The Reunion of Eden
Their path took them north along the wide banks of the Grey River, they stayed close to the eastern shore and traveled upstream, which made their trip a lengthy one. The wooden skiff was exceptionally seaworthy for a vessel in the second age, cutting through the murky water with ease. The small dark grey sail flapped steadily in the wind from the center of the ship, dragging the wooden craft steadily along their route.
The skiff had the plain appearance of an old and mundane peasant craft, an incredibly unremarkable sight on the rivers of The Scavenger Lands. The navigator stood at the rear of the ship holding a long bamboo shoot that connected to the rudder below the waterline and allowed him to steer the nimble vessel through the shallow waters. A line of tall oak barrels was strapped along the rear of the ship, which the navigator was forced to stand on top of, and also added weight to the aft which lifted the nose slightly out of the water. Even with the supply barrells taking up the bulk of the rear of the ship, there was plenty of room for the four passengers aboard to sit comfortably for their long journey.
They had entered Marukan territory just before dawn, the rising sun on their right would be at their back to any Marukan scouts keeping an eye on the River. Though the humble skiff wouldn’t likely raise an alarm even if they were to spot it. Still several hours from their destination, The Marukan Redoubt, they would be forced to approach the fortification in broad daylight as their mission dictated that haste was of the utmost importance. The Redoubt had become an increasingly important structure in the politics of The Scavenger Lands over recent years, as The Mask of Winters increased his military and political power in Thorns, expansion was inevitable. Standing against that rising tide was The Marukan Alliance, by far the City of Death’s closest neighbor. The horse lords of Marukan had few naturally defensible locations, to the North there was the capital city of Celeren, to the east there was only open fields and The Redoubt.
What made their mission unusual, and why it required the subtle touch of The Grass Spider’s, is that their client for this mission originated in Lookshy. The staunchest supporters of The Marukan Alliance, they wielded immense power over the territory and even greater influence over military installation such as The Redoubt. In fact there would likely be as many troops from Lookshy within the fortress as there were from Marukan. So why exactly were The Grass Spiders hired to eliminate someone within a territory that Lookshy essentially controlled? Well, some questions even The Grass Spider’s didn’t get to ask…
Whitaker didn’t spend much time contemplating the task at hand while navigating the ship through the river towards their destination, instead he took notice of his companions, Circle-mates, sworn brothers and sisters, whom he got to spend time with so rarely these days. Especially all at once! It had been a long time since the five members of The Minstrel’s of Eden were gathered in one place, even longer since the whole circle had been assigned to the same mission. So long in fact, that Whitaker could not recall what it had been.
“When was the last time we were all gathered to complete a mission?” Whitaker broke the silence with the genuine, casual tone that was common for him. He broke even the heavy silence of dawn with ease.
The silence that followed Whitaker's question was a testament to the time that had passed since the circle had united for a job. Apollo, Basilisk, and Valen each exchanged blank stares in tacit admission that it had been quite awhile, long enough, in fact, that most of the crew didn't remember. The Fifth Mixolydian Ruby, on the other hand, seemed initially to have ignored Whitaker's question. She was busy fidgeting with a contraption she'd devised to brew coffee in a portable fashion. It was hilariously crude and amounted to little more than a tin can partitioned into two sections separated by a thin cloth membrane, but she seemed satisfied that it appeared to be working as she spent a mote to heat the water in the can. After the silence persisted for a few seconds, she spoke up but kept her gaze affixed to the warming tin can in her grasp.
"It's been 321 days, six hours, four minutes. I'm assuming you knew that and that you were just trying to start a conversation."
Ruby declined to comment further, having more or less stilted Whitaker's attempt at breaking the ice. Whitaker sighed and muttered under his breath, "Thank you, Ruby..." His tone remained congenial; though Ruby's eccentric personality didn't bother the laid-back Whitaker in the slightest, he had forgotten what trying to make small talk with her was like.
Apollo, who was sitting with his back against an edge of the skiff, cradling the back of his head in his hands, smirked and decided to resuscitate the conversation after Ruby's killing blow.
"Not everybody has that flawless recall, Ruby," said Apollo, in a characteristically quiet, slinking tone that seemed well-suited to Apollo's modus operandi.
Still focused on her brewing coffee, Ruby replied flatly, "Maybe they drink too much."
Apollo shook his head with a slight laugh, pressing onward in the hope that he and Whitaker wouldn't have to carry the entire conversation.
"If you're gonna bark up that tree, there are much easier targets in the Order than us, ya know. Anyway, let's hope this run goes better than Chanta did - that business with the Forest Spirit and the dignitary's daughter really came out of nowhere. Thank gods Basilisk was around and can... talk to trees, I guess?"
Basilisk snickered, although, as usual, it wasn't entirely clear whether he was giggling at Apollo's statement or something completely irrelevant to the conversation at hand. After a pull from the wine skin he usually carried at his side, he smacked his lips loudly a few times, sending bits of pollen into the air near his mouth. He replied, "Sometimes! Sometimes I can. Other times I just run with it anyway. You know, fake it 'till you make it and all that." After his response, Basilisk continued chattering, although his muttering dropped to its usual inaudible level.
Even the stone-faced Valen smiled at Basilisk's response, recalling Basilisk's elaborate communion with the Chantan forest, an act whose authenticity even Basilisk's colleagues were unsure of. Whitaker, pleased to see a few smirks going around, decided to use the conversation as a spring board to getting some real planning done.
"Well, unless Basilisk can also talk to horses, we might not be able to count on that this time," the oarsman said. Whitaker continued, "We still have some time before we get to the Redoubt, but we should probably figure out how we want to do this. I don't know about you guys, but I don't think I've ever actually been in there - maybe we could send someone in when we get there just to check out the layout?"
Whitaker let the question hang, looking to his circle mates for suggestions or volunteers. While he wasn't a master strategist, he was the group's most charismatic member and outwardly confident member, and as a result it was usually his leadership that served as the nucleation site for plan formation on those rare occasions when the circle did get together for a job.
As the group began to discuss reconnaissance Basilisk slowly made his way to Ruby. When he got to her, she looked up at him questioningly while he smiled down at her. Then he reached under his cloak, to about the middle of his back, and twisted. There was a snapping sound, like a branch breaking, and he pulled a long, grassy branch out. Ruby grinned immediately, easily recognizing such a mundane plant. He broke off two pieces and hand them to her, saying, "One for the coffee and one for the horses."
"Thank you, Basil!" she replied, taking them. The rest of the group watched as she squeezed the plant into the coffee that had just finished and pocketed the other piece. Slowly Basilisk made it around to each member and gave them a piece.
When he finally got to the last member, Whitaker, he was asked, "Thank you Basilisk, but, what is this?"
"Why its sugar cane, of course, you silly boy," he laughed as he shuffled back to where he had been sitting. "I hear that there are going to be horses and the fastest way to make friends with a horse is with a little sugar cane. Just squeeze it or chew it and out comes the sweet nectar."
"Hm," Whitaker smirked as they all pocketed their gift. It was surprising how often Basilisk's little insights ended up being vital to jobs going smoothly. "My first thought would be to send Apollo in quietly while I talked my way in. After getting a lay of the land, we meet back here and come up with a plan. Then the group of us move in during the night. Thoughts?"
Valen, who was not one to sit around while the others worked, picked up from there. "Knowing The Redoubt, and given the time constraints on our mission, I think it best that Apollo and I slip over the walls, and you talk your way in through the civilian water gate with Lydia and Basil on board. By the look of those barrels, the thought had crossed your mind before we departed."
Though Whitaker sometimes had the reputation of being an average assassin, a perception that he encouraged throughout the Order for unknown reasons, Valen knew better and frequently called him out on it. The fish barrels at the back of the boat served as the disguise he would need to make a believable story, their unusual height meant that if needed they'd be roomy enough to smuggle a body whether trying to get in or out. Valen looked around the boat to see if there were any questions or objections from her Circle-Mates.
Apollo nodded in confirmation, quietly slipping in his words, "I'm game."
Basil chuckled and tucked his own piece of sugar cane into the corner of his mouth and began chewing. There was no actual reply, but Valen figured that was good enough.
Whitaker humbly shrugged off the accusation that he'd already planned for a similar plan to what Valen had proposed, "I have no objections, you're the one volunteering for the hard part." He paused and smirked before continuing in his amicably humble tone, "And as long as these two don't mind trusting me to secure our entrance."
Ruby responded in a matter of fact tone, "Your plan implies you have some familiarity with the fortifications, state them so that we may more efficiently accomplish our mission." Like Valen's plan, Ruby's reply wasn't so much a question as a statement.
Whitaker pushed at the rudder, gently merging the vessel away from the eastern shore and into the stronger current at the center of the broad river. Though the sail still billowed in the wind, their progress upstream essentially came to a halt, but the voyage across it went smoothly and quickly until they started to near the western shore. Once they were out of the strongest current at the center of the river their advance towards the fortress picked back up and Valen expanded upon her plan and knowledge of The Redoubt.
"Unlike a typical fortress, The Redoubt isn't constructed to defend a ruling class or small portion of the population, rather it is designed to defend the surrounding territory and offer the surrounding population a safe place to retreat to in the event of an emergency. This should suit us well, as the defenses are not concentrated in a single small stronghold behind the walls, rather they are spread around the perimeter of the structure and held near the boundaries. At the center is civilian housing, the market, and other utility structures which should be relatively abandoned, as there are no circumstances within Marukan territory that would dictate the population to retreat to it. I suggest we re-convene in the market." Though notoriously blunt, no one took their job more seriously than Valen, and it showed in her preparation for every mission she is assigned to.
Whitaker nodded in agreement and said, "The market works. Depending on how abandoned it is, I might dip into the mission fund and rent us a booth at one of the open stalls for the day. Many of them have cellars for cold storage; we can use that as our temporary hideout. Apollo, Valen; after you two scout out the surroundings, find my market stall and we can go to the cellar to map things out once you get there."
To her delight, Ruby's first cup of coffee was finally done. She held a small porcelain cup under the contraption she'd rigged up and smiled as hot coffee dripped quickly into the cup. Before too long, it had filled up, and she set it down on the floor of boat. Swiftly, she reached into the brown leather bag sitting next to her and produced another cup, repeating the procedure. Eventually, she had five cups of coffee lined up neatly on the boat floor in front of her, their contents swaying curiously in unison with the boat's rocking. One by one, Ruby picked them up and passed them around, doling out coffee for everyone. As she did so, she offered further commentary on the plan.
"If we can catch a few fish on our way to the Redoubt, it won't be hard for me to make these barrels look full - at least you'll have a convincing shop then."
Whitaker nodded in agreement with her as he accepted the dainty porcelain cup being passed his way. The cups seemed oddly out of place on the utilitarian skiff loaded with knobby fishing barrels. Nevertheless, it smelled wonderful; Whitaker inhaled deeply before taking a measured slurp of the hot beverage.
"Wow, Lydia. That's actually not bad."
Ruby was busy cleaning out the soaked coffee grounds from her brewing device, and replied to Whitaker without looking back up at him.
"I'm pleased that you like it. It's made from coffee beans farmed out of bat dung."
Whitaker quirked a brow, looking down to the coffee with considerably more suspicion. He should have known better than to expect anything standard from Ruby. Still, he'd consumed stranger things. Reactions to Ruby's coffee source were mixed; Basilisk seemed hardly to mind, and while Valen also remained unphased, Apollo, with a raise of his eyebrows, tipped his cup gently behind him while Ruby was occupied with her brewing device, emptying the contents overboard.
Whitaker smirked, having spotted Apollo's jettison out of the corner of his eye. He decided to get back on topic.
"It sounds like we have a plan, then. In a few hours, Valen and Apollo will get off and make their way to the fence on foot." Whitaker looked to the pair, who nodded in confirmation. "From there, I'm assuming you can two can put together your own scouting plan," Whitaker said.
Valen nodded again. Whitaker pointed to Ruby and Basilisk and continued, "Then, I'll stow you two away in the fishing barrels as we make our way to the water entrance. I'll take care of getting us in and set up in the market. Once I get these barrels into the cellar, you two can spring free."
For entirely different reasons, neither Ruby nor Basilisk replied directly to Whitaker. Ruby seemed to be digging through her bag again, while Basilisk, as was often the case, remained deeply engaged in an inaudible conversation with intangible entities, real or not. Whitaker sighed slightly, prompting a response from Ruby.
"Relax, Whitaker. I heard you. Try not to keep us in the barrels too long; Gnotch is a bit claustrophobic."
Ruby pulled her rat familiar, Gnotch, out of the brown bag, along with a small biscuit, which Ruby herself took a large bite of before letting Gnotch nibble the remains from her open palm.
Whitaker did his best not to roll his eyes, deciding to indulge Ruby, even if momentarily. "Gnotch is a rat, Ruby."
Ruply replied simply, "Yes, he is a rat."
"Nevermind. Anyway, folks, we got about two hours of travel 'till showtime, about four more of daylight, and a couple dozen fish to catch. That gives us about two hours of fishing. Even Ruby can't create a barrel full out of nothing. So get fishing!"
Whitaker smirked, gesturing his head toward the fishing poles he'd brought along and propped against the starboard edge of a row of barrels. At the same time, he pulled sharply on the oar controlling the rudder and eased the ship to a halt, parking to give the Circle some time to catch a few fish for their market stall.