Title: FFXIV Write 2023 - 20. Hamper Characters: Yda Hext, Thancred Waters, Urianger Augurelt, Y'shtola Rhul, Minfilia Warde Rating: Teen Summary: Thancred's very funny. Notes: Sometimes I claim to be committing crimes against words. This time, I kind of mean it.
Being a conscript for the mighty Garlean empire was both better and worse than he had anticipated it would be.
Worse, because of course it wasn't possible to imagine to what it would be like, separated from his family, thousands of malms away from his home, knowing that his obedience was the only thing keeping them safe. Having to be in someone else's home, knowing that the goal of the Empire was to make sure the same fate befell them, onward and onward, a beast hungry for sweat and blood, forever.
Better, because in practice, it was actually really boring.
A lot of drills. A lot of getting up early at hours gods could not see and frankly neither should men. And a lot of chores.
So many chores.
He was not sure what he had imagined military life to be like, but certainly, he had not imagined this. He spent much more time cleaning his weapon than using it, even more time marching around and checking on things he felt certain did not need checked, but checking them anyroad. Lots of standing around waiting for a lot of nothing to be done. Cleaning the Castrum. Cleaning his barracks. Cleaning his clothes. Cleaning his comrades' clothes, and that was the duty he had pulled today.
He sighed as he went from barracks to barracks, pushing, pulling, and otherwise cajoling along an increasingly long train of hampers, each one on some caster wheels and connected to one another through some clever coupling mechanism, and all driven by a magitek contrivance whose workings he didn't know. He didn't have to. Just had to guide it and make sure all the laundry got picked up. It wasn't hard work at all, just tedious. Just go to a barracks, find the watch, tell them why he was there, wait while the hampers were gathered, usually already full, add them to the train, and be on his way.
He was supposed to keep track of how many he had from where. But each hamper had a barracks number on it, and so long as the laundry room did their job, the laundry would be returned to the correct hampers, and whoever took them back didn't have too hard a time of it. And so he only made certain he didn't lose any, and paid little attention to how many he had, eventually just duly driving his long, smelly train into the heart of the Castrum where the laundry magitek devices were. This was where his job ended for now, and he was risking being late to his next duty. So while he sorely wished to stop and try to chat up the comely lass who greeted him - he could tell, even inside of the ugly sack cloth uniforms they all wore, that she was, if nothing else, athletic and trim - he saluted her sharply, signed off on the duty board, and went on his way.
She watched him go, her hands on her hips, not moving towards the hamper train or otherwise making an effort to do her job. Not so far away, tucked out of sight, another conscript was taking an unfortunate nap. Once the man who had delivered the hampers to her had gone, she began to whistle a merry tune loudly to herself as she walked along the train. She examined each barracks mark until she came to two in particular, and shifted the tune she was whistling, as well as building it up a good deal louder.
When the two hampers began to shift, she returned to her prior tune and volume, and turned slowly in place, keeping an eye out, as the heads of Thancred and Urianger popped up from the hampers. She kept whistling as they pulled themself free and resettled the clothes, and made their way to a corner she gestured at.
She spent some time doing her job. Or at least, some approximation of what her job should be. Once some of the autolaunderes were working, mechanical arms ducking uniforms into hot soapy water and swishing them around noisily, filling the space with steam, she found her way to her friends.
"You failed to mention how bad this job -stank-, Thancred. Or how hot it'd be in here. I'm about ready to die in this uniform."
"I'll thank you to not do any such thing," said Thancred. "Where is Papalymo?"
"Waiting by our escape hatch. You also failed to mention that that particular pipe was for waste outflow, it's full of water filthy with ceruleam! He's got words for you, you know."
"I just bet," said Thancred, dryly. "Urianger?"
Urianger had a set of heavy goggles resting on his head as he took stock of their surroundings. "I have readied mine enchantments and am ready to play my part. Mine spellworks are ready to addle the senses and delight the masses. Shouldst any pierce mine defensive auras of illusion, I shall stymie them with a dazzling display before taking mine leave."
"I can't believe this worked," said Yda, glancing around.
"Stay focused. Hasn't worked yet. Though I do hope to get the chance to tell Y'shtola I told her so. Alright. We're going in. Stick to the plan and cover us. Once you hear the alarum, get going, Urianger shouldn't be far behind. When you hear the explosions, the ruse will be up. Any questions."
"Ugh, yes. Why'd I agree to this."
"For the good of the realm," said Thancred, giving her a wink. "If I could have done it alone -"
"And I wish you wouldn't."
"-I would have."
Urianger nudged Thancred. "Come. My spellworks are intricate and delicate, and shall not hold forever."
The two nodded at Yda. "See you on the outside," she said cheerfully as Thancred seemed to almost melt into the shadows.
"A console from which I might make mine announcements?" asked Urianger, and she gestured down a hallway. "They're already all asleep that way. Do be careful."
"When am I not?" he asked.
Yda just put her hands on her hips and looked around the laundry room as her two friends disappeared to their respective tasks.
"I always get the lousy jobs," she complained.
~*~
Minfilia's face was bemused as Urianger told the ins and outs of the tale of how their little group had successfully infiltrated the Castrum. He was fully in his element, recounting the story as though it were an epic poem, telling of how he in turn bedazzled, confused, terrified, and bamboozled the castrum guards. Thancred just sat in a chair off to one side, looking terribly pleased with himself as he flipped his blade in his hand. Yda and Papalymo had already returned to the Twelveswood, but Y'shtola had stopped in to listen, and just now had her eyes squinted shut, her ears back and head down as she squeezed her nose between her thumb and forefinger.
"And verily, I tell you true, the local Garleans now surely believe their own commander mad, thanks to my clever use of glamour and misdirection," he finished with a broad grin and a bit of a bow.
Thancred spoke up. "And are blaming themselves for making a fine mess of their central routing. It'll be moons before they get it all repaired, and in the meanwhile, no trains in or out. They'll need to resort to airships. Which while their airship technology exceeds ours, they're still shy about floating their larger ones over our area. And the smaller ones just aren't as efficient as their trains."
"And you're certain that no trace of this little job of yours will be traced back to Eorzea or worse yet, to us?" asked Minfilia, drumming her fingers on the desk.
"As confident as I am in Urianger's spellworks," said Thancred.
Minfilia sat down in her chair, and sighed. "Well. Alright. I suppose the reward was worth the risk in the end. Thank you, Thancred."
"Certainly. Though now that it's done, I think our little job should have one of those colorful names the Grand Companies like to give to their big operations. You know, something memorable. Just for posterity."
Y'shtola lifted her head to give him a glare, while Minfilia just raised an eyebrow. "...go on."
"Well, a good code name should gesture vaguely in the direction of what it does... while not entirely giving the game away, of course... let me think, we've set back Imperial progress for moons... and given our methods... I'm thinking... hmn..." Thancred paused as he faked looked like he was thinking.
"Operation Hamper."
Minfilia blinked at him a few times before bursting into laughter. "Get out!" she squealed. Thancred winked at her as he stood to leave, and he glanced over in the corner.
And there was the cherry on top of a successful mission.
All those years of bard schooling were worth it for the absolutely withering look Y'shtola was giving him. He blew her a kiss, and whistled on his way out, a chuckling Urianger close behind him.