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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 3 I try to take one day at a time, but sometimes several
days attack me at once.
Once again, he was out scouring for information for the Queen. This time it had to do with the tax on grain and how much was usually sold by each farmer. Quatre would be dearly thankful when Chaelane finally finished straightening out the whole tax issue. He knew more about taxes than he’d ever wanted to know. His nightmares involved numbers that delightedly ambushed him from every side. Auda was making a slight detour to visit his family and fully explain the situation in person before meeting him at the tavern in Chyse, a small town two hours north of the capital. They’d been so overworked that he’d barely gotten a quick note off to his brother to explain: and the explanation had been something along the lines of ‘won’t be home for a while, explain when I get there’. Quatre had taken pity on him and sent him home for a few hours before they continued working. After two hours of riding in the sweltering heat, he arrived in Chyse. Quatre pulled his face into slightly bewildered lines, looking nothing more than an unco brand new to the area and walked into the village tavern. It was a fairly neat place and strangely quiet considering that it was getting late in the afternoon. The building had signs of age here and there, but it was well cared for. It rather reflected how the whole village looked, actually. Quatre came in and sat at the counter, looking around with deliberate slowness, as if he were fully examining his environment. “What can I get you?” Quatre turned on a slight smile to the reed-thin bartender. “Just water, please.” “Comin’ up.” He accepted the glass and let blessedly cool liquid run down his throat. Ahh…that felt so good. Why did it have to be so hot in this country anyway? Elfoure was always cool, even during their warmer season. It was like living in a furnace here. “Where ya from, kid?” The tone had been friendly, so Quatre relaxed and answered easily, “Far away from here. I can’t get used to your weather—it’s too hot.” The man laughed, a surprisingly deep sound for such a slender frame. “Yeah, it’s hot now, but wait until winter. Then it gets downright chilly. Haven’t seen anyone with your coloring before. Exactly how far away?” “Very, very far away.” A slender redhead at the end of the bar shifted slightly, turning her head toward them. “Nowhere on this planet, certainly.” Quatre looked up at her sharply. She was in very colorful clothing, one that was shaped to accent her figure. Two other men were sitting near her in similar dress. One of them—a rather charismatic man barely out of his teens—was idly strumming some sort of instrument that looked like a deformed guitar. Were they Evleit? “You’d know, considering,” the barkeep agreed with a curious look at Quatre. “I’m from Elfoure,” Quatre answered slowly with one eye on the group. “Ah, the legendary country on the moon.” It was the woman’s other companion that spoke up this time, with decided interest. “I’ve only heard fairytales about that place. Come sit with us unco and tell me what’s fact and what’s fiction.” They had to be Evleit. It was something like a small performance troupe on this planet, never more than five or six people and usually conformed of three. These people were sure to have a wealth of information about the country, considering how much they traveled across it. Quatre moved promptly to sit with them. Talking to them could very well cut down on how much work he’d have to do—and how much riding. “I’m Quatre.” “Abdul,” the man answered with a friendly smile. “This is Cathy,” his open hand indicated the redhead which nodded to Quatre equably, “and Trowa.” “Pleasure.” Quatre settled on the stool, mentally cursing that everyone on this blasted world was so *tall*. He felt like a child half the time whenever he sat down, because everything was built with longer legs in mind. Trowa glanced up from his instrument with a strangely piercing gaze. “So tell us, Quatre. How did you get here? I didn’t think travel between planet and moon possible.” “I can’t explain that,” Quatre admitted. “I was taken by pirates so I can’t understand how they managed it, but from what I saw it was an odd mix of magic and technology that gave them the ability.” Cathy’s eyebrows had shot up. “Pirates? That’s…unheard of.” “I thought so too.” Quatre had certainly never heard of them until he’d been kidnapped. “But here I am. I managed to escape from them a little over two months ago and have been wandering around Hain since then.” “You make that sound easy,” Abdul muttered. His eyes were focused and penetrating, searching for something in Quatre’s face. “How did you escape?” “I blew up the ship.” Quatre smiled in bitter amusement at the astonished looks he got for *that* statement. “The magic and tech mixture made the engine onboard unstable. From my cell, I constantly overheard arguments and exclamations of worry about it. When I felt the ship land, I broke out of the cell and went into the engine compartment and started undoing the magic seals. It quickly overheated and blew the whole ship apart.” “Rain and drought,” Trowa muttered with wide eyes. “But how did you get out?” “I jumped overboard into the water. That shielded me.” To a large degree, anyway. He’d been hit by flying debris here and there, but he’d survived the experience and that was the important part. “Quite the story,” Cathy offered quietly. “Aye,” Abdul agreed thoughtfully. “If you give me more detail, I could spin it into quite the tale.” “Then I’m definitely not giving you anything more to work off of,” Quatre drawled with an admonishing look at the man. “I’ve no wish to be famous—or infamous for that matter.” The Evleit seemed amused by this and grinned back at Quatre. “Fair enough.” “My turn to ask some questions. I’m having a difficult time understanding how taxes work. Every time I buy food, it seems that the price is completely different. Is it just the city that I’m in or is it the province that makes the difference?” “Both,” Cathy answered with a slightly bitter undertone. “Every Dom has control over the taxes in his province, and he uses that to ruthless advantage. The Dom doesn’t actually bother with leveling a tax at the farmers, he just taxes the village or city. Each village has to produce enough to pay for the Dom’s tax.” In other words, it was the Dom that really controlled everything. Correct the Dom’s order, and the problem would largely be fixed. That was good. Quatre preferred the simple solution over the complicated one. “How much does a farm usually produce?” “Somewhere around eighty bushels,” Abdul answered calmly. “Half of that goes to feeding the farmer’s family, of course.” Forty bushels a farm. From what Quatre had seen, there were usually thirty or so farms in each village. He imagined taxes had to be very steep on produce in order to meet the Dom’s demands. A part of Quatre’s mind abruptly woke up and poked him sharply. These people were blunt, obviously capable of protecting themselves if they were traveling around unmolested as Evleit, and were in the perfect position to gather information without being suspect. =Three days of searching, and I find three people. I guess that works out.= “I see. Perhaps I should re-introduce myself at this point.” They sat up in their stools, eyeing him warily. There was a thrum of anticipation in his system as he gave them a polite half-bow. “I am Quatre Raberba Winner of the Hearken.” “The Queen’s personal spies,” Trowa breathed hoarsely. “Ah, so you have heard of us!” Quatre grinned at him unabashedly. It was nice to know that the word was spreading. “Excellent, that saves some explanation. The reason why I mention this is because I’m trying to recruit more members. Would you be interested?” “We’re Evleit,” Cathy protested immediately with spread hands. “We couldn’t possibly serve the Queen!” “Ah, but it’s *because* you’re Evleit that I want you. Well, that and the fact that you’re blunt. I adore blunt people. So, as it happens, does the Queen. I wouldn’t offer you this position unless I was sure you could do it, Cathy. What say you?” If the stunned expressions on their faces was anything to go off of, they weren’t sure at all what to think, much less say. Quatre backed off a little. “You needn’t give me an answer immediately. Why don’t you accompany me back to the capital, and explain to the Queen how the Doms are thieving and devious thumb-sucking drunkards, and see for yourself if you wish to serve as Hearken.” “Can we at least eat dinner first?” Cathy inquired weakly. “Absolutely! Actually, Auda is supposed to meet me here anyway. I should probably stay put until he comes.” “While we’re waiting,” Abdul was wearing a strange expression, something of a cross between confusion and the beginnings of amusement, “perhaps you can explain to us how an unco who’s only been here for a couple of months came to be the leader of the Hearken?” + Poor Auda arrived at the tavern only to have a very short break and climb back into the saddle again. He was distracted from complaints by having three Evleits following along. Quatre explained in an undertone that they would probably be Hearken, if he could talk fast enough and persuade them to join. The Evleits were not mounted, so Quatre stopped at a local stable and bought three elks with the necessary tack before leading the way to Del’Hain. Quatre caught Chaelane just out of one conference, and convinced her to delay the next meeting by a half mark in order to listen to the report on taxes. (She didn’t protest this, which made Quatre think that she hadn’t wanted to go to her next conference anyway.) After that he did his best to shut up and stay out of it. They retired to the Queen’s personal study. Under a bit of prompting from Quatre, the Evleit delivered the same report that they had given to Quatre. As Chaelane peppered them with questions, they slowly relaxed from the rigid politeness and replied with more candor. Quatre, once again propped up against the wall, grinned to himself. Yes, they would do *just* fine. By the end of the evening, he had a grand total of five people in Hearken. Auda helped settle everyone into their new rooms but he paused at one point to look Quatre dead in the eyes and mutter, “You’re evil, Quatre.” It was sad that Auda had figured that out about him already. The man had only known him a few days. “Now why do you say that?” “You knew that they would agree once Lowan pulled that innocently helpless act on them.” Actually, he had been counting on it. “I, of course, have no idea where you came up with such an idea.” Auda rolled his eyes. “Of course you don’t.” Still muttering and shaking his head, he walked down the hall toward his own room. Quatre—who was secretively grinning in delight—turned to his own room. It was definitely time to go to sleep, and dream up new things to get into the next day. + *knock, knock* Quatre flopped over onto his stomach, blearily trying to get his eyes open. Huh? Was that someone knocking on his door? *Knock* *knock* Hm…it sounded like it. Using extreme willpower Quatre turned his head a little and looked at the small clock gracing his dresser. It wasn’t even seven in the morning. *KNOCK* *KNOCK* “Quatre! Get up and let me in!” Wyrack? Quatre groaned and pulled himself physically out of the bed. He didn’t land on the wood floor very well, and nearly stumbled before he could jerk himself upright. “The building better be on fire…or you’re in serious trouble, sorcerer.” “QUATRE!” “I’M UP ALREADY!” Quatre grumbled back as he jerked the door open. “What? And I warn you, it better be serious or heads *will* be rolling!” Wyrack paused with his mouth open, eyes slowly going to the top of Quatre’s head…and stayed there. Quatre growled in bad temper. His hair was usually unruly to begin with, it was so thick that it wanted to curl rebelliously, but in the mornings it was truly a mess to look at. “Wyrack, get your mind focused and tell me what’s so all-fired important that you’re waking me up at this ungodly hour.” Wyrack managed to jerk his eyes away from curly/oddly tangled blond hair to Quatre’s face. “There’s a border conflict boiling between Traeb and Avern Province. There are also rumors of a rebellion in Jrea Province.” Oh great. Traeb and Avern were off to the east, and would mean at least a two hour ride, perhaps three. Jrea was in the exact opposite direction. “Where in Jrea?” “Antiq.” *Of course* it had to be the capital, the furthest distance possible from Del’Hain. Grr. “Right. Go away, Wyrack, I’ll start dispatching people.” Quatre closed the door and dove into some clothes, ran both hands quickly through his hair (he didn’t pause to see what kind of effect that had, it was probably better if he just didn’t know) and ran down the hall, bellowing as he went. “AUDA! CATHY! TROWA! ABDUL! GET UP!” Doors started opening and sleepily irate faces started appearing. “Quatre, what’s wrong?” Auda demanded in a thick voice still full of sleep. “We’ve got two problems. One, border conflict between Traeb and Avern.” Quatre waited until the swearing had died down before continuing, “Auda, you and the rest go handle that one.” Cathy looked up at him sharply. “And where are you going?” “To the second problem, the rising rebellion in Jrea.” “You shouldn’t go alone,” Abdul protested. “I’m not sure if there’s anything to really worry about there,” Quatre admitted. “It’s just a rumor, and if there is something going on then one person will have a fairly easy time of slipping inside than a group. Talk to Wyrack before you go, and remember that you have the authority to stop the situation if it’s getting out of hand. Use it.” Quatre waited until he was sure they understood before spinning about and heading toward the palace at a run, silently plotting on how to get breakfast before he went. Maybe he could snatch something from Wyrack’s breakfast plate as he was demanding more information… + It took five hours on the back of an elk to get to Antiq in Jrea Province. As he rode, he turned the information over and over in his mind (in between worrying about his other Hearken.) Wyrack hadn’t had much in the way of concrete information. It literally was a rumor that the people of Antiq were rising up in a revolt. The only thing that led confirmation to it was a message from the Dom of that region, requesting military backup. Something was certainly going on. Quatre just had to figure out what. The sun was high and burning in the sky when Quatre finally spotted Antiq. It was a port city, curling around the edge of the water and up a little into the stepper hills. As he drew in closer, something caught his attention above the sound of pounding hooves. Quatre could hear it a mile out of the town. It sounded like a swarm of angry bees, staying at a near constant roar of sound. It would take a lot of voices to make that kind of noise. Lots of angry voices usually didn’t add up to good things, in his experience. =Time to speed up.= Kicking his elk in the sides, Quatre urged him at a run through the main streets. The deserted main streets. This so didn’t bode well. He was almost to the heart of town when he nearly ran smack into a wall of people. They were packed in tight, with various types of weapons in their hands. Quatre just groaned, lifting his eyes to the sky and silently demanded of any god that was listening *why* he had to deal with an angry mob when this job was supposed to be *easy*? The gods decided to ignore him. Or maybe they were silently laughing at him. Whatever it was, they weren’t going to help. Quatre tied his elk to the nearest post, with one eye on the crowd the entire time. Just how was he supposed to regain control of them? He was a single short unco—they were many tall Hainans. The odds were definitely not in his favor. He studied the situation for a moment. People, as packed as they were, were still trying to move forward. The whole mob was constantly surging toward the main square. There was no way Quatre would be able to fight his way through that. But what about over it? The main square had been equipped with a rather fancy covering. The beams were set in the nearby shop buildings, supporting a tile roof that was covering the square until the center fountain. There, it was an open space, presumably to let in some light and air, as well as have the sunlight hit the gushing water in an artistically pretty effect. Quatre didn’t really care what the reason was, he only saw an opening. He darted into the nearest building, climbing up to the top floor. After three tries he found a door that wasn’t locked, and went inside. Store room, apparently. What he truly saw was the window, though. The view through the clear panes was beautiful: roof tiles. Quatre grinned to himself and jerked the window up, climbed out, and politely shut the window again. As quickly as he dared he scampered across the tiles (they were a trifle slick for some reason) to that round opening. Now that he was right over everyone, he could finally pick up some of the things that were being yelled. "Blasphemous rodent! We won’t let you do this!" "It’s stood here for three hundred years! You aren’t tearing it down!" Tear it down? Three hundred years? Quatre blinked in confusion. What under the stars was going on here? "You’ve no right to tell me what to do! I am your Dom and you will obey!" …oh that was just peachy. Quatre hated dealing with the Doms to begin with, but now he had a Dom—who apparently had done something to enrage the common people into a revolt—and a mob to contend with at once. Curses. The question was answered: the gods really were laughing at him. He poked his head over the hole to see and get a grasp on the situation before barging in. The Dom was standing right beside the fountain with guards surrounding him. The guards looked rather insecure and uncomfortable. Quatre could venture a guess as to why. He was a little nervous himself at the idea of facing *that* kind of crowd. He took in a deep breath. =Well, here goes nothing.= Catching the edge of the roof with his hands, he swung himself sharply down and out, far enough to where he could alight on the edge of the fountain. He nearly slipped on the wet ceramic tile, but caught himself with only a little arm wind-milling. The people right in front stared at him with suspicious eyes, including the Dom. The people further back, however, didn’t see him there (despite the extra foot of height that standing on the fountain gave him) and were still shouting for justice or something along those lines. Grr. Quatre took in a deep breath and shouted, "Quiet down!" No effect. Quatre groaned. He just wasn’t a loud person. He didn’t have the lung capacity to shout down a thousand or so people, curse it. =But that’s what I’m going to have to do, or this will get out of control rather quickly and messily.= He drew in another deep breath, determined to be heard even if he coughed up a lung doing it— "QUIET!!!!" The crowd fell instantly silent. Quatre blinked. Who did that? Turning his head sharply he spotted a giant of a man leaning casually on one of the support pillars. He looked rather like a demon out of a child’s storybook—black hair rising to a point on both sides of his head, dark skin and black eyes. The stranger looked at Quatre calmly. "We’re listening, kid. What do you want to say?" Mental note: find that man later. He might come in handy again. Quatre turned to the crowd at large and called out loudly, "I am Quatre Raberba Winner of the Hearken!" He paused to let that sink in. Quite a few people knew what he was, and were whispering to their neighbors. "I’ve come to evaluate the situation here! Will someone tell me what’s going on?" Dozens of voices started responding at full voice, completely jumbled together. Quatre rolled his eyes—he should have known better than that—and jumped down from his perch. He grabbed the nearest person by the arm and tugged them in closer. "What’s going on?" "Uh—the Dom is trying to destroy our temple so he can build another wing to his palace." "Ah." Quatre turned to look at the building the man was pointing to. He could only make out part of the structure because of the crowd and the roof above his head obstructing his view, but he could make out enough to see that it was ancient. "How old is it?" "Three hundred years, Lon." Quatre let the title slide in favor of glaring at the Dom. "You idiot! You’re going to tear down a building with that kind of significance just so you can build more to your *house*?" There were several exclamations of agreement from the crowd. The Dom wasn’t particularly fazed by this. His nose was still at that cocky angle. "Your opinion matters little to me, Hearken. You do not have authority here." He shouldn’t have said that. Quatre bared a feral grin at him. "Actually, I do. Dom, you are ordered to return to your house and remain there until I come get you." "You can’t order me about!" Apparently the giant was going to come in very handy. Quatre motioned him closer. "Good sir, may I enlist your help?" He apparently saw what was coming, because a big toothy smile spread over his face. "Certainly. What do you need me to do?" Quatre jerked a thumb to indicate the lavish buffoon in human skin. "Grab that idiot and follow me." People parted willingly for the giant to come through. Once he was within reach, he reached down and grabbed the Dom by one ankle. The Dom squawked like a chicken being plucked as he was jerked upright in the air, dangling by one leg. "Let me down! Let ME DOWN!" Quatre had to fight back a laugh as he motioned for the crowd to part. He rather liked this man. Outraged yelling, curses (for a man of the nobility, he truly had a foul mouth) and threats followed Quatre all the way to the palace. The guards, not quite sure what to do, trailed along like disobedient children. Quatre entered the palace doors with a bit of a conundrum. Just what was he supposed to do with the Dom until he had learned the entire situation? He casually cuffed the Dom to shut him up as he looked up at the (grinning) giant. "What’s your name?" "Rashid." "Rashid? Odd name. Well, Rashid, do you know how this all started?" "Yes, I do." "How long have you lived here?" "I’ve stayed here for a week. Don’t actually live here." "Oh." Quatre would have to get some of his more involved questions answered by someone else then. "Are there Enforcerers in this place?" "The squad here isn’t very effective," Rashid informed him candidly. "When this situation broke, they barricaded themselves in their offices." Oh boy. "Right. Rashid, I’m drafting you as a Hearken for the time being. I need support here. Toss that idiot somewhere that he can’t escape from." Rashid hefted the Dom up a bit higher and pinched him on the back of his neck. Bloodshot blue eyes rolled up in his head, and the Dom was out like a light. Yup, Quatre was really beginning to like this guy. "That’ll work too. Let’s go in there—" he jerked his chin to indicate a receiving room "—and you can tell me what you know, and I can decide how to deal with this." "Alright." ~*~*~*~
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