Title: FFXIV Write 2024 - 5. Stamp Characters: Reinhardt Sauvetarre, Zoissette Vauban Rating: Teen Summary: Paid for delivery and boy is Reinhardt paying for it Notes: Weird Wild West AU this is a Desertwalkers story
Reinhardt was having a difficult day.
He wasn't having a bad day, not exactly. It wasn't good, either, but it wasn't bad. Just a difficult sort of day. A very difficult sort of day, the sort of day that tested his patience and made him wonder if there were some unseen spirits whose job it was to make his life more difficult.
The mission description was certainly simple enough. Intercept a package, inspect its contents, and bring that knowledge back to the garrison, where someone else could determine if it contained actionable intelligence or evidence of certain activities out in the wilds. It was difficult, maintaining a military presence on the frontier. The very, very large frontier they could not hope to possibly patrol in full, and it behooved them to take what advantages they could.
The details where were things got sticky. The package would be going through the Saltlick's courier network, and that meant going through Klynt's sphere of influence, which was not great for Reinhardt. He did not like that his work life was risking having him act at cross purposes to his personal life. What was worse was that Zoissette, apparently, was the courier.
He had hoped to keep an eye out, and to see if he could spot the exact dead drop location, and perhaps be able to get away with just reporting that to his superiors. That was actionable intelligence, which they would hopefully be satisfied with, and more importantly that would keep him from coming into any sort of direct confrontation with the courier, the package, or Klynt's attention. Somebody else could pull the mission to handle any follow-up on the dead drop, and he would be free to continue to pretend that his job was compatible with his love life.
But no, Zoissette was canny, and unfortunately had a tendency of being exactingly good at the jobs she picked up. He was not sure when she had done it or how, but the package she was now carrying towards her chocobo matched the description of what he was keeping an eye out for exactly.
Which meant now he had to try to convince her to let him have a peek at it.
She was off and away, and that meant he had to be soon after her, or else lose any opportunity for pulling this stupid mission off. Which he was tempted to do. But not tempted enough to risk pissing off Estinien, who would be first in line to chew him out and work him over should he screw this up badly enough. So he hurried, and soon enough, his chocobo was running after the gently receding form of Zoissette as she headed out on her duty.
It was easy to catch up to her, fortunately. She had a massive black chocobo, a bird that was almost military like in its demeanor, stamina, and speed. He'd seen it in action before, and he did not relish the thought of trying to outpace it. But she was keeping, not an easy pace, but not exactly a race, either. A conservatively hurried pace that would mean she would make good time but not tire out herself or her bird. Which meant Reinhardt could catch up to her quickly with a nice short sprint.
She spared him a glance as he got close, but did not seem inclined to pay him any further mind, even as he pulled back on the reins of his chocobo and slowed to match her speed.
"Hullo, Miss Vauban," he said, deciding to try the pleasant route.
"Good afternoon, Ser... Sauvetarre, I believe?" she responded.
"Yes ma'am," he said. "I was wondering if I might ask to take a quick glance at one of the parcels you're transporting today? Garrison business, you understand."
She gave him a longer sidelong glance as her gaze swept him up and down, inspecting him. "Do you perhaps have a warrant to go along with that request, Ser Sauvetarre?" she asked primly.
"Godsdammit you know I don't, we only just heard about this shipment this morning."
Also he wasn't at all sure Kemakka would share the garrison's opinion on the value of this package, but that was an argument that was above his paygrade.
"Then I am afraid I can speak no further as to what I may or may not be carrying, nor entertain discussion about the contents of my cargo, such as it is."
"Come on, Zoissette," said Reinhardt, trying for another tack. "This is for the safety and security of all of us out here, you know that."
And also the safety and security of his current and future relationship with Klynt and with the garrison commander and gods damn it he hated this.
"I am certain. However, my responsibilities are currently to my contract and my chosen duties. I have the appropriate stamps that certify for me for postal activities. As such, if you truly wish to know more, you may come to me with an appropriate warrant."
"You know that by the time I get that warrant that whatever's in there will be out and we'll have missed our window to do anything about this," he tried, starting to feel a little desperate.
Zoissette side eyed him again.
"Your initial request was honest enough, and I do not mind it," she said. "After all, you can hardly know what the proper limits are if you do not actually ask the question. The second attempt was endearing, showing a certain level of, shall we say, earnestness. However, a third attempt begins to border on the rude, which I begin to feel I might take exception to."
Reinhardt was about to open his mouth to try to push his argument, but he stopped himself, as he considered several things at once. One, Zoissette seemed to, at some point, have increased her personal close quarters armament. Previously she had just had a short field knife, but now she had two rather longer and very impressive blades on her back. Two, she had not really been paying close attention to him up until now, keeping a closer eye on the terrain and her bird, but now she and her bird both had a definite focus to them that was centered on him. Three, Zoissette was an elf, a tall one at that, and he was almost certainly within her swinging range.
He quickly pulled on the reins of his own bird, nudged a heel into its side, and leaned hard to the side, and the bird responded immediately, making a large hop to the side, bringing him out of what he estimated to be Zoissette's reach. And then he tugged on the reins some more, and steered the bird to give her another fulm or two extra, just for politeness.
He knew Zoissette had a thing about politeness.
Zoissette's bird returned its attention to the path, and after a moment of giving Reinhardt a look fit to freeze him to his saddle, she too turned her attention forward, and he let out a breath. He could take Zoissette in a fight, but he really did not want to.
He was having a difficult enough of a day already.
The two riders and their birds continued to keep pace with one another. The two chocobos were politely ignoring one another, keeping their peace. Zoissette was ignoring Reinhardt in a somewhat more pointed fashion, and Reinhardt kept sneaking glances over at her, trying to gauge her temperament.
At last, he spoke up. "Begging your pardon, ma'am," he said. "But you are right. I was out of line. I promise to not ask further after your cargo."
He held on, jaw tight, and waited. Zoissette regarded him once more. This time, from a polite distance.
"Apology accepted, Ser Sauvetarre," she said at last. "I am choosing to recognize that you were only doing what you felt was your due duty, and I cannot fully fault that. Keep your word on the matter, and I shall consider it closed."
"You've got my word," he said.
Zoissette nodded, and her rancor seemed to evaporate, and Reinhardt felt himself relax. This was good. This was better.
"If you don't mind, though," he said. "I think we're heading the same way. Perhaps we can convoy over together? Safer that way."
She glanced him over.
"I will have your word that you will stay out of my things as well."
"Of course."
"Then I find your proposal agreeable. It is a day and a half travel, and I was planning on taking both days to do it. Stop at midday for lunch and to take care of our mounts, overnight at duskfall."
"Sounds good to me."
"Then we have an accord."
Reinhardt nodded, and settled in for the day's ride. Alright. Fine. Cracking Zoissette was out of the question, especially if he wanted to stay on Klynt's good side. Corking one of her favourite couriers would not keep him in her good graces, and for that matter, his garrison commander would have opinions on that as well. Bad ones. And that was not part of the mission, anyroad, the package itself was. But perhaps he could catch the dead drop when they got to where they were going, or try to pick up the trail of the package again once it was no longer in Zoissette's possession and try to intercept it then.
He had options.
Shit ones.
Alright, so maybe he was having a bad day.