Marcia stepped forward. âYouâre supposed ta be indoors. No oneâs allowed on the street. Weâre going to have ta-â
âAre you kidding me?â May said, leaning against the wall casually, her sword resting behind her back, âDo you see how much they look alike?â
âI think theyâre lovers, not sisters,â said Brittany, a heavy set woman, holding a spear over her shoulders.
At a nearby intersection, three Foxglove soldiers were conversing to pass the time on another long and uneventful watch.
âYvette? I thought youâd be holed up in your workshop, behind traps and impenetrable locks,â Emile said. The inventor saddled up to the bar and crossed her arms. âI was. These two convinced me that we need to fight, and weâve already had some qualified success.â
âWe need people, and we need weapons. We also need to act fast. It may be a whole army out there, but, last I looked only a dozen or two occupied your village. They may be reinforcing as we speak.â
âWhat do we need to do?â said the fourth woman in the room, a woman dressed in the white clothing of a baker, lightly dusted with flour.
âI think you misunderstand my intentions, missâŠEmile, yes, you must be Emile. Auriane told me that you were in charge here.â
Yvette quickly disappeared back into her workshop and emerged with two lengths of rope. Mercedes and Veronica looked at each other but were forced by Broussard and Auriane to wait patiently. The inventor quickly bound their hands, then, before leading them away, decided to remove what garments they had left.
âItâs funny you finally remembered to worry about that,â came a voice from behind them. The two guards turned, shocked, and raised their hands in surrender as they saw Private Broussard and Auriane the messenger step around the corner, weapons drawn and aimed at them, while an eccentric-looking woman they hadnât seen before giggled.
As the honey-splattered armor fell onto the rocks and scrub brush below, the bees followed. The danger passed, the two guards barely noticed their curvy bodies were exposed in only skimpy undergarments.
The guards ran, but the bees followed. âItâs the honey! We need to get rid of it!â Veronica gasped. âItâs all over my armor!â Mercedes protested, then she nodded. Running toward the edge of the wall terrace, she jettisoned her armor, following Veronicaâs lead.
âThatâs the only way anyone will ever describe your big, flabby ass as sweet!â Veronica laughed. âOw! My chest! Where are these coming from?â
Marjorie Broussard pulled her head from the bucket, her eyes still a bit red, and looked at what Yvette was pointing to. It looked a bit like a small catapult.
Yvette bit her lip. âWell, I may haveâŠadded something. Letâs get you washed up,â she said, changing the subject.
âAuriane?â the tiny woman replied, pulling a lever that caused a skylight to open and bathe the room in light, âAre you working with this rabble?â
As she turned to react, her whole world went white for a moment, then her eyes and nose started to sting.
After sneaking behind a pair of guards who were engaged in a raucous conversation about which Plouffian ale is the best, Auriane and Marjorie Broussard arrived inside Yvetteâs workshop.
Auriane frowned. âNo, sir. Dacquoise, as you know, is a village of farmers, millers, and bakers.â
âAnd that isnât our biggest problem. I bet they have no weapons,â the archer chimed in. âWhy couldnât the queen have seen fit to send a detachment of troops to take the village back?â
âLook!â said Auriane the courier, dressed in a blue coat and beret, âthey are dispersing the citizens.â
âNo offense, private, but Iâm the most experienced among us,â an equally-freckled, green-armored knight with fiery red hair responded. âEvery hour we wait, they might add more troops, and their grasp on the town tightens. We have to act now. And nothing about this operation is likely to be quiet. Only speed and surprise are on our side.â
âI say we wait until nightfall. It wonât be THAT long now. We can get in and get the job done quietly.â Said a freckled, athletic brunette dressed in a sleeveless chainmail and holding a bow.
âWell, now we just watch the bunch of your collect flies like the excrement you are, hmmm? Or are there perhaps more ways to have fun with you will you rot in the stocks?â Lorraine taunted.
âSpeaking of cows, Clarabelle, I think this gross, runny cream smells a little over the hill. Let me know, as a cow, what you think.â