into the mud, too grim to even notice the squelching under her boots.
Where was everyone?
A soldier made eye contact with her and then took a quick step backwards, behind a tent.
Someone should have come back by now.
She wanted Etienne. She wanted Kian, Celestin, Lady LaMott. She would have gladly settled for Duke Harrod and the news he would have. The wait was excruciating. The noise from the walled city had stopped what felt like hours ago.
The quiet felt much worse than the sound of distant conflict had felt.
'They could be dead. Any one of them could be dead. What if Etienne needed me to cover his back?'
Rose swallowed, hard. Nausea crawled up her throat regardless and she had to swallow bile a moment later.
Celestin was the first to return to camp, with a small contingent of royal soldiers. Rose spotted his heraldry and ran over to meet him. "Celestin!" Rose waved an arm like a child.
He jerked on the saddle and looked at her as if he'd seen a ghost. He almost looked displ-
"Crown Princess," he said warmly. He halted his horse and dismounted right there to grip her upper arm in greeting. She leaned into the comfort of her old teacher's presence. "When we didn't see you at the wall, we feared the worst."
Rose felt her grin freeze into a grimace. Ah. "I'm well," she said, instead of confessing that she'd been taken hostage well before the battle started. "I see that you had everything in hand."
Celestin took his helmet off and inadvertently flicked beads of sweat to the mud. "I expected to see you at the inner gatehouse, not your brother," he said.
She felt a wave of relief. "He's fine?" Rose said. "Uninjured?"
"Your brother is not injured," Celestin said carefully. His tone was odd. He was talking around some unpleasant detail.
She frowned at him. In her mind he was still a real adult and she a youth, so it felt quite wrong that she was frowning at him from the same height. "Who is injured?" She asked suspiciously. "What's wrong- what has happened?"
Her mentor managed a thin, tired smile. "As far as I know, all the upper officers survive, though I cannot say it is without injury. The Duke may never walk again."
Rose paused to take that in. "I am sorry to hear that," she said, trying to integrate the information into her worldview. "Does he need to be transported somewhere to recover?"
She could take him when she moved her prisoners, but there was a risk of him recognizing Marcel. What if-
Celestin shook his head briskly. "I doubt he'd go." He turned to pat his horse on the cheek and then began taking off her tack. "He will stay here. Perhaps he should be the person that you put in charge of the city while you report our progress at the rear camp.”
Giving Duke Harrod more power seemed like the absolute last thing that she should do when his soldiers had at least partly been traitors. At best, he wasn’t managing some dissent. At worst, he was the source of it.
Rose didn’t grimace, but it was a near thing. “Perhaps,” she said, as neutrally as she could manage. “Though I’d worry it may complicate his recovery.”
The old soldier gave her a look that said he knew what she was doing, but he let it slide. “There isn’t time to waste in reporting,” he said instead. “It seems that we have been more successful than we could have hoped. When will you take the good news?”
“I can leave tonight,” Rose said. Her gaze wandered back to the city up the hill. The lights inside were from her people, now, not defenders. It was an odd change to adjust to after so long looking at the distant lights as signs of furious resistance. “I want to see my brother first, but I won’t wait too long.” She frowned, scrunching her nose up. “If he doesn’t come back soon… I’ll leave him in charge,” she decided. They only needed to hold the fortress until Father appointed someone.
She wanted Etienne to come with her, of course, but it wasn't like he'd want to meet with Father. It wouldn't help anything for him to get caught in that scorn. And maybe it would help him to be publicly known for accomplishing something tangible that he could point to.
"Wait until the morrow." Celestin didn't look at her. "We should have a fuller understanding of the events by then."
"There wouldn't be anyone awake to report to if I left now," Rose agreed reluctantly. She would want to be woken for such news, but it was hard to know if Father would feel the same. Then she remembered - "prisoners," Rose started.
Celestin nodded. "Lady LaMott has some noble hostages." The saddle came off his horse with all the soft sounds of metal and leather pulling over the blankets on the horse's back. "Including the Castellan."
Rose froze.
'The Castellan is not going to play along. Is she? Shit.'
He turned and looked at her when her response didn't come.
"I see," she said. Rose nodded and then looked away, as if the camp was very interesting. "Wonderful. I'll take them with me, then."
'She might be quiet, if she thinks I don't know who I have.'
In the morning when soldiers finally trooped back with the rest of the political hostages, Lady LaMott was the one at the head. She gave them over to Rose with a stern nod and poorly hidden concern in the tilt of her lips. "Princess," she said quietly, standing at parade rest while the Castellan glared up at them. "Your brother is not doing well."
Her stomach twisted.
Rose answered in an undertone. "Does he need to leave?"
The older woman sighed. "I think it is probably better if he isn't hastened, and that he would not be best served by an audience with the King at the moment."
Rose winced. Yes. If Etienne was out of sorts, it would be better to keep him away from Father. "Can you keep an eye on him?"
The Castellan was staring up at them now, eyes intent with hate. She couldn't possibly hear them from that distance, but her regard still put Rose's hackles up.
"Of course." Lady LaMott took a comforting half-step closer. "You will be gone for four, perhaps five days?"
"So I hope," Rose frowned. "If my Royal Father permits me to return immediately."
The lady cast a sideways look that Rose didn't know how to interpret. "I imagine that you'll be sent back quickly to advance our operations."
Operation was a funny way to say invasion. It wasn't LaMott's fault, though, so Rose merely nodded. "We shall see what the King has to say about our path," she said, as mildly as she could manage.
Lady LaMott leaned in closer. "When you get back, I intend to ask about what you plan for our path as well." Rose stiffened, but the older woman merely clapped a hand on Rose's shoulder and left.
Rose swallowed. Well. They would see, wouldn't they.
"Time to go," she called. People jumped to attention, bullying the prisoners to their feet. "We're off for the rear camp!" She glanced toward the back of the group and ignored the trepidation and anger on Willame's face and the disquiet in Marcel's eyes as they were nudged into motion. She found herself holding eye contact with the Castellan and saw the moment the older woman noticed Marcel. Her face went white and her mouth tight in rage. She glanced between Marcel and Rose in quick succession.
She tilted her head in faux confusion.
The Castellan looked at her feet and clenched her jaw.
'At least she didn't start shouting.'
Escorting the prisoners back to the huge encampment within their borders was a tense and thankless affair. They traveled with a minimal kit, sleeping under modest tent poles and not stopping to supplement their grim rations by foraging or hunting. It was with immense relief that Rose led the group into the camp.
She cast her face upwards, letting the wind pull at her hair as she drank in the sight of familiar banners. The golden fox rampant and crossed witch-cups of the royal symbol flapped high in the air, welcoming her back.
"My lady."
Rose glanced at her squire as he fidgeted by her horse. "Thank you," she said, wondering what his name was. It seemed a bit late to ask. She turned her attention to the captain. "Take them away," she said, gesturing to the prisoners. "Near my quarters." The man bowed and obeyed. Rose went ahead to clean up before calling on her Father.
Her mouth was dry as she approached. It had been weeks since she's seen him, and he wouldn't be pleased when she admitted that she'd barely participated in the battle. Still, she held her head up high and ordered a servant to announce her arrival.
The smells of smoke and foreign herbs drifted out of the tent when the servant ducked inside to pass along the message. Rose had to work not to cough. She waved a hand in front of her face to dissipate the stinking cloud.
'Fabulous. Father is seeking counsel from some new magician,' she thought scornfully. 'We didn't have enough of those in the palace, after all.'
She wiped the irritation off her face before anyone came back to see it. It didn't matter how desperate the King was getting to hear flattering news- he was still the king and couldn't be disrespected.
"You may enter," the servant said quietly.
Rose nodded her thanks and pushed her way inside. "Father," she said quietly.
He looked at her from his seat in front of a table, eyes nearly as piercing as her own. His golden hair was turning white with age and the permanent bend in his fingers was rapidly worsening. "Daughter." His tone was neutral. "What news have you brought?" He fiddled with strange metal objects that she couldn't identify.
"We have taken the castle as ordered," Rose said. She let her own expression slide away, emotions tucked into a neat box to open later. "While the main forces engaged at the gates, a select group infiltrated via a grate and opened the gate from the inside."
He let out a surprised laugh.
"We were told that another army approached from the rear, and so we first flooded-"
"Yes, we know," Father cut her off impatiently. "Your brother and his workmen. What of the battle?"
Rose deliberately untensed her muscles. "It was over within a few hours, and Duke Harrod's men received distinction for breaching the gate first."
"And who opened the gate?" He asked sharply.
"Etienne and Lady LaMott," Rose said without hesitation.
Father snorted. "So, Lady LaMott opened it, while your brother sniffled," he said derisively. "And you were?"
"Initially I was inside the city as well," Rose said, heart rate picking up. "We took captives in the castle itself and I escorted them out so that they didn't interfere with our mission."
The look he gave her could have cut glass. "You gave your brother something to accomplish so that he'd look less weak. Do not do that."
"He did well," Rose started, and was cut off by an impatient gesture.
"Whose plan was this?" Father asked in a smugly knowing tone.
"...It was my plan," Rose admitted.
Father raised a glass in a toasting motion and then noticed it was nearly empty. He moved to refill it and passed her one as well. She accepted the wineglass stiffly. "It sounds like one of yours," Father said, a smile tugging on the side of his mouth. "Must have annoyed the glory hounds."
She took a drink in order to avoid answering.
Father laughed and copied the motion. "You took the Castellan hostage, then?" He asked mildly. "Or did she die?"
"She is among the hostages," Rose confirmed.
"Good, good." Father grinned. "They'll pay her weight in gold to have her back. She's a cousin of their King, you know?"
Rose did know that. She also knew they had a closer relative to the King in their custody. She took another sip instead of answering.
"I think that I shall go meet her." Father's glass hit the table with a clink that washed Rose in sudden horror. "I haven't had the pleasure of speaking with foreign royalty in years, you know. Accompany me."
'...He is absolutely going to recognize Marcel.'
Oh, shit.
"Get my boots!" Father called. Outside someone jumped to their feet and moved to obey.
"Let me confirm first that the prisoners are secured," Rose said, as calmly as she could manage. Father waves at her in a way she chose to interpret as permission. She bowed, left, and speed-walked to the relevant tent with a pounding fear in her chest that Father was going to see Marcel and kill him on the spot.
She had to hide him.
