Completed The Noblest of Deeds

Down the road they went, drawing closer and closer to the city itself. The murmurs of the waiting crowd at the gates could begin to be heard, as well as the activity at the Banick encampment off to the eastern side of the road.

Kristen halted her horse when Alistair did. She swung her leg over and dropped down to the road, taking the reins in her hand to lead her mount.

"Right. If all goes well, I needn't say a thing," she said. Still, precautions were precautions, and she ran through her mind the salient points of Mikhaila's backstory in the book she'd mentioned. "But, nevertheless, I will be pre—"

"GET BACK HERE!" came a piercing shout from the House Banick encampment.

On the impulse of surprise, Kristen glanced over. A second later the familiarity of that voice struck her: that was Theodore Banick himself who had yelled.
 
Logan Banick had rushed down to Ostia Anir at the earliest opportunity, for the dire news warranted all possible haste.

Only just had he been exonerated of wrongdoing in the kidnapping of Mina Pirian and Jiya Luana that this disaster was happening. Walter, his own flesh and blood brother, was threatening everything House Banick had endured during the Revolution and all that it had gained since. His foolish pride! Always Walter's greatest folly! Logan knew little of the situation before he set out, knew little of all the attempts at negotiation that had already taken place, but he felt deeply that he had to do something himself. That he, perhaps, could talk sense into Walter. For what manner of man would he be if he let his brother continue on making the gravest mistake of his life without even an attempt at the slightest intervention? For all his faults, he was still family.

But when he arrived at the House Banick encampment, all he found was a source for further dismay. His other brothers, Cecil and Gabriel, were there, aunts and uncles and nephews and nieces and cousins galore. Yet, each and every one of them was leashed by Theodore, forbidden to do anything of real value without his explicit consent. It was almost as if this encampment were here solely to be a sort of balcony seat at a play—a dreadful play at that, wherein the tragedy was real and it was all yours to bear.

After arguing for hours with family of every description, and ultimately with Theodore himself, Logan at last was fed up and decided to storm out and toward the gates.

Whereupon Theodore, hurrying after him, yelled, "GET BACK HERE!"

Logan, grimacing hard with frustration and anger, wheeled about and shouted back, "He. Is. My. BROTHER!"

"And you are MY son! You will obey me, Logan! Take one more step toward those gates and I will strip you of everything that is yours by birthright! EVERYTHING!"

Logan twisted his head downward, his lips pinched fiercely shut to hold back his combative tongue. And, after a long moment, he at least relented to his father's command and stepped back from the threshold. Back toward the Banick encampment.
 
Kristen, immediately upon recognizing Logan, looked away and made sure her hood was pulled tight and secure, holding it in place with a hand. He had not glanced their way, busy with his own heated affairs as he was, but if he did—

"He knows me," Kristen said lowly to Alistair. "That's Logan Banick. We've met. He knows my face."

Alistair Krixus
 
Alistair watched the dramatic events with interests. His eyes were shooting from Logan to Theodore and finally to Kristen. Most eyes were on the loud events, and now would be a good time to slip in when no one was looking, but...

"Change of plans. We need to go talk to Logan Banick."

It was only a slight detour, but Kristen's comments made him pause. How exactly did he know her? Probably not in a good way, but it would be useful to have someone outside the walls to make sure everything did not go sideways.

Still, Alistair would only attempt this plan if Kristen agreed. Otherwise, they could just head into the city. Alistair could always go speak to Logan, while Kristen took the chance to slip into the city now. He did not like that idea as much, since it left them separated with Kristen alone.

No offense to Kristen, but Alistair did not have much faith in her espionage abilities when she was by herself.

Kristen Pirian
 
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An acquaintance. One of the many that surrounded the life of a typical noblewoman, and Kristen was certainly no exception. Only on a few occasions at large galas and gatherings had she seen and spoken with Logan Banick, and many years ago was this—before her kidnapping, even. Separated by eight years of age, her being nine and him being seventeen when last they'd met, they never truly had much upon which to connect, yet the then older boy had been nice enough to entertain her younger musings with a pleasant receptiveness.

Would he even recognize her now? The thought held no sway in her mind. More so was she concerned that if Logan Banick were to see her face, if he did recognize her, if he perhaps unwittingly called out to her in polite greeting, then the attempt to infiltrate into Ostia Anir would be damaged to some significant degree.

So it did come as a resounding surprise when Alistair promptly suggested the change of plan.

She turned toward him, blinking rapidly, but she did manage to stifle the interjectory What? that had risen up into her throat. Such was her concern for not fouling-up their infiltration that she hadn't considered what Alistair had considered.

But she didn't need to.

For she then nodded. Said affirmatively, "Very well...I trust you, Alistair."

Logan stood presently at the edge of the Banick encampment, one fist to his hip and the other rubbing his forehead. His fellow Banicks, with the ire of Theodore's rage still upon him and still cooling off, preferred to leave him be for now, lest they tempt the glare of that same ire upon themselves.

Alistair Krixus
 
Alistair approached Logan, being careful to keep his cloak up and to avoid being sighted by anyone that was not his target of conversation. He made sure Kristen was behind him. If he could help it, Logan would never exactly know who they were.

They needed his help, but that did not mean he needed to know everything about this mission.

Alistair eventually found himself leaning beside a tent, that put him in view of Logan, but blocked him off from the other Banicks.

"It would seem your family is very close to finding itself splitting apart."

No need for formalities. It was better that they came across as someone who did not care for such things, less easy to figure out who they might be.

"Your brother has found himself in some trouble."

Kristen Pirian
 
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Kristen followed after Alistair, careful to keep her face mostly obscured by her hood, but as well not trying to make it overt that she was deliberately doing so.

Behind Alistair she stood, like an accomplice in whatever affair he might say they were up to. A merchant and his bodyguard, perhaps.

She was, in any case, preparing herself mentally to follow Alistair's lead.
 
Damn his father's paranoia! Damn it to Pandemonium, to Hell, to whatever abysmal plane imaginable would receive it! Now of all times for that paranoia to reign over his judgment. All whom Logan had spoken with harbored at least some quibble with Theodore's handling of this catastrophe, and there was no insignificant number of aunts, uncles, and older cousins who (though they did not say so outright) questioned Theodore's leadership here. And rightly so, in Logan's opinion. They were all Walter's family, each and every one of them, and who better—

Someone spoke.

Logan came out of his frustrated thoughts. Glanced over. Two men were there, cloaked and hooded, purposefully positioned in a way that was not lost on him, and so Logan stopped looking directly at them. He looked forward with his head, such that any wayward glances from his fellow Banicks within the encampment would think little of it, and he looked to the two men with a sidelong gaze from the corner of his eye.

"Yes. He has."

He of course knew nothing of who these two might be. But, with his frustration and desperation as it was, a beggar could not be a chooser—if indeed their presence was for good and not for ill.

"Who, might I ask, are you?"

Alistair Krixus
 
"Someone that would like to see both your brother and your house make it out of all of this still standing. I imagine that might be in short supply."

This discussion could not last very long. No matter how good they had positioned themselves so as not to be seen, the longer they were here the more likely someone would notice something was wrong.

His eyes kept glancing over in the direction that he expected others to come from. At a moment's notice, they may have to leave. Anyone else finding out about this discussion would bring problems for both sides.

"We can help you, but in return, we may need assistance."

Kristen Pirian
 
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Of course Logan would have preferred a name. Something, anything, that would make these two cloaked men more than mysteries. But all this was an extraordinary situation, and Theodore had left Logan with scarcely any recourse if he wanted to see Walter recovered from the path of ruin.

What choice did he have, other than to languish out here? Trust was all he had if he truly wished to do something.

"What would you ask of me?"

Alistair Krixus
 
"We are going inside, and we will try to de-escalate things. We need you to buy us time outside. When the army gets here, and they will, slow them down."

Alistair would not ask much of the man, he would have too many eyes on him to do much anyways. All they needed was time. He was confident that he and Kristen could pull this off, as long as time did not prove to pressure them too much.

He glanced toward Kristen wondering if she had any other ideas about what Logan could do for them.

Kristen Pirian
 
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Kristen caught Alistair's glance around the hem of her hood. Gathered quickly what he meant by it. Worried in some small capacity was she that Logan might recognize her voice...but it had been years, and her voice had changed from her girlhood to her now young womanhood. Further, it was best not to let some nibbling worry preclude them from help they might desperately need in the case of misfortune.

"Should something happen and we require your aid again whilst inside, we will signal you. Come, however covertly you can, to where you see an Ashen Crucifix upon the walls. From there we can relay messages."
 
The army. It was only by the happenstance of timing that a full force of Guardsmen wasn't here already. Logan placed his hands on his hips and let out a steady exhale. He was a nobleman of House Banick and an Anirian Knight, but even so it wouldn't be easy to delay a Commander who was intent on carrying out his mission. He would have to set out immediately up the road once he finished here; to delay as long as possible he'd have to catch the troops still on the march.

If a force of Guardsmen entrenched into a siege operation outside of Ostia Anir, he knew his brother—Walter would very likely become even more obstinate.

"I will do what I can."

And then the other spoke. Oh, it was a woman, the fact minorly disarming him with its unexpected nature. Strange...was she...did...did he know that voice from somewhere? He couldn't place it, and dismissed the notion: there were more important things to concern himself with.

He nodded. "An Ashen Crucifix. If Lady Luck is with us, it shan't even come to that."

Alistair Krixus
 
"Correct, thank you for the assistance. Let us hope we bring this to a speedy end."

There was nothing left to say and nothing more to explain. The longer they stood there the more likely someone would spot them, and the longer it would take for all of this to be finished.

Alistair turned away and began heading for the entrance gate. He did not need to look back as he figured Kristen would follow him.

The conversation had helped resolve one of their problems, at least for a time. The next was getting into the city. That was the trick to all of this, Alistair had to focus on the task directly in front of him. He could still keep the bigger picture in mind, but if he focused too much on that, he would make mistakes with the things in front of him. That is what had happened at the Canal.

Kristen Pirian
 
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They parted. Logan heading his own way, Kristen and Alistair heading theirs.

Ahead, the line of countryside people, the farmers and the villagers, all seeking to enter Ostia Anir. Surprisingly orderly, the line. Either the Banick soldiers were taking an active role in ensuring everything stayed neat, or the people, whilst still keen on entering, weren't under so much pressure of fright to foster unruliness.

"I must say," Kristen said as they approached, "that was rather admirable swift thinking on your part. Praise is seldom dispensed at the Academy, this much I've learned in my short time, so allow me to say what surely is not said enough: you are quite adaptable, Alistair, and this strength of yours is not appreciated nearly to the extent it should."

And they might just need every ounce of adaptability they could possibly muster in this endeavor.

Alistair Krixus
 
Alistair just smirked at the compliment.

"Surprisingly, the Academy is rather good at teaching adaptability out of desperation. They don't actively teach the quality, but it is easily learned inside the Academy...Especially for those of us without the overwhelming magical power of others."

It was an area that Al was confident in, but there were others in the Academy with similar skills. When backed into a corner with no way to just overpower your way out, the only way to survive was to adapt. He had learned to think like this, or otherwise, he would have died.

It came time for their turn in line and Alistair stepped forward with a friendly smile. He was asked his name and occupation.

"Yes, thank you, sir. Phineus Koryll a trader by trade. This is my guard Kon."

The guards looked over each of them, taking an interest in Kristen now that Alistair had noted her as his guard.

"Not much room for trading here, right now, but you might find better security inside."

Kristen Pirian
 
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Kon. Easy enough to remember. The first foot forward of the pseudonym was the same as her true name—a boon to help the ruse along and stave off slips of her otherwise earnest tongue.

For now, as the Banick gate guards took in her measure upon the introduction, she did her best to present the stolid, serious visage one might expect of a bodyguard. The thought occurred to her that she was putting on an "Edric face."

The one guard said his piece (the part about finding better security Kristen already having anticipated). His companion looked over their horses, scanning them with big sweeps of his eyes.

"Trader, huh. You're traveling light." Then after a second he looked to Alistair. "What's your business here in Ostia Anir? Now of all times?"

Alistair Krixus
 
"War makes for good business after the fact. When all of this is over these people are going to be selling what little possessions they have left for next to nothing so they can start over again. I'll turn it around for a huge profit." Alistair explained.

It was an incredibly slimy answer, but that was the point. It was so disgusting that it was believable. It did not matter if the guards did not like him. All that mattered was that they let him in. Besides, if he did his job right then he would likely be saving their lives.

Alistair patted the pouch of gold on his hip.

"All these farmers are going to need coins when their homes are burned to the ground."

He did not smile as he said it, but his eyes and mouth showed no traces of a frown or any hesitation. This was just business.

Kristen Pirian
 
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The first guard didn't appear enthused at all. "Figures. Bloodsucking merchants. Why don't you turn around and go—"

The second guard, however, slapped a hand to his companion's breastplate and nudged him slightly back, taking a step forward himself. He glanced over at the other guards off to the right; busy, the lot of them, with their own inspections and inquiries of those seeking entry. To Alistair he said in a confidential tone, "We can let you in to ply your trade, merchant, no questions asked. If, of course, you make your pouch a bit lighter. Looks awfully heavy."

The first guard was a little annoyed, but offered no complaint.

"Two crowns each," Kristen said, trying to take a firm stance on the matter despite the slight nauseating feeling that came from engaging in such furtive activity.

"Six," said the second guard, haggling. "That's my lucky number in Dueling Dice. It's sentimental."

"Three."

"Five and you're in," said the first guard, who looked like he shared some of Kristen's feelings but who clearly figured he was better off a few coins richer.

Alistair Krixus
 
He laughed and made a show of being deep in thought. "You would think my friend Kon is a merchant given this little spar, but they are no match for you."

Alistair gave them his best sleazy merchant smile as he discretely removed ten coins and deposited them into the guard's hands.

"You are truly a friend, sir. I was in danger of that bag bringing my pants down to my ankles. Have a good day."

He patted the man on the back and then moved to head into the city, motioning for Kristen to follow him. As soon as he was sure Kristen was with him and the guards had moved on, the smile would drop and he would attempt to get lost in the crowd.

Kristen Pirian
 
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It worked well enough. Mostly because, in an instance of life imitating art, there was a scene in the very adventure tale Kristen had spoken of in which the heroine Mikhaila dealt with guards much like these. In the book they were guarding a bridge rather than a gate, but the little details hardly mattered.

What mattered was that they were in. No fuss, no damage done to their ruse.

As the two guardsmen quickly pocketed their scoundrel's earnings, Kristen followed after Alistair. The main avenue of Ostia Anir, the very same they had rode in on prior to the Canal campaign's commencement, was now so thronged with countryside refugees that Kristen could scarcely recognize it.

There was a crier on a platform trying to direct people. "There is plenty of room at the Canal Tenements! Hear me, hear me, there is plenty...!"

To which someone in the crowd, nearby to Kristen and Alistair, said, "What? With the elves?"

Kristen paid neither the crier nor the assorted murmurings of the crowd much mind. Weaving through, at least, was made a little easy as people more readily made way for her horse and Alistair's own.

Once beside Alistair, she said, "Excellent work, Phineus." She smiled a little when she said the name. Then she patted her horse's neck. "Do you suppose we ought to make the coin purse heavier again?"

Alistair Krixus
 
"Thanks, Kon."

Alistair was in quick agreement with Kristen as he looked for a place to sell their horses. It would not be too hard. They could sell the horses to the military, but cavalry would just result in more mouths to feed during a siege...There was an easier way to sell the horses, but Kristen would likely not like it.

"Two horses, twenty crowns each, good meat!"

Most of the refugees could not afford to pay that, but some of the wealthier refugees who were used to a certain standard of living would happily pay that price.

Even now, he could see some interesting turning to regard the horses. Some of those eyes were full of longing, those that could not afford the horses, but hungrily imagined what they would taste like.

"Let's keep moving. If someone truly wants them then they can follow us. I want to get out of the crowd."

Kristen Pirian
 
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Good meat!

A slight grimace slowly pulled at Kristen's lips. The initial kick to the stomach at the unappetizing context of those two words was powerful, but it abated with surprising swiftness. It was the unpleasant memory of being lost in the desert which had done it, even if there it was more thirst than hunger. Yet that same all-consuming need had been there. When her tongue was parched, mouth raw with dryness, when her urine was turning an alarming shade of brown, all she could think about was a drink of water, and plenty she might have done for it.

Hunger, brought on by the privation of a prolonged siege, would be much the same for these people. If, of course, she and Alistair failed in their mission and it came to that.

Let's keep moving...I want to get out of the crowd.

"Right."

Fortunately, the throng near the gates was the thickest crowd. In fact, the only crowd. It wouldn't take too much more pushing and weaving through to escape it, and on the other side Kristen and Alistair would find the main avenue incredibly sparse. Some laborers, some patrols of Banick soldiers, a few citizens going about in hurried business, but other than this the cobbles were clear. The majority of the city's inhabitants, so it seemed, were sheltering inside of their homes.

"It is as though they're expecting the worst to come soon," Kristen marveled. And, with a small hint of concern for their own purpose here, "Very soon."

Alistair Krixus
 
He followed his eyes to what Kristen was saying and could only nod morbidly. Once they were past the initial crowd at the gates, the tension inside the city was far more palpable.

"That's because they aren't blind. Their city lord just started a fight with all of Vel Anir. Wars like that are never good for the little person."

These people would be the first ones drafted and put on the walls to soak up arrows, or the first ones to feel the grips of hunger as food became harder to come by.

"Let's hope our friends outside buys us some time."

The imagery around Alistair was enough to kick him into movement as he swiftly dismounted from his horse and spotted a thicker-looking man who had followed them. He motioned him over.

"You want them? Twenty crowns, no negotiations. Hand it over or leave."

The sudden abrasiveness from Alistair was enough to make the man pause his reaching for his pouch as he looked between Alistair and then Kristen.

Kristen Pirian
 
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How true they were, Alistair's words, and underscore the weight of Lordship and Ladyship they did, even in this age of the Republic. Supposing that by some miracle Walter succeeded in his aims, the little men and women who owed fealty to him would see little, if any, benefits of the victory. This wasn't for them in the slightest. Father always said that this was the crucial difference between House Banick and House Pirian, that Banick sought the approval of the people not as an end in and of itself, but as a means.

A buyer then separated from the gate crowd. Alistair headed him off before he could even initiate an offer; firm footing, compared to the haggling over the furtive sum with the two guardsmen. The man seemed a little disoriented by it.

Kristen doubled down on Alistair's approach. "You heard him. Twenty crowns or no deal."

Alistair Krixus
 
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