Chapter Text
Crow swore into the dirt of the training-ring as his body slammed against its surface, the windows of his exposed flesh burning as he skidded.
Across the hall, a woman tutted.
"I know you can cast arts faster than that," Claire sighed, her voice disappointed and reproachful in a way a mother's might be when addressing a toddler.
Annoyance flared in him, sharp and hot and brief. He angled his expression away from her, concealing the dark grimace that split his face. It was how it always had to be, when he was playing the part of an Ironblood: condensed flashes of fury that he could only let himself revel in for a fraction of a moment, before he snuffed the emotions out like simple candle flames.
Buried, as if they were never there at all the moment he replaced that mask.
Osborne was so close to his reach, Crow could practically feel the warmth of the man's blood on his sabre. He would have his time, his moment, the sweet release of revenge. Everything he had to endure before was trivial compared to the final victory he would steal beneath the Ironbloods' eyes.
Even if that meant letting the Icy Maiden beat him into the ground, week after week.
Crow had been determined to maintain his game of pretend with the rest of Osborne's mutts until all his pieces were ready to play. He knew he had one chance: he loved gambling, but he would never take his chances with this. He would be certain, or he would not take his shot at all.
Except he had blinked, and almost two damned years had passed.
Crow spat the sand out of his mouth inelegantly in lieu of a response: Claire's training methods were as gruelling as they were methodical, and the truth was he was gasping for breath. Predictably, her expression twisted in disgust, and Crow grinned. So she was human after all under that composed exterior.
"Crow! Have some decorum," she chastised, yet it only made him more contrary. He rolled over, caking the back of his shirt in a thin layer of dust to match his front. His black workout gear looked like it had been dropped in a muddy puddle before being dried by four sandstorms.
"There's sand in my boots, Claire," he whined petulantly. As if dignity mattered on the battlefield.
"Then tip them out. Three more rounds," she declared pragmatically.
He produced the most melodramatic, animalistic noise he could muster from the back of his throat. It sounded annoying, even to him.
A sharp blast assaulted his ears, and Crow eyed a smouldering, singed patch of ground just shy of his face. He jumped, and another landed between his legs.
"Aidios' tits, Claire!" Crow yelped, sitting up suddenly. "You tryna kill me?"
"Trying to give you some encouragement. And don't use that language! What has Lechter been teaching you?" she said with a disappointed frown.
"I quite literally," Crow said slowly, punctuating every word. "Grew up in the slums, Claire."
He didn't have to feign his irritated expression.
It wasn't like any of Osborne's merry band of misfits had particularly joyful upbringings, but it did grate on him how frequently Lechter and Claire conveniently and insensitively liked to forget that he didn't share their affluent roots. They'd fallen from grace, lofty heights of riches Crow couldn't dare aspire to in his rags. The Mayor of Jurai had been far from a well-paying, prestigious position, at least when his grandfather had had it. It had been a criminally underpaid, glorified civil servant role. Just another consequence of Erebonia's corrupting influence.
"You know," he drawled. "Street rat, sewer urchin, petty criminal, common crook, filthy, destitute orphan-"
"Up!" she barked.
The next blast landed by Crow's crotch, and he jumped as survival instincts finally kicked into gear.
-
"Something on your mind?" Claire asked as she polished off her gun. Her voice was full of concern, her expression kind as ever: she really was a different person out of the ring. "You weren't as sharp as usual today."
"Eh, bad hair day," he deflected with a shrug. "Not that my marksmanship'll ever be up to par with yours."
"Don't put yourself down," she reassured. He must have pulled a face, because she continued. "Really. You've made remarkable progress, especially when I think back to how clumsily you wielded a dagger when you came to me."
It had, of course, been nothing more than an act. Crow had been gutting fish practically since he could walk, but as far as he was concerned, his dexterity was just another card up his sleeve for when his real time to shine came around.
Orbal guns were one of the few weapons he'd never had much practice with. It was easy enough to fake potential with them. Except, if he knew he'd have Claire on his back, maybe he'd have feigned an avid interest in the rapiers Lechter liked so much.
"I'm that great, am I?" he said with a goofy grin. "Tell me more."
She rolled her eyes.
"The Chancellor will be increasing the difficulty of your excursions, soon. That's why I've been pushing you lately: to make sure you're prepared," she sighed. "Only... Your 'bad hair day' wouldn't happen to have anything to do with Rean's return, would it?"
Crow paused.
"Who?"
Claire levelled an unimpressed stare at him. "I know you've been curious about the name that's been floating around recently."
Crow averted his gaze ahead, praying it would be enough to evade Claire's sharp instincts. She wasn't entirely wrong.
The truth was, he was scared out of his mind.
A new Ironblood changed everything.
Aside from the four members he knew, Crow was aware that Osborne had at least two more members to his inner circle. Yet their identities had always been shrouded in mystery, and Lechter and Claire sure as hell never gave anything away.
There hadn't been a hoot from either for the past two years. Foolishly, he'd assumed things would stay that way.
Precarious as it was, Crow had carved himself a place with the motley group. He'd worked himself to the bone to keep pace with the prodigious exceptionalism of the literal superhumans around him, rather than be thrown out the door before he could take his shot at the chancellor.
And it had been a damned difficult task to keep his true intentions hidden from Lechter's foresight-level intuition and Claire's discerning mind. They were the real threats to his mission.
There was only so much he could do to avoid the pair of them as best he could, and pray they had bigger fish to worry about than some street rat the cat dragged in who Osborne saw value to extract from. So far, he had managed to conceal his real motives - but there had been some damned close calls.
But if Rean was anything like them, he was utterly fucked.
"You'll like Rean," Claire smiled. "He's a good kid. And, well, he's with us, so you can be certain there won't be any issues."
She didn't need to explain what she meant.
"Oh, I get it. Our mysterious fifth man. Not to be confused with our mysterious sixth man," Crow deadpanned.
"Any plans for the afternoon, then?" Claire said, elegantly ignoring him.
"Nah. Just babysittin' the kids, I guess."
"The kids," Claire echoed, almost like a question. Crow took the opportunity to retreat.
-
Osborne had set the Ironbloods up with a so-called townhouse on the outskirts of Heimdallr. He didn't stay there, not like the Ironbloods did. Frankly, Crow didn't know where he lived, and he wasn't sure he'd ever be trusted enough for that. It operated practically like a military compound for them, a base of operations whenever they weren't away on missions.
It was perfectly private and discreet, the kind of done-up sort of fancy house that blended into the roads like it could have been anything at all. Offices, a clinic, some kind of niche museum, apartments that would kick you out for smuggling in a cat. It certainly had enough side and back entrances to give the illusion of a multi-purpose establishment. Nobody would have suspected it housed the infamous Scarecrow and great Icy Maiden. Nor would they have thought anything of the curious pair of twins who stuck together like glue whenever they went in and out.
It did have some perks, though. Fancy training ring warehoused at the back of the yard, a library fancy as any nobleman's, and a nice, open courtyard for the girls. Crow weighed his back against a bench, his elbows propped up on its back either side of his torso as he flipped through some military treatise.
In the middle of the lawn, Millium giggled excitedly as she chased a wasp like the child without a shred of self-preservation she was, Altina observing impassively on the floor. A third of a poorly constructed daisy chain was left discarded at her knees.
"Hey!" Crow called as he heard Millium manifest Airgetlam. "Careful, kid," he said, though his voice was fond. "Don't get old Crow in trouble."
The walls were high enough that it was usually fine, but Millium's orders not to reveal the literal state secret that was her weapon out in broad daylight always went in one ear and out the other. Too many times, she'd almost flown off on it, right in the middle of the most populous city in Erebonia.
Millium moaned but begrudgingly obliged. Crow turned his attention back to his book.
Usually, she'd put up more of a fight. Maybe he was more off his game than he thought. Altina had been hovering in that awkward way she was inclined towards when she was concerned. But the two of them had been so excited all week, chomping at the bit to see their big brother Rean again. Millium had tackled and stuck herself to him far more frequently than usual. Even Altina had cracked a small smile from time to time, the ones she only revealed when he fluffed up some 'specially good pancakes for her.
He almost felt bad about his slip.
Aidios, how bad was it that Millium was acting half-considerate?
"Schleiden's Military Principles, huh?" drawled a mysteriously continental accent. Crow jumped out of his skin as a firm hand was pressed against his shoulder. "Decent choice. I prefer the 4th edition, though."
Lechter Arundel grinned down at him.
"Aidios, man, can't I catch a break," Crow complained. The reaction was genuine. Lechter was like a cat when he wanted to be, impossibly silent for a man who claimed to slack off in his office all day. "I'd like to see you pull this shit on Claire," he added under his breath.
"Eh, even I know better than that," Lechter shrugged, and Crow tried not to feel a little salty at the implication he wasn't taken as seriously when he'd literally invited the comment. "What's up?"
"Just babysitting..." he muttered.
"The kids, huh?" Lechter finished, eerily echoing what he'd said to Claire. Lechter was uncanny like that. "Heard you were antsy 'bout our new arrival."
"Didn't expect Claire to have a big mouth," Crow responded, running a hand down his face in annoyance, but there was no heat to his words.
It was a lie anyway. Claire and Lechter had the biggest of mouths, actually, at least as far as swapping intel with each other. Frankly, they could announce they were getting married tomorrow morning and have everyone entirely unsurprised. It was scary how well they knew each other, and how well they could work together if they put their mind to it.
Dangerous, dangerous people. He wondered if their backs hurt, carrying the weight of half the Erebonian government on them. At least it kept them preoccupied.
"Sounds like our little spitfire's jealous our affection'll be divided," Lechter teased.
"Why've we gotta make such a big deal outta nothing, huh?" Crow sighed. "Can't say I ain't curious, but we're basically employees at best, anyway! Might be nice to have someone my age around, but the whole thing makes no difference to me."
Lechter's expression didn't change a fraction, revealing none of his thoughts at all.
"Aww, come on, lover-boy," Lechter teased. "Keep that up, and Millium'll be on you for your 'grumpy teen emo phase'. One of her favourite phrases, y'know."
He rolled his eyes.
"Well, far be it from me to keep you. Just wanted to say hi after gettin' back from Crossbell."
Lechter dropped something in Crow's lap as he walked off: a limited-edition deck of Blade.
He ran his fingertips over the high-quality cards. He'd forgotten the man had even left, if only for two days.
He really was more stressed than he thought.
He glanced up as Lechter approached the girls, plush toy dangling from one arm and a box of sweets from the other. Millium screamed as she tackled him in a hug. He caught her before she could, and spun her round with deceptive strength
High time for him to head back inside.
-
Four days later, Crow emerged from his 'afternoon nap' to the sound of commotion.
A young man with dark hair and light eyes stood surrounded by the Ironbloods in the foyer.
"Rean!" Millium squealed, tackling him with the full force of her short stature. Rean stumbled back, a hesitant smile on his face.
"I've missed you too, Millium," Crow heard him say, his voice deep and sincere in a way Crow's never could be.
His eyes turned to where Altina lingered just far enough to be inconspicuous, even though her intent stare revealed her obvious desire to be closer. "You too, Altina," he smiled, reaching out a hand. She stepped closer carefully, like she wasn't quite sure Rean was real, as he placed his hand affectionately upon the crown of her head. "I think you've both grown."
Claire wrapped him in a brief, tight hug, insisting to take his bags despite his resistance. "Welcome back, Rean," she said gently. Crow clocked a sword of some sort wrapped in fabric over his shoulder. Lechter gave him a friendly pat on the arm.
Somehow, watching the whole thing made him feel so very empty. Pitifully so.
It was strange. The whole thing was exactly the kind of greeting he might get, if he went on a long mission now. He could see himself in Rean's place so easily, all the way down to the hesitance and confusion in his posture at being welcomed home with such fanfare. The reactions of the Ironbloods, superficially at least, would look exactly the same to an outsider.
Except he could tell the affection behind them ran much deeper. Their unguarded bond was painfully clear.
He hid himself behind a wall before anyone could see him, tucking his presence into himself as small as it could go.
And in his room, Crow wondered how much he'd really secured a place for himself at all.