No Rest for the Wicked [Saturos/Donovan]

[Charlotte]

As much as Charlotte hated the thought of spending an indefinite amount of time in Etruria, the thought had somehow become almost palatable after her run-in with Tiz in Santaruz, for no other reason past pure ease, peace of mind, and ultimately less personal complications. But after parting ways with the Sacaen man post-argument, the most poorly-timed letter in history arrived for her, marked for urgent receipt. In a few frustrating moments, her plans changed from sneaking into Etruria to traveling down to a small town outside of the capital of Pherae, where she was to reunite with Saturos, the man who had spared her of a fatal fate in the Isles.

Needless to say, as the blonde rode her leased horse into the small farming village, she wondered what in the world they could need to do in Pherae, of all places. Marquess Xavier Pherae was not known for being the most outspoken in the League, despite being respected by the majority of his peers and fellow marquesses. Pharae had kept out of the squabble between Laus and Santaruz, and frankly didn’t have much in the way of exports besides fine goods and art - important for nobles and thieves, but not so much for the rest of Lycia. Even the small village Charlotte was entering would have its own artisans, despite mainly focusing on providing basic foodstuffs to the surrounding area.

Charlotte had arrived the day prior to when she was expected to meet with Saturos and spent the majority of the time recuperating from her row in Santaruz. She reminded herself that there was a reason she didn’t drink as much as she had those few days, in between what shut-eye she could get, still desperately needing to recover. Every time her eyes shut, though, her mind’s eye forced upon her the image of the man she’d killed, as the young woman still tried to come to terms with the necessity of the act.

But now, Charlotte sat on a small bench along the village’s main road, exactly where she’d been told to sit and how she'd been told to dress, to meet with the ‘miner’ from the Isles again. She watched as travelers and commoners went to and fro through the center of the small town, still wondering what benefit they served for the Inquisition here. Pursing her lips at the thought, she gave a small shake of her head, wondering when the experience Saturos had described when speaking of his arrangement with the Etrurian regime would begin for her. Perhaps after the first monthly stipend, or when she actually had access to this network of resources he’d spoken so highly of. For now, all she could do was wait for the teal-haired operative to show.

[Saturos Prox]

A cloaked man slid through the moving bodies that walked along the main road like a snake slithering through long grass. Unlike most his skin was dark and tan, like those from Nabata and the Western Isles, and he was a tall; His teal tufted head stood out above the rest of the relatively plain looking crowd. His mantle obscured his clothing, but at his side he bore two sheathed swords, the larger of which poked out from under his traveling leathers. He walked with a purpose, yet with no hurry, and any onlooker could see his eyes scanning back and forth as he continually parsed through the crowd. A casual, unconscious smile he wore on his face, and his eyes seemed lit with a genuine carefreeness.

He continued on like this until he came to a bench, upon which a blonde woman sat. He took a deep breath in through his nose, savoring the smells of the countryside. It was that natural musk, the fresh smells of grass and flowers upon the air mingling with the dust and dirt of country living. It wasn't as pleasant a, say, a freshly baked pie or a block of cheese. Nothing even slighly manure smelling could be, but the open air ensured that it always beat the stench of a crowded city.

“The weather always seems extra-pleasant out in the country,” he said, looking off down the road. "For obvious reasons of course." The man grabbed his swords by the handles and tilted them towards his buckle, so that their scabbards wouldn't hit the bench, before taking a seat next to the woman. He released his grip, letting the swords come to rest on the side, then gestured to his head. “I like to leave the hood down when I’m out here. It makes it easier to take in the sights and smells of the scenery.” He took another deep breath, smiled, then leaned back in his seat, outstretching his arms atop the back of the wooden bench. He smiled, looking across the road dusty main road.

“It’s been awhile,” he observed, his eyes flitting back and forth between the crowd of travelers and villagers mulling past them. “How was your trip? Did you get your affairs squared away?"

[Donovan]

Donovan hadn’t been back to this small Pharaen town in what felt like an eternity. He’d left as just some clever kid with his father’s cheap old sword, never having even come close to killing a man in his young life. Now he was returning as a person who’d had real adventures, who fought like a man with many scars. He’d seen the terrible, sandy wasteland of Nabata and the frozen mountain passes of Ilia. He’d trained with a sword master and become best friends with a Giant. He left playing the role of a hardened mercenary and had returned as a skilled and versatile adventurer.

Donovan was never too fond of this place. He did not understand why his mother had chosen such a small town, when his entire life they’d lived on the road. But after his dad died, he just was just glad that his mother had found a way to be happy. She loved this town.

Of course, he wasn’t here just to catch up with his mother and tell her of his travels. He was here on a job. Though the people who had employed him were very quiet on what exactly he was here to do. It didn’t matter much what it was to the silver tongued mercenary, at worst it would be routing out a band of criminals or highwaymen. The pay was good enough and they promised him it wouldn’t go too far to the dark side, and that was all that counted to him.

The mercenary rounded a corner and saw who he believed were supposed to be his contacts. A blonde woman and a teal haired man sat together on a bench. They were talking, so he hung back for a moment, to give them a breath of privacy.

[Charlotte]

Charlotte had spotted the tussock of teal nearly as soon as it was within her line of sight, but she made no move to meet him, no outward show of even having recognized someone. Even if she was new to the idea of working with the Inquisitional Intelligence – or II, as she’d begun referring to them in her head – Charlotte was not green when it came to matters of a discrete nature. So while she noted the man’s appearance, her icy-blue gaze continued to glance lazily over the crowd, waiting for the man to make his way over.

“Never been a country woman myself,” the blonde replied simply as the man took a seat next to her and stretched out. She could understand why some preferred the open air, the quiet streets, and the other aspects that came with living out here; a life of simplicity, it seemed, of familiarity with the little insular world around them. But Charlotte could never life that life. The bustling city streets, the cacophony of sounds and smells that invaded the senses, and of course the constant subterfuge of city life had enraptured her so since leaving the Isles.

A laugh almost escaped her at the operative’s question. In a way, it felt like she’d left her affairs in worse shape than before. Sure, professionally she’d tied off the majority of what she’d needed to – she was in very good graces with both the Santaruz and Laus courts, and she’d have plenty of work ready for her when she returned. But her personal life felt like it was in shambles – Tiz knew far too much about who she was, not to mention was enamored after their few chance encounters. And to add to it was the death of the assassin which still haunted her more than it should – other men were so unaffected by taking a life, but Charlotte couldn’t find the same ease in her action.

But of course, the woman was not one to bring up such personal information, so Charlotte smiled, crossing her arms and legs simultaneously as she glanced up towards the clear, cloudless sky. “Three months, no? I’ve been busy, but yes, I was able to take care of the majority of what I needed, enough to leave with enough confidence that my colleagues won’t crash and burn in my relative absence.”

Lifting her right hand, Charlotte examined her nails, flipping over her hand and curling her fingers to her palm as she did. “Curious place for us to meet, though,” she said, commenting lazily but a bit curiosity showing through as well. “Seeing how all of a week ago, sights were set to the north instead of south. Seems you’ve been busy yourself.” She left the observation open-ended, not the kind for direct questions. The man would explain why they were here soon enough.

[Saturos Prox]

"Plans change," said the operative wistfully. He looked up at the sky. Today was one of those days where the firmament was perfectly decorated with an even white and blue, and as the clouds traveled overhead, aimless yet directed, Saturos could only wonder where they were going. He brought his gaze down, to further ponder the thought, but it was then that he spotted their contact, a man named Donovan, standing a ways away. He looked exactly as described: thin build, grey streaks in black hair, and dressed like a mercenary. Well, to say he was a contact wasn't so accurate.

About a month and a half ago a very strange rumor had cropped up in Saturos's intelligence circle, one about a particular missing person, a refugee, reappearing after a long time off the books. It had been a highly unlikely rumor, but an incredibly important one if true, so Saturos had sent out feelers looking into the matter, attempting to locate said important person. By the time anything had come of his people's efforts though, the Etrurian noble who had spread the rumor in the first place had botched a recovery of said person, leaving them to the wind and Saturos wanting for something more substantial. Fortunately rumor around town was that this man, this Donovan, had connections to those who were in the business of making Etrurian refugees disappear, and so Saturos had hired the man and his mercenary expertise to smuggle another pair of refugees somewhere safe.

"Yes, we were going to be doing some internal cleanup work up north, but more pressing matters came up," Saturos detailed, his tone non-chalant and his words purposely vauge just in case someone happened to be overhearing their conversation. It wasn't that he expected it, not in a place like this because honestly who would bother to perform espionage in a tiny little border town in Southeast Lycia? But as Saturos always said, you could never be too careful. Well, you could, but that wasn't really what he was referring to. "Somone found a very valuable artifact down south, only to lose it almost immediately due to employing men of... questionable stock. We won't be recovering said artifact ourselves, but we'll be doing the investigatory footwork so that someone else can." The operative looked up at Donovan and waved the man over. He continued speaking out of the side of his mouth. "For now that requires us to play the part of two helpless Etrurian refugees looking for a new place to call home." He looked back at Charlotte, a devlish twinkle in his eye. "This man walking towards us in a second is our hired helper, Donovan. I'll fill you in on the rest when we get a moment alone."

[Donovan]

Donovan stood a ways away from the pair of Etrurian refugees. It was a beautiful day. The sky was clear and bright, clouds littered the blue world that hovered so high above them. He was always glad to help Etrurians whenever he could. His mother and he had periodically helped a couple of people escape from Kraft’s regime when Donovan was still living with her in the inn. She was a clever woman, his mother, she always said that helping people who want to leave a bad situation was one of the greatest goods you could do. She rarely acted as the initial or final contact though. Especially in Lycia, as it is so close to Etruria’s border and the cleric turned dancer turned innkeeper was too cautious to risk getting caught by any operatives. When Donovan was contacted to help these two out, he decided to send a letter forward to his mother, and she gave him the okay to bring the pair through.

He saw the teal haired man wave him over and Donovan began to move toward them, analyzing the pair as he did. The blonde woman was very attractive, although in too obvious a fashion for the black haired mercenary’s taste. Blondes were never his type. The teal haired man, seemed to have a skill with swords, though anything else about to man seemed very well masked. That was good. A refugee that was obviously on the run was a dangerous asset. “Hey, there. I heard you folks might be in need of some help.” The mercenary smiled casually, it was important o keep these people feeling safe and comfortable. They were likely terrified and exhausted from their journey.

[Charlotte]

Of course plans changed, Charlotte was all too familiar with the concept. Frankly she didn’t care that the plans had changed, but more the reason why they had. She was curious, not to mention she liked knowing what she was getting herself into. She knew she would have been walking into the viper's den, what with travelling to Etruria. But going to Pherae, of all the Lycian territories, and on such short notice - there was definitely something different about this job that required their immediate attention.

Glancing over at the man momentarily before averting her eyes to the crowd again, Charlotte listened closely as he detailed their job. She was no stranger to recovering stolen artifacts - well, stealing them herself, but that was a minor detail - but it seemed they wouldn’t even be doing that. No, this was a reconnaissance mission, but one that was beginning to interest her greatly - she had so few details that she simply had to find a way to fill in the blanks.

It would all come in due time, of course, as Saturos referenced the dark haired mercenary type walking towards them. Streaks of grey peppered his hair despite having no lines or wrinkles on his face. He was young, but not so young that his body was still that of a boy; no, his limbs looked strong, even beneath the armor that covered his left shoulder. He was no stranger to combat, but that hopefully wouldn’t be a factor in all of this.

The blonde didn’t say anything to acknowledge she’d listened to what Saturos said, simply looking towards Donovan, giving a genuine-looking smile. She was sure she looked tired, even despite the rest she’d been able to afford herself - that she didn’t have to fake. With a nod, Charlotte shifted in her seat, though much of the movement was masked by the brown cloak she donned. “Thank you for helping us,” Charlotte said, careful not to project any real relation between her and Saturos for now; she wasn’t sure what Saturos had told him, and she didn’t need to set off any warning bells for Don. So she'd keep it short and sweet for now. “It’s comforting to know there are still righteous men in Elibe.”

[Saturos Prox]

"Indeed," said Saturos, following up Charlotte's thank you. He looked around, playing the part of the paranoid refugee, then nodded to Donovan. "Even with evil nipping at our heels, you are still brave enough to see us to safety.” The teal-haired man put his hands together and bowed his head. “We are grateful that you would do this for us, and as I agreed, I have brought your payment.” He reached into his jacket and fumbled about for a bit before pulling out a small sack of coins which he hid in his palm. Saturos then stood up and hugged Donovan with his free arm, while slipping the money into the other man’s hand with the other. Both his hands now empty, Saturos placed his hands on Donovan’s shoulders and smiled widely.

“You have no idea how glad my heart is right now,” the operative continued, his eyes beaming. He shook Donovan a bit as he spoke. “To think that in just a few days my wife and I will be free of this endless chase…” Tears began to well in Saturos’s eyes, and one could see a lump forming in his throat as he looked back at Charlotte. “If only we could have not been the only ones to make it this far.” The tall man took a step back and wiped the water from his cheeks, then began bowing his head profusely. “My apologies for the emotional display. I will keep myself in check for the duration of this trip. I understand the risks you are taking and I hardly wish to jeapordize that, for any of our sakes.”

Saturos breathed in deeply and closed his eyes. When it seemed he had regained control of himself, he reopened them and glanced over in the direction of the local inn.
“Our belongings are still in our rooms. We need to go collect them before we can head out. You will be leading the way, yes?”

[Donovan]

“I'm sure there are still righteous men in Elibe. Though I wouldn’t know where to begin looking to find one.” Donovan was a little surprised - and rather uncomfortable - when the teal haired man hugged him and pulled away only to leave his hands on the mercenary’s shoulders, grinning from ear to ear. At least he’d used the opportunity to slip the payment slyly into Don’s hand. Fragarach tickled at Donovan's hand. The sheathed blade didn't seemed to like emotional displays like this, felt it was undignified. “Well, my associates and I are all about freeing people here. Granted they’ve made it this far. And have the money left to pay for our expenses and services.” The mercenary’s tone was courteous and professional, hoping that the man in front of him would stop being so outwardly emotional. As far as Donovan saw the world. The middle of the street, even in a small pass through town like this, was not the place to start crying. Especially when you are fleeing for your life from an insane dictator.

Looking over the pair he was surprised that they were fleeing Etruria. Most men and women that had passed discretely through the doors of his mother’s inn had been fairly common folk. But these two must have held some importance to be fleeing so swiftly. Most likely nobles who angered the wrong man in Kraft’s cabinet. “You’re staying at the inn, correct? It’s right over here, you can grab your things and we’ll get moving along. It might take a little bit of time to get you to the next safe house, but we will try to make you as comfortable as we can while keeping you safe.” The mercenary began to walk towards his mother’s inn, the only one in town. Also the very safe house the pair was looking for.

[Charlotte]

Charlotte would have laughed if she had been afforded the opportunity, considering how over the top Saturos came off to her. But he was a man with a flair for the dramatic, and in all honesty there were probably refugees who were happier than this to get out of Etruria. But Charlotte was a professional, so she simply assumed her role, watching with empathetic eyes and a quivering lip as the teal-haired man gave his thanks, all while watching their guide out of the corner of her eye.

Standing as Saturos fumbled around for Donovan’s pay, Charlotte stood just behind him as he spoke fervently of their escape from the grasp of Inquisition, with a gaze loving enough to befit a wife gracious to have finally found relief to their struggles. As he stepped back, Charlotte hurriedly stepped forward, a hand moving to rest on the man’s back to comfort him as any wife would have. The blonde even managed a tear or two on her own to match that of her ‘husband’s’ emotional response; she was no professional actress, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t make herself cry.

Their guard seemed taken aback by the emotional display, but he handled it professionally. Perhaps they’d have to tone it down a bit from this point on, but the strong impression Saturos would leave with his emotional display would do well to keep their retainer from being suspicious, at least for now. Sure, refugees who had made it this far might know how to handle themselves a bit more conspicuously, but ultimately they were human; at the end of such long, stressful travels, one could imagine such an open display to be manifest from pure relief.

Charlotte nodded as Donovan told them of their plans to get them to the next safe house, all while walking closely alongside Saturos but keeping pace with their guard. “We truly appreciate everyone’s help, Donovan. It would be a lie to say our journey hasn’t had its share of trials and tribulations.”

After a few more steps, the blonde fiddled with the pin on the cloak she donned before looking back to their guard. “How much time do you think it will take to get to the next safe house? We’ve been so terribly anxious for this whole ordeal to finally be over.”

[Saturos Prox]

"Don't worry, we will have the rest of the payment for your organization when we reach the last safe house," said Saturos. He clapped his hands together and vigorously nodded his head as he spoke. He made sure not to touch the man again, having seen his obvious discomfort, but he could tell the display had worked. Who would expect such a poorly conducted man to be anything but a frightful and thankful refugee? Saturos then turned to Charlotte. “You stay here with Donovan, dear," he muttered in the woman’s ear. His tone was hushed, but kind. “I’ll grab our things.”

Then he turned and walked off to the inn. He pushed open the front door, gave a small nod to the doorman, then headed upstairs. When he got to his room, the operative stopped to fumble about in his jacket pocket for a moment before slipping a small silver key out of his jacket and inserted it into the keyhole. The hinges were a bit rusted with age, so it took a little effort to get the door opened, but Saturos made it into the room nonetheless. The arrangements were simple, just a bed and a nightstand, but on the floor next to the wall opposite of the bed sat two large backpacks. One, a bit larger than the other, was for Saturos, and the other, a smaller bag containing a multitude of travel necessities, had been brought for Charlotte. Contrary to what they had told Donovan the two had just met up only moments ago, so Charlotte didn’t, in fact, have a room at the inn. But Saturos knew his female associate had arrived here today not knowing the extent of their upcoming travels, and he knew she traveled light, so he had planned ahead by bringing her additional supplies to supplement whatever she had brought herself. Not only that, but it would help keep up the illusion that they had been traveling together prior to this encounter.

So Saturos walked over to the bags and double checked their contents; food, bedding, clothing, rope, and torch oil were all stuffed inside the leather sacks. There were also two long hunting knives, one for each of them, of multiple purposes, including self-defense in case he was disarmed. Satisfied, he grabbed the two bags and headed back out of the inn, leaving the key and a couple coins for the doorman on his way, before slinking back up next to his traveling companions. He smiled as he held out his second back to his “wife”.

"Let's be on our way then! No rest for the wicked, as they say, which means no rest for us either.

[Donovan]

To say that the whole arrangement was suspect was an understatement. Donovan was not an idiot. He knew that the people in front of him were putting on a show. He knew too much about body language and vocal control from his life spent on stage to not notice the performance. The mercenary’s downfall was his rationality. Why would he suspect the pair in front of him to be anything more than what they claimed to be? The people he and his mother used to vet them had given them the all clear. Why would he suspect them to be a part of the inquisition? The handful of individuals that the nameless mother and son had smuggled in and out of Etruria were not high ranking officials. They were peasants, farmers, people who cared more about the day to day of their lives than they did the zealotry to Elmine. Why would the Inquisition care about the minuscule number small folk they’d helped. In Donovan’s eyes, these people were probably more concerned about him being in the inquisition.

Fragarach, however, was not cursed with any rational dismissal of warning signs. The sword had been around for a very, very long time, and it knew the difference between someone lying because they were afraid for their lives and someone lying because they were trying to get something they wanted. Unfortunately, Donovan did not quite understand the extent of what the sword was capable of — he didn’t even know of it’s free thought. All the ancient sword could do was gust up some small amount of wind to try to warn its owner without alerting the two dangerous folks he was about to take to his home.

The mercenary laughed at Saturos’s joke, “Some of us are more wicked than others I’m afraid. I haven’t gotten any rest in weeks! We don’t have very far to go, just stay on my trail. And try to keep it a little more inconspicuous - we don’t want to draw any unwanted attention.” He lead the pair of spies back to the inn, smiling at the fact that they didn’t realize they had been staying at the safe house already. “Here we are.” He marched the pair down into the Inn’s cellar where his mother was waiting. The purple haired cleric turned dancer turned innkeeper stood with a stern expression on her face. “You’re late.”

[Charlotte]

The blonde did not draw away when Saturos came near; rather, as his lips neared her ear to instruct her to stay, she leaned ever so slightly towards the teal-haired man, as if she truly was unconsciously wanting to be near to her ‘husband.’ She nodded with a small, fragile smile as he turned towards the inn behind them, her eyes trained on him until he disappeared inside. She only let her eyes linger on the closed door for a moment or so longer before looking over towards their new friend, Donovan.

Donovan was an interesting sort, considering the profession he had chosen. Charlotte actually held no ill will towards him and his counterparts for their little smuggling ring; in fact, the young woman thought it was a smart way to take advantage of the situation in Etruria. Plenty wanted to escape the oppressive regime with their lives and morals intact, and of course, they would pay a premium to do so. It was classic mercenary mindset, and it was smart; the only reason Charlotte wasn’t involved in it was thanks to her employment with the Inquisition itself.

With a few moments of silence passing between the two, the blonde had a feeling the man wasn’t much for idle conversation - it made sense, likely not wanting to become too familiar with his charges. HIs purpose was to get them from point A to point B with nary a scratch on their pretty heads, and by doing this he secured his next paycheck, next meal. At least, that was part of what Charlotte could see. The other part of his potential silence came from the fact that Saturos’ physicality had made him uncomfortable - but that hadn’t seemed to go away. Was he worried of something else? Did he have reason to suspect something was amiss?

No, Charlotte thought, it wasn’t a reasonable thought. The Inquisition dotted their ‘i’s and crossed their ‘t’s, so there was no reason to think situation was any different. As long as she and the teal-haired operative didn’t blow it, they would be able to gather what information they needed and be on their way to the next job. This one man’s discomfort would not ruin them.

“Thank you,” Charlotte said with a succinct but warm tone as she took the smaller of the two packs from Saturos, slinging it over her back. She had no pack of her own, not one to travel with much more than herself when she could help it, so it was by no small act of forward-thinking that the man had arranged two packs for them. As Donovan led the two of them into the cellar, Charlotte remained silent, taking it upon herself to simply observe. A refugee should want to blend into the background, no?

[Saturos Prox]

Saturos's whole body drooped as Donovan turned them right around and led the back to the inn. This was the safehouse? How had that bit of information managed to escape him? It wasn’t like Saturos had a detailed list of this smuggling ring’s safe houses and this one had just manage to slip away from him, but unknowingly spending a night in one without realizing it made the operative feel thick and unaware. And keen sense was something Saturos prided himself on. Outside of his meticulous penchant for planning, it was the whole reason he kept his job.

"You could have just told me the inn was our safe house before I grabbed my things," Saturos grumbled, a childish frown spreading its way across his face. As a refugee he should probably be relieved nonetheless, but the operative’s own ego was getting in the way. But as Saturos had learned at a young age, an actor didn’t always need to have their emotions in control, they just needed to know how to roll with them when they made themselves apparent. Hmm, how to spin it?

“And is it not unsafe to spend yet another night here?” he said, turning his frustration into worry as his eyes ornamented themselves with a furrowed brow. He looked to Donovan, then noticed the older woman. He had seen her yesterday in the inn and had thought nothing of it, but clearly she was part of this operation as well. Hmm, if this smuggling ring was skilled enough to conceal so much from the Inquisition’s eyes, it made sense that the princess herself would be utilizing their services. It seemed Saturos had some investigating to do. “If the Prophet’s men are on our trail, surely another day spent stationary will put us in danger of being recaptured.”

[Donovan]

“I could have, I suppose. But it would have killed the dramatic reveal. Besides, you never know who’s listening in when you’re out. If you wanted a prying ear to know where we’re headed, I suppose I could have mentioned outside.” The mercenary’s mother stepped in, “We are sorry for the theatrics. We find it is important to make sure we can trust the people we’re helping before we reveal ourselves.” The former cleric looked knowingly at the teal haired man before glancing at Charlotte and smiling slightly. “My people never mentioned that you two were a couple. I must say, you have both,” Her eyes quietly shifted to meeting Saturos’, “been such wonderful guests here.”

“Unfortunately, no. Staying here another night is not an option. I have a suspicion that the prophet’s men are rather close on your heels. Donovan here will be staying behind to maintain the bar, whilst I get you two on your way.” She smiled and gestured upstairs.

“You got it, Ma,” the green clad mercenary kissed his mom on the top of her head before heading up the stairs. The innkeeper watched her son head up the stairs and hoped that her gut was wrong about the two “refugees” in front of her. Don, meanwhile, burst through the cellar door and began taking drink orders from the small town’s barflies.

The lilac haired woman turned back around and rustled a hand through her hair, much in the same manner as her boy was so prone to doing. “So. What was it that brought you into my life? I’m sorry, sir, what did you say your names were?”