Griever strolled through the camp of bandits named the Night Hawks - and for good reason. He needed to write a letter, but with all the people watching him and expecting him to do something, it would be hard. Maybe he could just ask?
Griever turned to see a girl - Selena was her name - running his way. Her arm was in a sling, but from his memory of the wound, it would be better in a few days time. Griever stopped and turned to meet her. "Hello, Selena."
She stopped and caught her breath before responding. "I wanted to thank you for what-"
Griever halted her with a sign. "I don't need your thanks, Selena, I just need you to keep yourself safe." Griever smiled widely. "I don't want to pull anymore arrows from that pretty frame of yours."
Selena had a mix of emotions on her face. Had she never been complimented before? "I don't know that I can keep that promise, but I shall try." She pecked him on the cheek, smiled, then ran back to where a group of girls were giggling. They couldn't have been over eighteen.
Griever chuckled. Even at the end of the day, girls were girls. He supposed mercenaries were mercenaries too. He would never tell her, but the real reason he would not take gratitude was because that showed an importance. Selena would make Griever important to her if she had thanked him and who knew when he would be heading out and to the next job. Who knew when he would die?
Back to business!
He made his way to where the leader of the Night Hawks - or the woman he suspected to be leader - stood her eyes shining with the light of a fire. Delicious smells came from inside the pot suspended over the open flames. Was that deer meat?
The woman turned and met Griever's eyes. "Hello."
"Not too friendly today huh?" Griever laughed a little.
"Just tired is all," Kate said, sighing, "Is there something you needed?"
"As a matter of fact, there are two things I need. A piece of parchment with a carrier pigeon and my sword." Griever smiled his best smile, hoping it would work to soften up Kate and get him what he wanted.
"Who are you going to write?" Kate asked suspiciously.
"My brother," Griever lied. Luckily, Griever was an expert at lying, even though he hated doing so. Kate did not suspect a thing and within a few minutes, Griever had a parchment, quill, and a pigeon in a cage. His sword, however, was being kept.
'Suspicious to a fault...' Griever thought. How was he suppose to clean the blade? He had to do it every night! He sighed. Oh well, one thing at a time.
Griever quickly scrawled down the fake letter to his brother that did not exist and placed it to the side. Looking around, Griever found himself out of sight by the others. Perfect.
To the Bird in Battle, he wrote quickly.
Your trust in the Birds of Night are well placed. They have made the people's lives bearable and enjoyable once more. At the moment there is a good number of them gathered, but I have shocking news. They are all women. Only a few men populate this camp, if you include me.
As for the situation here, there is a new Marshall. A man with a harsh gaze and iron fist. He has the people scared and I fear we will have to do more than undermine him. I shall stay here and help where I can. They have taken my sword, so I have no choice really.
I await your further orders as well as my pay.
From the Lion Who Watches
Griever placed the paper on the back of his fake one and licked the edges. That would keep them together and hopefully fool people who read it. Well, if they read the real letter, it would not tell who the receiving party was, nor who sent it. Griever addressed it to Fredrick Halroy, a soldier in the army. The man would know who it was for.
Griever tied the letter to the bird and sent it on it's way, but not before a woman came up and read what he had written. Luckily, she only read the fake and did not notice the real message. From her perspective, Griever had sent a letter asking after his brother's health and that of his progress in the army.
Griever stood and stretched. Now to see about getting his sword back. Maybe they would-
A piercing scream broke through the air.
'Curse the Fae,' Griever thought in frustration as he ran toward the sound, 'Is there never peace around here!?'