Strength in Numbers

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OOC: Tags to @Rhindeer 

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The strain of the war, although not entirely new, but still that- a strain. It was pulling at the resources more than the Grand Duke had liked, and when he desired more Hunters there was only one man he'd dare trust for the job.

He was like a hound, his right hand man and sole protector, trained and groomed for generations. And although the recruitment and search was done discretely, it wouldn't be hard to speculate on the Grand Duke's plans. When his 'hound' was sent to Allar, and would not be back for some time, the urgency could be deduced and the rumors started.

Attempts on the Grand Duke's life were not taken lightly, and with the political strain among the people (even though the majority was still in his support), Calent knew of but one solution his family sought after on a generational level that was their failsafe. 

So quick and quiet whispers through the church had begun, starting in the deeper corners of Allar, and spreading throughout the duchy like a wildfire. Allegiances were strongest here, the Allar family having connections at every reach. And when suitable replies were made, the teaching would then begin- a strong bunch, but through the initial training, Zannrick could not help but feel something was lacking.

Perhaps it was his own disposition, or the fact the war was too real for how less passioned he felt these recruits were. It was less than ten days and he'd rejected over half of them- not for their skill, but for their passion. It was not something he would go easy on, and knew the next phase of training would prove a challenge. But those that remained, he believed could be trustworthy, and he was doing a diligent background check even as they continued to train. It wasn't just about speed and skill and strength- but about the soul purpose of training to protect, above all else, the single idea and unity that made this nation the glory that it was.

It was after a long day of training that he felt he had to get away- he was, after all, not used to being so far away form the Grand Duke that he felt- almost out of place. If he did not agree that this was the best course of action to take, he would not have agreed to come. He was the best to judge the lot, the best to train- the most devoted, the most pure. He had gone for a stiff drink, a thing he rarely relished in, especially when on duty. But the days had been long, and he found some comfort in it- though brief it may have been. It seemed he had chosen the wrong night, the wrong tavern and had wound up with some inconvenient vomit all over himself. He wasn't even sure how it happened, but were it any other day, any other place, he might have considered retaliation- but as it were, he simply dismissed himself to a bath, paying the barmaid coin as he moved towards the back of the house with tired, yet still predatory steps.

He moved like that of a lion, powerful and with grace, pride; and he was a man that when he entered the room, one was drawn to- but only in the way a deer might when a predator enters their field. But now he just felt tired, and wanted nothing else but to finish off the night by washing up. He would have preferred his own private baths, but even his pride would not allow for him to travel in such a state. The vile vomit was in his hair, and had he not been offered a towel- would have been all over his face, as well. It sunk deep into his clothing, and the smell was so god awful he was thankful for the scents of faint perfumes from the bath. He wasn't sure a place like this would have had a scented bath, and he began to peel off his armor, and cloak, then begun to unbutton his shirt, discarding it in a rumpled heap as he began to loosen his belt when....

The entire ceiling collapsed from above.

[Rhindeer]

It was a risky thing, abandoning her post.

But it was exactly what Emery had done just weeks before, back in Bellkrath.

It was impulsive, it was foolish, but fuck it she was tired. And so in the early morning hours while her company was still sleeping, she packed up her sword, clothes, some hardtack, and her letter, and slipped away on her horse to take control of her life.

Desertion was a death sentence, but she wouldn't be allowed to leave if she asked and she would die if she stayed there another day doing absolutely fuck all, watching from afar as others actually took steps to make a difference. She had been born with this fucking ability, gifted it by Ansgar some would say, and yet it was being wasted. For what? What was the point of it all--of everything she had been through, everything she had seen and lost--if it was never used? Years of service, and she had nothing to show for it in this backwater hellhole. She felt like she was surrounded by pacifists, all too content to keep to themselves in a situation that required decisiveness.

This was her chance. She had heard the rumors whispered when people thought others weren't listening, rumors of something brewing in Allar. She had followed those rumors and gotten more information from the church: Zannrick Austengarde, right hand of the Grand Duke, had gone on a recruitment drive.

Hunters, they called themselves. She had heard of them before; who hadn't? A group that actually did more than just run their mouths. A group devoted to rooting out evil where it began, instead of simply responding when the damage was already done and lives were lost. She had heard the rumors, of course, but they had always been so out of reach, so untouchable, so many duchies away. But now they were in Allar--she could make it there. All she had to do was be brave.

And not get caught.

She had sent her letter. She had gotten her response. Now she just had to get there.

--

Emery didn't exactly have a plan. She was making it up as she went. What was the worst that could happen? Well, rejection, in which case she'd be fairly fucked, but...she would cross that bridge when she got there and definitely not think about that possibility in the meantime.

It had been an exhausting trip. She had pushed herself, and her horse Hilda, hard, sleeping outdoors most nights to save some coin. But eventually she crossed over into Allar. She was running late; unexpected storms had slowed her trip, not to mention it was her first time making such a long journey alone. She only hoped she was not too late.

First impressions are everything, she told herself. Make a good one. That's all you have to do.

No pressure or anything.

It was late when she reached the town listed in the letter. Too late to seek out any recruiters, she imagined, not to mention she was too exhausted for it to be a good idea. She was a smelly wreck, stinking of horse, sweat, and the outdoors, her red hair plastered greasily to her head, her clothes dirty. She stabled Hilda at the first tavern she found and paid for a room and a bath. Food would come next--she wasn't about to inflict her stench on the other patrons and she was ready to feel human again. Everything hurt from long hours riding and sleeping on hard ground, and she was halfway tempted to skip eating altogether and just crash in bed afterwards.

So she hauled her sweaty ass to the small bathhouse in the back, and was rather surprised with the setup. Huh. It was smaller and less elaborate than the communal one at the barracks back home, but she had been expecting tubs with cold water and soap, not a small, perfumed pool in a room brimming with steam. She supposed it made sense, if this place also doubled as a brothel, and she wasn't about to complain about fancier amenities. Maybe that was one of this place's main attractions.

She set her spare clothes aside, quickly stripped, and sank into the water with a groan. The water was warm from the hot stones plopped into it, and her muscles ached all the more, but in a good way. She quickly washed her hair and body, and then just took the time to soak away her pain. Leaning her head back against the wall and breathing in steam, she was dozing lightly when the sound of the door opening, followed by footsteps, had her snapping back to alertness with a start.

Goddammit.

He probably didn't see her through the steam; she could barely make out his features herself. But that was whatever. She didn't care about company if he wasn't weird about it. She might not be in the mood for socializing that night, but she was the last person to pearl clutch over nakedness, and it was just a bath--wait.

That was true for Mordecai.

Right...a random civilian might not take it the same way. Shit. With a grimace, Emery slicked her short hair back and out of her face and cleared her throat, ready to announce her presence so as not to spook the guy, but the universe decided to ruin any hope she had of a relaxing night.

There was sharp creaking, cracking sound from above that had her blood go cold.

Shit.

Her constant hyper-vigilance, while usually a curse, did have its moments, and this was thankfully one of them. The ceiling collapsed, but Emery had already bolted up and grabbed the man by the front of his shirt, yanking him into the water--and, thankfully, clear of the brunt of the collapse. Wood and debris rained down on them all the same, hitting her in the back as she covered his body as best as she could, and all in all...

This fucking sucked.

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One moment he was undressing, about ready to discard his pants and the next he was being yanked down into the tub as the ceiling collapsed, shielded beneath another body as the ceiling rained down upon them, dust sticking to them like ash.

He coughed, trying to get his barrings as to what the hell just happened when the sound of a frantic cat hissing and leaping and yowling in the room seemed to have answered the question as to why the thatch roof caved in but...

Still too jarred from all of this, Zannrick coughed as he tried to speak- then stopped, very abruptly so as eyes took in the fact the wet body that had been laying over his protectively during the roof collapse was a woman's. A hard fact to ignore when her breasts where clean in his face.

[Rhindeer]

It would be Emery's luck that she'd somehow get filthier while trying to get clean. Now covered in dust and bits of wood and thatch, Emery blinked her eyes open when she was certain the worst was over and she wouldn't get debris in them.

Perhaps she had...overreacted a little. There was little actual danger in a thatch roof caving in, aside from the inconvenience and the messiness and maybe the threat of splinters, but she had a tendency to react before her mind had caught up to her body. Hey, at least she knew her reflexes still worked even exhausted and half asleep? 

Which just left...the current situation she was now in. Basically straddling a half naked man who's nose was pressed against her chest. Not that there was much there to boast of, much to her eternal dismay.

Fuck my life.

She glanced down and gave a discrete cough as she pushed herself back so she was sitting up, fighting against the heat she felt creeping up her neck. Shit. Shit! Why her? But rather than shrink away and try to cover herself, because what was the point now, she just shrugged and played at nonchalance. You know, like this just happened everyday, as things do.

"Er, you're welcome," she said, wiping her hair back out of her eyes and trying very hard not to outright die. She sniffled, waving away the dust tickling her nose. "For the rescue." She paused. "And the show, I suppose. I—"

Whatever she had been about to say, it got cut off when she sneezed in his face.

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The pair must have looked like a veritable form of dust bunnies, or some mutant pair of scare crows; for when other help showed up, the first thing the pair would hear as the door was flung open, was the old portly maid on duty screaming Ansgar's name.

Zannrick hadn't the chance to reply to his bathing companion when the woman arrived, but his expression was hard to read. Blue eyes were kept like stones, except his held a polish of obvious irritation, even if he had thus far said nothing.

The woman was frantic once she realized the pair were okay and she began to fuss over the lot of them, offering fresh towels and promising to get them cleaned up proper, barking an order to another nearby and much shyer maid to prepare a set of copper baths in the communal room upstairs. Though she apologized it wouldn't be much for privacy, she did order her maid to construct a privacy screen out of spare bedding. 

Even through it all, Zannrick spoke little, keeping comments short and curt but when the pair had a brief moment to themselves once as the maids rushed off in a fury to prepare new accomodations.. he finally turned towards the woman and frowned.

"Do rooves fall in often here?" He asked, words stiff. It seemed he presumed she was from around here, after all- who would be so casual after such a circumstance ?

[Rhindeer]

What a day.

The women bursting in and fussing over the two of them gave Emery a chance to make as smooth of a getaway as she could hope for, which wasn't much, but she would take it. She quickly rolled off of the man, rose from the tub, and snatched up a towel to cover herself, trying not to cringe at the feeling of so much grit and dust and wood particles stuck to her skin and in her hair. It was everywhere, and it felt fucking disgusting. 

Towel tied around her to cover her from her chest to just above their knees, she was picking who-knows-what out of her hair when the man finally spoke. She snorted at the question. "Oh yeah, all the time," she said, and brushed futilely at the crap all plastered to her skin. "I hear all this shit is quite exfoliating."

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Zannrick blinked.
"Ex..foliating?" He questioned, wondering where her sanity might be and not considering a moment over the idea of sarcasm. After all, who jokes at a time like this?. He shook his head and began to wipe off the caked on mess best he could .

"You from around here?" He asked, tone somehow commanding, posture of a soldier despite their situation.

[Rhindeer]

"Yeah, you know, exfoliating. It's good for your—" He did not look amused, his posture and tone all too familiar—it was what she would have expected from one of her superiors. Emery cut off short and cleared her throat, feeling strangely dressed down, no pun intended. He may not have said much, but his body language spoke volumes.

"Never mind. No, I'm from Bellkrath. Where roofs are a bit more stable and people know the words 'thank you,'" she said as she flicked a chunk of thatch from her hair.

Oops. But she couldn't help the bit of snark.

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Zannrick gave her a look, then it registered why the woman was being so haughty. But before he could rectify that, the pair were ushered off to a more proper place to clean off.

Before they would strip off, women moved with scrub brushes and helped remove what dirt they could, the clean floor of the room gathering a pile of dust and dirt at their feet. Zannrick frowned all the while, especially as another maid worked ar cleaning up the floor. Once they were done, the pair were handed a fresh bar of soap to share and Scented oils to add to their baths, before fresh towels were set aside and the maids exited.

Once alone, Zannrick turned to the woman, handing her the soap.

"I.. apologize for earlier. Through the chaos of the collapse  I hadn't considered your efforts to aid a stranger."

He turned away, stepping behind the make shift privacy screen, his body a silhouette dancing by lamp light. He began to remove the remainder of his clothing.

Had he known the bathing house had been occupied he would have waited his turn. But it seems circumstances proved the pair were to suffer together. 

[Rhindeer]

Alright, so maybe this wasn't so bad.

Emery was exhausted and annoyed by the entire situation, but one of the maids scrubbing her off was pretty damned cute, so she couldn't really stay mad. She might be far too tired to flirt, but she could silently enjoy the experience, even if it was too brief.

Alone with the man again, and feeling a little less disgusting, she took the offered soap with an arched brow and blinked at his apology. She was tired enough that she had already forgotten about that. "Hm? Oh. Right. Don't worry about it," she said, and slipped behind her screen, quickly dropping the towel. "I was just giving you a hard time. It's been a long fucking day."

With a sigh, she slid into the water, sore muscles aching pleasantly in the heat. The water turned cloudy from the dirt the maids couldn't reach (they were NOT going to dig into her nooks and crannies, screw that), not to mention her hair, but she would deal. She quickly worked up a lather and started with her hair, wanting to take her sweet time but knowing she had to share. "Probably not everyday a naked woman throws herself at you, huh? You have to admit, that was pretty smooth."

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Clothing discarded, Zannrick slipped into the hot waters with a soft moan. It felt like heaven. He closed his eyes, just enjoying the soak when she reminded him how they met. 

He smirked.  

Considering her words, he had to think back to when he last bedded a woman. How long had it been? Too long by the way his body was reacting to the idea of it. He stretched out in the bath, submerging for a time to thoroughly soak his long hair. 

When he resurfaced, he brushed the waters from his face and peered towards the 'screen'.

"The name's Zannrick," he told her. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to tell her , but it felt appropriate. 

[Rhindeer]

Zannrick. Nice name. Sounded oddly nostalgic, like she had heard it before, but with the warm water relaxing her she couldn't quite place it. "No comment, eh? You're no fun," she teased, and finger combed the last of the gunk out of her hair. "Well met, Zannrick, I'm—"

...oh my God.

Zannrick.

Zannrick.

Emery froze, her body going rigid and heart sinking into the pit of her stomach. That wasn't exactly a common name. In fact, she had only heard it the once. No way. No fucking way she had said all that shit to him and fucking shoved her nothing-tits into his goddamn face.

The blood drained from her face.

"...Silly question, grain of salt and all that, but you wouldn't happen to be a Mordecai, would you?" she managed to choke out, desperately hoping there was another Zannrick out there that she hadn't just been a total idiot in front of.

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Zannrick had almost relaxed in the bath, finally calming down after all of the ruckus. But then at her question, he stiffened and his hairs stood on end.

His next actions would not only confirm what she might suspect, but might very well have her pissing in her bath waters as he grabbed his discarded blade in a flurry of motion, sliced down the mere clothe hung between them and pointed the blade clean at her soapy throat as he stood there, waters rushing down his nude form.

"What a fool you are, mage, to reveal yourself so openly. I'm obliged to make this quick"

[Rhindeer]

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT!"

The man burst through the screen like a deranged psychopath from a horror story and before Emery could even register what the fuck was even happening, his blade was at her throat. Heart in her throat, she threw her hands up where he could see them, pressing back against the tub in a vain effort at putting a little more distance between her skin and his blade as she tried to figure out what the hell had gone wrong and how not to die.

And then he spoke.

"Wh-what?" He thought she was a—oh hell! Her eyes widened in horror and she shook her head frantically. "No! No, no, no! I'm not a fucking mage, you ass! I'm a fucking Mordecai! I got your letter! For the thing!" Ah, fuck, her mind was sort of blanking out under the pressure and dumbass things had a tendency to fly out of her mouth under stress. Please don't let this be how she died, mistaken for a goddamn mage.

"I'm Emery, Emery Ramaker! Not that you'd, uh, remember but—shit! Zannrick! You're THE Zannrick, right?"

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Zannrick tensed at her words. He paused a moment, mentally going over the list he had carefully crafted. The name stuck and after a moment of hesitation, he asked, "The letter. Where is it?"

[Rhindeer]

"In my room," Emery got out quickly, chest rising and falling with panicked breaths. "With my stuff. I can show you?"

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He eyed her. The look he held was nothing short of contempt. 
"Have the maids fetch it." He wasn't about to let her simply go. He pulled a nearby bell to alert the maids and when one appeared; almost she could do was gawk at the scene  

Zannrick pressed his sword.
"Tell her where to look," he commanded.

[Rhindeer]

Shit, shit, shit.

"Alright, alright. Easy," Emery breathed, wincing as the blade pressed to her skin. Shooting an almost sheepish look at the maid, because this was not only terrifying but also embarrassing as hell, she spoke quickly.

"Second room from the end of the hall. There's a bag in there, the letter's at the bottom. You'll have to dig. Uh, be quick about it?"

The maid scurried off, and Emery looked back to Zannrick with a cringe. "You're going to owe me a new bath after this," she said. "I think I peed a little. Fuck, man, you seriously think a mage would be this stupid?"

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Zannrick's disposition did not change, sword held firm. 

"We can start a tab," he replied, tartly. "If you've worked for the Grand Duke under this branch for as many years as I have... you learn to accept many forms of insolence."

[Rhindeer]

"Er..." Emery cleared her throat, still nervously eyeing his blade. Oh God. They were definitely not getting off on the right foot here. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The maid returned then, holding up a piece of parchment and holding it out to Zannrick, eyes wide and anxious. "Is this it, sir?"