Reunification - 2 (Patreon)

Late chapter, sorry. I spent most of yesterday asleep due to how much Resistance-3 kicked my arse. Will update with the beta'd version when it's done.
Edit: Updated.
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As the crowd below began to roar, calling for blood and throwing rotten produce or even worse filth at the villains being brought up onto the stage, Vivi wrapped her arms protectively around Gwen and pulled her closer. "He can't do anything." She told her girlfriend, letting her hair tickle her nose and drown out the horrid stink of the capital. How Gwen still smelled so good after spending hours in the coal smog was a mystery, but not one she minded. "And they'll all get what they deserve."

In her lap now, Gwen snorted. "I'm not afraid of him, I'm only here to see it done." She said, but even though she wriggled around to get comfortable and fix her skirts that showed off her smooth legs, she was still tense. Not happy with what was happening.

Gwen sighed and leaned back, tucking her head under Vivi's chin. "I just wish they'd stop asking for me."

Oh, well that made a lot more sense. "Idiots." Vivi shook her head as she started listening to what the crowd was saying, having treated it as just background noise to the spectacle before.

"Let the Miracle Witch do it!"

"Give 'em to the trees!"

"Feed the lot of them to the dogs, they ain't worth more than that!"

"Gwen of the Gallows! Gwen of the Gallows!"

A good third of the crowd, if not more, were calling for Gwen to be the one to hang the bastards, to have the trees hang them up by the necks like she had the ones who broke their oaths to her. Especially to take revenge personally for the one that had wronged her. But Vivi knew she wouldn't do that; not that Vivi would mind shoving her sword into Godfrey's eye, but... not when he was defenceless. She'd want to make a fight of it. Kill him properly.

And Gwen didn't even enjoy fighting, let alone killing. She'd spent most of the night after finishing hanging the oath-breakers crying, and nothing Vivi'd done had helped.

The chanting calls only grew louder, upsetting Gwen more, as the bastard of a lord was brought up and had his noose hung around his neck by the executioner; a woman in a black hood to hide her identity. "Vincent Godfrey." The woman called out over the crowd. "As a Lord of Gilneas, you were to be held to higher standards than those of lesser responsibilities. In breaking the rules of war, the protocols of society, violating the sanctity of the Church of Dawn, and besmirching the honour of the Greymane family whom you claimed to support, you have failed those standards utterly."

Her voice was calm, uncaring, and carried well. But Vivi couldn't help but frown in disappointment; even as more filth was thrown at him, hitting and leaving his once fine suit stained with the remains of overripe fruit, he stood stoically.

Refusing to give anyone a reaction. And somehow he'd picked them out on the roof they sat on and was staring, not angrily, but flatly, at Gwen.

"He deserves it." Vivi said again, whatever the bastard of a lord thought, he was there because he deserved to die. It wasn't Gwen's fault his son had died, that the dreadlord had come to Gilneas. Gwen had saved people.

It was what she did, going around with all her future knowledge and saving people. Being a proper hero unlike people who just pretended; with the war over with she couldn't wait for the adventures they'd have, going out into the world to use that knowledge to do real good.

"Do you have any last words, Vincent Godfrey?" The execution asked, and Godfrey began to speak.

But while her words were heard by all, the wind picked up at just the right moment so that whatever Godfrey wanted to say was smothered. And, a moment later, the trapdoor was released and he fell – the sound of his neck snapping echoing across the square and triggering a righteous roar of satisfaction and approval from the crowd.

Looking down at her fiance, Vivi giggled. Hero or not, Gwen could be petty. Everyone had flaws, and denying her enemies their last word was just the sort of thing she'd do.

"Good riddance." Gwen said tiredly, her tension fading. There was a long moment where Vivi sat there, feeling satisfied that justice had finally been done, before Gwen pushed off her arms and stood. "Alright, we can go."

Vivi was torn between watching Gwen stretch and climb further up the slope of the roof, and watching the rest of the proceedings. "There's still more?" She said, wanting to see them get what they deserved. Davis Candren, who'd betrayed his family for power, or Jordan Davis, who'd secretly been using the Lordainian refugees that he 'settled' onto his estate as hunting practice.

There were a lot of rumours about what happened to the ones he and his friends caught, and some said he might've been doing it to his own people before the refugees came. It was hard for her to believe he'd been part of the rebellion.

Or that Isobel had once tried to have her marry him.

Seeing him hang would be a glad thing, happy. He well and truly deserved it for what he'd done. They all did.

"I really don't want to see more people die." Gwen muttered quietly, her voice only carrying due to the breeze helping Vivi hear her.

Pouting a little, Vivi got up to follow her. "What do we want to do now? Even if we can't go beyond the wall yet, Sir Magroth found some cultists, and there might be more we could hunt down."

Gwen smiled over her shoulder at her, making Vivi smile back as well, but she shook her head. "I'd like to just take Trix home, spend some time teaching my apprentices again. Let things go back to normal." Then she snorted. "Oh, and sleep for a week. Or three. Making Lorna's dress for her coronation would be nice too, if she wants me to do it."

Those plans were hardly the grand adventure Vivi had imagined, but before she could offer what she wanted to do, Gwen let out a tired laugh.

"Not that I'll get to do any of those things. I've got royal orders to fulfil; including one I don't particularly want to, but have to anyway." Reaching the edge of the rooftop, she casually jumped, turning into a raven mid-fall and gliding down to the ground.

"Hey!" Vivi protested. "Not fair!" Without hesitation, trusting in the wind, she made a leap after her; the air billowed up from below, causing her clothes to flap wildly. Once again the practical reasons for wearing trousers were proven! Not that she'd protest Gwen wearing skirts, ever, or complain about wearing Gwen's dresses, but trousers were superior to skirts.

No matter what Gwen said about them feeling awful to wear.

"You get to use your magic, I get to use mine. It's completely fair." Gwen denied as she fixed her hair. "I... can't tell you about it. Lorna made me promise, but we'll be going past the wall sooner than you think." Holding her hands behind her, Gwen grinned, looking up at Vivi innocently. "How do you feel about visiting some orcs and collecting puppies for a princess? Not quite rescuing a princess from a dragon, but she did ask..."

Vivi blinked. "Wait, really?"

"Yes, really."

As Gwen went on to explain more about the Frostwolf clan, a clan of orcs that hadn't fought in the first or second wars, Vivi got more and more excited. She was more interested in stories of monks now, but the tales of blademasters, even if they were orcs, still had a place in her heart. And going out to do a task given to them by a princess, even if she was seven, was just about as adventurous as something could get. It was perfect!

But, seeing how Gwen was trying to distract her from the other task she was given, she was going to have to talk to Lorna about upsetting her fiancee.

-oOoOo-

Bringing a heavy covered wagon across half of Gilneas had proved more difficult than Arugal had initially expected. He had expected some degree of unrest following the conclusion of the rebellion, but perhaps he had underestimated just how much there would be; not simply in the form of increased bandit activity, though there was plenty of that, but simply...

Well, one could never accuse a Gilnean of being cooperative when it did not suit them. Rumours had spread more quickly than the truth, and while there had been no violence, there had been clear antipathy directed towards him and his travelling companion.

"Perhaps it would have been simpler to say damn to the costs and teleport the lot. Cage and all." He mused as Sergeant Sheila, wearing a heavy cloak to obscure her less-than-human features, handled the setup of the demonstration. There was no risk of infection for her, for quite obvious reasons.

Meredith snorted, but she did not turn aside from her staring contest with Speaker Celestine. "Would've made for a better show. Awe the noble gits and make clear they're not in charge here."

Not quite his desired intention, so likely for the best he had not. "Perhaps." He offered, choosing not to offend her position; something the exiled witch was less willing to do herself. When he had taken on Alice's mother as an aide he had not been entirely aware of her... history. It was somewhat unfortunate that she had proven so useful in refining the potion that she could not be excluded without offending his aid.

Ah, and now that she had spoken, Speaker Celestine had chosen to approach. Also unfortunate.

"Meredith." She said, planting one hand on her hip and staring down her hook nose at her not-so-fellow witch. "To what do we owe the displeasure? You were exiled for a reason."

"And I haven't gone back to the Blackwald since." Meredith spoke back mockingly. "Or am I denied entrance to the capital now that you've cozied up to the king? Oh, wait, you went and let your apprentice join the rebellion. Grimsby'd be rolling in her grave."

Speaker Celestine visibly bristled and narrowed her eyes. "Were Old Grims present when the rebellion began, no doubt she would have had us join them. I knew her better than you, Meredith; she scarcely gave you the time of day."

Clearing his throat, Arugal drew the attention of the pair. Something he may come to regret, but likely necessary. "To explain my... assistant's presence, Speaker Celestine, she is the mother of my personal aide Alice Corrinth. Furthermore, she contributed her notable knowledge of herbs and potion brewing to the creation of the tincture we are here to demonstrate today."

Turning back to Meredith, Speaker Celestine raised a brow. "Your daughter came back?"

"Yes." She sneered. "And you can keep your foolhardy order; I've got better things to do than save you when it all falls apart."

"It will not! My former apprentice's plan to win the hearts of the people was a resounding success."

"Oh, and where's your wonder child now? Too busy fellating her new king and queen to show up? Or does she not want to watch herself get one-upped by this old hag's work?"

Alas, his efforts were for nought it seemed. He had hoped to offer the speaker an opportunity to disengage and not make a spectacle, yet it seemed that while she understood the need for polite conduct, she did not understand the danger of creating a scene.

"If you will excuse me..." He said quietly, slipping away without either noticing or caring about his departure.

Arenas had already begun his speech, explaining the contents and formulation of the tincture as well as the mandate the king had given him for its completion. The man's support for Genn Greymane remained steadfast even past his decision to abdicate – it had been a struggle to convince him to include Gwyneth in the list of contributors he had to provide.

Without the moonleaf she had provided them, of which their stores were steadily dwindling, there would be no tincture. Not for years yet as they searched, desperately, for the vital ingredient to complete the potion.

Later, when Speaker Celestine had finished with her... confrontation, he would have to speak with her on acquiring more from the source in the Blackwald.

"Arugal." Genn Greymane greeted him as he passed. The now-former king looked tired but remarkably satisfied despite recent events. "I had hoped that you would succeed, yet to see it happen has been a surprise to us all. How did you manage it?"

Smiling beneath his veil, Arugal gestured at Arenas. "I do believe your own alchemist is explaining that now."

Genn huffed and shook his head. "No, I do not mean the ingredients. I would thank all those involved personally, I may be king no longer, but I will finish what I began. Even should my son refuse I would reward them, and I know that he will not." His gaze grew distant. "And... I would know how many were failed before this success was achieved."

"Of course, the full list of contributors shall be made available to you – it is not small, so I am afraid I cannot provide it here and now." Humming to himself Arugal nodded. "However, if I must name one individual... it would have to be Gwyneth Arevin, who set us upon our task to begin with."

"Her damnable future knowledge." He hissed through clenched teeth, his grip on his jacket tightening, before sighing exhaustedly.

"As to those that did not make it... five have lost their lives and twelve of our earlier subjects have failed to respond to later treatment; a complication between the tinctures and methods used." Or at least that was their best guess. "However, I am glad to say that from here on our work will only be stymied by a lack of supply."

Arenas stepped back and away from the cage, allowing Sergeant Sheila to remove the coverings to reveal the worgen held within. Alongside half a dozen of her fellows she entered, restrained the cursed man, and administered the tincture.

Within twenty seconds, far more swiftly than the first success with Sergeant Sheila herself, his struggles ceased. Furred and clawed hands came up to his muzzle and he looked up at them with bright, intelligent, eyes.

"I... I'm..." The man stood suddenly. "My wife! My daughter! I have to–"

"We have them, they're safe." Sergeant Sheila growled with a hint of warning. "A few minutes, a few tests; you are stronger..."

Her voice trailed off, quietening as he settled from seeing them amongst those watching. She would explain what he needed to know and ensure that nothing unfortunate happened – the capabilities of those cured remained just as they were before. For better and for ill, as their door-repair bill had come to learn.

"Ashbury..." Genn breathed, something cracking in his voice. A moment later the weakness vanished and he stood tall once more. "You shall have all that you need." He spoke with absolute authority. "Funding, resources, manpower; no matter what it is you require you shall have it."

Arugal blinked, his mind flowing back through the conversation. When had he...? Ah, a misunderstanding. "I apologize, Your Majesty, I did not mean to imply that we were running low on materials. Indeed, we have been well supplied by Lord Crowley throughout the Rebellion despite some measure of tension." Arugal pointed at the worgen embracing his rather alarmed-looking wife like she was made of glass. "However, Mister Baker there is the last captive worgen we had in containment. Any further subjects shall have to be caught."

"There will also be further research; we have hopes that with conflict dying down we might pursue avenues of research otherwise denied to us." Such as those Gwyneth had offered initially, interfering with the moon-cycle aspect of the curse was somewhat promising. "But that will take time."

Up on the stage, Prince Liam – yet to be crowned, though it would be soon – took Mister Baker's hand and shook it. Welcoming him back as a citizen of Gilneas.

Raising his hands, Arugal began to applaud. Genn followed a moment later, and soon the entire hall did so. The grand theatre was filled with the sound as a stunned man turned worgen wept tears of joy.

It was a shame Gwyneth was not present. No doubt she would have been glad to see the success that they had wrought.

-oOoOo-

"You got to be cheating. Ain't no sodding way you can win eight times in ten, Sheila." Robert grumbled at her, though there was no heat in his voice as he pushed the coins her way. Not a whole lot, but enough to help pay for all the new clothes she had to buy. "What're you doing, hearing our heartbeats or summin?"

Trying not to bare her fangs, Sheila snickered, it was... still strange to hear after more than a month. "Nah, you're just distracted by my new stature. Can't stop staring for the life of you."

She puffed herself up a bit as she said it, getting a laugh out of the boys and girls. Something she'd feared she might never get to hear again – fighting alongside them on the wall, going out into the marshes, it'd been bad... but they were her boys and girls. That they accepted her back without fuss, fur and fangs and all, made it seem like it didn't matter.

Helped her forget the growling menace she could hear in her voice, the little burning sliver of anger that just wouldn't shut up in her mind. Made getting promoted for having a clear head a bit of a joke.

"You figure Lady Lorna'll really get crowned queen?" Juniper asked as she dealt out the next round of cards.

Jerry glowered at his as he picked them up. "Better be. Else we're gonna have to show them Greymanes what it means to fight for Northgate; bloody oath breakers."

Sheila rolled her eyes. "They hung Godfrey."

"Yeah, and that was too sodding good for him!" Jerry snapped back. "You weren't there, Sheila. The little witch came back bleeding and hurt bad, I heard she had them rip out half a dozen bullets just so she could come out and save our sorry arses from the traitorous bastard!"

Her ears fell flat against her head and her body tensed. He was threatening her.

Threat.

Breathing carefully she shoved that anger back down where it belonged, in the dark little growling cage where it couldn't entice her to bite her friends. "Yeah, yeah," she grumbled, "go ahead and remind me I wasn't there when you needed me." Even beyond just making her angry, it stung. She should've been there, should've helped hold the line and fight for Lord Crowley. But no, she wanted to go beyond the wall and even joined another squad to do it.

Straight up volunteered to get bitten, she did.

"Shite. Sorry, Sheila." Jerry looked down. "It's just... it were bad. Real bad."

"I know." She'd heard stories.

"Lot of the levy's gone back, just us sorry lot hanging around these days." Dominic broke the silence as he threw down his cards. "Also, fuck this shit, fold. You're not getting more of my money; I've got kids to feed."

"They feed themselves, old man."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." He rolled his eyes at Juniper. "Seriously, most folks have gone home. Royal army's even buggered off to the wall, changing shifts and shit; they do something stupid like stand our lady up and we trounce 'em. Simple as."

Sheila fidgeted around her cards, sniffing the air. Robert was smelling confident; like real confident. "Far as I see it they won't. Wouldn't want to piss off the archmage, me. Seen some of what he can do."

"In bed or in battle?" Robert smiled.

"Sod off, Rob." She spat. "Just 'cause you want some don't mean anyone else does. I'm a furry freak."

"Aw, don't talk like–" Juniper cut herself off, jumping to her feet and saluting. "Lady Crowley! Your Grace!"

In a blink, the lot of them followed her up, ditching their cards and getting into a semblance of formation. Nobody warned her there going to be any sodding inspections today!

"At ease." Lord Crowley said with an easy smile. "It has been some time, but I am simply here to compliment you all on your good work and service today. Especially to you, Sergeant. You've done us all proud working with the archmage and alchemist." He nodded his head respectfully to her. "In fact, before my daughter makes her offer, I wish to make clear that there will always be a place in my guard for you. Diminished as it may soon be."

They were going to punish him? For doing what was right? Sheila had to fight to keep her lips from curling back, and she could smell the frustration in the others too; same as she could smell his acceptance.

"What offer, Your Grace?" She growled.

He looked to Lady Lorna, allowing her to take the fore. "As you may be aware, Silverlaine Keep remains in Gilnean hands; Lord Silverlaine continues to fight valiantly against the undead, but more recently the feral worgen have reached his walls." Lady Lorna explained, meeting all their eyes in turn but focusing on Sheila in particular; for reasons she'd have to be an idiot to not understand. "His men are tired, suffering casualties, and need reinforcement. We are seeking volunteers to help defend the keep – and, also of vital importance, brave the lands beyond the walls to seek out what few pockets of survivors that might remain."

"Also in consideration is the capture of worgen so that they might be cured." Lord Crowley added, and Lady Lorna nodded in affirmation. "However, that is only for those who cannot be infected or have accepted the risks of becoming so. I will be heading this force."

Juniper stepped forward, the battle-mad pike girl grinning widely. "At yer service, Yer Grace. As always."

"You really think any of us'd refuse? We're your men, milord." Robert said, with the rest of her squad offering their agreement. "Through thick and thin, to the nether and back. Besides, if we get bit... Sheila'd 'preciate the company."

"I suppose she might." Lord Crowley said affably, focusing on her.

"Tenth Squad of the Crowley arms, ready and reporting for duty." Sheila grinned, her teeth bared widely. Sure, helping out the archmage had been good... but getting back with her squad, serving her lord, that was what the right thing for her was. Bloody worgen wouldn't know what hit 'em.

Till she punched their sodding lights out and told them. After shoving the cure down their throats, of course.