@Nightcrawler Fuck me. he thought bitterly as he pulled the collar of his fur jacket higher on his neck in an attempt to keep out the biting wind. How had he ever managed to pick up a gig in the literal worst country in the entire fucking world.
Fuck.
Fucking shit fuck me. He tried to pull the jacket tighter, but the toggles were already closed and he was as encompassed as he could possibly get.
The wind whipped through the trees and even the little hut of a house Snarg leaned against did nothing to keep it at bay.
He glanced up at the sky to judge the moon's location. She was late. He didn't like that. At all. He'd be making sure they paid him for every minute he worked, per his contract. He wasn't a damn servant and he would prove it in blood if he needed to. No one fucked with him.
The moon shifted a few more inches and he sighed heavily before lifting two fingers to his lips and repeating the bird-like signal that he had been taught.
Now where the fuck was the girl.
Evie was late.
The "birdsong" echoed up through the open window again. "Alright, I'm coming, I'm coming," she muttered. She snatched up her satchel from the bed, swung the strap over her shoulder, and took one final glance at herself in the mirror. The only sign left of her makeup was a little black smudge around each eye. She'd stuffed her long hair up into her hat. Gone was the pretty — if scandalous — dress that she'd worn to work that evening, replaced by trousers, a shirt, a vest, and a coat. It was all very plain and practical. She winced. She looked, for all intents and purposes, like a man. Albeit, an Adelan man with horns in a place where neither were common. Dressing this way would keep her safe tonight, that was for sure. She still hated it.
She sighed, adjusted her collar, turned, and hoisted herself out the window. Truthfully, she thought as she clambered over the roof, she'd been dallying. It wasn't dressing like a man that had her nervous. She was used to that. No, it was the railroad operation that gave her pause. Garrett never hired mercs. Never. They were loose ends. Complications. A merc could easily run his mouth after one too many drinks, or blackmail them to raid their coffers. Something about this job had Garrett spooked. And now Evie was downright scared.
She slid over the edge of the roof and dropped to the ground with a soft thud. She was to meet the merc at the abandoned house just around the corner and bring him with her to the rendezvous point. She wished Garrett had picked a location a little further from the Rose. He'd been making a lot of questionable decisions lately. He always did when he was under pressure. But they couldn't afford that; not when it might cost lives.
Sure enough, as she rounded the corner, a hulk of a man came into view. He looked cold and miserable: signs of a foreigner who hadn't dressed properly for Connlaothian weather. Evie glanced around. He was the only one in sight. Okay, birdie, she thought. Let's see if Garrett told you the passcode. She approached him with as much confidence as she could muster.
"What bird sings alone in the dark?"
Snarg saw her well before she spoke. Much of what he did required very little outward planning or thought and he didn't do much more than was purchased, so we had gotten quite good at just observing. Hell, he didn't do anything more than what was purchased. Improv wasn't what they paid for with him. You wanted an orphanage burned, fine, but you sure as fuck better be specific on whether you expected the kids to be saved first. He wasn't a fucking mind reader.
And she wasn't a fucking shadow. In fact, even in her get-up she was downright memorable.
Interesting.
Then she spoke. Like some kind of rich entitled snob waking towards him all prim and proper like. Well, he hadn't been paid to be polite.
"Fuck off." His voice was low and gravely and a faint chatter of teeth could be heard ever so slightly when he opened his mouth to speak. "I ain't here for riddles, princess."
Evie shoved her hands in her pockets, rolled her eyes, and sighed. Of all of the folks out there doing merc work, the boys had gone and found the crankiest, rudest one for the job. Was he just cheap or something? Was he the only one they could find? Well. She'd been raised by streets full of tougher, meaner men than him. Maybe she'd softened up a bit during her time at the Wild Rose. Maybe she'd let herself look and feel and act the way she'd yearned to for years. Nevertheless, she sure as shit hadn't lost her armor. Not when it counted.
"Yeah? And neither am I," she replied, dropping the feminine lilt in favor of matching Mr. Crankypants' harsh tone. She hated the sound of it. It sounded like survival. Like having to hide. "Look," she continued. "I'm doing my job. My job is to verify who I'm talking to. The sooner you do that, the sooner we can get you out of the cold. So why don't you answer the question. Unless you enjoy standing out here, underdressed and shivering?"
He blinked at her for a good few seconds, his face a blank mask as he mulled over the change in personality. He was secretly pleased she wasn't some damsel in distress as her initial demeanor would have lead him to believe. What didn't please him was this insistance on answering a question that had never been articulated with him which meant one of two things: he was talking with some other horned under cover spy, or he had been hired by an unorganized idiot.
Dammit he hoped Connloath had a plethora of horned spies.
"Don't know a damn thing about birds." He responded gruffly, pulling his furs tighter around his neck, "just that there's one that won't shut up right around here and seems to be looking for a mate."
Evie watched the merc sort out his own feelings. Are you done being a big baby about it? Good, she thought. Neither of us have time for it. She didn't want to act like a man at all, but men like this one did respond better to a dose of their own medicine. She sized him up. It was the right place, the right time, the right...um...bird noise. Chances were that he was their merc, even if he didn't know the passcode. Or maybe Garrett just forgot. So as much as it was dangerous, she'd take a leap of faith.
"Ehh...good enough," she replied, tugging her coat tighter. She jerked her head, motioning for him to follow. "Come on. Let's get going. They'll be waiting. I'll brief you on the way." She started off at a brisk pace. She'd pointed them in the direction of Uthlyn. They'd eventually have to swing through town and out the other way to get where they were going, and Mr. Crankypants the Underdressed wasn't going to like that. But maybe she could find him a cloak or some blankets when they stopped by the warehouse to meet up with the boys.
"Here's what I'm supposed to tell you," she began. Fuck, it was cold. She shivered a bit as she spoke. She tried to keep her voice low, but the wind made it hard. "You get paid half upfront, half when the job's done. Boss says there's a bonus in it for you if you stick to the plan. We're doing this quietly — just an extraction. You're insurance in case things go south, but absolutely no killing. Knock them out if you have to. If you kill, the second half is forfeit. We'll have more specifics when we get to the next rendezvous point. And something warmer for you to wear. Hopefully."
She side-eyed him. "Any questions?"
Snarg followed silently and made the occasional grunt to tell her he was listening. The wind was biting into his cheeks which made him absolutely miserable and a joy to be around. Not that he was good company on a good day anyways, but now he was worse and she'd just have to deal with it. He wasn't sure who he'd talked to the first time, he wasn't one to ask questions, but the half up front and half later was news to him and not a welcome one at that.
Perhaps he should have asked more questions this time around. The guy had seemed nervous, that much he remembered, but that wasn't unusual in this kind of work. But....listening to this broad talk, this seemed like something that wasn't a new line of work for them. She seemed confident, if a little snooty, but that man had been....shifty.
Gods Damnit. He didn't ask questions.
He didn't ask questions.
"No killing." he grunted back, "Even if they're about to cut off your head and I'm across the room. Let 'em get you. Fine."
It wasn't a question.
Evie stopped in her tracks and turned. She looked the merc up and down, her hands still shoved in her pockets to protect them from the chill. Try as she might, she couldn't keep her irritation from showing plain as day. Seriously. Who was this guy? She sighed impatiently. "That's not what I said, big guy. I didn't say don't defend us. I said don't kill anyone. Are you telling me you've never kneed a man in the nuts? You've never...I don't know...knocked 'em over the head with a board? Thrown a rock? I thought guys like you were a little more...creative."
She had more to say, but she bit it back. She didn't think he'd understand, and it wasn't any of his business, anyways. This was her calling. Liberating the enslaved was her real job: the one she was meant to do. If she died, then she died doing what was right. The thought scared her shitless. Maybe she still wasn't prepared for it. But...it was still the truth.
Instead, Evie thought it best to nip this one in the bud. She frowned. It was exhausting playing a tough guy just to keep another tough guy in line, but he seemed to need it. She spoke up again. "You good with that, or are we going to have a problem?"
Snarg grunted. While she was busy judging him silently, he was doing the exact same thing. This woman was an idiot. What part of 'across the room' did she not get? You couldn't knock someone out with a board or hit them over the head unless you were right up on them. A well thrown dagger, however, would do a lot more good in that kind of situation that her little peace-be-with-us wannabe life.
He glared down his nose at her, "Can't smash if I'm not next to you." he quipped, "And you can't do your job if you're dead. I know who holds my contract and it isn't you. I was told to keep you alive. Are you ok with that, or are we going to have a problem?"
"I was told to keep you alive."
She hadn't been expecting that at all. It caught her fully off guard. Who had given this cutthroat merc his priorities? Surely not Garrett, with his head so stuck in the clouds nowadays that practicalities were like a nuisance to him. If one of them died, he'd martyr them and use it to fuel his fire, sure. But he wouldn't actually care enough to think of his men as people worth saving.
Certainly not Evie. She was expendable. She did the work the boys were too good for. And Garrett wouldn't give a shit if she died in the process. They both knew it.
But this merc had no clue about any of that. He just wanted to spill blood for a quick coin, and that made Evie uneasy. She decided to try one last time. If he didn't listen to her, maybe later on he'd listen to a room full of armed men. "If you kill, you won't get paid," she said. "That's the job. If you want to argue, do it with whomever botched your contract, hun. I'm just the messenger. Now come on. Let's go. It's freezing out here." She started off again. She didn't look back to see if he followed.
Snarg watched as confusion and a mix of other emotions he shouldn't give a damn about crossed her face. It gave him pause. Gods dammit it wasn't supposed to do that anymore.
Time to disassociate and just get the fucking job done.
He grunted in reply, still not entirely certain what the hell he was doing. The sane part of him was saying to just get out and cut his losses, but he had traveled this far....
Gods damnit.
The merc had finally stopped arguing. It was a good thing, too, or they'd both still be standing out there freezing their asses off. Evie led the way beneath the great gate and into Uthlyn proper. She wove zigzag through the streets, always choosing the path less traveled. She knew it all like the back of her hand. She also knew its people and how nosy they could get where the common folk were concerned. Even if she and the big guy weren't doing anything suspicious, it was still better to stay out of sight. Who knew what could come back to bite her if she wasn't careful?
It was a good twenty minutes of cutting across Uthlyn before they turned down a street that was decidedly less posh and upkept than the rest of town. This was the warehouse district: where crates upon crates of fine wares flowed into the city, ready to be displayed in some pretentious boutique. As it happened, it was also the perfect place for criminals, radicals, and revolutionaries to conspire. Evie knew for a fact that a mage terrorist cell holed up in a textile warehouse further south, and an opium smuggler stowed his illicit goods in amongst the trinkets and vases in the next building over. Even if their own cause was far more righteous, this was still the place to congregate: here in the muck with the common man, and away from prying eyes.
She stopped by the door of an unmarked warehouse, cast a furtive glance towards the merc, raised a fist, and delivered a quick, syncopated series of knocks. There was a muffled voice. Locks and bolts slid and clicked behind the door. Then it cracked open, and a man peeped out at them. "Oh. Hey, Iefan. You got him?"
Evie winced at the sound of her given name, but didn't correct him. "Got him," she confirmed. "Let us in, Martin. It's fucking freezing out here."
"Not much better in here," Martin chuckled, but he stood aside to let the two of them pass. He was right: the warehouse was cold and drafty. Dark, too. Further back, she could just make out the silhouettes of the boys, their faces awash in wan lamplight. They'd gathered around a stack of crates like generals around a war table, smoking and shifting on their feet and muttering to each other.
"Come on." Evie motioned for the merc to follow. She squared her shoulders and approached the huddle, ignoring the looks of disapproval and disdain that a few of them shot her way. A familiar figure stood on the far side of the makeshift crate table, his fair hair set ablaze in the light. Garrett wasn't the tallest man in the room, or the biggest. Still, he commanded one hell of a presence by voice alone. In fact, if he argued any louder than he was, he'd risk giving up their position to anyone who happened to pass by the warehouse.
"Sorry I'm late," Evie called to him.
He turned, and his mouth hung open mid-sentence. He looked Evie up and down. Something like relief flashed ever-so-briefly across his face. And then...that was it. That was all he gave her. Not so much as a 'hey, Ev' or a 'thanks' before he turned to address the merc.
"Good," he said. "You'll do. So. Before we get started..." He set his hands to his hips. "Questions? Comments? ...Concerns? Or shall we get this show on the road?"
Snarg followed silently. Oddly silently as it were for someone of his size and shape. Even his armor had been crafted to move with next to no noise as it was made of hardened leather without any metal besides the odd buckle or two. He was already at a disadvantage when it came to speed because...well...just look at him, but adding metal armor on top of that made him more buffoon than merc.
His silence did not mean his brain was idle, however, and he had already memorized the exact steps and landmarks needed to find this location or, more likely, find his way out. The little knock at the door was cute. That also got tucked away into a vat of useless knowledge that he might one day possibly need.
Fuck it was still cold.
Why wouldn't he have taken a job in Fuckin Essryn. Oh, right, that might mean running into his brat of a sister. But here? What the fuck was he thinking.
And he was hungry.
Ah, the leader guy was talking. Questions? No. He didn't ask questions. But.
"There seems to be some confusion if I'm supposed to save her or save your enemies." he grunted.
"Save...who?" Garrett asked, momentarily perplexed. He clearly hadn't actually expected a question. He glanced around, frowned, and gave Evie a look like she was a disobedient child. "Oh...you uh...you mean Ev?" As the same realization dawned on the boys, a good many of them grew visibly uncomfortable. One of them scoffed, leaned towards another, and muttered something nasty. Garrett held a hand up to quiet them. "Hold on, hold on," he barked, and returned his attention to the merc. "I'm not following. You're going to have to elaborate, there. Ev? What did you tell him?"
Evie sighed. They were wasting time, and all because the big guy was too dense to understand no killing. "I told him what I was told to tell him: half now. Half on completion. No killing," she added with emphasis, shooting the merc a look. Was he really here to argue? Seriously?
Ev. So that was her name. Interesting. Generally if he wasn't provided names ahead of time, he expected no names for the whole job, or at least code names. But here this pompous ass hole was just tossing them around.
Snarg was annoyed. Very.
He leaned forward and got very close to the man's face, "She didn't break any rules. She's a good little soldier. Ready to die for a cause."
Fuck you, he thought.
Evie watched on, hands clenched in her pockets. What was this guy doing? What was his deal? Didn't he want his money? Either way, she was staying out of it. The point where men started getting up in each other's faces and posturing and grunting was the point where she backed off. There was no way they'd listen to her in this state. She'd still watch, though, if only to get a better grip on this incredibly odd mercenary.
Garrett leaned back ever so slightly as the merc approached him, and his eyes bugged out just a little. And then, to Evie's dismay, he did the stupidest thing he could have: he flipped open his coat. He set his hands to his hips in the obvious sort of way that a man would when he wanted to make the presence of his firearm known. The stolen pistol glinted in the lamplight. Evie stared at it. She knew he had one, although he'd been tight-lipped about where he got it. Everyone in that warehouse knew full well that he wouldn't fire the damned thing, either. But would the merc put two and two together?
"Well...good," Garrett replied. "As he should be. As we all should be," he added with somewhat less conviction. "Now look. We're on the clock, here. Are you in or not?"
Snarg held his ground. This little man meant nothing to him except for someone who could fill his purse and, honestly, there were so many like him in the world that he could easily turn him down and find another, more suitable coin purse. But he was here. Snarg was in the Gods worst fucking place on the planet and he wasn't about to be intimidated by someone so small.
Fuck me, he thought as the clothes swept back to reveal the pistol. He was even stupider than Snarg had initially thought. What did he expect this reveal would do? Send the nearly 7 foot Essryni shaking in his boots? His fucking boots were bigger than him. Not to mention, Snarg could snap him like a twig before he'd even be able to draw it.
He should leave.
He should turn down this disorganized Gods awful shit show of a job and find someone else.
But the thought of the girl behind him being stuck with this asshole's sense of morals.....no. No no no. He wasn't here to protect anyone. He was here to follow orders. He was letting his personal feelings cloud his judgments already and he had only just met them.
He should leave. Couldn't get too close.
"If you pay, I'm in." he found himself saying against his better judgment.
Garrett chuckled. "You'll get your money, big guy. Don't you worry." He seemed to relax. Like he thinks he won that one, Evie thought with a frown. He was getting more and more erratic. Unstable, almost. Making stupid decisions. Throwing caution to the wind. It had been gnawing at her for a while, and this little scene brought her anxiety right back to the forefront. She wasn't sure how many more of these incidents she could take.
Seemingly done posturing, their fearless leader flipped his coat back down, stepped away from the merc, and clapped his hands together with a godawful smack. "Right!" he called. "Let's get started, boys." He returned his attention to their makeshift war table and pointed at a floor plan scrawled hastily in charcoal. He dropped his voice to a murmur. "Our target tonight, as you well know: the estate of our esteemed Lord Arundel. Or rather...his Lordship's reputation. I know this is a different one from our usual. I know we aren't normally the sort to stick our noses this far in government business. But desperate times call for it."
Garrett paused and regarded each and every one of them in turn as if daring them to challenge him. He was now wholly bought into his own performance. And as their eyes met, Evie knew it was, without a doubt, a performance. It was almost like he was hiding something. His pale gaze slid from hers as he continued.
"He's always been a mean one. You all know it as well as I, by the condition of the scullery maids we've helped out of there. Well, now it's worse. My informant tells me that the latest one left the estate grounds rolled up in a rug. Now the indentured ones want out. And that's where you come in."
He went on a while longer, pointing at the map and expounding the details. Evie noticed that he didn't quite explain the merc's presence. They'd all assumed he'd be there to protect them. The merc seemed to assume it too...but Garrett never went so far as to say it outright.
Something about this felt very wrong.
"Well," he finished at long last. "Time's a-wasting. You two, grab the carriage and be ready to move into position. The rest of you, wait for me out back. Uh...mister, uh...Snerg, was it? Snorg? Come with me. I'll get your payment settled."
There it was. She hadn't been imagining things. Garrett never handled the gold, and now, suddenly, he was concerned with clerical work? No. He had the merc here for another reason entirely, and this was simply his chance to brief the big, cranky brute on what he was truly being paid for.
"What in Ansgar's name are you getting us into?" Evie muttered as she shuffled out back with the rest of the boys. Her stomach churned. It was going to be a long night.
Snarg didn't reply. He didn't feel the need to correct the idiot in front of him. Because that's what he was: an idiot. An idiot with a secret he didn't want his little group to know about. A group that had worked together, clearly, but couldn't be trusted with whatever the hell of a scheme he had constructed.
He made a grunt to let this guy know he heard, but otherwise remained silent as they walked. Snarg wouldn't be the one to break it either. Silence was often intimidating and he wanted to see how long it would take for the little man to shake in his boots.
Garrett led the way into the back offices with all the subtlety and tact of a man distracted by a host of pressing matters. The room was cramped, and the ceiling low. He maneuvered between the haphazard stacks of crates and file boxes, stopping in front of an unassuming safe at the very back. He turned. He eyed the merc with a weasely, surreptitious sort of look, took a breath, paused, and listened. He made damn certain to wait until the rest of the crew were well out of earshot.
"How would you like to make triple?" he asked.
Outside the back door, Evie paced and wrung her hands. The boys seemed uneasy, too — not that any of them would ever come out and say it. She scoffed. "This seem a little weird to anyone else?" she hissed.
Snarg remained silent and made even more mental notes of their location as they traveled through what felt like aisles of boxes and crates as one might expect in a warehouse kind of place. Instinctively he made escape plans should things go unexpectedly awry: that crate would slam into boss-man's face with one good swing of the merc's arm, that box was sightly open and had the look of chaos with a well placed sword swipe.
The safe was indeed unassuming and Snarg simply noted its presence before tucking it away - couldn't throw that in a pinch - and focused his attentions on the overly showy man before him.
Triple, eh? What kind of desperate shit was going to come tumbling out of his mouth now?
"I'm listening." Snarg grunted, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. His muscles pulled visibly at his coat seems. Gods could he just smash this man in the head and be done with him?
But dead men couldn't pay triple.
Garrett grinned and chuckled. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, leaving a trail of grime. "Good," he said. "Good, good, good. Right. So." He paused and listened again, nodded, and continued. This time, he lowered his voice. "Let's say there's this fellow. A bodyguard of sorts. Dangerous man. I know the boys go on about not killing, but, well...it would make the job a whole lot easier if this bodyguard were...just...taken care of. Preferably before we get started on the rest of the job."
He crossed his arms in reflection of the merc. "You look like you can handle yourself, Mr. Snerg. What do you say? Triple what you were promised. Half now. Half when the job's done — provided he's dispatched, of course."
Snarg took a moment to lean lazily against...something. He didn't really pay attention to what it was - could have been a wall or a stack of heavy boxes - the only thing that mattered was it didn't move under his weight. His arms snaked across his chest and he made an uncomfortable amount of direct eye contact with the man before him.
He was sweating. That...was never a good sign. Especially from the hiring party. He was nervous and Snarg had a sneaking suspician it had nothing to do with him.
Finally, he huffed once.
"Unless you expext me to go after every bodyguard shaped object, you're going to have to give me a lot more information about your mark."
"Hah! Good man," Garrett exclaimed, and he clapped the merc heartily on the arm. He'd obviously taken the man's response as some sort of agreement to the change of plans. "Of course you do, of course you do..." He nodded, turned, and finished opening the safe. From it, he pulled a hefty stack of coin and scraped it into a bag before shutting the safe door again. It was clear that he was stalling. When Garrett stood again, he was somehow even more visibly nervous.
He gripped the coin bag. He looked the merc over. Something about the man's appearance seemed to put him at ease again. He smiled. "Well, let's see. If memory serves, he's a big fellow. Short, light hair — lighter than mine. He'll likely be in a room adjacent to Arundel. He may be in heavy armor if he hasn't knocked off to sleep yet. And he'll be wearing something with a silver lily emblem. Is that enough to go on?"
Snarg wasn't the most up to date on Connlaoth fashion or...anything for that matter, but the mention of the emblem made him frown. That made this surprise addition to his job seem even more high up on the totem pole than it originally seemed. This man was slimy.
He didn't like it.
"Four times." He responded after a few moments of quiet reflection, "Four times what I was promised and I'll find your lily emblemed man." He made certain to overly emphasize the part he was certain made this job even more dangerous.
Garrett froze at the sound of the merc's challenge. For an instant, anger flashed in his eyes, and a sneer tugged at the corner of his mouth. Then he relaxed again, and the expression was gone — replaced by that same old nervous yet affable expression. "Hah! You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Snerg. Very well. Four...four times. I'll just...nab the rest." He turned back to the safe, but not before looking the merc up and down. Shortly, he'd pulled another stack of coins into the bag and locked up again. "Here you are. Feel free to count before we're off." He shook the bag in front of the merc, inviting him to take it.
Snarg let him hold the pouch out for a few seconds longer than was comfortable before stepping forward to take it lazily from his greasy, shady hands. He made sure to remain a step too close to him and simply...loom. The mercenary wanted him to be uncomfortable, he wanted him to realize that whatever element of charge he felt he had was a ruse.
He had no control. Snarg could shove a blade into his throat before he could scream. He could smash his head into the safe and let it cave in on itself before any of his rag-tag team could stop him.
Just feeling the weight of the bag and seeing the amount slipped into it was enough for Snarg to feel comfortable, so he didn't open it up before putting the whole thing into his pocket. Then he turned and walked back to where his initial charge and the rest of the crew were waiting.
Finally, the door swung open, and out stomped that giant of a merc. Evie didn't know what in Ansgar's name took them both so long, but it didn't bode well. Garrett was absolutely up to something. Their fearless leader followed a good thirty seconds behind and when he shut the door and turned, he wouldn't look any of them in the eye. He seemed stressed. Sweaty, too, she observed with a grimace. She could only hope that whatever it was he was doing, it wouldn't put them in danger. But who was she kidding? Of course it would.
Evie jumped as Garrett spoke up. "Alright," he barked. "Let's move, boys. Remember: split up. Don't be spotted marching all together. We'll meet just outside the estate wall. Ev? Why don't you go with our friend, here. Show him the way."
"Uh...sure." She pulled her coat tighter and shivered as she looked up at the merc. "Well...I guess it's just you and me again. We'd better get going. Come on, then, Mr...what was your name again?"
"Snarg." He barked, still annoyed at the extra job he'd been given and the secrecy it involved. Why hadn't the guy just told them all? What was with making this a surprise?
What if this guy with the emblem was a friend.
Well, shit.
Shut the fuck up, he thought to himself. This was why he just did what he was told. Once he started asking questions people died - not that he was against people dying, it was his job most of the time - but good people. People who didn't deserve it. People he was supposed to protect instead of playing the hero.
No. He would never be a hero. Never.
"I'll follow you." He told Ev and had to catch himself when the bite had left his tone and was replaced with...tenderness? Fuck. "Move." He snapped.
Better.
Evie raised her eyebrows at the merc's whiplash change in tone. "Oooookay then," she replied, and headed off down the street. It was eerily quiet in this part of town. She knew they'd have to weave through a few busy streets, and that would fill the void a little, but for the most part, this walk was going to be...awkward.
Besides. Now she had all the time in the world to ruminate on what exactly Garrett had pulled this Snarg man into the back room for. After a few minutes of silence, with only their echoing footsteps for company, Evie turned to him and huffed. "Look. Mr. Snarg. It's pretty obvious that he's up to something stupid and dangerous. I'm not asking you to tell me everything, here, but can you at least throw me a bone with this? I'm in the dark. The boys are in the dark — as far as I know anyways. Whatever he asked you to do...is he putting us in danger?"
"Just Snarg." He snapped back. What was it with these guys and their insistences on formalities. He wasn't no fucking mister anything. He wasn't a lord or a prince, he was a mercenary who was fucking good at what he did and made enough to live well.
"Your entire existence with this group puts you in danger." He answered, eyes ahead, never making eye contact. He was here to do a job. But he always wasn't entirely sure what the first part of the job was. Protect them? But don't kill? Maybe. The only thing he knew for certain was he needed to kill him.
He paused for a moment, considering the questions she probably still had and the incessant talking that was bound to follow, then he added.
"Your boss is a fucking moron."
"...Great," Evie replied. It wasn't great. It wasn't in the least bit great. Whatever Garrett had promised this Snarg merc must have been enough for him to want to keep his mouth shut. Or maybe he just wasn't the chatty type in the first place. She chewed on her lip anxiously. The silence lasted all of ten seconds before she turned and started up again. "I get that," she said. "I know it's risky. And you know what I'm asking. Is this unnecessarily dangerous? Is he planning something more stupid on top of the already stupid thing we're doing?"
Well fuck.
She kept talking. Kept asking questions. This was the first time he was working with a group that didn't actively include the person who hired him. Normally it was work alone or work with the boss.
This, though? He didn't want to get to know this woman. He didn't want to hear the trepidation in her voice and the anxiety in her questions.
"Fuck. Ev, is it? Ev. Listen." He kept his eyes forward, "Your idiot boss gave me a second job but it shouldn't affect yours. He did not actually tell me anything about the shit you're supposed to be doing. So I can't really answer your question, can I?"
Evie let out a laugh that could have been a sob. "Great!" she said again, a little louder than was wise. "Of course not." She picked up the pace until she was panting. Any faster and she'd break into a jog. She was so damned tired of Garrett's sneaky back room bullshit. He must have been so happy to have found a merc who'd keep quiet about it, too. "I don't know what I expected," she muttered under her breath. Then she thought about it a little more, and the crease between her brows softened a little, and she turned and walked backwards while she addressed him. "You heard the plan back in the warehouse. You have questions, big guy, now's the time to ask."
Snarg let out a short, barking laugh, "Oh sure. Sure. Attack Arundel's reputation. Very specific. Lots of good information there. Did you bring paint? We can vandalize his portraits." Fuck, he was angry. This whole mission made him angry.
He sighed again and rubbed the bridge of his slightly crooked nose, probably from being broken at some point, his tanned skin so different from the ghosts of the north. What would happen if this sigil guy never made an appearance? What if it was just a quick in and out job? Was he supposed to seek him out? Hunt him down even if it cost the rest of the group?
Why had the weasel man been so vague!?
"My main priority is to make sure your little group is safe." He lied, scowl deepening.
Fuck.
"I'm not your enemy, here," Evie shot back. "Can you cut the crap for a second?" She sighed and tugged her coat tighter again. "I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry. This whole thing is a mess. Whoever your contact was should have briefed you a lot better than you have been. I don't even know everything you're supposed to know. I just..." She groaned. Why was this her responsibility now? If she gave the merc the wrong instructions, it would all fall back on her. If she didn't give him anything, though...he might misunderstand. And people could get hurt. She slowed her pace and got just close enough that he could hear her when she lowered her voice.
"I'll go over it again. Okay? And just...tell me what's not making sense. We need to get in quietly — we being me and the boys. We're sneaking the indentured ones out the servant's entrance. Then they'll be taken out of town in the cart. We need you there with us as backup in case it all goes to shit. But no killing. That's what Garrett told us."
"I'm not your enemy." He agreed, "But I'm also not your friend." his voice was rough, rumbling deep in his chest as he talked and the scowl still firmly painted across his face. The more he listened, the more Ev tried to weasel information out of him, the more uncertain he was becoming. She wasn't a hardened criminal. She wasn't someone who worked with his lot on a regular basis. She was a freedom fighter. Someone who did things because they were right and because she believed in them.
She clearly wanted to believe in him.
But that was a mistake. No one should believe in him. He had lost that honor long ago. Now he hoarded riches in caches in the desert and traveled to take jobs that no one else would in the hopes that maybe...what? He would be redeemed? Or perhaps just killed in a good solid fight.
He didn't even know anymore.
Maybe his entire existence was just penance.
"I will do my job. You do yours."
Evie clenched her teeth. "Yeah. Message received." He was right. Who was she kidding? He was a damned merc. He was here for the money and nothing else. And she was on her own. Whatever it was that Garrett had planned, she'd just have to figure it out on the fly. It wasn't a comforting thought.
She turned her back on him and led on through the streets until at last, they'd made it to the other side of the city. Beyond the north gate, the road wove between a scattering of manors, each a flagrant show of wealth. The closest and most impressive of these was their target. The wind picked up past the city walls. It was even colder out here than it had been by the warehouse. Evie shivered and jerked her head for him to follow. "Come on. It's that one."
By the time they'd reached the estate wall, she was desperate to get inside and warm up. The boys filtered in in ones and twos, and the cart had passed them by and circled back around. It was a slow and miserable rendezvous. "Has anyone seen him?" Evie whispered. "Is he late?"
"Who?" asked Garrett as he strode up to meet them. He'd managed nothing short of a miracle: for once, his voice was low and quiet and didn't carry. "Me? Never." But it wasn't lost on Evie that he'd shot her the kind of smile that doubled as a threat. She shuddered again. "Right, clock's ticking," Garrett muttered. "Mr. Snerg? You're with me. The rest of you: give us five minutes and start the extraction. We'll meet you in the servant's quarters. You know the plan. Let's go."
What? Evie opened her mouth to protest, but the wind was howling and he'd already snuck out of earshot and she couldn't call to him without risking everything. That wasn't the plan. That wasn't the plan at all. "What is happening?" she whispered.
The tension was palpable once The Weasel showed up and started barking out orders in a way that was intended to feel jovial but was anything but. Things had already been tense as he and Ev traveled together in silence, her clearly annoyed and angry with him and he not really caring – it wasn't like they were going to brain each other's hair and sing about peace. After this job they'd likely go their separate ways and never see one another again. He certainly didn't expect to return to Connlaoth for anything shy of a King's ransom.
But this guy...this leader managed to destroy any sense of positive anticipation that came from jobs like this. They were nervous, but there was still that feeling of camaraderie and connection that accompanied doing something everyone strongly believed in. But now?
Now the plan had changed.
Weasel had changed it without warning. Snarg knew it immediately. He didn't need to be a mind reader to understand that everything happening was so far out of the ordinary for them – it was making him nervous now.
And he never got nervous.
But he had a job to do. He had a man to kill. He had a....woman to protect? But no...that seemed to be impossible now that they were splitting up.
His scowl deepened.
Kill the man. Separate the group. Barely so much as blink when a mercenary asked for an exorbitant fee. He knew it was exorbitant. He had thought that the guy was just an idiot. But now...?
Shit.
"Hold on. Gotta give back her stuff." He growled at the leader, knowing full well he had nothing of Ev's things in his possession, but also knowing that none of this was right. And if his gut was correct, no one was going to make it out of here alive.
Fuck fuck fuck.
He walked up to Ev and reached in his bag like he was going to pull out something she had asked him to carry. He made sure to position his body in a way that Weasel couldn't see what he was doing and then made uncomfortable eye contact with her while placing two deadly sharp sheathed daggers in her hands.
"Take better care of your things. I shouldn't have to carry stuff for you," he snapped, then, much quieter added, "even if I am getting paid four times the agreed upon amount." There wasn't much else he could do without unraveling everything. Hopefully it was enough. Hopefully she was resourceful and smart enough to take the warning. Hopefully she would just leave.
Then he turned, continuing to keep her hidden behind him so she could stash the weapons, and then followed his "boss."
"Wh — wait, these aren't — "
And then it clicked. "Nooo, no, no," Evie murmured. Dumbfounded, she watched the merc return to Garrett's side. He'd all but confirmed it: not only did the boss have something dangerous planned, but it was absolutely going to throw her and the rest of them in harm's way. Whatever this was, Garrett had emptied the safe for it without a second thought. And if money was that expendable to him...they would be, too.
Because that was Garrett. That was who he was. It was always about the big picture with him. Hell, it was with all of them, in a way, and Evie had never argued with it. But it was one thing to die doing Ansgar's work. It was another thing entirely for every last one of them to walk into a death trap. She had to do something. She had to warn the boys. She stowed the daggers and waited until Garrett was out of earshot.
"Rhys," she hissed. The boys, holed up beneath the estate wall like soldiers in a war trench, stopped muttering amongst themselves. The one she'd addressed — Rhys — shot her a scornful glare for interrupting. She trusted him as much as she could trust anyone. He was level-headed. He listened. It didn't stop him from casting the usual icy disdain her way, though. "Something's up," Evie said as she joined them.
"No shit."
"No. Something's really up. Even the merc's on edge. He said Garrett paid him four times the original."
That got their attention. "He's lying," snapped Hamish. "Probably just bragging. Trying to get in your trousers. Foreigners," he added with a snort.
"I don't think he is," Evie muttered. She ignored the jab at her station and produced the daggers. One of the boys whistled in appreciation as she drew one from the scabbard. She wondered why the merc cared at all. He had his money. He'd get more even if she and the boys breathed their last breath tonight. This was just another job for him. Wasn't it? "Look. He's as big of an asshole as any merc. He still made a point to give me these." She met Hamish's eye. "You ever tried to pay a whore with knives, Mish?"
Rhys went quiet. They all did for a time. "We've still got to do this," he said finally. The rest murmured in assent. "We're here for a reason. We're not backing out over some spooked merc. Garrett's gotten us this far. I say we trust him a little further. All we know, he's covering our asses from a different angle."
"And if it's a trap?" Evie whispered.
"Then you're free to chicken out and go back to whoring."
She huffed. She closed her eyes and tried to steel herself against the dread that rose in her throat. "Fine. It's almost time. Let's just get this over with."
–
Garrett snuck along the perimeter, a very large, very unstealthy merc in tow. They edged carefully towards the back gates. There was a suspicious lack of surveillance here, and with the wall acting as a shield against the wind, it was now unnervingly quiet. "Guard should be taken care of," he murmured. "It'll be clear." But he paused by the gate anyway and took some time to draw his pistol. He looked it over. Then, seeming satisfied that it was ready for action, he led on.
They took an indirect route up the hill, weaving between windswept trees in the sprawling estate gardens. Though the path from the back gates was well lit, the gardens themselves provided ample shadows in which to skulk. And skulk they did, all the way up to an unassuming side entrance on the wing opposite the servants' quarters. Here, Garrett motioned for Snarg to crouch, shoved the pistol into its holster, and tested the door. "Damnation," he muttered to himself. "All meat and no brain." It was unclear to whom he was referring. He dug around in his pockets, produced a little kit, and drew from it a ring of lockpicks. "Keep an eye out for me," he whispered as he got to work.
Snarg followed Garrett quietly, surprisingly quiet for a man of his size, but he had decades of practice and his gear well oiled. Besides a few buckles and his weapons, nothing on him was metal or risked clinking while he moved. It also allowed him dexterity that heavier pieces would not allow. He knew his job. He was good at his job. He'd have to be in order to stay alive all of these years.
Why had he given his best daggers to Ev? Why had he broken his own promise to himself to just do as he was told and nothing more? It had served him well for years and the stockpiles of treasures in his little caches throughout the desert spoke volumes of his skills. So why now? What was different about this damned girl? She was nothing. She was insignificant. She was young enough to be his daughter by the looks of it had things gone differently in his life. She was just like....
No.
No.
He wouldn't think about it.
He had done something stupid and now needed to get his mind back in the game and actually start earning that four times pay. Fuck. He just needed to stay alive. That was the main concern. The starry-eyed wench had nothing to do with him. He didn't owe her a damn thing.
Fuck Ev.
Fuck her.
Fuck, what was he supposed to be doing?
Oh, right, watching. Waiting. While the weasel man picked a lock.
Everything was still quiet.
For now.