Isilt spent a few days simply waiting for the right time to deliver his report, the way it had to be done was already decided upon, he had hidden the parchment within the horn of a corneau, which was a common gift for men to give women in the south, the idea was for him to deliver the good to a female soldier that like him, was hiding amongst her family, the mission of this soldier was just to stand-by to receive goods, so she was the least likely to be suspected.
And frankly, it was far from suspicious for anyone to give her this sort of presents, it was a shame that this would just be viewed as him fulfilling his mission, but he had to take his head out of the gutter and act as natural as he possibly could, he had first thought that delivering something so sensitive during the day was a bad idea, but the scenario that had been thought of simply could not work during the night, unless they wanted Isilt to get in the role of a rather creepy suitor.
He laid in his bed, the horn held close as he slumbered, feeling tense, this was, by far, the most important task he had ever been given, if he messed up, not only would he probably get slaughtered, but that would clearly indicate that something was up in the farmlands, if that happened, the entire place would be searched by the undeads, every single corners, every crevice would be turned upside down as they would be certain that there was something to find.
Even Isilt did not know the specifics, so that if he were caught, no information would be pulled out of him, all of those things spun around in his mind as he slept, making his rest tumultuous, the sound of wood being knocked upon easily waking him, sounding more akin to someone bringing their palm upon its surface, the sound of whistling, the voices seeping in through the gaps of the window flaps.
Isilt raised up in his bed, all sounds immediately stopping, standing up as he listened intently, quickly realising after the drowsiness went away that it was again the undead coming to meet up with his sister, which he had been awaiting, he could wait a while, but the horn, and the report, had to be delivered at one point, walking downstairs without sound, praying for those few days to have been ripe with information gathered by this corpse, he did not know what to expect, Pitit had informed the headless the day after Isilt had first learned that his sister frequented a murderous cadaver.
Of course, Pitit was already there and invited Grigri inside, even without a head, the undead moved through the door frame like it had to lean forward to avoid hitting it.
Expectant, the trainee took out the report from the horn, which was yet to be sealed, and prepared to add lines upon lines of great intel, but when the undead spoke…
He did not understand a word of it, Grigri did not seem to have been given any item allowing for seamless communication, the language he was speaking had nothing in common with that of the south, yet, Pitit just nodded her head and listened attentively.
"For real?" she asked, the girl's mood immediately compromised.
"You didn't hear him just now?"
"I don't understand a word of what he is saying! What did he say?" not stopping to question why only one of them could decipher this alien language, more interested in whatever an insider could have learned.
"Is it their plans? Information on the undeads? Their weak points perhaps?"
"Isilt, Grigri is saying that you are already under tight surveillance, and so is our entire family!" Pitit sat down, feeling a little lightheaded.
"Huh? How is it possible-" the headhunter continued on speaking, translated as he went on.
"Apparently… You had a brush up with an undead, who was actually a champion of the vanguard, named Frenand, and he instantly got suspicious of you, the only reason you are still alive is due to the fact that they want you to lead them to the rest of those hiding amongst the non-combatants" she paraphrased a little bit, but the point went across, no matter what he did, Isilt would be scrutinised, and so would be anyone he interacted with, there was no hope for him to sneakily deliver anything.
The knight-in-training, his entire family and everyone that even got anywhere close to any of them were under a severe watch, every single minute action of theirs required investigation, and it had been so for the last few days, and absolutely none of them had noticed any of it.
Isilt slumped down onto a chair as well, his task was already failed, he would never be capable of delivering any message.
'Perhaps some of the others will manage-'
"Pitit, ask him about anyone else under suspicion" snapping to attention, he needed to make sure.
Grigri listed a series of names, and although some of them were that of civilians, all names of those supposed to gather information were suspected, the headless precised that only Isilt was under such extensive spying, but that did not change much, the others had no idea their cover was even being questioned, no extra steps would be taken on their ends to counteract.
The only saving grace was that those that only waited for reports to be delivered were still in the clear, so there was still a chance somewhere, or so Isilt tried to convince himself.
The headhunter spoke up.
"Grigri is saying that he could deliver the messages himself…" relayed Pitit, who tried to explain to the undead that this was way too dangerous, she did not know what sort of treatment was reserved for traitors in the undead empire, but it probably wasn't a nice imprisonment.
"But what about the others?
If they decide to deliver anything, they'll expose the others as well, and they won't trust an undead, they'll just think it's a trick if… Grigri… Was to come up to them with this offer, and since we are all being watched, I can't tell them or have anyone else tell them, it would just confirm everything to the enemy…" Isilt covered his mouth with one hand, really digging deep into his mind for a solution to this conundrum.
Their attempt at being incognito had clearly been laughably bad, but it rested upon their shoulders to gather anything they could, the king had placed his trust into the lesser combatants, he had broken his warrior's honour and went for this underhanded tactic, they couldn't disappoint him.
The headhunter just made an ok-sign with his fingers, saying that he could solve this issue without any problem, and without elaborating, perhaps because this plan would have received backlash, went out and disappeared into the night.
The one who had lost his name, identity, true purpose, memories and so much more that he did not know about, was resolute to prevent the livings from losing this conflict.
'Life is beautiful, it is enchanting… The spirit of life is indomitable… Indomitable… Who was it that spoke these words?'