67 Certainty (1/2)

Some time ago, hidden among trees where it was blessedly dark, a woman's voice could be heard mumbling in complaint. ”What am I supposed to do, then, stun attackers into meekness with just my womanly charms?”

”If you do your job right,” another voice answered in a disinterested tone, ”you won't be facing any attackers. But yes, in case you fail, just flash them with all that you have.”

”Such vulgarity,” the first voice answered with a cluck of her tongue. ”You had that in you, eh? Who'd have thunk?”

”I don't know what you mean. I was talking about your smile -- one look at it and anyone would run the other way.”

”Hur hur, don't I know it. I'm too pretty for their fragile eyes, ain't I?”

”Sure. If by pretty you meant absolutely maniacal. Are you done? They're waiting.”

”Hang on, I can't get this thing buttoned up.”

”Who says you have to?”

”Don't have anything underneath, remember?”

”Now you worry about modesty? Just give me your armor, then.”

Tone once again grumbling, the owner of the first voice did as she was told while saying, ”I have to sacrifice my protection just 'cause I happened to be the biggest-boned amongst us -- this is discrimination. Discrimination, I say!”

Only a ringing silence answered her grievance. The owner of the second voice had taken the pieces of armor and left her behind to return to the others.

Wordlessly, the petite and slender acting-lieutenant presented Leal with the wide-set senior's armor. With a nod of thanks, he took and donned it just as quietly.

She turned to the eldest of the Lyseans and once again spoke the foreigners' tongue like a native. ”Might I trouble you to lend your inner shirt? It might serve better for my comrade than the Prince's jacket.”

Though it was dim, everyone whose vision had long since adjusted to the scant lighting saw the Viscount look down at the bulk of his chest and belly.

”Of course,” he then answered in his usual, genial manner, moving to take off his clothing. ”All of me is glad to be of service.”

The second senior rejoined them, the Viscount's shirt covering her front while the Prince's jacket remained unbuttoned over it. Her expression was still screaming protest, but it seemed to be directed mostly at the other senior, who was studiously ignoring her.

After all the adjustments, the party was soon done with their preparations and ready to move ahead with their mission.

”Do I look the part?” Leal asked of no one in particular.

He had taken off his hair tie and let his black, slightly wavy tresses fall freely around his face. The armor he wore, which curved and narrowed in places to accomodate a... robust woman's shape, luckily had adjustable fastenings. He was far, far from comfortable wearing it -- not only did parts of it dig in places, it also dug at his pride. He did say he was going to do these things if he must, but that did not translate to him enjoying any of it.

”I'd go for that,” he caught an unknown female soldier whisper from somewhere.

Baron Harmin cleared his throat and said, very kindly and very carefully, ”Quite convincing, Your Highness.”

The other Baron was not so delicate. ”My Prince, we shall not breathe a word of this to anyone, we swear it on our heads.”