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"From the Shadows"Written By: Honor Disclaimers: The boys are not mine (curses!) however all the other characters are, and the story, and the idea, and my evil muse. You can have my evil muse. Pairings: 4x5 Spoilers: Nope Warnings: AU, soooo AU, maybe a hint of OOC, violence,
lemon, language, political scheming and fantasy elements. Oh, and
unicorns. ^_^ Rating: R Archived: Gundam Wing Diaries Betas: Velvet and Caitilin *emphasized* =thought= ::mental communication: :
" From the Shadows " Chapter 2 "If A equals success, then the formula is: A
= X + Y + Z, X is work. Y is play. Z is keeping your mouth shut."
Quatre rubbed at his head, feeling a fatigue headache
trying to sneak up and pounce on him. He’d been up since very
early this morning, doing hard labor earlier and now it was late into
the night after a very heavy dinner, and his body was telling him
to go get some rest Or Else. All he really wanted was to sleep for
eight solid hours, but the rough draft that he’d given the young
queen had not met her expectations— and she was now demanding
explanations for practically everything he had outlined. =I’d
suggest just picking this up tomorrow morning…but the look on
her face tells me that suggestion will get me nowhere fast.= “Lowan,
think about this. It’s easy to bribe one person, or even sway
them to one side or another. If you have two people it’s harder,
but the possibility is still there that the partner will be coaxed
into agreeing with the other person. By making them into three-man
teams, you make it that much harder for them to be corrupted, bribed,
or threatened Chaelane sighed. “You make too much sense, Quatre. Alright, three man teams. Does that mean we can up the number to thirty people at least?” “Nope.” She rolled her eyes. “I knew it. You’re stubborn, Quatre.” Quatre grinned at her, completely unrepentant. “Yes, Lowan. But you like me anyway.” He ignored her dark scowl and grumbling and continued down the draft. “Now, is there anything else you want explained?” =Please say no so I can go get some sleep.= “There is one point that you failed to consider,” she murmured. Her eyes were narrowed on the document. “Where are they going to live?” Er…hehehe…oops. “Wherever you want us to?” “Hmmmm…” Her eyes went unfocused a bit before she sat upright with a victorious “Ah! I know. There’s a residence hall right behind my wing. It’s usually used for dignitary’s aides and so forth, but it will be much more convenient to put everyone there. Wyrack, see to it.” Wyrack simply nodded serenely, as if he were used to these kinds of demands suddenly landing in his lap. Quatre felt a strange sort of empathy for Wyrack. He had a feeling that the man possessed the patience of a saint. If Quatre was to survive this job with his sanity intact, he’d probably have to develop the same level of patience. “Anything else?” Say no, say no, say no… “Not at this moment. Have this formally drafted, and meet here after my morning conference. I’ll sign it then and give you the first order of business.” She rose with a slight stretch and a satisfied smile. “Good night, Quatre.” AHAHA! The prisoners shall go free! Quatre trusted that his relief and delight at being dismissed was covered with a polite nod and smile. “Good night, Lowan.” He wasted no time in picking up the necessary paperwork and quickly exiting before she had the chance to think of something else. It was late, he was tired, and he was sure that there was a bed somewhere calling his name… …argh! He didn’t know where to sleep! Quatre was almost too tired to care. Screw it, he’d sleep in the garden if he had to, he just wanted to be at a horizontal angle for a while. “Quatre, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to a room you can use tonight.” Quatre spun around and gave Wyrack the most profoundly thankful look he could rummage up. “Thank you very, very much.” “You’ll get used to her pace,” Wyrack assured him wryly as he turned to lead the young unco the other direction. Get used to her pace? “You mean she’s like this all the time?” “No. Sometimes she’s worse.” Quatre stifled a whimper. He was a man; he could take long days of arguing and writing formal documents and…a whimper snuck out despite his best attempts at stifling it. Wyrack’s face turned up into a particularly cheerful and sadistic smile. “Welcome to the Queen’s service, Master Quatre.” The only reason why Quatre didn’t run for it at that moment was because he was just too tired to do so and he had a feeling that if he tried to run now, a certain elderly sorcerer would use some kind of spell to entrap him against his will. They did say that misery liked company after all. =Just what have I gotten myself into?= + The morning came bright and early. Quatre reached the conclusion—not for the first time—that the sun had a very sadistic nature. It was the only way to explain why it consistently landed right in his face every morning and persisted to shine right into his eyeballs. Really, he wouldn’t have minded another hour of darkness…even semi-darkness would be alright. Sighing, he stumbled out of his bed and to the washbasin near the door. Those prophesied aches and soreness from riding yesterday were making his muscles creak a little as he washed up. Someone had left a change of clothes for him at some point just inside the room, neatly stacked on the chest of drawers. There was even a comb and a new pair of boots. The whole set up smacked of Wyrack’s meddling. True, Quatre had nothing but the clothes on his back and a bit of money in his pocket, but he hardly thought of himself as poorly off. Apparently Wyrack had a different opinion. He shrugged into the new clothes after doing a quick wash with cloth and soap, dragged the comb through his hair—mental note, get a trim later, his hair was getting a bit too long—and gave himself a quick glance in the standing mirror. Well, he looked semi-respectable now. That should do. First order of the day; find someone that could formally draft everything that he and the queen had hammered out the day before. He was hardly what he could call ‘literate’ in this language yet. He could speak it well enough (enough to get his point across, that is) but writing was another matter altogether. Wyrack had helped him by writing most of the rough draft, and giving him a more formal lesson in grammar and spelling. Continuing those lessons probably would be a good idea, actually. Quatre made a mental note on that too as he headed out the door, papers in hand. It was an unwritten law that if you were obviously a foreigner, wandering around with papers in your hand with a lost expression on your face that inevitably someone would take pity on you and point you in the right direction. After ten minutes of walking around blindly one of the (many) servants in the palace asked him politely who he was looking for then showed him directly to Wyrack’s workroom. “Ah, Quatre, come in.” Wyrack was standing over a boiling pot of…something. A very odorous something. Quatre’s nose wrinkled and his eyes started to water. “What is that?” “Eh? Oh, this will be the last seal.” “Seal?” Quatre followed his pointing finger to a line of small silver discs, roughly the size of a man’s palm. They were lined up neatly on another table. Quatre went and picked one up, examining it with curiosity. It was the seal that he and Wyrack had designed, with the eight point star and crown of the Queen’s seal in the center, and the silhouette of two faces on either side to signify the Hearken. Around the very outer edge was the words ‘Hearken’ written in flowing script. “It’s very neatly done,” Quatre murmured in approval. “Exactly as I envisioned. How long did this take?” “Roughly five minutes for each one.” Eleven seals…so he’d been at this roughly an hour. It was barely eight in the morning. Being up to doing spells at seven in the morning was way too early in Quatre’s opinion. “What time do you usually wake up anyway?” “Whatever time Chaelane awakens,” Wyrack answered with a resigned sigh. “She inevitably calls for me almost as soon as she’s awake.” “You’re a patient man, Wyrack.” Quatre silently prayed that Chaelane would not start calling for him in the same manner. Being alert first off every day would be…challenging, to say the least. “Where can I drop off all this paperwork to have it formally written?” “That? Don’t worry about it, I’ll do it. I’d rather this didn’t get all over the court just yet, not until things are finalized.” Quatre’s full attention was drawn from the seal in his hand at that. “What exactly is the situation at court?” “…one of chaos. She has barely been in power three months, and her father allowed his court too much freedom. It’s difficult for her to win the power back that should be hers.” That’s what he’d been afraid of. Quatre had kept his ears open as he traveled around the countryside, and he’d learned a few things. One of those things was that the queen was brand new to her position—and little more than a puppet. Apparently that last bit wasn’t entirely true. She was more than a puppet, she had the willpower and determination to try and change the course of things. She just needed some help to do so. “I see. Well then, I guess I have my work cut out for me.” Wyrack considered him for a moment, eyes weighing. “It doesn’t bother you?” “No, not really. If she has the determination to try and change things, then I think she can follow through and wrest the control back.” Quatre shrugged wryly. “Even if her methods are a trifle unorthodox.” “Hm. I think so too.” Wyrack muttered a word that was nothing like the spoken language, and the boiling mixture in the pot abruptly went ‘poof!’ He lifted his hand palm up and there lay the last seal. “Done.” “Ah, one request if you would.” Quatre held up the seal in his hand. “Can you add names to the back of it? I don’t want just anyone picking these up and trying to use them.” Wyrack blinked at the request. “Actually…that might be a wise precaution. Very well.” He focused on the seal in his hand for a moment, forehead beetling. The silver sizzled slightly and emitted a brief spark of blue. “There.” Quatre caught the seal easily in one hand, flipping it over to inspect it. His name was deeply etched into the back of it. “Excellent. Thank you.” “And now, let me see those papers. We have roughly an hour and a half before Lowan is out of her meeting to get everything written up.” + Noon at Del’Hain was a busy and very bustling place. Quatre was pressed in among crowded bodies, hearing voices of all ages and genders mixing and vibrating in his ears, smells of food and other less appealing aromas mingling in his nose. There was an irate woman arguing in loud tones with her neighbor, a child crying for attention, a group of men off to one side debating politics with each other in voices that managed to somehow carry over the din. Quatre could barely hear himself think. It was absolutely invigorating! He found himself grinning like an idiot for absolutely no reason. Just feeling so many people around him was like a drug in his system. The air itself was alive with emotions and voices and scents and just the feeling of people—he loved it. Yes, the decision to serve the Queen was worth it if just for the ability to walk around the city like this on a regular basis. Of course, he hadn’t planned on doing this just yet. He had turned in the formalized document for the Hearken to the Queen, praying that it would be the final draft. He hated paperwork as a rule and had no wish to repeat the process. She had smiled at him sunnily, signed it with a flourish, and then ordered him to investigate a matter for her. Naturally, Quatre had immediately protested. “I need to find people first! Hearken needs to be built.” “Oh I agree completely,” she’d replied with that same innocent smile. “And you can begin looking for people while you find this information for me.” That smile, Quatre was beginning to suspect, was pure deception. So here he was multi-tasking; looking for people that could serve in Hearken and finding out how taxes really worked for city-dwellers. The part about the taxes shouldn’t take long. If he talked to roughly two or three people, he should get an accurate breakdown of how everything worked. (And if his previous teachers heard that blasphemous thought out loud, Quatre would have been smacked. But he wasn't going to ask a hundred people for their opinions. Three could tell him that something was wrong, and which direction to look. That was all he needed, really. At least until he found some more people to split the work load with.) Finding future Hearken members…yeah, that would be the tougher assignment. First order of business, eat lunch. He was starving. Besides, every shopkeeper was in a talkative mood once you bought something from them anyway. Quatre chose an open restaurant that was selling something that looked like meat pie and slung himself into an empty chair. He gave the serving girl a brilliant smile. “Hello, gorgeous. How is this beautiful day treating you?” She was pretty enough, if you ignored her less than perfect jug ears, and blushed slightly at his friendly attention. “Very well, sir. What can I get you?” “I have no idea. What are my options?” “Well, there’s sausage, and squinch, and ham pie, and today’s special is fish on a stick with a side of meal bread.” Quatre had been catching the scent of ham since he sat down, and his taste buds had pretty much decided they wanted that. “The ham please and a glass of water.” She blinked at the choice of drink—most men would have chosen a light ale to go with it—but nodded amiably. “Right away.” Quatre watched her scurry into the back and looked around the counter. There was perhaps twenty men altogether, almost filling the small restaurant. A popular place, then. The brunette ducked back out with his food and set it before him. “There you go.” “It smells marvelous. Thank you.” He winked at her before digging in. Ah…ambrosia. Sheer ambrosia. Mental note: eat here whenever possible. While he was distracted with inputting as much food possible into his mouth, he lost track of his surroundings, the food taking up his entire concentration. “Hey unco!” =I just know he’s talking to me.= With a sigh Quatre looked up. “Yes?” The man had ‘brawler’ written all over him. Quatre would not be surprised if he were a smith, or a heavy laborer, not with that massive build and blood shot eyes. There was the sent of smoke embedded in his skin, something that Quatre could pick up even five feet away. Probably a smith, then. “We don’t want no unco trash here!” Once in a while, Quatre had run across the prejudiced person who didn’t trust any foreigner. It was unusual, but not unheard of. He was rather surprised to find it in a metropolitan area like this, but apparently idiots knew no bounds. “I can hardly be defined as ‘trash’ since I hold a respectable job in this area. If you have issues about unco, sir, then that is your business. However I request that you not drag me into it. I’m enjoying this excellently prepared meal too much to spoil it with contention.” From the dazed way the man blinked, Quatre judged that he was either too stupid or too drunk to figure out what had just been said—probably both. After a long (and rather embarrassing pause) he reiterated strongly, “I said we don’t want no filthy unco here!” Another very large man appeared from the back, a stained apron around his waist and a heavy scowl tugging his face down. “Oy, Draen! Don’t start trouble here.” “You gonna let that unco here as long as he pays?!” Draen shouted back. “Draen, I told you last time that if you started picking fights in my place I’d throw you out for good. You got three seconds to apologize and leave before I kick your sorry arse out into the street.” Blood rushed up into Draen’s face, either from anger or embarrassment Quatre wasn’t sure. His mouth clamped up tight before he spun around and stormed out into the street. The shop owner turned and gave a nod to Quatre. “I apologize, sir.” “No need, you weren’t the one stirring trouble.” Quatre shrugged lightly, dismissing everything with an airy wave. “More importantly, I assume you cooked this?” There was a slight relaxing of the shoulders, and the owner nodded back cordially enough. “Yes.” “Then my compliments to you, sir. I haven’t had food this good since I left home. I find I can’t hold a grudge against a good cook.” Quatre upped his smile a bit, deliberately making his body language relaxed and easy. As expected, the other man relaxed as well and smiled back in genuine good will. “Thank you. Is there anything I can get you?” Answers, but that would have to wait a few more minutes. Quatre judged that the timing wasn’t quite right yet. “I’m fine, thank you.” He turned back to his lunch and set about polishing the plate clean. Within a minute of finishing his serving girl was back. “Can I get you anything else?” “I am sorry to say that I couldn’t eat another bite, but thank you. I do have a few questions to ask if I may. I just arrived in the city yesterday and I find that I’m a bit confused on how some things work here.” Quatre was going to stay ‘new’ to the city for as long as he could manage, too. People were always willing to talk to a poor foreign boy that didn’t know better. Might as well use his unco status to advantage, right? She smiled at him as she cleared his dishes away. “Certainly, sir. Ask away.” “How exactly do taxes work?” Her eyes hardened slightly and she grimaced. “Taxes, eh?” Her fingers flashed in front of her chest, something that Quatre recognized as a silent curse. “There are three different types to pay, four if you own a business. There’s the Queen’s tax, which is ten percent, and city tax which is twenty percent. Then there’s property tax, which is thirty percent of the value of whatever you own, and if you own a business then you pay twenty percent on top of the property tax.” Quatre winced. “Ouch. That’s harsh.” And it was three times higher than people should be paying. According to Chaelane, the people should only have to deal with the Queen’s tax and a very small city tax, something like fifteen percent of their income. Things were definitely out of control. “Very, sir. It’s getting hard to pay all of those taxes and still survive.” “And that’s not the worse of it,” a patron on the other side of the counter volunteered. “They just put in a road tax that covers the major roads leading out of the city limits. If you import or export anything from the countryside to the city that’s taxed too.” Something about the way the man spoke caught Quatre’s attention. He looked like a normal Hainan, with a sturdy and tall build, dark brown hair and tanned skin. He wasn’t tanned enough to be a farmer…craftsman perhaps. “What reason are they using to tax the roads?” “They say it’s for road repairs.” He rolled his eyes. “That tax has been in place for nearly two years, and the road is more potholes than stone now. What it’s really about is the Minister of Trade found another way of lining his pockets, and managed to slip that bill past the old King’s nose.” The girl hushed him. “Auda, don’t say things like that! You know that the city guard will come down on you.” “Bah, let them! Everyone knows it’s the truth, and I’m not going to water it down. The boy needs to know what’s really going on here.” *Bingo.* This man was what Quatre needed—someone who was an analytical thinker, with the guts to say what needed to be said in plain language. He leaned forward slightly, face radiating interest. “If you’re any good at fighting, I suppose you can afford to be blunt.” “I’m a decent enough shot with bow and arrows,” Auda answered with an easy laugh. “Not that it’d do me much good against guards. They outnumber me.” The man was not foolhardy…well, not extremely foolhardy. He knew his limits; they were just further out than most people would draw the line. “Bow, eh? Is it the black one leaning against the wall? I thought it looked rather sharp earlier.” “Ah, you interested in that sort of thing? I’m a woodcarver and carpenter by profession. I got a little carried away when I made it.” He was flushing slightly while studying his bow. “May I see it?” “Of course.” Quatre walked around to his side of the counter and picked the bow up. It was carved out of some wood of pitch black, with light engravings running up both sides. The craftsmanship was excellent, and the bow flexible enough to hold great power. “Finely done,” Quatre approved. “You pass the test, Auda.” Auda blinked, now a bit wary. “What test?” Somehow he managed to keep the sadistic smile from his face while explaining. It might frighten his prospective subordinate away, after all. “Ah, allow me to explain. I am Quatre Raberba Winner of the Hearken. Queen Chaelane is aware that her nobles aren’t being truthful on a number of things, and has established an organization that will search out the truth of the matter for her. She has called it Hearken, and appointed me at its head.” Quatre looked right into Auda’s eyes, taking a perverse amount of enjoyment at the way the man’s eyes were bugging out of his head. “Right now, I’m looking for people that can fulfill the duties of the Hearken. I think you’re one of those people. Will you join us?” The restaurant was nearly silent by this point, only the sounds of choking breaking up the silence. Auda had to take two deep breaths before he could get his mouth working again. “Are you serious?” “Indeed.” Quatre pulled the seal out of his pocket and handed it over. “This seal serves as my proof.” Auda accepted it with shaking hands, turning it around once before handing it quickly back. “B-but why me?!” “Ah, that. One of the qualifications is that you must be blunt, and not afraid to say what needs to be said. Another is that you can protect yourself if need be. And the third—” Quatre winked at him “—is that I have to like you. As I said, you passed all three tests. What say you, Master Auda? Will you come with me to the palace and tell the Queen exactly what’s going on under her nose?” Auda blinked at him blankly for a moment, but his natural stubbornness reasserted itself and he nodded firmly. “Yes sir, I will.” “Excellent.” Quatre turned smoothly to the gaping serving maid. “How much do I owe you?” “…eight coppers.” Quatre handed her a silver. “Keep the change. Consider it a thank you for the information. Master Auda?” “Right behind you.” Auda caught up his bow and quiver of arrows, paid for his meal, and followed close behind Quatre as they left. They were silent for a street or so before Auda cleared his throat slightly. “If you don’t mind my asking Lon Quatre, why didn’t you pull me aside in secret before offering me that position?” “Ah, a valid question.” Quatre darted a look over his shoulder. “Why don’t you venture a guess and tell me?” Frowning slightly the man thought that one through as they walked. Finally he offered, “Because you wanted them to know about the Hearken.” “Congratulations, sir. You have thought of the exact reason. The Hearken were officially formed this morning, and if I want to have a prayer of this working I need the whole kingdom to know who and what we are. A crowded restaurant in the middle of the capital seemed like a good place to start spreading the word.” Quatre found himself smiling again, but this time he had a reason. Instinct said that Auda was going to be perfect for this job. For one thing, the man would blend into the city as well as the country. It would be easy to send him in undercover practically anywhere. “One thing, however. I am not a lord or have any noble blood in me, so please don’t refer to me as ‘lon’. Just Quatre, if you would.” “Er…begging your pardon sir, but how did you get this position if you aren’t a noble?” Quatre thought that one through. Actually, how had he managed to land himself in this mess? “That’s a long story, Auda. I shall regal you with the full gist of it later. The short version is that I dared to lay ‘conditions’ before Lowan. You’ll find that she prefers blunt and precise speaking. She’s been lied to or misled most of her life, and she’s very tired of it.” “Oh.” It would probably behoove him to ask a few questions of his own. “And now, if I may ask you a few things?” Auda lengthened his stride a bit until he was nearly walking side by side with Quatre. “Of course.” “You have family?” “A brother and his family, yes.” “And where are they?” “Outside the city. He inherited the brewery and I sometimes bring a load of ale in for him. It’s why I’m here today, actually.” This would make Auda the second son. Quatre was still getting used to the concept of inheritance that worked in this country. “I see. I'll let you go home soon and explain the situation, but don't take long we have too much to do and not enough people. Next question, are you any good at riding an elk?” “I won’t fall off,” Auda answered dryly. “Delighted to hear it,” Quatre parried in the same tone. “Because you’ll be riding a lot in the near future. At this moment it’s just you and I in Hearken, however that will change. The goal is to have twelve of us eventually. When we do have enough people, I’ll be reassigning you to work with a team of three.” Auda held up a hand to stall him. “Wait, you’re going too fast. Only twelve people for a kingdom this large?” “You and Chaelane think alike, I see.” Was he going to have to defend this point with everyone? “Yes, just twelve people. If the organization, especially one like this, grows too large then it is easily corrupted. I prefer to keep things on a very individual basis. And before you can protest the concept of teams, I am organizing it into threes for the same reason.” Auda had his mouth open to object, but he closed it slowly and thought that through. “I think I can guess why. Alright. I assume that we’ll work together for the time being.” “You assume correctly. Last thing—we are given the right of familiarity so don’t hesitate to tell Chaelane when she’s being stupid. Any questions?” “Where do we live?” “There’s a building right behind the Queen’s wing of the palace that she’s designated for our use.” Another thought struck Quatre and he continued thoughtfully, “I forgot to argue about salary. Auda, I’ll let you do that. I haven’t been in this country long enough to have a clear idea of what’s a fair salary.” Auda had to click his jaw back into place. “If you’re not doing this for money, what are you doing it for?” Quatre shrugged. “I have no idea,” he announced cheerfully. He started digging in his pockets for his seal, ready to show it to the palace guards at the main gate. Auda followed in dazed confusion. “You’re strange, Quatre.” He wasn’t the first to make that observation. Quatre grinned to himself as he handed his seal over to the guard for inspection. He probably wouldn’t be the last either. + Chaelane was delighted with Auda, and very unhappy about his explanation about taxes. Quatre propped himself up against the wall, out of direct line of sight and stayed quiet so that he could just observe. Auda was polite enough while talking to his Queen, but he wasn’t putting a sugar coating on his words either. Good. =This whole day might work against me in the future, though. I managed to find the information she needed and a person for Hearken in a matter of an hour. She might expect results that fast next time too.= He really hoped that wouldn’t be the case, of course, but…he might have just dug his own grave. Tarnation. Well, he’d deal with that if it came. “…roughly two years Lowan.” Quatre cued his ears back into the conversation. He might have to remember some of this, after all. “Two years?!” One dainty hand was tapping an irritated rhythm against her desk. “Ridiculous. I’ll have that repealed immediately. You say that the Minister of Trade instigated this?” “It was his name on the official notices,” Auda responded neutrally. “Hmph. Very well.” Chaelane motioned Quatre closer. “Have him sworn in and all of that. I’m going to have a talk with some of my Court.” Quatre immediately felt sorry for everyone there. “You have the rest of the day to look for other people to serve in Hearken. While you’re doing that, talk to the people some more and find out what else is going on that needs to be corrected.” Quatre inclined his head. “Of course, Lowan. I suppose you want a summary after dinner?” “Of course.” “You’ll have it. Auda, follow me. We have things to do.” The Hearken gave their queen a bow before exiting the room. In a low voice Quatre murmured, “You’ll discover that it’s best to move quickly after getting orders. Otherwise she thinks up *more* things for you to do.” “Ah.” Auda had a strange expression on his face, as if he were wrestling with several different responses and didn’t know which one to choose. Quatre quirked an eyebrow at him. “Auda?” “It’s just…she’s different than what I expected. In some ways she’s still a child, and in others she’s very much in control. You were right about her taste in plain speaking.” The new Hearken shook his head with a growing smile. “I think I’ll like this job. So where to?” “We visit Wyrack. He has all of the seals, and we need to give you one. Then we’ll figure out where our rooms are. They stashed me in a guest room last night, but that won’t be my regular quarters. After that…hm, I think we’ll go back out into the city again as ordered. Unless we want to get overworked, we need to find people as quickly as possible.” Auda chuckled ruefully. “I think I see what you mean, after meeting Lowan. She keeps you on your toes.” Actually, that was one of the things that Quatre liked about the young queen. Did that make him something of a masochist? =It’s probably wise of me if I don’t answer that question.= ~*~*~*~
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