Lord Jeyco Swan & Lady Melinda Swan
Location: The Banquet Hall at the banquet tables.
Interacting with: Open
Nula, The Sirens of the Sea
The banquet was abundant with the finest roasts, fruits, breads, cheese, and wines that anyone would ever find throughout the kingdom, but the king couldn’t have asked for all the realm to come to his daughter’s name day without the main houses spreading their peacock feathers. It was better to be a small house, a house that not many knew about. A house that wasn’t known for battles or any of that glory. A house of peace and prosperity. House Swan was just that house, and had just came into fruition that day.
He held a glass goblet of wine in one hand, and a small saucer of sliced pork, a small clove of grapes, and a roll. There was just so much to savor. The man, to everyone else, was a no one, but bearing the title of “Lord” made him a someone even in the smallest of circles. Lord Jeyco Swan of the Diovire Desert was exotic compared to the milk-skinned men and women that surrounded him. They were pale and as white as the snow that crested the mountains of the north. To his wife, Lady Melinda Swan, she thought at first the men and women were diseased. Like her husband, she lingered around the banquet table, sampling the food—food so fine that it took great restraint not to inhale it.
Lord Swan was wearing the yellows, beiges, and golds that represented the desert region. Unlike the armor, most of the other houses adorned, he wore an elaborate jacket, similar to the Nehru jackets of India. The stitching was impressive, and according to his taste, way more impressive than polished cookware (armor). His dark hair (dyed) was brushed into straight downy order upon his head. The leather band of an eyepatch, bearing gold stitch and the depiction of the sun, wrapped his head. His jaw, normally shadowed by hair, had been closely-shaven for the occasion. He was sampling the wine, hardly drinking it in moderation, but holding a cup of wine had made it easy to blend in.
At his side was his wife, popping grapes and pieces of cheese into her mouth, her pink, full lips pursing in delight. She wore a
golden gown to match her husband’s color choice, and it contrasted nicely with her long, black wavy locks that twisted and pooled about her bare shoulders. The Diovire Desert was known for having the most beautiful women in Lhivoria, and Melinda’s olive-eyed presence was a testimony to the claim. Although, it was a shame how many of them were slaves rather than nobility.
“Enjoying yourself?” Melinda questioned quietly, just loud enough for her husband to hear within earshot.
“Why, yes, actually. I think I might take a bottle of wine with me before we leave,” he answered just as quiet.
“And when will that be?”
“Hm…a few minutes longer. I have to catch up with family after all.”
Melinda rolled her eyes. “Don’t wonder too far away. These men have been drinking their fill of me for some time now. I would hate to spill blood here.”
Jeyco smirked at his lovely wife. “I’ve been drinking my fill of you too. It’s not every day I see you in a gown.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Melinda muttered before popping a grape in her mouth.
The Docks
From left to right: Ophelia, Sabella, and Freya (The Sirens of the Sea)
“Roses! Roses for a piece!” the flower girl called, wearing a white dress that was tarnished by age and countless washings. The dress hadn’t been ugly enough to hide the beauty who caught the eyes of various deckhands. She had a basket of red roses against her hip, and she walked down the road with a sashaying allure, her round hips rocking to her stroll. A sailor up on the mast had stopped in his duties to gaze down at the tanned-skinned girl who walked below.
“Roses! Roses for a piece!” she called, holding up a single rose.
“Roses for a piece? Are you trynna’ steal me business?” a young woman with boyish-short hair, and a youthful countenance marched up behind the woman, rested her hand upon her shoulder and jerked her around. In the short-haired girl’s basket were yellow daffodils. Cocking out her hip, she looked the broad up and down and scowled. “You twit. Did you get them roses from me shop?”
“Pardon?” said the rose seller, raising a brow and cocking out her own hip.
Sailors were slowly starting to creep toward the edge of the boats to watch the quarrel that had broken out in the street between two attractive women.
“What’s wrong little boy? Are you afraid of competition so much that you would dare call me a thief?” jeered the rose seller.
The short-haired girl’s brows shot straight up in shock at the insult. She had actually felt the mild sting in her heart despite the act.
“Boy? Did you just call me a boy? That’s it!” she exclaimed and suddenly, her hand shot out to snag a wad of the rose seller’s hair in a tight and angry fist. “You’ll see that I’m just as strong as one when I put me boot in your arse!”
The girls started screaming and clawing at each other. Their audience grew until near fifty and over sailors were watching from the ships, glued to it like a reality television show. Several men started to cheer, bark, whistle, and howl, instigating the fight on with jeering comments. When the next girl’s hand met the other girl’s dress, all they heard was a loud RIIIP~! And then out dumped a mound of tantalizing skin.
“GODS!” a sailor screamed before he whirled and went running over to the stairwell to the lower deck. “THERE BE TITS OUT HERE!”
“WHAT?” the lower deck crew shouted.
“He’s lyin’ through his arse!”
“NO; TWO FINE GALS ARE FIGHTIN’!”
The crowd got thicker as sailors from the lower decks surged upwards. The sailors were going crazy in a randy mess, cheering as more clothing was torn and more skin exposed.
“GO FOR THE SKIVVIES!” a sailor bellowed.
Meanwhile, climbing onto the ships from the far side were several pirates, about ten per boat, leisurely walking the deck dressed closely to the other sailors on the ship. Five went down below, and five went to the officers’ cabins. The ships were robbed of barrels of ale, jewelry, clothes, boots, and trinkets. They stole only what one man was able to carry and just as quickly as they arrived, they climbed back overboard.
“What about this ship?” a pirate asked, pointing at a rather decorated ship. It was clear by its details that it was the ship of someone important.
“Naw, not that ship. That’s the
Leviathan. The Cap’n don’t want us robbin’ the Gully folk.”
“Shame; I bet there be some good loot on that ship.”
“Not all treasure is free for the takin’. Some of it comes witha’ heavy price, heavier than the value; and what I mean by that is, the Captain would kill us.”
“True; fair enough.”
“All right; all right; enough!” a third woman had arrived with her long hair joined into a lengthy braid. She wore a dress with an apron and grasped the two girls by their ears. “Look at ya with ya tits out like a couple of tarts on the street! Ye ‘ave no shame?”
BOOOOOOOOO! the sailors howled in disappointment. Why was she trying to stop them!? They were getting to the best part.
“Aw, shut it, ya louts!” the woman snapped before she dragged the two flower sellers off by their ears. The job had been finished that quick and the goods they had wanted extracted. The pirates had worked swift and discreet, like thieves in the night, and they had moved so skillfully that it had been obvious that that hadn’t been their first robbery. They hadn’t stolen anything immediately noticeable, and it may have taken the stewards until the end of the day to notice the errors in their inventory.
