Leaving the same time as did Friedrick's too the east, she and her battalion went to north to Betelion. It was not pretty far, in all actuality, it was only a hundred or so kilometers compared to Friedrick's.
Dressed in very formal attire, Jeane and a couple of her female soldiers dressed in maid's wear arrived with a decked out royal carriage at the city of Fermont;
The city's main gate was opened wide, letting anyone enter, and; upon entering, they were flashed with a wave of festivitiy raining about, cluttering the streets and corners. From within her carriage she saw shops being built, and people crowding about the city opens.
"Betelionic Empire." She muttered under her breath. "What a harsh name" -looking at her attendant she said; "have the soldiers established contact with Unchean?"
"No, ma'am, they said they were having difficulty picking up a radiowave."
She sighed, then looked outside. Fermont was in the middle of a festival so it seemed; it was quite lively and looking at the children play with toys, running around fishing tag, made her smile a little. But; looming, akin to that of a cathedral, a manor lays atop a large hill.
---
"Halt!" The Betelionic knight yelled out at the approaching carriage, he approached the courtman; after a brief intelligeble exchange of words, the knight knocked on the glass of the carriage, she rolled down the curtain.
"Madam, may I infer your reason of coming?" The knight blushed as her face came into view of the darkness.
"I wish to meet with the lord of this domain," she flipped her fan open. "An exchange of pleasentries, for I am keenly interested in constructing upon for myself here someplace I shall call home."
"If it is your request dear madam, we will take your hand." The knight looked at the iron gate fore' the manor, raising his end with a thumbs up. "Salutations."
The carriage rolled inside, and Jeane, rather dreadfully anticipated what was to come next.
---
The manor's front door opened, by the help of the most gentle old butler. The man bowed low. An air of luxury and prestige flew and graced Jeane's face. A place fit for a noble she thought. For decorated about the green-painted wooden wooden paneled walls were gold and white.
Entering, she saw plastered about the walls were the portraits of the nobles that came before the current successor. And, ladden at every corner were pots of ferns and flowers, the exact names she knew not, for they were not any normal flowers, they were exotic, beautiful.
Before she could be interlaced by the hypnotic flowers, the butler guided Jeane and her maids towards the guest room. "I am afraid the young lord has not come back from his venture in the forest, he should be back by dawn, my lady." He bowed. "We offer you abode in the guest room while thy waits for his return."
"I thank you kindly." She said with a smile.
Turning to a long hallway full of all manner of decoration, the butler swiftly opened a nice big white door, and inside, Jeane was graced with the wonderful view of the town and the nice cool breeze the sky offered.
She went over to the windowsill, resting her hands on it. And outlooked the view, her head poking out; she could see just about the entire village and the horizon, where just faintly could she see the blue of the Krimvaldian sea. "I shall wait." She pulled back, staring now at the butler.
"I thank you kindly, madam; we shall bring you tea."
A nod, the butler was gone.
As quickly as the butler went so did Jeane's smiling face. "Close the door and lock it."
"Yes, ma'am."
"The room." She sat on the bed.
"Yes, ma'am."
The three maids scoured every point of the room, for any crevice that was small yet big enough for any eyes to peek into. And if there were any hidden doors or openings that one would expell gas into. Nothing, thankfully.
Next, after making sure there truly was nothing in the room, the maids brought out from her leather bag a magical item. As she remembered from her conversation with Hierd;
"It is a pendant made by Pomlik, one of his greater crafts, and of his more expensive ones." He sighed before putting it on her hand." For a hefty sum of a hundred gold this I give you, Jeane, use it carefully. It has a range of about three meters before it's noise-cancelling effect is gone, anything before the range, complete silence. Just press on the gem to get it going."
The maid gave her the pendant, and Jeane clicked the jewel encrusted on it. It was invisible, but this gush of energy waved past them, almost as if they had moved through a solid hard wall. The six woman huddled together.
"The lord's name, as I have gathered is lord; George Jauntsie II. He is nineteen years old, and does frequent sword training in the forest. His father is dead, the mother is abroad, we don't know exactly where."
"Thanks," Jeane said. "Have the soldiers fix up quickly a way to contact Unchean, if we can't get that checked then this whole thing'll be for naught."
"Yes, ma'am."
With a sigh. "The supply carriages are coming in the city smoothly?"
"We have yet to see a completion report, however for the update; it seems to be going smoothly, ma'am."
A thought came into Jeane's mind, as she glanced out at the window again, to see a tall bell tower, "Send this new order of mine to the soldiers; 'gather intellegence regarding the city's gunk, anything incriminating we can use to damn the guy into giving us something if the going gets rough.'"
"Is that all, ma'am?"
"Yes." She looked at them, "Now go."
---
Two knocks.
"Come in." Jeane's voice.
The butler bowed. "Dear madam, the lord is here and is awaiting your presence at the living room."
Jeane immidiately stood up, "take me to him."
"As you wish madam."
As Jeane and the butler got out the door's frame, two maids followed suit with them. Through the dark corrider, she saw at the end were a few new faces, knights and a man with a queer drape and staff. A mage? Seeing her walk closer to them, they bowed low, lifting their heads up when her presence in the room had gone.
"Is that the lord's new sling?" Jokingly a knight said.
"Shush." A punch to the leg.
"Ow!"
Through an arc, illuminated by the heat of the morning sun, there, a sillhouete of a man shone through. Jeane bowed. "Lord George Jauntsie," A curtsie, "I thank you for accepting my presence."
"Please, please, we have yet to even meet." The sillhouete thrusted himself into view, and clearly, could she see a man with a smile and that tint of blue in his hair, he stood up and walked over to her. Seeing the temptation to question, she answered without the need of the quandary arising.
"I am Jeane De Gracen, lord. Of the Hesian; Gracen family."
George leapt back in suprise. "You have come a long way!" He smiled, a chuckle. "And for all that to distance just to build yourself a plot in my land, I am quite honored, lady Jeane."
Jeane chuckled, now, "about that land?"
George gestured for her to sit down, with them both firmly seated on the comfortable velvet colored seats he said; "About this plot? You want to stay in Fermont, lady Jeane?"
"Yes, I do, and a plot nearer the gate would be better, for it would shorten my travels even if it were just a hair."
A chuckle, "Land near the gates are rather pricey, merchant's go head to head in buying them in auctions, unless you have quite the purse on you, I doubt you'd be able to even outbid some of the bottom merchants." He put ever so bluntly. He took a sip of the tea on the coffee table.
Jeane released her fan and covered her mouth, "My purse is something you need not worry about lord, this I ask; name your price and I shall prevail."
"Prevail." He repeated. "What if I said that you don't need to pay for living? My manor is large and can house you whenever you come here!"
"I am sorry." She kept on; "but having myself an own domicile in this city is, to my benefit, better."
He looked sullen, a sigh. "Ah, well, it is a house you want, near the gate you say? lady Jeane?"
"Yes." Jeane lowered her fan.
"Well then, with my power I may lower the price of land that is currently under auction, and I believe it shall happen at night today."
"I see." Jeane closed her fan.
"You may stay in the manor if ever so you wish, I will name it so that the knights recognize you if you leave and wish to enter once more."
"Thank you, lord."
"Please, lady Jeane, call me by my name; George."
She stayed silent.
"The festival's still underway, my men can accompany you if you wish to feel secure whilst enjoying it."
"I am quite alright with not having escorts, I have ones of my own."
George looked behind her. "Maids alone are not enough to stop a criminal with a set path."
"I am quite alright." Jeane repeated, this time showing her stern face.
He gulped, "alright, alright." He raised his arms up in comical expression. "If that is what you want Lady Jeane."
"Thank you, kindly." She stoop up and curtsied.
As she went, the lord rubbed her chin, a grin grew. "Ferocious woman." He looked to the knight guard beside him.
"Follow them."
( * )
There was a cacophony of sound blasting from left and right, if she were to make simile, it'd be like the capital's fall! But there were no burning buildings nor falling towers, however what was, was that the people were blowing up these crackers.
"Firecrackers they call it." Said one of her escorts as she noticed Jeane's staring of the cylindrical device. "An invention finest from Betelion."
She chuckled. "It's by damned loud and irritating, fit for a Betelion engineer."
Moving their way through the thick crowd which was so kindly and very generously making way for her, Jeane was set face to face at a large hub of sorts, a roundabout road converted into a child's wonderland. For set on every meter were stores selling all kinds of food and drink.
What really caught her interest in the monotony of food was a shack selling savoury meat steaks. Her stomach growled awaiting a need to be quenched; yet she, although letting out a whimper, was trying her best to not be detered by food.
"Ma'am?" They questioned.
"Nothing." She recovered a little by breathing in the air of hot meat that wafted into her face, but really it just made her more hungry.
As they passed store to store, food stall to food stall, Jeane's face went from fine to near-breaking. Sweat and tears cried out of Jeane as she was tempted by all of the fine tastes of the north.
Baked to perfection were garlic bread lined up front and center, and she glanced, like gold; glittering perfectly under the sun's brightness. Her eyes widened; 'I have to!'
She bolted for the stall, immidiately she asked; "How much for ten!?"
"M-madam..." The shopkeeper showed his distress to speaking to a 'noble.' "T-they are thirty copper each your lady, three silver for all."
Her maids ran for her, then; seeing Jeane's drooling mouth.
A sigh; "Ma'am Jeane."
A blip in her mind! Jeane looked at the maid; realizing, she fixed herself, and there came back her beautiful monotone face. Then her voice; "This garlix bread, buy it; I want ten."
The maid smiled with a hidden frustrated face behind the grin. Her hand swiftly went into then out her pocket.
Five silvers.
"Take it, for the trouble;" The maid kept up her smile.
"Oh no no no!" The shopkeeper hesistantly put his hand away. "I shouldn't, three silvers wil do."
"Hmpf," The maid took the two silvers,"The bread."
"Y-yes yes!" The shopkeeper quickly picked up his tongs, putting it on rough looking paper. "H-here madam, thank you for visiting my humble bakery."
Jeane nodded, accepting the bread, hiding her eagerness with elegance, slowly. A bite. Then, euphoria. Sprinkles of stars bounced on her ears and hair. And her eyes were opened wide up.
"I see you have enjoyed my bread, madam; I thank you for giving me this moment." The shopkeeper said, relieved.
Jeane looked at him, putting the other bread on her basket. "You're welcome."
They walked away, continuing head forth into the life-riddled streets. But the entire time, whence they were walking, Jeane and the maids felt darts strike their necks clean-through.
Still, they walked calmly. Eased.
A familiar face?
A soldier. Jeane knew instantly,
looking straight ahead she saw an alley, ten meters? Whatever, but it was on her right. she blinked with her right eye. The man nodded, turning to it.
Keeping head-on she stopped at the entrance of the alleyway,
"Ma'am?" The maids questioned.
"Follow."
Not another word;
they went in.
Three woman, two silhouetes followed behind;
Two thuds on the cold dirty cobbled ground.
Jeane sighed, turning around.
"Ma'am." The soldier introduced himself from out the darkness. "These two men were following you at rather close range."
"I know." She said with a whiff of sarcasm.
The soldier kept a straight-stern face, "They're still breathing."
"And I can see that."
"Yes, ma'am." The stern-faced soldier still did not change his expression.
A defeated comical sigh, "Check them." Jeane stepped away a little to let the soldier and the maids have a little room.
Two men, nicely groomed, fairly muscular, and scars littered about. Jeane knew these weren't assasins of some kind just at first glance. "Too bulky for someone that's supposed to kill me. I expected thugs, worser, well; maybe better if they were assasins."
"Ma'am." The maid grabbed her attention.
"What is it?"
The maid fished out from under the man's poor leather robes, a dagger on the other but on the jacket's pocket, a letter.
"A letter, how nice of them. Read it."
"Yes, ma'am; 'Jeane, follow. If needed, kill.'"
Jeane frowned a little. "What a bold letter, and for it to be given by these lower halves, I'm offended." Then a sinister grin formed. "Guess it's from that noble." -Jeane said arrogantly- "Our plan'll backfire if we delve too far this direction. Mug these guys dry, take their everything, make it look like some mugs... Well, mugged them. Maids, come with."
"Yes ma'am." They all said in unison.
Jeane left.
( * )
Jeane came back an hour before dusk. Already the whole city was lit up with lights, she was reminded of the electrical light of Hierd's flashlights, the warships that look like stars on the sea. She missed Unchean. Where was it? Just over the ocean, but she won't be seeing it yet, she knew that much.
Walking up the small hill, she saw the manor lit up from corner to corner by lanterns and candles. The knights, upon seeing her approach; opened the gate, letting her in. "Did you enjoy your trip, madam?"
"I think I did," a slight grin formed as she nudged a bit the bag full of garlic bread that still had that unique, lingering smell. "Thank you kindly."
Foreboding; it felt like there were a hundred eyes watching her. And Jeane could not keep it lingering as a thought any more. "When we enter, head immediately to my room; whoever's watching, kill them."
"Yes, ma'am."
The mood turned serious.
Their hearts beated heavily approaching the wooden door, was a dagger awaiting inside for their doom? They didn't know, but they couldn't brush the feeling of dread. One maid succumbed to the fear, her hand nearing her left thigh.
The luger trapped, loaded, awaiting to be able to fire the 9mm Pomlik round in the barrel already, at anyone who even tries.
They stopped at the front;
Jeane knocked the door,
once;
twice; then,
thrice.
Jeane heard movement, footsteps? It was too dim a sound, Jeane couldn't understand what it was.
"Ma'am." Like a code word, Jeane stepped back, and two of her maids took vanguard; their hands were on the pistol grip, their index fingers hovering the over the trigger, resting on the trigger guard.
A thud.
-
-
-
"Ah, lady Jeane!"
George saw four woman on his front doorstep sweating like crazy, and with faces, expression that could kill somebody with a weak heart. Was he in the middle of something? He did not know, seeing the maids reaching for something with their hands made him quite curious.
The maids dropped their hands, fixing their postures.
Nervously, a chuckle; "A little tense everyone."
Easing; "Lord George, good evening."
"As to you too, well please. Come in?" He reached out a hand,
Jeane grinned slightly whilst taking his hand. A sigh of relief waved over her as she went in with her maids, there not being some assasin in sight. But still, even as the very halls of the manor were bright with candles; there lied in every shadow a feeling of unease.
"Your maids?" He commented, seeing the maids go off to some other hallway.
"They shall be attending something in the quarters you had given me."
"I-I see." He extended his other hand out towards a door, opening it; "the dining room."
A large room with a long table, windows dotted, spaced evenly with the long pillar-bas reliefs. Already was there food prepared for two people, "I and you." George smiled, guiding her to the back end of the table. The click clack of her heels, the loud thuds of George's leather shoes, echoed in the room almost rhythmically.
He pulled the cedar chair out from the table, patted the soft cushion a little before she sat on it. He himself seated himself directly opposite her seat. "I had my chef cook up for us a medium meal, roasted swan."
"Swan!?" Her eyes darted at the idea of eating swan. "Why swan? The Betelion Empire have weird tastes eating swan." She remised upon her younger days; a shiver across her spine.
She looked at it, with her knife, she sliced up a small portion of the meat. picking up the fork; stab. There was a sauce laced on the meat of the swan, savoury looking. A bit hesitant, she bit it. George watched intently. "How is it?"
Jeane's eyes jolted open. "It is better than I thought." The taste was nothing like 'fishy-mutton' it was more of just mutton.
A slight chuckle, "my chefs are nothing to laugh at when it comes to cooking, I believe they have used a special kind of sauce produced to the far northern side of the empire."
Interested; "if I may, what is it called?" Taking a another bite.
"I do not know." Another chuckle, "I know how it looks, but I do not really put my importance in dish ingriedients." He chortled at his own comment.
George took a bite of the swan, then looked briefly at Jeane once more, the silence was awkward, however, in his eyes, her beauty could fill the silence into harmony. Then, "Ah! I forgot, wine? Would you like some?"
"N-no. I wish to put myself away from it in my journeys."
"I see." He poured himself a glass.
Jeane watched, and, before he could sip the wine she asked; "The auction, I believe happens today tonight, as you had said?"
"Yes, lady Jeane; night, my attendant should be here a few moments before the auction opens. A carriage would be good? If you wish, your own carriage, my coachmen are well trained."
"I thank you for the kindness lord George, however I believe in the power of my maids."
"Speaking of," George put down his wine. "These maids of yours; who are they?"
To her, the room, the dining hall got bigger, "tunnel vision...?" She stared at George, he was the only thing in view.
Jeane dropped her utensils. "What do you mean by that, lord George?" She tried easing herself.
"I have never seen maids that could, lets say, defeat my guards."
Jeane's heart crushed. "He knows!? How? When? What happened to my soldiers!?
A drop of blood dripped down her nose, her pale white hand catching it. Looking at it; Jeane leapt from her chair. "You poisoned me!?" She immidiately went to wield her pistol.
"Ah, just as I thought; you are not part of the Hesian nobility, you, instead; Lady Jeane are part of the new country being formed down south, Germany I think it was called? If the king hears that this new country that we wish to establish connections with were to do such a thing to us? Spying? War will be brought down."
Slowly, he got up from his chair.
"Step back! Another step and I'm shooting you! Put your hands up!"
A sinister grin. He raised his hands up slowly, Jeane stared intently, feeling her energy wittle away second by second. "I have to shoot hi-"
He snapped his finger. And just as the noise reached her ears, an intense, bone-shattering reverberation made her collapse to the ground yelling in pain as the noise did not cease.
Then towards her who already was crawling toward the gun, reaching. "You. You will do numbers on my plan. I don't know who you are, but you are someone I know I should not trust." He grabbed the gun, inspecting it a little.
"We aren't over."
"Oh I know we aren't" He grabbed her hand,
Throwing her hand towards the wall at full force.
"Ah!" She welped, "Y-you, who? Who are you really!?" She fainted.
( * )
"Ma'am Jeane's been taken by the Fermont Lord."
A statement the leading lieutenant heard from within the telephone that made his heart drop. "What the fuck did you say!?" A surge of fear and anger broiled within him. The soldiers surrounding him looked at the lieutenant, fearful yet confused.
"We believe Ma'am Jeane's still in the manor, in the brig perhaps, we ran out of bullets to continue the rescue, right now we're heading to the base."
"How do you run out bullets with a luger!? A pistol! Eight rounds and you're three people!"
"T-the knights," she panted; "we don't know why, but they were sponges, but, looking at them; it was almost as if they weren't even human anymore."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean we're going to need some guns, sir. Guns, and people."
There was slight hesitation, the second lieutenant took some time to understand the situation. "I got it, come back here and get suited up for an assault, twenty of the Venit Black soldiers I got'll assist you for the rescue mission."
"Copy that, sir."
The call dropped.
"Everyone!" The lieutenant brought attention to the hundred or so soldiers there; "Ma'am Jeane's been captured."
Immidiately, a loud commotion filled the small camp. They questioned themselves; 'Ma'am Jeane's been captured!?'
'How!? Ma'am's been captured!?'
"Quiet down! Quiet down!" The lieutenant shushed them silent, yet alike the lieutenant's first reaction, all of them were scared, angered, and now another; the want for vengence.
"Men! Everyone! I want assault rifles and the small machine guns on every man's hands here, we'll be dealing with another kind of force. Not human I believe, but whatever! Men or by God even monster, anything for ma'am Jeane!"
A "Hurrah!" Left their mouths with ferocity, with not even a moment later they ran for their tents, they went for their backpacks. STG-44s, and for the heavy gunners, the MG42. Packed with all the grenades possible; as well as some bits of rations.
Seeing the lieutenant in charge of the Venit-ille blacks, the first lieutenant made his way to him. "Lieutenant."
he turned; "Yes sir?"
"I want twenty of your men on trucks to Fermont. I understand that a special training your units go through include indoor training?"
"Yes, a part of the urban installation training that the lord wishes for the soldiers to learn. And about that twenty; gotcha."
"Thanks."
The Venit Ille black lieutenant ran some ways off, going into a large tent. Coming out like bees that had their home disturbed by some pesky human, the soldiers; with their black outfits, Assault rifles and MG42s. They were basically hunters camoflagued with the dark night.
The Venit-Ille lieutenant speed-walked toward him. "We're ready, awaiting you sir."
With a smile forming; "Let's make way to Fermont."