Electra Rose
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SWORDPOINT DIPLOMACY 29
🕑 Added 2023-01-28 19:00:00 +0000 UTCChapter 29
"Take a step to the left, soldier."
Marcel grudgingly adjusted his position to match deferential military etiquette and nearly fell behind in the process. He lengthened his stride to keep up, gritting his teeth in frustration. The officer that Princess Rose had sent him off with was …curt. He glared at the back of the officer's head. Kian? The princess had called him by his personal name?
'He obviously doesn't like me. Why did she do this? Does she trust him? Am I meant to trust him, or was she just making an impulse decision after I barged in?'
He bitterly regretted that now. He'd been relieved, and not careful enough. Of course this officer was suspicious. It was absurd to think that a foot soldier could walk into the Princess's presence without permission, much less address her without invitation.
'I'm not telling him anything,' Marcel decided mutinously. 'If she wanted me to, she should have been clear that he's trustworthy.'
The officer led them to a paddock and stopped.
Marcel gave the muddy stretch a dubious glance. He couldn't be expecting Marcel to do something in there…?
"We'll not be overheard by anyone out of eyesight," the officer said. He took off his helmet and finally, Marcel got a clear look at this annoying man. He…
Marcel blinked.
'He looks like one of my countrymen. This isn't…'
He watched Kian shake his hair out and deposit the helmet on a post for safekeeping.
'This isn't our informant, is it?'
Marcel bit his lower lip to avoid the frown. He'd mostly forgotten about that. He wasn't involved in intelligence. He'd never known who was their collaborator.
'If he is- Rose should probably know. Shouldn't she? It has to be someone close to her, if they managed to drug her.'
Oh, hells. He felt a confusing wave of guilt. He didn’t know what exactly he felt guilty for.
'If they're loyal to my country, I can't repay that by reporting them to their government. But at the same time, someone who is loyal to us might actually work against my hopes. My parents… if they know I’ve been taken hostage, they definitely won’t be looking to cooperate with Rose.’
“Pay attention.”
Marcel jumped. Kian was eying him with a distinctly unfriendly curl of the lip. The professional blandness that he’d worn in front of Rose was long since gone.
“I don’t know where you were picked up, but you’ve obviously not gone through training.” The officer crossed his arms. “If she intends to bring you along with the army, you’re going to have to blend in better. Chin up. More,” he barked.
Marcel found himself obeying despite his confusion. Kian took a step closer, to the side. He cocked his head like a hound dog.
“Your posture is wrong,” he said. “You’re too casual, loose. You stand like you expect to be giving orders. That’s not going to make you friends. Feet a little closer together. Hold your shoulders like mine.”
‘What’s so wrong with the way that I stand?’ Marcel thought. He felt a jaw muscle tense. He felt oddly sullen about moving his feet to obey.
“What do you say when an officer tells you to do something?” Kian asked, tone languid in a way that was truly infuriating.
“Yes, sir,” Marcel said tightly. He’d heard that one enough to be certain it was the correct answer.
“How do you ask permission to enter an area you don’t already have permission to be in?”
That was a bit pointed.
Marcel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Politely.”
“You do not,” Kian corrected. He shifted his weight from one foot to another. “If you’ve not been explicitly told that an area is within limits, and you’re not ordered in, stay out. It will look very forward, possibly suspicious.” He suddenly looked a little distant, as if remembering something. His lips twitched upwards.
“Thank you,” Marcel bit out.
Kian cast his eyes to the sky, as if he was the one being lectured. “I’m helping you,” he said dryly. “If you can’t take direction, you’re really not going to enjoy pretending to be in the military.”
Marcel truly wanted to argue with that, but if he was honest, Kian was probably right. That urge was… Well, it was petulant and unworthy of him. He felt the heat of an embarrassed flush wash over his face. He wrestled down his pride far enough to say, “I understand.” He made an effort not to sound sullen.
‘I’m technically in a military,’ he thought, and felt a little silly, like a child playing at toy soldiers. ‘No one tells me what to do outside of my family. That’s… Well, maybe I’m too used to being deferred to.’
“She didn’t get you a sword,” Kian observed. “That is a pretty glaring absence.” He frowned slightly. “People will notice that. You need some kind of weapon to blend in.” He pursed his lips. “Her Majesty will have to rely on her trusting nature and have faith in your goodwill, or at least my ability to keep you in hand.”
He snorted a laugh and then immediately pretended that he hadn’t. Marcel couldn't say that "trusting" was one of the most accurate adjectives to apply to Rose.
Kian gave him a sly little half smile, but didn’t comment. “I think that between the few thousand of us here, we can keep you in hand, no matter who you are.” He put a hand on the back of his neck and did... Something. Either fluffed his hair or massaged at the back of his neck. Marcel tracked the movement but couldn’t tell from his angle.
"Are you competent enough to hold your sword the right way?"
Marcel wrinkled his nose. He was starting to recognize that dry tone as teasing. "I think I can pass for a soldier."
Kian hummed. "So she didn't kidnap you from a wheat field." He rolled his neck. "No farmer father is going to come knocking at the army's door looking for you?"
He snorted again. "Indeed," Marcel said, trying to keep some distance with this mercurial foreigner. Kian was funny, but he wasn't a friend. He was digging for information, Marcel told himself. It wasn't harmless banter. It was an information gathering strategy.
'I understand why Rose relies on this one. He's clever. I hope for both of their sakes that he's not the spy. I can't imagine she'll be terribly forgiving if he is.'
Against all good sense, that thought warmed him up to the officer. After all, who could better understand the complicated balance of loyalties that Marcel was caught in?
After a few more demonstrations of the tedious manners and postures of this army, Marcel followed Kian over to get a sword requisitioned. When the weight settled on his hip, it felt as though an equivalent burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He ignored the knowing look from the other man and stepped in place to follow at Kian's left heel.
"We need to prepare to leave before she summons us," Kian said in an undertone. "We can take a rest after equipment maintenance and restocking. It should take perhaps an hour-"
"You there!"
Marcel stopped mid step and his heart hit his stomach. He'd been seen, he'd been recognized-
"Yes, sir?"
Marcel swallowed and tried to calm his heart rate. He wasn't ashamed to admit to himself that he was hiding behind Kian. The other man turned to the interloper with an utterly unbothered attitude. Marcel tried to emulate it.
The speaker was another young man, but this one was more ostentatious, with some design embroidered on his sleeves in reds and orange. He barely glanced at Kian, eyes darting to check the insignia on his clothing before looking behind them. "Go to the quartermaster and have a short travel kit prepared for me," he ordered dismissively. He was already walking on. "And ready my horse."
"As you say, Lord Karitta," Kian said, bland and professional. The lordling had already passed by the time Kian answered, so he had no hope to see the irritated look on Kian's face. There was no hint of it in the officer's voice.
'Yes, sir,' Marcel internally mocked, pettily delighted at the role reversal after Kian had made him say that a good dozen times in two minutes.
Marcel pressed his lips together and tried to resist the urge to snicker.
Kian cast him a sideways look that was somehow scathing. He started walking again, in a different direction this time. "Come along," he said. Marcel had to hustle to keep up. "You've a horse to saddle, soldier."
He sighed.
