It was the twenty-third hour of that day. The squad finally seemed more optimistic of their future having made some progress in their concerns that inflamed their minds just minutes ago. There was direction, a plan, and a strategy. Most of their problems appeared to have already been dispelled and just the execution remained. However, from their optimism, they have forgotten that they had missed a major component that without, this machine would not work, that even the less strategically-inclined could tell.
Holding Siegfried in his arms who was sat before him, their archer raised his hand. “Armin…” Hesitating over whether he should say, he drew the attention of his comrades towards him. “Who was supposed to be negotiating all this?” asked Károly, thinking that he came prepared.
As if they had been enlightened, however shockedly, the squad righted themselves, attentively. They looked at each other, wondering if they indeed had a negotiator, but instead, the brief brightness on their faces fainted upon seeing the cluelessness that had taken hold of all around the fire. The glimmer in their eyes became lost and turned to the lieutenant for leadership but neither was he so sure anymore.
Arminius heard their silence, and lowered his head, dismayed by the fact that he had forgotten about the keys to this lock. “The mayor…” He mumbled in reply.
“Great, and now he’s where?” Gin interrupted him with nothing better else to say.
Equally troubled by the late-mayor’s premature departure, one urged them to find an answer. “That’s valid, Károly.” Arber granted in his unexpected thoughtfulness. “Even if we do have a draft of the treaty, not even a footman would hear out a foreign child.” He imagined the potential strife from the eyes of the locals.
“And so we return to our original problem.” Arnau added.
Sitting up, the Rus shuffled closer to the fire, as if he had something productive to contribute, but his comrades thought too much of him out of their urgency. “If we don’t manage to find us a new negotiator, we might as well just open the gates.” Lev suggested with a smirk. “At least they’ll treat me well.” He joked to their wrong taste.
“I also heard that they’d hang traitors by the dick to dry in the wind.” Colt sat forward and threw a stick over the fire which struck Lev, however, his tone seemed to entertain his humor in a similar manner. “But, you might not be the only one with that idea.” Leaning into the couch again, the sergeant warned.
Those who found the situation of less gravity tied themselves away from giving any real advice but those who had thought that much on behalf of their comrades had been wrung dry of ideas. They were not split in opinions however. The unserious still understood that their predicament was no joke, however their youthful air of usual vigor had since grown frail. The house was in unease again and it felt as though their progress had been erased. Without another opinion, they could get nowhere and it was clear by some of their faces, few had surrendered to fate before the fight had even come. Arnau stuck his hands in his pockets and pushed himself away from the pillar, pacing away from the fire that was refueled by Miklós’s bundle of firewood. Poking around the coal with a stick, Siegfried was still in Károly’s arms, but the archer was falling asleep. Lev slouched on his seat, picking at his fingers, waiting for someone to say anything even if it was apparent to himself that he had a plan from the beginning, he could be waiting for his comrades to become completely desolate of ideas or perhaps he simply lazed from speaking. Given false hope, the prominent voices of their band had been hushed, but it gave space for another to enter the stage.
“I wouldn’t want to speak against the laws of your kingdom, Carlstadt, but wasn’t Rantzau a baron?” Alexandria calmly stirred their minds again.
Surprised that she, of all people, would interject, the Danner turned to her for answer. “Yeah…but what has that got to do with anything?” He wondered from her approach.
Their comrades’ attention flickered back and forth between the two, searching for hints in their words if there were any. But Alexandria and Julien were like light and a mirror, rebounding their individual wordlessness. It was not them but a third speaker who answered their questions having realized what she meant.
Bringing his hand away from his face, the seed of an idea had been planted in his head. “The rule of succession…” Arminius surmised. “He has a wife, does he not?” He skipped to the conclusion but his friend understood him perfectly.
Straightening his back, he felt his hairs stand as an unlikely hope washed over him. “You’re not suggesting to—” Julien began but was stopped.
“Quick, come with me, Julien.” Arminius promptly stood, his sense of direction having returned.
He grabbed Julien by his arm and dragged him out of his chair, who, taken by surprise, a note of sound escaped him. His feet moved before he could think. As they hurried towards the door, Arminius let Julien free of his grasp and hastily pulled on his boots. Alerted by the lieutenant’s erratic behavior that came, seemingly, from nowhere, the squad stared. Only one other recognized his intent in his reaction having known his habits whenever he had stirred up an idea.
The sergeant rose from his seat and stretched his arms, reaching for the ceiling. “Before anyone gets the funny idea to do otherwise, ain’t that right, Sekiya?” Colt gathered, his understanding spreading among his comrades like wildfire.
“In that case, at the very least, we should stand guard for you.” Arnau returned to the light of the hearth and unsheathed his knife, showing its blade that he forged, out of a sign of protectiveness. “If anything happens, we’ll be there for you.” The lancer made a promise to the two that he fully intended to keep.
Julien faced his comrades, not having ever thought that they would join them too, but since their evening of despair, he saw their first signs of faith and action. Together, the squad had showed their true conviction, rising from their seats from inaction, even if it did take some convincing for the slothful being dragged off his couch. Arminius returned an assured nod having received their respect as they marched for the door, their weapons at hand, dressing themselves with coats and caps. Their elected lieutenant led on as it had always been and opened their way to the path outside, for the sake of his friends, into the midnight cold.14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGSPLcnXwqh
