Happy wip Wednesday, here's some baby Eadwulf in a potential Fealty flashback
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The salon buzzes with hushed conversation. Eadwulf keeps to himself, lingering at the fringes where he can rest his beer on the fireplace mantle. The crowd is of a usual make—similar masks and disguises he’s seen over the weeks since being assigned to this mission. Some masks are cleverly designed, keeping their appearances secret, and others not well enough. He recognizes the handful of Lords and Ladies he has identified to his Masters, their body language and laughter now a dead giveaway for their behaviour out in public, where they put on other masks to voice their support of the King and his Empire.
Traitors, Eadwulf thinks with a sneer.
There are a few new faces—masks broad and dark enough to obscure features. He has made note of their number in his brief assessment. Three men, he thinks, and two women. This is based solely on stature and the way three of them barged their way to a seat, as if they expected the world should move for them. He assumes they are from the guards watch.
One of the strangers moves around the edges of the crowd. Eadwulf doesn’t look at her directly, but is aware of her focus on him despite the mask covering her face.
She raises a hand, gloved, of course, to sip her wine under her mask. Her gloves are pale gray, contrasting against the dark fabric of her clothing.
It makes it obvious to see when she flashes handspeak at him with her free hand.
Status report?
While she could be anyone, he knows without a doubt that this is Astrid. Why is she here? Did Trent send her? Eadwulf can handle himself, why send someone to monitor him?
Eadwulf adjusts his stance, arms crossed in front of him. A crook of his fingers, as if he’s scratching his arm.
Objective maintained.
New objective.
A chill runs down his spine, despite the open fire beside him. He hasn’t identified all of the conspirators yet. His information is good. He's bringing in more traitors the longer he stays. He's in their inner circles now. Why burn these bridges?
He sees Astrid set her goblet aside, placing her palm over the top as she does. [She's palmed a package of poison into it]
She waits a moment.
Affirmative, he signs.
And with that, she picks up conversation with someone near her, merging as smoothly as if this were her intention the whole time.
