Trinan held Ethan's gaze, smiling faintly as her dulled mind recognized a lack of pity on the man's face. She remembered being an ill clothed girl, forever marked a foreigner by dark hair and green eyes, living on her own in Arcartus. She had grown such a resentment for that look, so long ago. It was mostly gone now, she hated to be coddled by strangers and that was the remainder of its legacy. She felt a strange kind of relief when he told she didn't need to continue. They could go on being happy little traitors drinking absolutely awful swill and her own truth was still on the table, in a sort of way. They were comrades? Her idiot smile deepened, and Maria finished the contents of her glass again. After refreshing her cup, she decided not to chance walking back to her seat. Standing was more comfortable for the soldier, after all, she'd been sitting and waiting for Lindwell all the morning anyway. A little chuckle escaped her mouth after she was allowed to stop. "Some of them are correct." Vague recollections of the state military's documents on the situation came back to her. Many were destroyed after the war, citing some mishap in paperwork that her fellow officers had all come to call the Lachne Aberration. Another silly legend for the heap. "Don't get the wrong idea, I just like the mood," she said, raising her glass a little. Her eyes fell on Lily after she posed another question. Maria's eyes brightened, that was something she could answer cheerily. If you forgot all the context, the story of how she became a professional soldier for the Arcarti government was even a bit of a comeback tale.
"I walked here," the girl said simply. "There was a man named Alexander Wolcott, he was just a captain then." Her eyes flashed over to Ethan for a moment, wondering how exactly the tale could be misconstrued. "I hear that there were actually other survivors from Edeur with him, running as fast they could for the borders when the Arcartis decided to give up on the country. Most of the time, I was alone though." She shuddered, taking a shot from her glass immediately to remedy the unpleasant sensation. "Whoever else got out, good for them. There were thirty eight of us at the abbey, I haven't heard from any of them since." She'd watched most of them die, there others were dead only by rumor. "I actually met Wolcott's company somewhere in the middle of Kastovetia, way outside Lachne. Nobody asked any questions, but." Maria started to laugh, arresting her amusement only with another swig of booze. "An awkward girl wearing a soldier's jacket and a torn up cloak walking down the highway, there's only so many explanations, you know?" She rocked on her heels, fussing with the collar of her shirt and massaging the bridge of her nose. Somewhere along the line fatigue had transformed into warmth. Despite her thin clothing, it felt as though each drink was slowly piling blankets atop her. With a sigh, she leaned forward and continued. "I really liked soldiers. The ones we treated at the abbey... aid work and such, they were always so nice. Of course, never thought I'd end up as one. Nobody knew me in Arcartus. There was nothing left for me. I couldn't work, I was unhinged, every night I woke up screaming. In a few years I would have either been dead in an alleyway or swinging from a noose." Her eyes slowly slid closed, the soldier slowly let a look of satisfaction come over her face. "I pledged myself to service instead." Silence fell, the girl in the vest swayed gently on her feet in contemplation. Had she said too much? Whatever, it was wrong to hold anything back, this was their little camp. There wasn't any actual bread to break, but it was there.
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Wolcott's visage didn't crack, but internally he flinched when Gareth mentioned the marshal, and the most important part, the implication that Harker had no idea where he was. Lovely. "Thank you," he said flatly, accepting the messenger's letter and turning to set it down on the desk for later. Whatever he was asking for didn't matter, he had every intention of meeting every demand made. He bade his time for a few moments, holding his chin in mock contemplation of wherever the other marshal had gone. There was no point in lying, though. "I haven't seen Boyd since he left. I imagine he's out running some personal errand or another. Ludrick can be a very busy man when he actually has something to be interested in," he said with his gentle smile. Alexander turned away from the door again, walking back over to his desk and rearranging some of the papers on its surface, leaving the letter out in front of his seat. "At least the weather has let up, wherever he is, he's likely attending the many affairs of the state." That was easy enough to tell himself, but the fact of the matter was that he had been counting on Boyd to be back. As a matter of fact, Boyd was supposed to be present for turning Trinan over to Lindwell. A witness was needed for that particular right of retainer, but he figured the way he planned on things going it wouldn't matter much.
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George Stovall minded his business as the woman went about hers, watching the many fixtures of the office in various states of disinterested contemplation. No doubt, there were many more deliveries in his day, but each one entailed the proper degree of waiting for and receiving responses. His understanding of the situation was limited, he was just the messenger, but the reasons for the letter being sent were limited. Ultimately his curiosity was worthless, there were more answers in the delivery than the actual letter more often not. It was a strange game every messenger played, probably the only entertainment most of them got, and he had been at it so long that Stovall forgot if he had began with any real interest in it. His eyes clicked back over to De'Marconias as the woman finished her business across the office and began to return. The trained smile returned to his face as he cataloged her response. It was one of many he would be returning, but the messenger was acutely aware of how important his current job was in comparison to the other generic communications of the realm. "I'm certain the Marshal will be most pleased. I will relate your terms to him exactly, although, most regrettably, I do not come to you equipped with Wolcott's preference in timing." There wasn't anything more he was quite at liberty to say. Anyone asking at the post would be told the number of letters he was circulating, but for a messenger to divulge such things was out of place. He accepted the woman's parchment graciously, bowing gently with his hand outstretched before putting the document in one of his many pockets. "Good day to you madam, and... good luck with the papers," George said, bowing a little just one more time before turning and departing from the office. He set the door in place quietly behind him, and made his way back towards the streets. There were a few more letters to deliver before the day was through, and before he was done pulling his gloves back on the courier was searching his memory for the choicest route through the city.
