The idea wasn’t bad. Jenny ran a few scenarios in her head. Pretend she found the weapon, probably talk with Gregory. Tell some lies about her own whereabouts to throw off any pursuers. Get some money on top of all that? It would also let her see what had changed since she left. Like Biscuit had said; scout the place all spy-like? And with her now permanent disguise, she didn’t need to worry about anyone recognizing her anymore.
It might not work like she wanted, but the most Jenny thought could happen was Gregory taking the broken weapon and throwing her out of the manor. Gregory may be petty and arrogant, but she never knew him to be cruel.
“That’s a good suggestion. Thank you.” She said to the master carpenter.
The man gave her one last measured look before pushing the weapon back towards her. “I do have another crossbow if you need a replacement.” He tapped the broken weapon. “This is a light crossbow, made easier to handle, weaker than normal crossbow for someone who hasn’t trained for it. A strong woman like you might as well use the heavy version of the weapon.” The man got up from his chair. “Just a moment.” He said and left the room. Not long after, he returned with a monster of a heavy crossbow. One with no easy-to-use hand lever crank but with a metal structure, you’d push down with your feet while pulling back the strings with both hands.
“And how much does that cost?”
“This one here,” the man said instead of answering, “was built from the finest hardwood. I molded and measured every piece myself. Pardon my lack of humility, but it’s the work of a master.”
Jenny observed the sturdy construction and all the small details that went into creating the weapon. It was a beautiful tool of killing. “It’s a good weapon.” She agreed, even if she didn’t know enough to say more than that the weapon looked well made.
“She’s great, isn’t she? Only five gold coins.” The merchant smiled like he hadn’t asked her for half a fortune.
Jenny thought about the lone gold coin in her pouch and the dwindling number of silver. She smiled back. “It’s a wonderful weapon, but out of my means for now.”
The master carpenter's smile took a dive, but the man was still polite, ushering Jenny out of his workshop almost immediately. Jenny shook her head. Chuckled at the blatant attempt at selling her an overpriced weapon. It was her clothes, wasn’t it?
Jenny had a few hours before she could get her badge. She looked toward the northern area of town, where the manor was. Shrugged. It was worth a try. Jenny followed the cobblestone street that led toward the manor. At the entrance, she was greeted by another new guard, not Edgar, not any of the other estate guards. He was a tall, muscular man dressed in leather armor, with black hair and a burn scar on his face. His look was more of a glare.
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“What’s your business here?” the guard demanded, hand resting on the pommel of his sword.
“My name is Larissa. I found a broken weapon a few days away by the road,” Jenny started with her tale. “The master carpenter recognized it as something that belonged to the late Baron and hinted there might be a reward for me for bringing this thing over.”
The guard’s face worsened by the minute. He scowled and spat to the side. “Wait here, don’t go anywhere.” The man demanded. “Damn mercenaries.” Jenny heard him mutter.
It didn’t take long until the man was back. He threw the heavy door open. “Leave the spear here; you can pick it up when you leave.” He looked Jenny over for any other visible weapon, finding none, let her inside.
They walked familiar corridors and decorations. Rooms and passages that, until a few days ago, were home. Up they went until Jenny stood in front of the Baron’s office. There was a muffled argument from inside, voices that sent tingles through Jenny’s memory, voices that stopped when the guard knocked at the door.
“The mercenary is here, my Lord.” The guard said.
“Send her in.” Gregory's annoying, high-pitched voice called out.
Jenny took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure why Gregory had blamed her for his father's death or if he was involved at all. But this was a chance to learn something. She would know after seeing his face. She nodded at the guard and passed by him. The guy hadn’t been polite, but no need to stoop to his level.
The office was mostly the same. The decoration was rich but practical. The large, heavy desk was covered with parchments and quills, with almost no free space. Behind the desk, a tall window gave a view of the surrounding lands, the farms, and, even in the distance, the field of gnarled trees. The walls were lined with bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes and scrolls.
Sat on the Lord’s chair was the leering face of Gregory, dressed in his finest silk, wearing all the adornments of his station: the chest medal, the silk half cape pinned to his left shoulder, the golden signet ring. Behind him and to the side, hands behind his back and posture straight was Thaddeus, dressed in his immaculate uniform. Those things she expected to see. What she didn’t expected was the third person in the room.
A young woman with short, wavy black hair and large, expressive black eyes. Her perpetual friendly smile was replaced by a severe frown, which didn’t diminish her approachable and warm demeanor. She wore elegant black clothing with gold accents. She wore the small, gold hoop earrings that Jenny had given her for her fifteenth birthday.
“I asked for your name!” Gregory's high-pitched voice brought Jenny back. She tore her eyes away from Gizelda and looked at her brother. His leer had been replaced by a frown, like the boy had smelled something unpleasant.
“I’m sorry, my Lord,” Jenny said, bowing. At least she hadn’t stuttered. “I found a broken crossbow a few days away on the road toward Bramble village.” She said, pulling her bag closer, and pulling out the broken crossbow. She noticed the guard tensing at her movement. The man hadn’t stayed outside. “I took it to the master carpenter, who said he’d made it for your Lord father, my lord.” She said, bowing again.
Gregory looked her up and down and noted the dried blood on her armor, her arms, and her stature. “And who are you? Would the carpenter confirm your story?”
Jenny hesitated for a moment, then gave out her fake name. “I’m Larissa of Nowhere, my lord, and yes, I was just at the man’s workshop.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Gizelda’s widening gaze. The rapid blinking of surprise before her face dropped into a mask of neutrality again.
Jenny was sure of it. Gizelda recognized the fake name they often joked about as children. Shit.