Red Queen Fan Fiction - Red Huntress

Chapter 6

Diana was to arrive at the Cordes farm before sunrise, when mere streaks of green, yellow and red were announcing the coming day. Accordingly, Diana felt the lingering cold of the night on her face and was soon glad to help pack the transport, as first the work and then the machine's roaring motor were warming her up.

While Armina Cordes, looking fit and fresh despite her fifty years and the early hour, had greeted her friendlily and waved off Diana and the travelling merchant, Marcus Wolff, the latter was far less talkative.

He was a pale, almost colourless man in his late thirties, with light skin that neither bronzed nor burned in the sun, and hair like sandy mud. As a travelling merchant, Diana saw him often enough, but never got to know him; it was her father or Madeline who usually bought from or sold to him.

Mr. Wolff didn't try to mend this impression and had asked Diana to stay in the storage area of his transport to check some lists. Obviously, that was only give her a reason to travel in the back and to occupy her there, as it was too dark to read and control at first, and once she could start, it turned out to be a quick and easy task leaving Diana to her thoughts.

When she'd assisted her mother at the butcher shop the day before, she'd told her about Ms. Cordes hiring her. Mama had revealed no reaction, concentrated on cutting meat. "You want to do that?" she'd only asked, hinting at the missed school day.

Diana had been reluctant to reply, about to inquire if her mother knew more about Armina Cordes and her possible connections to the Scarlet Guard. Then she'd shrugged and said, "I do."

To be honest, by now she waited for her parents to let something slip. Yet today, she'd look for what Marcus Wolff had to slip.

They arrived in town, their county's capital, in the early morning. After setting up their stall, "Marcus's plums" at the market square, Wolff wanted her to assist him in a similar way to how she helped her mother – clean, listen to the customers' orders, gather their goods, weigh and pack them – tasks that demanded attention and sure, fast hands. He only used her last name to call her, if he called her anything at all, and so she started to address in the same manner.

From Wolff's glances, she figured she did as well as expected, but even then, he made no comments, offering neither praise nor chide – so be it. If she'd been wrong, and this job had nothing to do with the Guard, at least she'd get paid.

At first, Diana was puzzled that Wolff was similarly quiet with the customers as with her, until she figured out that some of them had to prefer it that way, given the hurry they all seemed to be in. Yet there were a few, barely a handful, who pulled a conversation out of Wolff; not a smile, but a slightly softening change to his features. If their words carried any notes of conspiracy, Diana didn't manage to unravel them as these customers also enjoyed to keep her busy with elaborate, detailed orders.

The last of these had shown up when the market was already dying down in the afternoon. It was then that Wolff rattled off a set of directions and told Diana to deliver one crate to a depot and bring back several others. That would require several runs, too. When she frowned, he added, "there must be a wheelbarrow in the depot, you can use it."

She sighed, and lifted the crate he wanted away. She didn't have the wheelbarrow for his one, and would've to return it after her last run.

She found the depot easy enough, getting a slight feeling for the town's layout. She tried to take notice of the other people going around there too, to remember them, though that proved difficult as none of them was interested in a break or small talk.

Giselle had a point, Diana thought, it's not easy to get into contact here. The people are restrained here.

Wolff was packing up when she'd finished, about to get on his way before the sunset. "It's early enough to travel," he said.