Sneaking out of the city proved far too easy. The new soldiers whom Gabriel ordered to take over the city's garrison clearly lacked awareness of all the blind spots in the city's walls. And since the capital city of Alis Avern was built on rough, hilly terrain and relied more on Lake Alis for defense than its stoneworks, there were a great number of weak spots in its centuries-old fortifications.

Instead, Cecylia's biggest burden was the fact she had to help Elspeth limp along. The young armiger had received a deep stab in her right thigh. Even with magical healing, it would take days for the girl's leg to recover fully. And while the petite Elspeth was anything but heavy, neither physical strength nor stamina were among Cecylia's better attributes.

By the time they reached the encampment that Reynaud was staying at, Cecylia was exhausted to the point of collapse herself. It had taken hours for the two girls to walk just a few kilopaces, and by now it was already late at night. Cecylia's fatigue had caused her to slip and almost attract the attention of passing soldiers who were on watch. Thankfully, a distraction by Ania convinced the soldier that the noise he heard was just a foraging cat.

"Meow." Cecylia cried softly from the shadows as she saw the short and skinny man with red hair near the hay stockpile. Reynaud had promised he'd be waiting for them there when she called ahead by Farspeak.

It took only a moment for the young man to spot them, even with limited torch lighting and the Camouflage illusion spell that made Cecylia and Elspeth's figures blend into their background.

Clearly, his ex-assassin mother taught him more than just swordplay. The dhampir smiled to herself as her hypothesis proved true.

"Cecylia, Dame Elspeth," Reynaud spoke in a hushed voice as he came close. "Follow me, but stay out of sight if you can. Gabriel's men have already visited once and offered a reward to the men for anyone with information on loyalists. Best we keep your arrival a strict secret."

The two girls nodded in agreement, and proceeded to follow the young man through several empty alleys until they reached the door of a modest-looking cabin. However, Cecylia immediately noticed that the foundations of the cabin merely sat upon flattened ground, rather than dug in with wooden pillars like a properly built stationary structure. This meant the cabin was most likely an enchanted, redeployable type -- one that could shrink down to the size of one's palm and be carried in a knapsack on campaign.

There's no way the son of a mere chevalier could afford his, Cecylia felt alarms go off in her head. With a flick of her wrist, she popped out her spring-loaded wrist blade and pressed its pointy end against the back of Reynaud's gambeson.

"Whose cabin is this?"

"Relax, would you?" Reynaud replied calmly. "This is Perceval's. We've been sharing it."

"I told you to keep this private." Cecylia hissed.

Despite her attitude, Cecylia didn't entirely object. After all, having a healer to look over Elspeth was useful, and Perceval was as trustworthy of a healer as she could attain within a hundred kilopaces. However Perceval did have political affiliations which added potential complications. And the iron rule of spycraft was that the less people who knew, the better.

"You also told me that Elspeth is injured." Reynaud retorted. "Look, you trust me, you trust my friends. It's simple as that."

He then turned slightly and gloated: "And you'll need more than just a tiny dagger to hurt me."

"Like this?" Cecylia said as she nudged her raised knee against the inside of his upper thigh. She had a loaded blade there as well, though it wasn't ejected yet.

"Holy Hyperion you're vicious for a cutie," Reynaud balked slightly this time, as he realized that one wrong move could have relieved him of his precious manhood.

Sure enough, as he opened the door and helped the two girls in, they were greeted by a wide grin from the young healer. Also present was Gerard Fournier, the beefy young engineer who was part of Perceval's inner circle of close friends.

...It wasn't completely unexpected. But Cecylia shot Reynaud another glare anyway.

Perceval, meanwhile, immediately rushed over to take Elspeth's weight off Cecylia's thin shoulders. He carried Elspeth over to... his giant, white blob of a familiar who was pretending to be a badly-built lounge chair.

There, he took off her armor and began to examine her closed wounds with the professionalism expected of a healer.

"Cecylia, it's good to see you again." Perceval spoke as soon as Reynaud closed the door behind them. "And Dame Elspeth. Please excuse me," he said just before tearing the undergarment that had stuck to her wound with dried blood. "I fear your First Aid has left some complications. There's heavy internal bleeding on your left."

"Yes," the petite Elspeth admitted through gritted teeth. "I think several of my ribs are broken."

Perceval gently pressed his fingers against her left side and the young girl instantly recoiled. He then pulled out one of his quartz tablets to run a scan on the girl before concluding: "three, to be exact. You're also magically drained, though that does make my job easier."

He then cast a surgical spell which made glowing extensions of aquamarine mana sprout from the tips of his fingers. As the healer pressed his fingers against her torso again, the ethereal extensions sunk into Elspeth's body. The young girl's eyes swelled to the size of saucers while a whimper emerged from her lips as though she was a puppy being stepped on.

Considering how mana of different sources usually repelled each other, the ease to which Perceval forcibly projected his own mana into her body showed just how low on magic she was.

I'm surprised she managed this whole time. Cecylia reflected with a grimace. Even a pain suppression spell would have been running on bare threads.

"Reynaud has already told us what you told him," Perceval noted as he carefully kneaded her side to line up the broken ribs for mending. "She really is in no state to travel."

"It doesn't matter. I must!" The young girl kept up her bravado even as her face contorted with excruciating pain.

"But--"

"My journey is not up for debate!" Elspeth half-gasped and half-yelled. "If you do not help me then I shall do it by myself!"

There's definitely another reason for her trip that she's not telling us about. Cecylia instinctively felt.

"No, we'll take you." Reynaud declared. "We'll guard you all the way to Nordkreuz," he then looked around and received a nod from both Perceval and Gerard. "All of us."

"Is that really necessary?" Cecylia raised an eyebrow. "More people will strain your teleports."

"I'll manage," Reynaud smirked. "Besides, not like any of us are going to be of any use to the country while we're sitting here. I doubt that usurper is going to let us go to the front anytime soon. His men already expressed their intentions to force us to join his army when they visited earlier. And I bet you he's more interested in using us to fight loyalist elements than sending us against the infidels."

"A traitor during a time of national crisis," Gerard spat. "To start a civil war while we're being invaded? He deserves nothing less than the most agonizing death possible."

Perceval frowned upon that but chose not to comment. Instead he remarked: "Shame to abandon our company though. It was just starting to shape up too."

"Abandon? No way I'm leaving it for those traitors to make use of!" Reynaud retorted. "The last thing we must do before departing is to disband the company. Better to think of the money spent as charity than giving it for free to the enemy!"

Perceval nodded in agreement, despite his obvious reluctance.

"I thought you had joined this 'free company'?" Cecylia asked. Though the name was clearly a bit of a misnomer. Real 'free companies' were mercenary groups willing to serve for the highest bidder. This group was clearly more motivated by Lotharin national pride.

"No. Me and Gerard recruited it from the local militias. Perceval bankrolled it." Reynaud explained. "It really is our company."

"You were training a mercenary company from scratch?" The dhampir asked skeptically.

"Better than serving under one of the local nobles," Reynaud shrugged. "If the company is our own, then we get to keep what we win, and not have to give the majority of it up to some petty lord."

"Petty lord funding the unit right here," Perceval noted sarcastically, which -- insofar as Cecylia knew the healer -- was actually pretty rare for him.

"You know what I mean," Reynaud quickly added. "You don't try to claim the lion's share of the credit whenever someone kills or captures someone important. Unlike half of our so-called aristocracy."

It was moments like these when Cecylia felt pride as a Weichsen. To promote its meritocratic heritage, her country had strict rules and regulations on awarding credit where it's due. Even the lowliest peasant can expect a promotion after scoring battle honors, while plunder and ransom were always pooled together and then redistributed based on battlefield contributions and accomplishments -- and only after widows and orphans received their dues for the comrades who lost their lives.

"In either case, we're Lotharins." Gerard pulled the topic back with pride in his voice. "Fightin' foreigners is in our blood. We figured a few weeks of drilling would be enough for militia men who already had basic weapons training."

"Why didn't you return to Perceval's home in the Duchy of Baguette?" Cecylia queried next as she turned towards the healer. "Surely your grandfather was mustering?"

It was more than just a question of curiosity. Baguette was one of the duchies of the northeastern Belges region, the same area that Gabriel drew his support from. Cecylia knew from her sources that the eccentric old duke had chosen to stay out of Gabriel's army. What she didn't know was why.

She was certain that economics at least partially played into it. Unlike most of the impoverished and politically-sidelined Belges territories, Baguette was well managed by its lord, who made use of its proximity to Nordkreuz and its strategic position guarding the Lotharin estuary to pull in taxes for local development. Because of this, the elderly Duke of Baguette never jealously eyed the Empire's treasury like the rest of his neighbors, nor felt disregarded by the Emperor's attention elsewhere.

However, Cecylia was also wary of the trap of seeing money as the primary motivator of men. People were far more nuanced than that. Her own family certainly valued honor and respect far more than their materialistic possessions. To finally settle in a nation where one felt appreciated -- it was why the Falken clans swore their blood oath.

"No." Perceval sighed. "Gramps claimed that since he held the borders with Skagen where the Northmen were mobilizing, it was important for his soldiers to stay at their posts. We had a huge argument over that too." He admitted sheepishly. "In hindsight though, I think Gramps may have had an inkling of what Gabriel was planning to do, and wanted no part of it. Growing up, he's always taught me that as Lotharins, our duty was to Rhin-Lotharingie first, and not to its petty, factionalistic disputes."

Probably the wisest move too, Cecylia thought. If the Duke had joined Gabriel, he'd be counted among the usurpers now. Yet he also couldn't side with the Emperor without having his neighbors turned on him. So he used Skagen as a shrewd excuse.