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Chapter Text

Stirring in her quarter, a young lady rubs her eyes, trying to wrest them open from her slumber. Is it morning yet, she thinks to herself. Not exactly sunrise, but the sky is changing out of its pitch-black dress. The dull pangs of a headache reminds her of the previous night.

Hmf, that tavern woman sure knows how to get you to keep dropping coin on drinks.

Her quarter, assigned to her by the strategist Benedict, gave her the luxury of an open window facing the sunrise. Not much else in the room, mind you: a creaky bed adorned with rotting bedposts, a chair, a table with a candleholder, and more than its fair share of dust. She remembers the look of judgment in the strategist’s eyes as he assigned her the quarter. Eyes more than willing to drop her off at the horse stables if Lord Serenoa Wolffort had not graciously intervened on her behalf. For his desire is to treat all his soldiers with respect, even those suspected of being a spy. Such kind-hearted openness tends to lead lesser men to their deaths.

Benedict knew. He must have known. He has this inherently distrusting attitude, this overt concern of the people that surround Lord Serenoa. It’s the type of thinking that can only come from people who, themselves, are scheming. Plotting. Some might call it projection or even paranoia.

Suppose it isn’t paranoia if they are correct.

The young lady gets up and takes a second to look out the window. She ignores the disgusting feeling of dirt and dust on her feet.

It was a simple task, carefully entrusted to her by Minister Idore. “Keep me updated on House Wolffort. Sway them over to our side if you can. If not… report back and direction will be provided,” he said. She knew full well that his ‘direction’ was a knife to the back. She was never quite happy with her role as Idore’s spy; Idore treated her at times with borderline contempt and kept her isolated from other affairs. She hated the favoritism he showed Minister Lyla and Minister Exharme despite all the work she did on his behalf. In her head, she lists her accomplishments, her struggles. And still, she isn’t ever treated as more than a disposable, unfeeling tool.

But a job is a job, and her job was clearly stated. Infiltrate House Wolffort, gain the Lord’s trust, and get deep in their plans, ready to intervene if necessary.

But why does she hesitate now?

*****

Milo Yuelle remembers being informed of her new job. How Idore (masking his concern over the upstart House) presented it as a simple excursion with the Aelfric crystal serving as a convenient excuse. “Just keep tabs on House Wolffort”, he said. “Be my eyes and ears to the workings of the Glenbrook demesne.” She remembers meeting Lord Serenoa (with barely his feet wet as the Lord of the House) and working to get in his good graces. What stuck out at first was how devoted he was to his betrothed, Frederica Aesfrost. Her ‘usual’ approach to getting on men’s (and women’s) good side wouldn’t work here. But, to her surprise, he wasn’t at all like her previous mark, Silvio Telliore. Despite early reservation, he recognized hard work and readily accepted her into his ranks.

A nice change it was, to earn trust through the battlefield rather than to flash skin and perform a different kind of hard work.

Thankfully, Silvio was weak-willed and a paltry reward was enough to make him Hyzante’s puppet for the short time he was useful. The work with House Wolffort continued regardless. Idore continued to be pleased with her reports, while Serenoa continued to not suspect anything malicious.

But some others did.

Benedict Pascal and his protégé Anna most certainly suspected her. She overheard them outright mention this when she was first introduced to the House by Minister Lyla. Did Serenoa not believe? Not care? Was it brushed off as speculation? Hard to say what his private discussions with his trusted companions were. Milo had certainly put in more than her fair share of work in his forces, and perhaps that was all Serenoa cared for. Does he see her as nothing more than a tool for the battlefield?

Perhaps this is nothing more than her destiny.

Still, her work continued. Keeping Idore updated. Battling in Serenoa’s skirmishes. Having been a dancer before Idore recruited her, she found herself using those skills frequently. Those long Moon Jumps, that devious Green Mist fan attack. As she (and Serenoa) achieved success, she quickly found herself enamored with Serenoa.

Lyla mocked her for being only concerned with power, but what else was there? At least, Milo told herself just that. Power moved the world; power begat change. And, as Serenoa grew stronger, she found herself leaving more and more details off her reports to Idore. Did she… believe in Serenoa? Truly? She couldn’t say. She knew that Idore wouldn’t care as long as he was reprised enough. As long as she wasn’t caught.

But those two retainers… they might prove problematic.

*****

It began one simple night, during Lord Serenoa’s return to Castle Wolffort. After months of bedrest, Lord Symon walked around, telling anyone that would listen of his son’s exploits. Of how proud he was.

Milo had promised Serenoa that she would follow him to Castle Wolffort to attend Lord Symon’s feast. Of course, the real reason was to check if Lord Symon truly had recovered, which could cause Idore problems. Serenoa and Benedict, a bit suspicious, kept her around to keep an eye on her. Not like it would have mattered, as Serenoa’s victory in the Crown City had Milo straying from her original mission. Even partaking in festivities. To keep suspicions off her, she openly offered herself to Serenoa in a brazen and silly attempt at foolishness. Erador’s laughter kept everyone loose and, soon enough, Benedict was no longer staring her down.

The laughter stopped the moment an assassin caught Benedict and Anna off guard and stabbed Symon. As if on instinct, Milo appeared behind the assassin and killed her on the spot. The appreciated gesture was only the start, however, as a full-scale fight between Patriatte’s soldiers and House Wolffort broke out. With victory in hand, Anna and Milo run outside to give chase to the defeated Patriatte as the rest of the House stayed indoors to treat Symon’s injuries.

Anna got to Patriatte first. A quick exchange tells them both how Patriatte hated Serenoa. How much of a threat House Wolffort was to Glenbrook. How he had to maintain power to ensure strength and stability.

“Are you saying King Roland ordered this?”

“Were it that he possessed such rationality!”

Anna couldn’t believe the level of treason and readied herself. Patriatte, sensing a chance to escape, turns to run but gets caught and kicked back by Milo. His fate was sealed.

“I need only kill you, then.” Anna’s chilling comment is followed by Patriatte’s execution, leaving the two of them standing under the night sky.

“…Thank you for your assistance, Milo.”

Milo, impressed and a little breathtaken, flashes a grin at the silver-haired spy. “The pleasure is all mine. It’s so invigorating to see a master at her work.”

Milo places her hand on the shorter spy’s shoulder if only for a split second. Milo feels a slight recoil. Is she not used to affection?

“Anytime you need any help at all, let me know. I would bring me great pleasure—”

“Stop. I will prove your treachery soon. This might have been part of your ploy. But continue to serve Lord Serenoa, and I will allow you to live until then. Do you understand?”

Milo can only shake her head as she walks back into the castle. The struggle for trust has just begun.

Chapter Text

In a secluded spot in the encampment, some large potted plants are attended to by the tall dancer. “A strange hyzantian breed”, whispered some. Truthfully, she was glad to hear it, because most of what she heard otherwise were much more lascivious comments from some of the grunt soldiers. Serenoa overheard them once and chastised them, but it wouldn’t be long before those comments came back.

What garbage people there are.

But on this simple day, she found herself alone in the back, tending to those plants. Talking to them, harvesting powder that came off the leaves. Her Green Mist used this powder well. Not to say that poisoning is the only use for these plants: that same powder could be prepared differently and made into a recovery salve that she shared with Medina from time to time. The plants, much like her, provided utility depending on use. Resenting being treated as some cold tool by those more powerful, she saw herself in those potted plants and would treat them like children in her care.

This drew the attention of one silver-haired retainer.

“What are you doing?” Anna’s acerbic behavior didn’t leave much room for pleasantries.

“Just tending to these plants, dear. They are such lovely companions.”

“You talk to them?”

“Yes, I find that it helps pass the time as I collect their powder. They love it.”

Anna stays quiet for a second, her face unchanging.

“You use the powder for your attacks, correct? Are we to believe that you could not just use this on us?”

“Honey, if I were to poison the House, it would have already happened.”

The white-haired spy narrows her eyes ever so slightly.

“You are confident in your abilities. You must be useful to your real employer.”

“Enough with Benedict’s empty thoughts! I have proven myself time and time again. This is why I rather talk to plants.”

“It’s useless. They will not respond.”

Those words wound Milo ever so slightly. How dare this woman talk about her plants like that.

“…Even tools have feelings,” she mutters, only meant for her and her comfort.

“Did you say something, Milo?”

“…No. Anyway, I am done collecting powder for today. I must be off.”

“See you at tonight’s wartable, then.”

“Yes, let’s.”

*****

The days pass, and Milo continued to prove herself on the battlefield, becoming one of Serenoa’s most trusted warriors. Serenoa, himself, achieving victory after victory shook Milo’s foundation as a spy. Is Serenoa worth following? Worth casting away her previous life as Idore’s informant? All questions that plagued the dancer on a near daily basis. True, she had gotten much stronger. True, she had all but stopped reporting to Idore. But was she committed to crossing the final threshold? She couldn’t bring herself to it.

Needing fresh air, the fields welcomed her in. Such heavy questions had her desiring a moment to just walk around nature. And she had it, for a moment.

But there were eyes on her.

As a spy first and foremost, she knew when she was tailed. But this person? This person was good. Milo had almost missed it. In fact, only one person she knew was this good.

“Come on out, Anna. I’d rather you ask me directly whatever you want to know.”

Despite both being spies, they couldn’t be more different than the other. Anna Pascal, rising from nothing and, with the tutelage of Benedict and Archibald, became the strategist’s right hand and one of the fiercest warriors in House Wolffort. People would comment how battle against her felt like a fight against multiple people. Constant hits from all sides and then, suddenly she would be gone, just to attack from the shadows. But her off the battlefield work was arguably more impressive—she would enter any place with the utmost of ease. She could capture anyone, anywhere, and leave not a trace behind. Anna was about being as silent, as invisible as possible. On the other hand, Milo was quite the opposite: a tall dancer’s body with a flashy, revealing outfit whose sole purpose was to attract attention. After all, why sneak around and break into a place when you can just be invited in? Her looks, her charms, her attention to detail made her a desired ‘prize’ among the fools that chased.

She marveled at how easy it was.

She’s certainly worked with and against other spies in the past. Yet, Anna’s even caught Milo by surprise a time or two. But this felt different. As if Anna wanted to be noticed.

“Milo, I saw you leave camp. Why?”

Milo turns her back on Anna and waves out to the woods. “I wanted to see the trees.” Milo thinks for a second. “Come with me! Let’s walk together.”

“I would rather not. I am merely checking for your drop.”

“And I told you there is none! You and Benedict are insufferable.”

“You are far too suspicious, Milo. We struggle to find information on your past and we can only go by the Saintly Seven’s recommendation of you. You must understand why I place scrutiny on you.”

Back still towards Anna, Milo cracks a sly, mischievous grin.

I wonder…

“And what kind of scrutiny are you referring to?”

“Patterns. Contacts. Coming and goings.”

“And is there anything else you would like to ‘scrutinize’?”

Milo, flashiness in her step, spins around and leans forward towards the shorter spy. Daring her to look.

I wonder?

Milo gently places a hand on Anna’s shoulder. No recoil or response from her. But that, in itself, is a response.

“You have my permission to closely scrutinize me to your heart’s content. Just name the time and place.”

“…If you’re done, I must get back. Don’t stay out here too long lest some ruffians encircle you.”

And with that, Anna vanishes and heads back to the encampment. Milo can’t help but realize that this was the first time Anna had ever shown anything remotely resembling concern.

I wonder.

Chapter Text

“It’s not like Minister Kamsell to leave stragglers behind after a mission.”

“Yes, Aesfrost has proven to be better at hiding than we anticipated.”

Mop-up duty, never the most glamorous of assigned tasks. Benedict assigned various members of the military to flush out hiding Aesfrosti soldiers in the cold, overcast woods near the mountains. Any neglect could lead to dangerous consequences.

A task that Milo and Corentin found themselves rolling their eyes at.

“Every second I waste here is a second I could spend on my research. My work could revolutionize material strength! Surely it is much better for me to be there instead of playing children’s games with Aesfrost.”

“Has Erador not informed you of your duties? I have noticed you two cozying up recently.” Milo can’t help but tease Lyla’s former subordinate. Not like she would get a chance to go after Lyla herself anytime soon.

“Nothing like what you imply. He insists on getting me away from my research and imbibing at Hossabara’s Tavern. Something about me needing to relax and enjoy my youth.”

“Well, he isn’t wrong. You have always been very stressed. Can’t imagine being calm under Lyla.”

Corentin stops as he checks for movement in the distance. “I do not know what your issue is with Minister Lyla, but she was always good to me.”

“So good that you fled the first opportunity available?”

“I left because of how the Holy State assigns tasks. I desired freedom in my studies. I know Lyla feels the same way.”

“Well, you’d think that one of the Saintly Seven would have power to tend to your desires yet she never did. Perhaps it’s not the Hierophant but Lyla herself—”

“Not one more slander about Minister Lyla! You speak as if you know what we went through in the Ministry of Health. And what are you, if not just another of Idore’s puppets? What you would be, without Idore giving you orders?”

The usually carefree Milo carefully hides her emotions from the upset ice mage. A quick Moon Jump has her up on a tree branch. The cold, damp day is felt on the branch.

“I have never had an issue with receiving orders from the Holy State. Seeing you stressed over your desires tells me I made the right decision.”

She grins when she sees Corentin step in a mud puddle to his disgust.

“I do wish I could apologize to Minister Lyla. She must know by now that I am not returning.”

“…I’m sure she’ll forgive you, if she is as kind as you believe.”

“It’s not something you would understand. I pained over my decision for weeks. Lyla gave me everything and I just… left. And I didn’t have to! I could have worked with her for years and done excellent work with medicine. But I decided to follow my desires. I cannot fathom being content as Idore’s puppet.”

Milo, not wanting to let Corentin know her response, jumps back down from the branch. The sticks and wet leaves on the ground crunch on her boots. The woods are not welcoming today.

“No one is here besides Hughette and Archibald ahead of us. We should join them, it’s gotten late.” Milo wants their conversation to end.

Seeing Hughette instantly shoot arrows in front of her has them pick up the pace. Corentin sees and hits a soldier hiding behind some trees with a Frosty Fetters.

“Looks like we were wrong, Milo.”

The obvious doesn’t have to be said, she thinks to herself as she helps Archibald out with a mage. She remarks on how he moves like Idore does when he’s rushing.

Before long, they clear out the four Aesfrosti soldiers that were hiding in ambush. To Archibald’s laughter, Hughette make some comment about them hiding under rocks to fool Flugie. As the three walk back towards the encampment, Milo stays behind to look at the dead soldiers.

She thought it was strange, to do this. To hiding in ambush for hours just to die. Why not turn yourself in? Flee to Twinsgate? There is no grand plan here. The overcast sky isn’t going to bear witness to some patriotic heroics. Is it a fear of failure? A fear of being killed when you make it back… home?

That’s when it hit her. What would I do if I was discovered and had to go back to Hyzante?

*****

A gorgeous, vivid sunset later the week watches over a clash between forces. Aesfrosti holdouts near the Grand Norzelian Mines made a stand as others retreat to Twinsgate. House Wolffort couldn’t worry about those fleeing but had to put down the stand. In the whir of arrows, thrown lances, and magic spells stood Milo Yuelle, fighting at her best and taking down soldiers with ease.

It’s been a rough few days after the last skirmish. A suspicious Idore noted it in his letters, Benedict and Anna keep getting close to catching her when she sends out spy reports with the Hyzante bird, and now she’s wondering about her future. It’s an odd feeling to say the least. Not one to ever think about the future, she found herself perturbed at such a thing. Perhaps she had gotten overconfident; after all, her espionage skills were borderline perfect and she never once came close to being found out in all her jobs. But something was different in House Wolffort. Was it meeting her match in Benedict and Anna? Sure, they were more competent than your average drunk, horny noble. Was it her admiration of Lord Serenoa? Her newfound resolve might be leading to slip ups.

But for now, she forced it all out of her mind to focus on the task at hand. A Green Mist here, a Blue Night there, and a fan smack took soldiers down. Seeing Roland’s incoming charge attack, she effortlessly Moon Jumps out of the way. Couldn’t be easier, she gleefully tells herself. The arching, graceful Moon Jump has her above the battlefield and landing towards the side of the skirmish, ready for her to run right back into the fray.

But then, she sees it from the corner of her eye. A wayward Aesfrosti soldier, finding herself at the right place at the right time. Milo realizes that she has no time to move, no time to evade. The soldier’s sword stood ready, waiting. To be sustained by lifeblood, as Minister Exharme would say.

With time slowing down, she made peace with herself. She can’t say she regretted—

Wait, is that—

Time speeds back up as Anna tears through the piles of dead leaves and swiftly beheads the Aesfrosti soldier.

A gruesome sight, to say the least.

But Milo would survive. Without incident maybe, but with questions. And a thumping heartbeat.

*****

The following day, Milo finds herself running through Castle Wolffort, looking for a particular person.

This is unfamiliar grounds for her.

Not the castle, per say. She can get around easily enough. But the idea of… gratitude? Unwilling to recognize the emotion, she shakes her head.

She wasn’t anywhere near her assigned section in that skirmish. She bailed just to save me. Why?

Without looking, she bumps and knocks over Geela, who was turning a corner. Milo profusely apologizes to the older mage and helps her up.

“Don’t worry about it, dear. Only thankful that I didn’t hit my head on anything, that’s all.”

“It very pleases me to hear it, Geela. May I say, the years have been ever so kind to you.”

“Some people might just take that as an insult, you know. You are lucky that I know you.”

“I mean it! Maybe I can… apologize in private?”

“Now I’m curious what it is that you want.”

“You see right through me, Geela. I was wondering about yesterday’s battle near the Mines. Anna was assigned to protect you, correct?”

“Why yes, she was.”

“Do you know why she left your care at one point?”

“I wondered that also.”

The silence hangs in the air a bit too long. Milo takes time and fixes her shirt.

“Milo, I don’t know why Anna abandoned her post to save you. She has always been very strict with her duties and wouldn’t abandon them like that. Professional courtesy perhaps? She must have seen some value in keeping you alive.”

Milo can hear what region of Hyzante Geela was from her voice. It’s been distorted by years of working in Aesfrost, but it’s still distinct. That place was renowned for their restaurants.

“Well, I’d like to ask her myself. Maybe you can show me how to make some noodles for her? For gratitude, of course.”

Geela looks on in confusion. What is this woman talking about?

“S-Sure, although I am not sure if she’s around currently. I did think it was overkill to have her guard me. I can easily hold my own.”

“Thank the goddess for that! I would be heartbroken to no longer hear your voice!”

“I have no secrets to give you, Milo.”

“I was just teasing! Geela, you can be so cold at times. Are you always like this with Frederica?”

“As her teacher, I have need to be strict with her. I believe it has paid off as she is an exceptional fire mage.”

“Do you just see yourself as her teacher? She talks of you at times as a dear friend. Why, I would almost believe that she—”

“I’ll stop you there lest you say something untoward. I will always be there for her as her teacher and retainer.”

“Fair enough. Her being a rosellan has her facing the judgement of a cold, callous world. Poetic that her closest friend is a hyzantian.”

“I have never had anything to do with how the Holy State operates, if that is what you’re implying. Certainly less than you do.”

“I am but a humble servant of the Goddess, Geela. Like you were, once. But I suppose the flow of time is inexorable. I must be off to find Anna! We should chat again soon.”

And with that, the dancer disappears down the hall. Geela is left standing there, dumbfounded and curious as to this nascent friendship blooming between the spies.

*****

Another day, another battle.

Bandits this time, threatening the new supply lines into the Falkes demesne. A small group of soldiers were dispatched, believing that the bandit group wouldn’t be too much trouble. And, Benedict was right for the most part. The bandit crew was being dealt with as they hid in the wheat fields. But it was taking longer than expected.

“Anna, I’m running low on medic supplies. How many bandits do you think there are left?”

“Three of them. No, four. I told Benedict this sounded worse than—HYA!”

Quick reflexes has Anna blocking a sword attack aimed squarely for Medina, who had turned to the side to check her bag. The wide-eyed medic merely nods and throws a potion out of view. A faint ‘thanks!’ is heard in the distance.

“Just keep your eyes peeled.”

“Y-Yes, thank you.”

Not one that was used to the front lines, the decentralized aspect of the fight had Medina sticking close to Anna. An explosion plows through the fields, shaking the medic.

“GOT EM!”

“Was that Quahaug? Why bring him on a small-scale mission like this?” Medina can already imagine the after-battle work involved. She worries about Quahaug, being so young yet so strong. It’s barely excusable to have him in a large-scale battles where soldiers can defend him, never mind something like this. And that’s not to mention that something about Quahaug reminded her of her old boss in the Holy State. It unsettled her.

“Not important,” says the taciturn spy, “Focus.”

After a few more minutes of metal clinging, magic spells, and flying potions, the Wolffort force is declared the victor. Medina runs over to check on Quahaug and the other soldiers as Anna investigates one of the corpses laying against some exposed tree roots. Simple bandits. Rosellans, threatening the small Wolffort village. She sighs as she checks the bandit’s clothing for any possible identification or motive to the attack. Food? Supplies? Thievery? Hard to say. It’s important to know why these things happen, however. This bandit didn’t seem to be unhealthy and dressed about as expected. Who would be committing random acts of violence during times like this? Who would follow this plan? Anna takes a second to wonder.

All it took was a second of a dropped guard.

The string tightening was all the warning Anna got. A branch archer loosed an arrow perfectly aimed at her neck. Her incredible speed wouldn’t be enough. But as time slowed down, a thrown fan diverts the arrow just enough to where the spy only felt a slight breeze.

No sooner that Anna hears the string, that the branch archer was dead in a pile on the ground. A tall hyzantian in dancer’s garb stood over the corpse, then calmly walked over to the spy, picking up her fan.

“So delighted to see you safe, darling. My, looks like Medina’s calling for me.” Milo walks right by and leaves the spy’s field of vision.

Red-faced, she hasn’t moved.

*****

On their way back, they run into a small group of rogue soldiers. Were they screaming about Lord Falkes? The dancer wasn’t able to hear them exactly, but incoming arrows spoke loud enough. Geela, leading a squadron on the opposite end, slips by and manages to meet up.

“Geela, status report.” Anna cutting to the chase as usual.

“You can’t see what’s happening? Princess Cordelia and I were leading a patrol and they caught us, wanting to exact revenge on her for the death of their Lord. Archibald provided cover as she got away. Lucky you lot showed up because I was running out of tricks. Where is Milo? She should have been—”

“I’m here, Geela. Missing me?”

“…I’ll talk to you later. We need to subdue this.”

Having expert healer and hastener Geela Briesse with them should have made the fight simpler than the previous bandit fight. But the numbers of the Falkes garrison persisted. With casualties on both sides, Anna pushed to get the upper hand with her camouflage. Geela and Medina run around, struggling to keep their forces in good condition.

Milo, ever the dutiful soldier, finds herself taking soldiers down one by one. Need to wrap this up, tonight’s the night. She starts overextending herself and soon finds herself beleaguered. Carelessness begat problems as one soldier catches up, ready to tear a hole in her.

This will hurt—

She feels hands roughly throw her to the side. But not an enemy, no. Her enigmatic partner, there to be pierced by a spear. Milo sees the pain shoot across Anna’s face as the spy throws a Poison Point to kill the last soldier.

“Eugh…”

“ANNA!!! Anna wait, don’t move. GEELA!!!”

Usually sultry and carefree, the look of concern on Milo’s face shocks everyone. Geela nods and assures her that Anna will be fine as she raises her wand to patch the deep stomach wound. The slight feeling of welling pressure behind her eyes makes the dancer realize that she’s lost composure. Where did that come from? She asks herself.

“*Cough* Well well, that was quite an… exhilarating performance.” It fools no one.

Geela smirks as she walks back to Medina. “Careful, you might show people you care.”

“Did you say anything, sweetheart?”

“No. And stop calling me that, I’m much older than you.”

Chapter Text

While the day might have been great for strolling through a park, the night was anything but. Breezier that desired, Milo nevertheless had to send her report out to Idore. She really wanted to no longer continue this. What was once tenuous, wavering support became full support of Serenoa and his cause. Was it the military prowess? The string of victories? The fact that Serenoa saw her as a valuable person while Idore barely cared for her existence? Whatever the root cause, she wanted to break free from Idore’s clutches and support Serenoa’s vision of the future. To see a better world created.

But she couldn’t bring herself to do so. What, pray tell, would be her purpose? The cold stars looked down on her, alone with her thoughts. What value is a spy that defected from a former employer? Dancing makes for a meager existence and, truth be told, she enjoyed her spywork. Just been wishing more and more that I was in services of House Wolffort. Utilizing my skills for a worthy cause. Working hand-in-hand with Anna—

Wait. Why did her name appear in my head?

The dancer shakes her head, wanting those confusing thoughts gone. Thoughts that intruded a lot recently.

We’ve been working together more often recently. She can be caring and cute when she wants to be. She’s so wonder—

The dancer coughs.

Why am I thinking of her so much recently! Stop it! I—oh here’s the bird.

Idore’s nondescript bird arrives at the same time as always. Such a punctual bird. Milo, just like every time, quickly reviews the report. It isn’t much, just keeping Idore informed on army strength, recent mission success, and supplies. It’s been relatively quiet, with Aesfrost being calm since losing Glenbrook and Hyzante waiting for any movements regarding Aesfrost. Glenbrook (House Wolffort really) has been slowly establishing control of the newly recaptured kingdom.

But still, Idore wanted to be kept up to date. And Milo, ever the dutiful servant, ties the report to the bird’s leg and watches it fly away.

“Good evening, Milo.”

Shit.

The hyzantian spy turns around and sees her Glenbrook counterpart, standing in the darkened entrance to the castle armory. Such a good spot to send out spy reports: large trees covering the walls, not travelled at all on the forest side, and no one would be in the armory in the dead of night or even know of the dusty exit behind some stone shelves. The dancer made sure to conceal herself as best she could.

H-How could this be?! How did… Why?

Professional pride kept her from showing emotion. She had to face her fatal error.

“…Hello, Anna.”

“Quite a majestic bird. I’ve heard of the difficulty involving training them to do deliveries at night. Especially at this hour.”

“Cut the small talk. You know what this is.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that, Milo. You’re awfully calm for someone who slipped up.”

“You knew I worked for Idore. You and your puppeteer even said I was a spy when we first met.”

“You were here as a workforce loan, not as someone that would report to Idore every secret of ours. What information have you been giving him? We could have sent him reports with our messengers.”

“…You know exactly what.”

Anna stands there, motionless. Milo is used to playing off of people’s emotions but struggles here. Anna, especially, is frustrating to deal with due to how well she hid her thoughts.

“You told him about the salt crystals.”

Milo’s turn to stand there motionless.

“I don’t have to explain my job responsibilities to you. You of all people know what we are supposed to do.”

Milo’s thoughts go back to that one conversation she had with Lyla: Be careful that string of lies don’t end up around your neck. Goddess, that woman was so insufferable.

“…I do.”

“Then make it painless, please. The work I’ve put for Lord Serenoa, the blood I’ve spilled, the House Wolffort lives I’ve saved… Surely it can grant me this one last request. Having been caught, I cannot go back to Hyzante.”

Anna sees the taller dancer walk in front of her and kneel down. She wasn’t so cruel as to send Milo back to suffer at the hands of an enraged Idore. She knew what she had to do, especially to foreign spies that were working against her lord.

But… did she? Milo did everything Serenoa asked. She regularly turned the tide of battle and helped on small tasks. She put her best foot forward and made people that were wronged by Hyzante (like Ezana and Jerrom) feel welcome. Outside of the occasional unwanted advance, no one had any complaints about her. Serenoa (to Frederica’s irritation) had become her biggest supporter. And news of the salt crystals would have reached Hyzante anyway, whether through Aesfrost or the myriad glenbrook miners that would soon mine salt.

Why should I punish her? She saved my life several times and… and…

“Very well. Look up at me.”

Milo turns her head up and looks at the spy staring her back down. That short, silvery hair; those cold blue eyes; that scar on her right cheek.

I suppose there are worse things to be my final image.

She closes her eyes, awaiting her fate.

*****

Anna Pascal is a straightforward woman.

Not much in the way of hobbies, vices, or social activities; she spends her waking hours working on tasks assigned to her by Benedict or Serenoa. Once an orphan, she was raised by Benedict (even taking his last name) and was clearly meant to be Benedict’s eventual replacement as steward of House Wolffort. They were all responsibilities she gladly took; after all, she owed them her life.

That’s not to say she was a callous woman, however. Within her beat the heart of a kind, generous soul that got her into trouble at times, like when Benedict chewed her out for going on a boat ride with Rudolph. Still (although she would never admit it) she delighted in bringing some small joy to this world.

It’s a mindset that had her at odds with her work. For every fleeing enemy she killed in the shadows, she helped Quahaug achieve peace with the visions of his mother. For every Patriatte she had taken down, she helped Decimal achieve purpose. She saw it as all her role in this world. Her duty.

The day she met Milo was an odd day.

Hyzante had agreed to assist Prince Roland with retaking the Crown City. And part of this agreement was for an associate named Milo Yuelle to work with House Wolffort, mainly to handle this explosive crystal named Aelfric. It was described as a crystal of immense power: something that could blow apart walls, bridges, and ships. Such fearsome power in such a small crystal.

Even more fearsome was the dancer’s attitude. Her and Benedict immediately knew she was a spy, but cooperation was needed since she was the only one that could handle Aelfric. She presented innocently enough; a voice dripping with honey, a tantalizing smile, but otherwise harmless. Talked to Aelfric as if it was a child. Regularly flirted with half the House and got a stern reprimand by Frederica for it. But once Aelfric was deployed, she… stayed, causing further suspicion with the House Steward. But Serenoa agreed to keep her around. “It’s easier to see what she’s doing with her being around,” he said. But swamped with work, Benedict simply had no time to worry about Hyzante’s spy and Anna was tasked to investigate Milo. A dancer by trade, she seemingly got the favor of Minister Idore of the Saintly Seven and has been used covertly since. Tall and attractive, commanding the attention of a room with ease. Delighting in toying with emotions and becoming quite successful as a result. No surprise that the woman that showed incredible consideration for potted plants, crystals, and other such tools was not seen as such, but rather a flirty, conniving woman.

Anna knew. She knew the real Milo. The thoughtful, caring woman. The woman that risked her life before for Anna. The beautiful woman with that captivating smile.

Anna’s only concern at first was proving that she was releasing secrets to Idore. Sure, it could be assumed that Milo was relaying info to Idore, but did she stay quiet about the more sensitive discussions? Milo frequently found herself in the middle of strategy planning and this was a conversation that Anna did not want to get out.

Anna’s only concern. At first.

Investigating Milo had Anna frequently lost in the dancer’s light grey eyes. Her smile, mannerisms, looks… Anna let her guard down after Milo first saved her life and now found herself immensely conflicted. A conflict that no one would ever suspect. This woman had inexplicably wormed her way into the silver-haired retainer’s stone heart.

Benedict’s orders was to investigate and execute any spies working against Lord Serenoa. Even if, despite their protest, Lord Serenoa had developed faith in her.

Was the faith deserved? Turns out, no.

And now, she looks down at the hyzantian spy. Eyes closed, seemingly at peace with her fate. Anna wrestled with her thoughts. This woman—the woman that came to everyone’s defense when the assassins went after the late Lord Symon, the woman that helped Anna execute Patriatte for his treason, the woman that gave her those annoying butterflies in her stomach—she kneeled there, defenseless and frail.

It didn’t matter. Her personal desires never mattered, for Anna knew what to do. Like she has always done.

Readying a short sword, she grabs Milo’s scalp, moving everything to position. It’s something she’s done many times before. It’s relatively quick and straightforward. It’s what she must do.

And she makes her move.

Milo, hearing the sword move around, feeling her head held in place, knew her time was up. She had no regrets; she enjoyed her life even if she wanted to be put to better use than whatever Idore felt like tasking her with. No more pain, no more struggle, no more surprises.

Well, almost.

Expecting the cold embrace of iron, she gets greeted by a pair of dry, chapped lips. Her eyes shoot open as she sees the glenbrook spy quickly pull back. The short sword drops to the ground.

“W-What are you…?!” Shocked at the sudden change of events, Milo lands backwards on her hands and crawls away. Anna remains still and silent, only makes things worse.

“Anna, say something! What was that?”

“…I-I don’t think you should die. You are a valuable member of—”

“NO! NOT THAT!”

They continue to stare each other down.

“This isn’t—”

“Would you prefer death?”

“NO! Of course not! I just… I don’t understand…”

Anna slowly tilts her head to the side and pulls on a hair strand from the back of her head. It’s at this moment when Milo realizes that Anna is just as nervous as she is.

“C-Come here for a second.”

Milo grabs Anna’s hand and get back in the armory doorway, away from the moonlight. The shorter spy’s hand trembles. There, they turn to face each other as Milo pulls up Anna’s hands.

This woman is showing nothing in her face but she is putty right now. Thoughts aside, Milo slowly regains the confidence she’s known for.

“I’m flattered you see me this way, cutie.”

“And you do not? I noticed your interest several times.”

Milo wonders when this was. Was it when she would playfully flirt? She didn’t mean anything at first. Those times she went in to protect her in battle? Just doing what any soldier would. At first.

She couldn’t deny the silver-haired spy has been in her mind an unhealthy amount recently. She couldn’t deny that she hasn’t thought of doing what Anna did from time to time. She couldn’t deny that she wanted to take her right there, on the spot. How did this woman get her dagger in my heart like this? Standing there and looking into those deep blue eyes, she finds herself going somewhere she was never meant to be.

“Anna… we can’t do this. What would happen if anyone found out?”

“Your life is forfeit if you go back to Idore now. You serve a better role in House Wolffort’s service. Here, with me.”

“That’s not… ugh! I’m a caught spy! There’s nothing of value I can do now.”

“…Even tools have feelings, right?”

It catches the dancer by surprise. To chase and follow her desires wasn’t something she was ever allowed in the past. The desires of others always came first. And now, when given a chance to indulge… she found herself uneasy.

“You said that once. What do your feelings want, Milo?”

Without hesitation, she pulls in the shorter spy and returns the earlier favor. Whatever emotion lacked in her face, was felt through her tongue. They pull apart for a second, blushing and lost in each other’s eyes.

“Are you sure you want this, Anna? I’m a foreign spy, I could turn on you at any—”

“Yes. I am aware of what you are capable of. And I have decided that the risk is worth it.”

Milo almost wants to grin at the shorter spy’s attempt at flirting. Then gets pulled back in for more. Red faced and a little breathless, she remarks at seeing the slightest hint of a smile come from her crush.

“…Well, now I can’t go back.”

Chapter Text

*knock knock*

“Did anyone follow you here?”

“I’m doing swell, thanks for asking. Of course not! You truly have no faith in me?”

A few months removed from Milo’s last letter to Idore, Milo has slowly gotten used to the idea of no longer having ties to the Holy State and using her talents in Lord Serenoa’s employ. With the saber rattling of war getting ever louder, House Wolffort must render a decision soon regarding how to proceed with the knowledge of the salt crystals, even as Aesfrost and Hyzante build up their forces in anticipation of what the other sides do.

But, for now, the present washes away, if only for a few late hours.

“Your sneaking skills could use work. It would be bad if we were caught.”

“You’re so romantic.”

Milo takes off her cloak and places it neatly in the armoire near the entrance to Anna’s quarters. Not exactly the most lavish room Milo has ever been in. Bare walls, a simple table with some papers on it, and a plain bed with a blanket. There isn’t even a second chair in case someone needs to stop by. The bed itself looks like it’s barely used.

“The night breeze bites this time of year in Glenbrook, Milo. You don’t have to wear your usual outfit.”

“I know you like seeing me in it. How could I resist teasing my love?”

Anna slightly recoils at hearing that. Milo tells herself to take things slow with her reticent partner, but sometimes she just can’t resist watching those eyebrows furrow a bit.

“I should thank you first and foremost. Yesterday you were able to protect Corentin in my stead when I was surrounded.”

“I would have rather assisted you, darling! But I know—”

“Don’t lose focus in the mission. I was never in danger, but Corentin might have been. He can’t move as fast as us.”

Milo walks over to brush her crush’s hair, gently caressing the shorter spy’s face scar. “I would be beside myself if something happened to this pretty face. Who else would keep me from going back to Idore?”

Anna looks up and stares at Milo. Those cold eyes don’t fool the dancer anymore, she knows the warmth there.

“You are seditious.”

“You are lovely.”

“I wanted to talk about the formation you used yesterday with your squad—”

“UGH! Can work wait just a few minutes? I want some cuddles.” The dancer flops on the bed besides her. She hates how much softer it is than her own bed.

“…I’m worried you aren’t as protected as you could be.”

“And I’m worried that you will stress yourself to an early grave! Come here.”

The taciturn woman doesn’t move.

“Like I was saying—”

“You know, most people know better than to spurn my advances!”

They stare each other down from across the room.

“…Milo, I do not want to see you hurt. Please.”

A small, escaping hint of concern does the trick. Milo can only help but nod as they start reviewing strategies. It impressed Milo, how well tuned the mind of her crush was. She could give Benedict a run for his coin—

*knock knock*

“Anna, a moment if you would?”

Milo’s eyes widen. Anna stays perfectly still.

SHIT! We were so distracted by the recap. Good thing I haven’t said anything.

They stare at each other. Anna mouths out ‘HIDE’.

Where could I possibly hide? Other than…

Two choices: under the bed, or the barely used armoire. No way the armoire is dirtier than under the bed.

Anna locks the shelves in place and opens the door. In walks Benedict Pascal: surrogate father, teacher, and House steward.

“Were you talking with someone? Words will find their way out of these doors, if you’re not careful.”

Anna, stone-faced as ever, wondered if this was Benedict’s way of knowing she was hiding someone. On the other hand, she’s gotten the drop on Benedict often, and knows his forte isn’t spywork. Also, if he knew any part of the truth of Milo, he would not hesitate to end her life.

“Erador told me of this practice where saying some thoughts out loud would help show how viable they are. I… cannot say if it works for me yet, but I am willing to try.”

So sneaky, my love.

“Very well. I wanted to inform you about the salt crystals. Hyzante and Aesfrost have sent in demands to release the mines. I’m still gathering information, but I am wondering if allying with Aesfrost is the better play.”

“Benedict, you should reconsider. Gustadoph is… problematic.”

“We might not have an option for us to protect the Wolffort demesne. Either way, we’re going to have to render a decision soon. And we will reevaluate the foreign soldiers in our ranks. Groma, Flanagan, Corentin, Milo, Ezana—”

“Rest assured, I have investigated them all. They have shown loyalty to Lord Serenoa and I would not expect that to change.”

Thanks, sweetheart.

“Remember that they had loyalty once to their respective homelands. Milo in particular: I haven’t had time to investigate, but she has been feeding Idore information. It’s the only way to explain how he seemingly had the leg up on us each time we try to move against him.”

“He hasn’t made any moves in months. Perhaps his sources were dealt with.”

You certainly dealt with ‘my’ source.

“True, but I am not convinced of her loyalty. I’ll need to keep an eye out for her if we do end up moving against Hyzante. We should dispose of her soon either way.”

With that, the senior steward leaves the room and Anna slowly closes the door, putting on every lock available to her. She waits a few minutes before opening the armoire when a pair of arms pulls her in. Kisses follow.

“Mmmm… What are you doing?”

“My heart positively bursts at hearing you defend me.”

“I only did what was necessary. Your loss on the battlefield would be felt deeply.”

“*smooch* Is that the only reason?”

“Yes.”

Of all the stern, short words Anna gives her, that hurt the most. She pushes Anna out and walks to the door.

“I’ve known lascivious men with better sense than you. Am I just here for you to relieve stress between missions? Would it hurt so much to say something kind?”

“…You know I am not ornate like you.”

“Ornate? I’m asking for so little here! Forget this, I’m going.”

She grabs her cloak and turns to face the door. Such a cold woman. I can no longer deal with—

A pair of arms reaches around and holds her abdomen in place. Those hands that only get nervous for her make their return. A head gently rests on her back. Milo should be angry, but she loves when Anna gets sentimental like this.

“…Please do not go. I don’t want you to leave.”

“Say something nice about me then.”

“…I am…”

Milo rolls her eyes. Can’t believe it’s so hard for—

“I think I love you.”

This catches the dancer off guard. Sure, they’ve done things that would fool anyone into believing that this was a couple in love, but it had been uneven, to say the least. Milo had raised her concern in the past and Anna brushed it off. Milo was usually the one that initiated, the one trying to keep and get the serious woman out of her shell, if only for a moment.

Sometimes she resented falling hard for her that night, months ago. But hearing those words… She turns around and pins the silver-haired woman against the wall.

“Why did it take you so long to say it?”

“I thought you knew. Everything I have done the past few months—training, convincing Serenoa to keep you around, hiding us-- has been for you.”

“I still want to hear it! I feel like a nuisance at times with how you are.”

A smile eeks out from them both. Those eyes… they make Milo’s heart flutter every time.

“If you truly mean that, then you should know that I love you also.”

“I already did, you say that every night we meet.”

“I meant honestly! Not just when we’re intimate—Wait, are you being facetious?”

A small, sly grin from Anna makes Milo realize that she’s been a bad influence on her beloved.

She responds with her own mischievous grin. “We should celebrate!”

“Please do not make this a bigger deal—”

“Too bad, you chose this when you made me fall for you. Don’t worry, we’ll be… discreet with what we’re celebrating.”

Anna dreads what’s coming.

“To Hossabara’s!”

*****

Stirring in her quarter, a young lady rubs her eyes, trying to wrest them open from her slumber. Is it morning yet, she thinks to herself. Not exactly sunrise, but the sky is changing out of its pitch-black dress. The dull pangs of a headache reminds her of the previous night.

Hmf, that tavern woman sure knows how to get you to keep dropping coin on drinks.

Her quarter, assigned to her by the strategist Benedict, gave her the luxury of an open window facing the sunrise. Not much else in the room, mind you: a creaky bed adorned with rotting bedposts, a chair, a table with a candleholder, and more than its fair share of dust.

If only Benedict knew what was celebrated last night.

The young lady gets up and takes a second to look out the window. She ignores the disgusting feeling of dirt and dust on her feet.

It was a simple task, carefully entrusted to her by Minister Idore. Someone who never treated her as more than a tool. But a job is a job, and her job was clearly stated. Infiltrate House Wolffort, gain the Lord’s trust, and get deep in their plans, ready to intervene if necessary.

The waking sky slowly lights up the insides of her quarter. Rustling in her bed elicits no response as someone else turns over and faces the window.

Daybreak illuminates the bed. The other person hasn’t woken up yet. That same person that insisted on staying the night over, instead of sneaking back. The same person that drunkedly made her now-awake lover promise that she’s never leave her as they were taken to the land of clouds and sleep.

Jostling for a better position, a wandering hand finds that the other person isn’t there anymore. A quick grumble later, the fidgeting stops. The young lady smiles as she looks at her lover’s sleeping face, adorned with silver locks. So different, so peaceful, from what she is used to.

Perhaps the young lady got in too deep.

But perhaps she’s where she wants to be. To dote on someone. To be seen as a loving person rather than a tool of battle. To be seen as special by someone she adores. To be loved the way she’s always desired.

They never expected to find each other. Fall for each other. But they get to share those feelings with each other, no longer beholden to the world around them.