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[img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/240416/0b800ddfc01ca2849a7c0ba18c3608ff.png[/img]

[b][color=FFD700]Time:[/color][/b] Night
[b][color=FFD700]Location:[/color][/b] Sorian Harbour; aboard [i]Remembrance[/i]
[b][color=FFD700]Interactions:[/color][/b]
[b][color=FFD700]Mentions:[/color][/b]
[b][color=FFD700]Attire:[/color][/b]
[hider]Plain roughspun shirt (white) and trousers (brown)
Patched knee-length coat
Shoulder- and waist-belts
Old leather boots
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[color=DC143C][i]What a feckin’ eyesore.[/i][/color]

Dark against the deep indigo sky, and imposing amidst a field of buildings dwarfed by its presence, Castle Sorian loomed over its city like an ominous shadow. Flickering orange dots, sparsely scattered across the main keep’s sheer walls, and visible from afar despite their faint glows, marked where windows had been carved out of monolithic stone blocks. Peering over the curtain wall separating the keep and its courtyard from the rest of Sorian, those pinpricks of light were like the eyes of beasts leering out from their den, and down upon the people wandering the streets below.

Cynwaer snorted as he gazed towards the damnable fortress from [i]Remembrance[/i]’s quarterdeck. To draw any similarities between the people within that place and beasts would be a gross insult to the latter, as far as he was concerned. A beast’s actions were guided by instinct, and not thought. If they were cruel, if they were savage, or if they were depraved, it was only because it was in their nature to be so. They didn’t, and couldn’t be expected to, know any better. 

The people of Castle Sorian, however, had no such excuse.

For they were creatures of thought, and could know better. Cynwaer knew that. After all, weren’t they like him, possessed of a rational mind with which to think, and senses with which to perceive the world? Even if the bastard king himself and his sycophants were bent on being as wicked as possible, surely they had to be someone, or many someones, who could see the miseries the Kingdom visited upon its own people, and were outraged enough by such injustices to do something about them. 

But no, they did nothing. Once, Cynwaer had been disappointed by such a fact, but now he simply took it as one of the ugly truths of the world. Those people, like many others – not just in the castle, not just in the capital, but across all of Caesonia – were more than happy to keep themselves deaf and blind to the pains of their fellows, so long as they themselves could live in comfort. 

And so, they would continue to toil for a king and court that cared little for anything but themselves, and for a kingdom that was so thoroughly rotten.

A grunt rumbled in Cynwaer’s throat as he swept his eyes from the castle to the rest of Sorian. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the gunwale. [color=DC143C]“What a feckin’ eyesore,”[/color] he repeated in a dark murmur. Then, he looked to his right. 

[color=DC143C]“‘Tis nae the trut’, Neirynn?”[/color] He asked in a louder voice. 

Perched on the gunwale right by his side, the harrier stopped in the midst of tearing apart her latest catch, an unfortunate rabbit. She still had a claw on the carcass’ neck, whilst the talons of the other held onto the gunwale, digging shallow notches into the wood. Sinewy threads of pale crimson streaked and hung from her hooked beak, and the mottled plumage around her face and chest was speckled with blood. 

Neirynn regarded him with dark, beady eyes for a moment, her head cocked. Then, she chirped. 

Cynwaer chuckled, shaking his head as he reached across to brush his fingers over her scalp. Letting out a series of satisfied coos, the harrier pushed herself against his touch. [color=DC143C]“‘At’s a good lass,”[/color] Cywaer said, his tone gentle and lips in a smile. It were such moments, when Neirynn acted like any other pet, that made it difficult for him to remember that she was in fact a vicious huntress in her own right, with plenty of victims to her name, both human and animal. 

He ran his hand down her back, flattening a few stubborn feathers that jutted out from her otherwise sleek form. She bent low, head stretched towards him and eyes closed. [color=DC143C]“Someone’s feelin’ affectionate an’ such ta’day, hm?”[/color] He chuckled again, patted her on the head one more time, and drew his hand back. [color=DC143C]“Best yer be back tae yer dinner, lass. We’ve a lang night ahead o’ us, I reckon.”[/color]

Neirynn chirped, dipped her head in a nod, and promptly returned to her meal. Cynwaer watcher her for a moment before himself returning to leaning against Remembrance’s bulwark and looking at Sorian and its castle, his visage cold and hard. Silence descended over the pair. 

Well, amidst as much silence as a ship could afford, at least. Behind him, and down a short flight of stairs, the main deck hummed and buzzed with activity as [i]Remembrance[/i]’s crew prepared her to sail. A chorus of boots thumped across wooden planks, interrupted every so often by shouts. More calls came from above, amidst ratlines and rigging, and alongside ruffling sails, creaking yardarms, and clanging tackles. Cynwaer had long since gotten used to such noises, however, and paid them little heed. Remembrance was, to his ears, perfectly and pleasantly quiet. 

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. The noise behind him intensified, then slowly withered away until all that remained were vague murmurs of chatter. Cynwaer leaned further forward, resting his weight on his arms as he glared at the city. The warmly-lit streets, sparse crowds, and smoking chimneys made for a peaceful scene. They reflected a city at rest; a city that had nothing to worry about.

And that felt so, very wrong.

[color=DC143C]“Yer e’er wonder, Neirynn,”[/color] Cynwaer started, casting a sidelong glance at the harrier. She looked up at him with a string of meat still swinging from her beak. Without missing a beat, she snapped her head back and swallowed it. Cynwaer chose to ignore that. He continued, [color=DC143C]“If any o’ those who work fae ta’ court e’er gave a thought about what they were dae’n? An’ I mean, gave it actual, serious thought, aye? Like, if ta’ fecker who ‘elps tae write aw’ these feckin’ piece o’ shite laws e’er realises just ‘ow fecking stupid they are? Or if ta’ cunt who sends ta’ taxmen out tae squeeze another wee village dry knows jus’ ‘ow many ‘ave tae suffer fae ta’ fat bastard o’ a king’s pleasure?”[/color]

[color=DC143C][i]Or if ta’ fecker who sends out mage’unters know jus’ who’s bein’ ‘unted.[/i][/color] 

Dark memories, painful ones, pushed their way into Cynwaer’s mind at that thought. With the sort of ease borne from suffering this exact thing many times over, he forced those images back to their corner. Still, he heard the chilling screams of that fateful night echo in his head. He heard the pounding of fists against his door; his daughters frightened cries, his wife’s desperate pleas; the crack of a pistol, the cold hiss of steel against leather. They had all been from a different life, experienced by a different Cynwaer Fiachin, but still they cut him deep all the same. 

A worried chirp pulled Cynwaer from his mind. It was swiftly followed by a few taps of Neirynn’s beak upon his elbow. He turned his head, and the harrier raised hers, her dark, beady eyes meeting his mossy green ones. She chirped again, flapping her wings as she hopped towards him. 

[color=DC143C]“Dae’n worry yer head about it,”[/color] Cynwaer said with a smile that was a touch more forced than what he had hoped. He rubbed a thumb over the top of her head. [color=DC143C]“Jus’ thinkin’ ou’ loud, ‘tis aw’. Dae’n worry.”[/color]

He glanced at the rabbit’s carcass, then looked back at her with a raised eyebrow. [color=DC143C]“On ta’ contrary, ‘tis yer food that worries me, aye. It did’nae belang tae someone, did it?”[/color] Neirynn averted her gaze, stretching out a wing to hide her face as she scratched it with a claw. Cynwaer groaned. [color=DC143C]“Dae’n tell me yer went an’ did it again, yer dafty. ‘Tis nae cheap tae pay off yer huntin’ debt, aye ‘tis nae, dae’n yer know?”[/color]

[color=FFA500]“It’s okay, Captain,”[/color] a woman said from his other side. That dry, monotonous voice came suddenly enough to make Cynwaer almost flinch. [color=FFA500]“She no caught it. ‘Tis Mister Bannoch who bought it for her when he went ashore earlier.”[/color]

Cynwaer spun around, and came face-to-face with [i]Remembrance[/i]’s quartermaster. As always, Adaleida’s countenance was that of wood – empty of emotion and seemingly unchanging. That wasn’t to say that she looked unfriendly or unwelcoming, however. She simply looked neutral, with lips in a perfectly straight line and downturned hazel eyes giving nothing away. A stiff breeze whistled over the two of them, whipping her pale, blonde tresses across her face. She paid them little heed. [color=FFA500]“Talking politics with Neirynn again?”[/color]

[color=DC143C]“Nae, jus’ speakin’ me mind, is aw’,”[/color] Cynwaer replied and shook his head. [color=DC143C]“An’ ‘ow about yer? What’re yer dae’n bein’ aw’ sneaky?”[/color]

[color=FFA500]“Sorry, Captain,”[/color] Adaleida said with a slight bow of her head. She ran her fingers through her messy locks, smoothing them out, as she continued. [color=FFA500]“I heard you talking and I did no want to interrupt, that’s all.”[/color]

[color=DC143C]“Yer me quartermaster, Ada,”[/color] Cynwaer said. [color=DC143C]“It’s normal fae yer tae interrupt me. Of aw’ the people aboard Remembrance, yer probably ta’ only one I want tae interrupt me, aye.”[/color]

[color=FFA500]“Normal,”[/color] Adaleida repeated that word, her voice distant, as if she was ruminating on it. Then, she nodded and flashed Cynwaer an almost-smile – the corners of her lips twitched upwards, but didn’t go far enough or high enough to be perceptible by most. Cynwaer was one of the exceptions. [color=FFA500]“Got it, Captain.”[/color]

[color=DC143C]“Sae, what d’yer need me fae?”[/color]

[color=FFA500]“Ah, right,”[/color] Adaleida said and tilted her head towards the main deck. [color=FFA500]“[i]Remembrance[/i]’s ready to set sail on your command, Captain, and…”[/color] She trailed off, her eyes focusing on something far behind Cynwaer, and the ghost of a frown clouding over her face. [color=FFA500]“Our friend over there’s already pulling from her pier.”[/color]

Cynwaer nodded slowly. Then, he pushed himself away from the gunwale and turned to face Adaleida, his lips curled into a knowing smirk. [color=DC143C]“Well, are yer gae’n tell me what’s botherin’ yer, Ada, or d’yer wan’ me tae keep proddin’ an’ pryin’ until yer annoyed enough tae jus’ tell me tae get me tae feck aff?”[/color]

[color=FFA500]“‘Tis nothing–”[/color]

[color=DC143C]“I’ve known yer fae a whiles now, Ada,”[/color] Cynwaer cut in. [color=DC143C]“I know when yer troubled, so dae’n e’en try ta’ lie tae me. An’ besides, I cannae ‘ave yer workin’ at yer best when there’s somethin’ weighin’ on yer, aye? So come on out wi’ it.”[/color]

Adaleida averted her gaze, and chewed on her lip for a moment before speaking. [color=FFA500]“I’m no questioning your decisions, Captain, and I can understand doing shifty work for coin. Gods above and below know we need a steady stream of that shite. But working with a privateer? Someone who sails for the piece of piss crown and the bastard wearing it? I’m no sure I understand why we’re doing any of that, Captain.”[/color]

Cynwaer nodded slowly, then jerked his head to his left. [color=DC143C]“Come along wi’ me,”[/color] he said and walked towards the port bulwark of the quarterdeck. As he passed Neirynn, he ran a hand along her back. She cooed, but didn’t look up from her dinner. [color=DC143C]“Dae’n leave a mess now, aye? ‘Tis nae easy cleanin’ blood an’ viscera frae wood, I’ll ‘ave yer know. Drop what yer cannae finish intae ta’ sea, an’ fae ta’ love o’ aw’ the Gods up there and down below, dae’n bring it up ta’ masts an’ leave it there.”[/color]

[color=FFA500]“It gives the crew reason to go up high regularly, though,”[/color] Adaleida offered. She mimicked Cynwaer, giving the harrier a gentle pat on her back as she walked past. Neirynn basked in the attention, standing up and leaning into her touch, chirping and cooing all the while. 

[color=DC143C]“Aye, I s’pose there’s that,”[/color] Cynwaer said and chuckled. 

He stopped at the gunwale and looked across the piers at the foreign ship. She had her strange, triangular sails fully unfurled, and hanging from long, slanted yardarms that bowed under their own weight. Lanterns affixed to her gunwales lit up the ship, their yellow glows strong enough to reveal the crimson fabric of her sails, and more importantly, the many gunports lining her svelte, dagger-like hull. [color=DC143C]“Tell me, Ada, what d’yer think o’ ‘er?”[/color] Cynwaer asked. 

Adaleida stood beside him with arms crossed over her chest. She shrugged. [color=FFA500]“Well-armed, built to be quick and nimble, but I can’t see her being well-protected.”[/color] She cast a quick glance over to Cynwaer. [color=FFA500]“She can’t be, no with that many guns, aye. Her sails are interesting, though. They remind me of an Alidashti…What do they call those little cutters they like so much, again? Dhow, I think. But yes, those sails on her look like the ones used on those boats, aye they do.”[/color]

[color=DC143C]“Good eyes.”[/color] Cynwaer caught her glance and grinned. [color=DC143C]“But yer missin’ one big thing, an’ that’s she’s nae Caesonian, nae Varian, and nae e’en any o’ them Alidashti folks. I met ‘er Captain ta’ other night, an’ I can tell yer that ‘e might look Kimoonese, but ‘e’s sure as shite nae one o’ ‘em.”[/color]

[color=FFA500]“So we’ve got someone in our waters who’s a complete stranger,”[/color] Adaleida said. She looked at the ship as it quickly pulled away into the night. [color=FFA500]“And commands a ship that can match a light frigate gun-for-gun.”[/color]

Cynwaer nodded. [color=DC143C]“Aye. Now, frae what I’ve ‘eard, ‘e’s likely nae a fan o’ ta’ bastard king, or ‘e’s nae gae’n tae be one sooner rather than later. But still, ‘e’s a huge feckin’ question mark fae aw’ o’ us, an’ if good ol’ Renegade and Songbird’s gae’n dae what I think they’re gae’n dae, we cannae leave anythin’ tae chance, least o’ aw’ a ship that powerful ‘at’s nae under any flag we know, aye?”[/color]

[color=FFA500]“And if we sail with that ship, we get to see what she can do firsthand,”[/color] Adaleida surmised.

[color=DC143C]“Now yer gettin’ it,”[/color] Cynwaer said. [color=DC143C]“An’ who knows? If we play our cards righ’, an’ everythin’ gae’s well fae us, maybe we can e’en make oursel’s a new friend tae raise some ‘avoc wi’.”[/color]

Adaleida raised a brow. [color=FFA500]“You really think that’s possible, Captain?”[/color]

Cynwaer shrugged. Personally, that possibility wasn’t one he thought realistic. It was a pleasant thought to be sure, but as things stood, it was simply just that. But there were too many unknowns, even beyond the ones he had shared with Adaleida. For one, he didn’t even know for how long that ship would be in Sorian, and if it was even going to return after it left for home. Neither did he know for certain if the foreign Captain would agree with his ideals. Granted, he had sounded sympathetic, but Cynwaer knew firsthand that a gulf existed between sympathy and agreement.

But all the same, Cynwaer kept that idea in his back pocket. [color=DC143C]“Frae what I’ve ‘eard, ‘e’s a good mate tae ta’ smallfolk, an’ if ‘e’s nae got a bad impression o’ ta’ bastard king already, I’ve a feelin’ ‘e’ll learn tae think o’ that wee fecker as a cunt sooner or later.”[/color] He shrugged. [color=DC143C]“But ‘at’s nae our concern fae ta’day. Let’s jus’ get underway an’ catch up wi’ ‘er befae she slips intae ta’ night, aye?”[/color]

[color=FFA500]“Aye, Captain,”[/color] Adaleida said. [color=FFA500]“Should I give the order, or do you want to give it yourself?”[/color]

[color=DC143C]“Save yer voice, Ada,”[/color] Cynwaer replied. [color=DC143C]“I’ll ‘andle this one.”[/color]

He strode over to the guardrail overlooking the main deck. Adaleida followed close behind him, and stood beside him as he swept his eyes across the length and breadth of his ship, and those who milled about on her planking. Dozens of heads turned towards him with expectant looks. Cynwaer gave them a grin. [color=DC143C]“Right lads,”[/color] he shouted and raised a hand. [color=DC143C]“Time tae look lively! Let's bring 'er out!”[/color]