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STATUS: TRUCK-KUN ISEKAI ME AND MY LIFE IS- oh wait i see the problem here whoops 20 days ago
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20 days ago
Current TRUCK-KUN ISEKAI ME AND MY LIFE IS- oh wait i see the problem here whoops
1 yr ago
@Zeroth I have the same issue. DO NOT try to uninstall and reinstall because you'd be blocked from downloading the app at all from the site as well.
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3 yrs ago
My back, my back, and my back. They're all in pain.

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In Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron → 1 day ago Forum: Casual Roleplay




Location: Engine control room >> Top Deck
Race: Dark Elf & Human
Class: Artificer & Rogue
Mentions: @Tae Meiyu; @Helo Ezekiel
Equipment:
Attire:
Gold: 35
Injuries:


“Bridge to engine control. Bridge to engine control. Anyone there?”

Scaerthrynne let out a long, resigned sigh as the crackling voice buzzed through a speaker mounted in the ceiling. It seemed a natural law, almost, that everytime he felt he could snatch a few moments to relax and go about his own business, the bridge would seek him out. “Is there a light up there that flashes whenever I take a break?” He wondered aloud, looking up from Vallena’s book and at the rack of tools before him.

“I thought you liked work, Scratch,” the girl replied in a mumble, her tongue sticking out in concentration as she carefully reassembled her pistol.

“Interesting work,” Scaerthrynne corrected. He waited for a moment, and when he heard nothing else from the speaker, he made himself more comfortable in his chair. Its wooden frame creaked as he leaned back, kicking his heels up and onto a corner of the benchtop. “The stuff the bridge has us doing most of the time tends to be remarkably uninteresting. Not that I blame them. Any engineering issue major enough for them to notice would likely be first noticed by us, and with the sort of passengers we’re carrying these days, any medical emergency would likely be settled by a healer of some kind.” He nodded his approval of whatever he read in the book before turning a page. “The author’s done their research. Never thought anyone other than a Dark Elf would know that Dusky Ear moss is hallucinogenic. Captain Fair’s going to have a–”

“Hey! No spoilers!” Vallena snapped. Scaerthrynne glanced up at her. She looked back at him, her hickory eyes meeting his blood-red ones. He raised a brow. She attempted to glower at him, but she couldn’t hold back the amused smirk tugging on her lips, and ended up giggling. “I’d never have guessed that you’d like stories like that, Scratch.”

“Stranger things have happened,” he replied simply and went back to reading.

She set her tools down and stretched, pushing her hands out in front of her as far as she could. A shudder rattling the airship’s frame pulled a surprised yelp from her, and almost sent her sprawling to the floor. She caught herself just in time, bracing herself against the benchtop. “That felt strong.” Fearful worry was thick in her words. “S-Should we ring the bridge, Scratch?”

“No need,” Scaerthrynn replied. He hadn’t moved, and neither had anything else around him. “It was just a bit of minor turbulence, nothing more. It only felt bad to you because you were off-balance.” Vallena’s face reddened and she quickly returned to her work. He turned another page. “If it were anything more serious, we'd have the Captain screaming our ears off by now.”

The speaker crackled to life again. “Bridge to engine control. Bridge to engine control. I know you’re there, Scratch. Respond immediately.”

Vallena looked at Scaerthrynne nervously. He scowled and shook his head. “They just don’t know when to give up, do they?” With another sigh, he closed the book, slid it onto the benchtop, and carefully swung his boots back onto the floor. “Don’t worry, Val,” he said, patting her on the shoulder as he squeezed past her, and approached a box attached to the wall beside the gauges. “They wouldn’t be asking for us so nicely if it was a real emergency. I’d bet half my pay that it’s nothing worth too much of our attention.”

“Like what, Scratch?”

Scaerthrynne shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe someone broke something, or someone’s got a complaint.”

Vallena paused and looked at him, grinning. “Was that a serious bet, Scratch?”

“Why not? You’re on, Val. Half for half.” He chuckled, then held a finger to his lips before pressing a bright, red button on the box. There was a soft click, and the microphone taking up the top half of the box buzzed to life. Scaerthrynne cleared his throat, coughing into a fist, and leaned against the wall. “Engine control to bridge. Engine control to bridge. Sorry for the wait. We got caught up gossiping with the elemental. Should try it yourself, some time. They know quite a lot of stuff for someone stuck down here all the time.”

“Very funny, Scratch,” came the deadpan reply. “Anyway, Captain wants you up on the top deck. We’ve got a child who broke their arm, by the sound of things.”

Scaerthrynne groaned. “Didn’t you look at the passenger manifest? You’ve got at least one healer up there who can do a much better job. You don’t need me.”

“Maybe, but they’re not there right now. And besides, the Captain’s not asking you to head up, he’s telling you to. You’re not talking your way out of this one, Scratch. Bridge out.”

The speaker clicked off. For a while, the control room was filled with only the sound of rumbling machinery and that of Scaerthrynne’s sighs. “Well, you heard him,” he said and faced Vallena. “How’re you doing with your pistol, Val?”

Vaellan spun around and held the reassembled weapon towards him. “All done!” She beamed ear-to-ear.

Scaerthrynne leaned over, inspecting it from end-to-end, and top-to-bottom, with a keen eye. He saw none of the usual errors – screws left loose, an improperly placed trigger, misaligned sights, to name a few – as well as none of the less usual ones, too. Vallena looked at him with confident eyes, but the slight trembling in her arm gave away her nervous anticipation. “Relax Val,” he said, perhaps a little unhelpfully, as he took the pistol from her. He turned it muzzle-down and gave it a few shakes. Nothing came out.

He then pulled the hammer back, listening to each individual click. Nothing wrong, there. Slowly, he peeled his thumb away from the hammer. It stayed in place. Nothing wrong there, either. And finally, he pulled the trigger, using his off hand to ease the hammer forward instead of letting it snap. The trigger felt lighter than before and it released the hammer earlier, as it should. “Well done, Val,” he said and returned the weapon to her. “A bit more practice and I might let you handle all of our weapons’ maintenance on your own.”

“Really?” Her excitement was clear from just that one word. “Thanks!”

“But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Scaerthrynne squeezed around her and grunted as he squatted low to pull out a bag from under the workbench. “We’ll need our medical and engineering kits, I imagine, so go get those ready, Val.” With another grunt, he stood back up and threw it onto the benchtop. It landed with a loud thud. He unbuttoned the flap, flipped it open, and started taking out items one-by-one to make sure it contained everything he would need, and some things that he wouldn’t need, but wanted to have on hand.

Vallena watched him and tilted her head. “But the bridge told us to deal with a broken arm, Scratch. I don’t see why we’d need tools and stuff.”

“That’s what they tell us now,” he replied drily. “Just give them a while to think.”

“What do you–”

As if on cue, the speaker buzzed and crackled to life again. Scaerthrynne finished sorting out the bag and slung it across his body. He pushed past Vallena and stood by the box. “Bridge to engine control. Bridge to engine control. While you’re up there, could you swing by the bar and check the lights? A few passengers complained last night that some of them were flickering.”

Scaerthrynne pressed the button. “Engine control to bridge. Engine control to bridge. It can’t be that bad of a problem if nobody told us about it at the time when it happened.”

“Would you have gone up if we did?”

“Probably not.”

“And that’s why we’re asking you to take care of it now, Scratch. You’re going up, anyway. Oh, and another thing. The Captain wants you to check in on Gears, too. It got caught out in that squall a few days ago. He wants you to make sure it’s got no moisture damage.”

Scaerthrynne pinched the bridge of his nose. When he spoke, it was with barely contained irritation. “Did it ever occur to any of you up there that if Gears was hurt or feeling unwell, she’d come find me herself? You know, like the sentient, not-a-piece-of-equipment being that she is?”

“Just do your damn job, Scratch.”

He rolled his eyes at that, so hard that they could have fallen out of their sockets. “Alright, master. Should I make you and your friends tea while I’m at it?”

“Thanks for the offer, Scratch. I take mine–”

“Oh, piss off. Engine control out.” Scaerthrynne pulled his finger off the button. He stood in place for a little while longer, taking the time to calm himself. It was normal, he had to keep telling himself, for some people to be prejudiced against Warforged. But then again, that didn’t mean he had to simply accept it, especially when that prejudice was targeted towards one whom Scaerthrynne had, by now, worked with for at least a handful of years. He saw her as a colleague, more than anything else.

“Well, I think Gears is a cool lady,” Vallena said suddenly.

That got a chuckle out of Scaerthrynne. He pushed himself off of the wall. “That, she is. And you know, I’m pretty sure we’ve got another Warforged aboard.”

Vallena gasped. “Do we? Cool! Can we try talking to them?”

“Sure,” Scaerthrynne said with a grin, patting Vallena on the shoulder. “To borrow the words of the ones up top, we may as well while we’re up there. Get yourself kitted up in walking attire, Val. Let’s get this done as quickly as possible.”

For Scaerthrynne and Vallena, ‘walking attire’ meant looking like the average adventurer who had spent all their coin, and that of their friends, to book a passage on the Stormrider. That meant a plain shirt, a pair of plain trousers, and a plain coat over all of them for Scaerthrynne, along with pistols, pouches, and axes on his belt, and a short musket across his back. As for Vallena, she was similarly dressed in her work clothes, which consisted of a white shirt, dark trousers, and a hooded coat. Her daggers and pistols were sheathed and holstered on her hips, and of course, she had her goggles sitting on her head.

As the name suggested, they used such attire for when they needed to walk across the Stormrider’s decks quickly, and without distractions. Looking like armed adventurers kept most passengers away. Few people would want to get in the way of anyone who looked like they had either been in many fights before, or that they had no qualms about starting one. And those who didn’t give them a wide berth – mostly other, actual adventurers – didn’t think of them as crew, and so didn’t stop them to ask questions which, to be perfectly honest, neither Scaerthrynne nor Vallena could answer to begin with.

The pair marched through the crowded top deck, Scaerthrynne taking the lead and Vallena just half-a-step behind him. A woman cast a lasting, worried gaze at him as he passed, worried eyes glued to the wooden stock jutting out over his shoulder. He gave her a sardonic smile. “Don’t worry, ma’am,” he said, his words dripping with mischief. “It’s just a really fancy walking stick. I’m almost five hundred years old. I’m allowed to have one.”

“Over there, Scratch.” Vallena tugged on his sleeve and pointed at a small commotion.

Scaerthrynne followed her until they reached the edge of the gathering crowd. “Hold on tight,” he said and made sure Vallena had a firm grip on his coat before pushing his way through curious onlookers and, if he had to be honest, people who had nothing better to do. “Excuse me, ship’s surgeon and assistant coming through,” he repeated, each time his words growing louder and more annoyed. Vallena echoed his words, but her small voice could do little to help. Eventually, Scaerthrynne simply started physically shoving those in his way, out of the way.

A strange scene greeted them on the other side. On the floor was a young boy – he couldn’t be that much older than Vallena – with an arm that was quickly purpling. A clear sign of a break. The injured limb rested in the lap of a woman dressed in strange clothes, and with an appearance that reminded Scaerthrynne of a land he might have visited several decades ago. That, or he was remembering drawings from one of the many books he had read before. A man knelt beside the boy, trying to comfort him.

“Good morning, everyone, I’m Scaerthrynne Airresh, Stormrider’s surgeon.” His words came out one after the other at a rapid pace. He had no intentions of staying any longer than he needed to. A cursory glance was all it took to tell him that this was another straightforward, and thus uninteresting problem. “This is my assistant, Vallena,” he continued and gestured to the girl.

She waved. “Hello!”

“So if you’d excuse the two of us…” Scaerthrynne said and trailed off, kneeling beside the boy. There was no tearing of the skin in the forearm, and no broken bones protruding. That meant an interior fracture, and that wasn’t something that needed his level of skill to handle. “Vallena,” he called out, scooting over to give the girl some space. She squatted beside him. “What do you see?”

She tilted her head. “No broken skin, no visible bones. The break’s all on the inside, Scratch.”

“Well done,” Scaerthrynne replied. “So what must be done?”

“Oh, I know! This is an easy one!” Vallena giggled. “Set the bone, wrap it with a splint, and keep it still until the bone heals itself.”

“You might want to knock him out first, otherwise the pain might kill him.” Scaerthrynne nodded to the boy, then quickly added, “I mean that as a figure of speech. You’re not actually going to die. It’ll probably hurt a lot, but she’ll give you something to numb the pain. That, or it’ll put you into a nice, deep sleep. Hard to tell what that stuff does to a person until it…” He trailed off as he swept his gaze over the boy’s arm again, this time his brows furrowing. There were no abrasions. No other bruises, not even a scratch.

In fact, now that Scaerthrynne looked at him from head-to-toe again, the boy wasn’t hurt anywhere else.

“Wait,” he said sharply, holding out a hand to stop Vallena. Something wasn’t right here. And that was very interesting. Without a word, and without caring for anyone else, for that matter, he hiked the boy’s trouser legs up, until the ankles were exposed. No redness. He pressed his fingers hard against each joint. There wasn’t any swelling, either. “Vallena, check his other arm and the back of his head for swelling, abrasions, or cuts.” He gave the order swiftly.

“Got it.”

Scaerthrynne looked up from the boy at their surroundings. The top deck was a wide, open space, and the boy was lying far from the bulwarks. It was thus reasonable to assume that he had broken his arm around this same area. But unless the boy had a habit of running full tilt into everything arm-first, Scaerthrynn saw nothing that could explain how he could break a limb.

“Nothing, Scratch,” Vallena reported. “What is it? What’re you thinking?”

A smile crept over Scaerthrynne’s face, and he turned to the boy. “Congratulations, boy,” he said. “I hereby pronounce you as the oldest person I’ve ever diagnosed with brittle-bone disease. I’m personally amazed that you haven’t accidentally killed yourself, or gotten killed yet. I hope you don’t have any grand ambitions or dreams, though, because you’re probably not going to realise any of them. That, or I hope your parents love you very, very much, because you won’t be able to do much of anything at all.” Startled murmurs and shocked gasps rippled through the crowd.

“Scratch!” Vallena exclaimed. “What’re you–”

“What? It’s the only explanation for how a limb could break for no reason.” Scaerthrynne waved his hands over the boy’s body. “He has no other bruises, no cuts, no abrasions. I don’t know about anyone here, but a force hard enough to break a bone would likely throw a boy of this size hard enough to leave some other mark on his body. His ankles are perfectly fine, which means he didn’t trip. He has no other wounds on his arms, which means if he fell, he has the reflexes of a snail and didn’t even try to protect himself.” He wiped his hands on his trousers. “So if he didn’t trip, didn’t fall on his face, and didn’t fall on his back, then I really struggle to find a reason as to why his arm, and only his arm, would break.”

His smile widened as he met the boy’s gaze. “But then again, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you don’t have the disease. Because you see, brittle-bone disease weakens the bones, but it does nothing to dampen pain. A boy breaks an arm, and yet doesn’t scream, doesn’t yell, and doesn’t cry for attention? That’s a very, very strange thing indeed. A very interesting thing. I might even say that it’s an unnatural thing.”

Scaerthrynne paused to look at the faces in the crowd, then the man kneeling by the boy, then the woman cradling his arm, and then finally, at the boy himself. “You didn’t break your arm,” Scaerthrynne stated with a self-satisfied smile, the sort he reserved for when he figured out a puzzle. “Someone broke it. And I think that someone is still here with us, or it hasn’t been long since they left. Am I right?”
In Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron → 2 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay




Location: Engine control room adjacent to Engine Core
Race: Dark Elf & Human
Class: Artificer & Rogue
Equipment:
Attire:
Gold: 30
Injuries:


Tick. Tick. Tick.

Scaerthrynne flicked his eyes over to the clock sitting near the edge of his workbench. Its long hand jerked across its face, dragging its shorter companion forward with every revolution. His brows arched. Time was running out, and still Vallena had yet to return. She was late. Very late – he had expected her to be back a few hundred ticks ago, but he wasn’t concerned. If anything, he was amused. The ghost of a smile tugged on his lips. He was going to have a very interesting conversation with the girl later.

But for now, he had more important things that required his focus.

He reached over and turned the clock to better face him before looking down at the partially-disassembled pistol laying on his workbench. The plate covering its lock had been removed. It, along with the six screws that had held it in place, now sat on a thin rubber mat beside the pistol. Scaerthrynne’s shoulders hunched as he brought his face closer to the weapon, peering into the cavity carved out of the stock, at the intricate mechanism within. Soot blackened every gear, latch, and spring, but only in a fine, dusty later.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

It was a sign that the pistol was due for a cleaning, but it wasn’t so dirty that Scaerthrynne thought it worth worrying over. He slowly turned the weapon, scrutinising every minute part, looking between every minute gap, his wine-red eyes narrowed in concentration. The weapon had presented with a heavier-than-normal trigger pull, and there had been a slight delay between depressing the trigger all the way, and the hammer snapping forward. That suggested problems with the physical linkages within the trigger group. And that in turn meant that he could ignore the firing mechanism itself.

Good. That narrowed things down.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Another glance at the clock. Not much longer, now.

Chewing on his lip, he looked around the benchtop for a pair of pliers. He found one still lodged within one of the old pieces of machinery – an arcane regulator – he had been scavenging for parts before his official duties had called him away. He tapped his index finger on the benchtop, in time with the clock’s ticks. That had been almost a month ago, and he had been kept busy enough since then to have forgotten about it up until now. He made a note to recover the runic circuit by today. That would be the trickiest, and so also the most interesting part to extract from the regulator.

With a bit of effort, and a lot of jiggling, he pulled the pliers free. As if on cue, a shudder rippled through the floor. He froze in place, body still leaned over the benchtop and fingers pinched on the pliers, and let out a frustrated huff. Such incidents weren’t uncommon aboard an airship, but they always were annoying when they interrupted his work. Very slowly, he sat back in his seat and covered the pistol’s exposed mechanism with a hand. The engines whirred, almost screaming as their whines rose high above the ambient thumps and rumbles of machinery that surrounded Scaerthrynne here in the engine room. Everything shook. From the way his stomach floated, Scaerthrynne knew that the airship had dropped a fair distance. Then, it rose again. It had wandered into a pocket of low pressure, it seemed.

The shuddering gradually lessened, and then it died out entirely. Scaerthrynne immediately spun around in his seat, running his eyes over the wall of gauges directly opposite his workbench. He paid no attention to the ones related to elemental and arcane components – his ears had told him that the problem was strictly mechanical. The engines’ whines were quieting to dull drones, but Scaerthrynne managed to find the four gauges he needed – the ones for engine temperatures and driveshaft speeds – before everything returned to normal. All had their needles twitching dangerously close to their absolute limits.

Scaerthrynne frowned. That wasn’t normal. Not after such a brief period of increased stress.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

He shook his head and returned his attention to the pistol. It was almost a certainty that the engines’ Runic Autonomous Control Interfaces – or rackkies, as he liked to call them – were faulty. Either crossed circuits or malfunctioning runes doing something they shouldn’t were causing the rackkies to transfer far too much power from the engines to the driveshafts. That made them spin faster than usual, which in turn resulted in more friction, and thus more heat. It wasn’t too major an issue; so long as the airship remained at cruising speed and didn’t push the engines too hard, Scaerthrynne could wait until they were docked to crack open the engines and either replace or repair the necessary components.

Simple explanation, simple fix. And neither at all interesting.

Very carefully, he picked apart the pistol’s trigger group with the pliers. He placed each piece on the rubber in neat, orderly rows. There wasn’t much need for him to dismantle the weapon to such an extent for what he sought, but he found it good practice. It would also give Vallena something to work on, later.

With speed borne from experience, he soon wiggled the trigger spring free from its mounting pins. He held it between his thumb and index finger and gave it a squeeze. To him, its stiffness felt right – just enough to hold the trigger in place, but not so much that pulling it was a chore. But he could see how, to a young girl, it might be a little too stiff. Replace it with a lighter, more pliable spring, and all would be well. Again, it was a simple solution to a simple problem. There wasn’t even any need for any creative machining. More likely than not, he already had such a spring sitting in a box of spares, somewhere.

Well, that was one problem taken care of. He placed the offending spring on the rubber mat and moved on to the next, the delayed hammer. This one was easy. There were only a few reasons why a hammer would be slow in action, and one of those reasons was, again, a faulty spring, albeit one that needed to be stiffer, rather than looser. But that didn’t seem likely – the trigger and hammer worked in tandem, so it was typical for both springs to lose tension at roughly the same time, so if the trigger spring was still stiff, then it didn’t make much sense for the hammer spring to be otherwise.

Another possibility was rust physically slowing the mechanism, but Scaerthrynne quickly dismissed it after a cursory examination of the parts. They were dirty, but definitely nothing more. He would never allow any weapon of his – or Vallena’s, for that matter – to be poorly maintained enough to become rusted.

That only left one other reason. He examined the linkages between the trigger and firing mechanisms, and found his answer. The notch in the shear plate – a metal sheet which held the hammer in place until it was time for it to snap forward – was cut just a touch too deep. Pulling the trigger didn’t release the hammer as much as it simply put it in position to slip free. A new shear plate would do the trick.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick–

The clock’s alarm went off, a shrill ring made all the shriller by the engine room’s enclosed space. Its brass walls threw the sound between each other, like children with a ball, making it grow louder and sharper with each pass.

Scaerthrynne allowed the alarm to go on for a while before reaching over to grab the clock before it rattled itself off the workbench. He turned a dial on its back to silence it and placed it back on the benchtop. Then, he took some time to arrange the pliers and pistol neatly, as well as to straighten the rows of parts lying on the rubber mat. He even wiped his hands clean on his dark brown coat, and brushed strands of white hair away from his brow. If he was going to discipline a child, he may as well look proper doing it. “Vallena.” His measured voice echoed through the room. “Time’s up. You can come out now.”

The sound of hurried footsteps drifted through the floor. Scaerthrynne turned in his seat just in time to see a skinny arm push a hatch up and open further down the room. With several grunts, Vallena hauled herself through the compact hole in the floor. The goggles sitting on her head was askew, as was the tail she had pulled her dark, wavy hair into. “I couldn’t find it, Scratch,” she said, kicking the hatch shut. “Sorry, but we’ll have to tell the Captain to get another…Another one of those manifold thingies.”

“And by we, you mean me,” Scaethrynne said, meeting her sheepish smile with a small one of his own. He spied the frayed, dirty edges of a bandage peeking from under the right sleeve of her shirt. “Grab that and come here,” he said and flicked his eyes over to a stool standing by the wall of gauges. “And let me take a look at that arm of yours.”

Vallena dragged the stool over. “It’s fine, really,” she said as she sat down. “You don’t have to look at it.”

“I could do that.” Scaerthrynne half-turned and plucked a satchel from a hook riveted into the wall over the workbench. He turned back around, set it on his lap, and extended a hand towards Vallena. “Or you could do as you’re told and let me take a look at that arm of yours.”

She grumbled something beneath her breath, but rolled up her sleeve anyway and held her forearm out to him. He took it by the wrist and pulled it closer to him, and thus pulled a surprised squeak from her as well when she almost fell forward into him. “Come closer,” he said. Vallena shifted in the stool, its legs scraping loudly against the floor as she moved it with her weight. Scaerthrynne frowned as he took note of the dark splotches on the bandage. “I remember telling you to be careful with this, and I definitely remember telling you to keep it away from anything wet.”

“I did!” Vallena exclaimed quickly. Then, she saw what he was looking at and averted her eyes. “I-I mean, I tried…” she mumbled and looked down at her lap. “It was two days ago, I was trying to refill engine three’s lubricating oil and I guess I accidentally splashed some on me. It wasn’t on purpose, I swear!”

Scaerthrynne sighed. “Look at me, Val.” She did, and he flicked her between the eyes with a finger.

“Ow!” Vallena yelped and pressed her left hand to her forehead.

“Oh, stop it. You and I both know that didn’t hurt.” Scaerthrynne rolled his eyes as he undid the knot holding the bandage in place and carefully unwrapped it. Aside from the oil stains, and the odd patch of dust and dirt, there weren’t any other stains. Particularly, no red stains. That was good. “I’m sure you didn’t do it on purpose,” he said as he unrolled layer after layer of linen. “You’re not…Well, you’re not that stupid. You just have terrible judgement. If I tell you to stay away from liquids, and you have to move something that is a liquid, like engine oil, for example, then I expect you to ask me for help.”

Vallena swung her heels against the stool’s legs. “I didn’t want to disturb you, is all. I know you don’t like it when you’re disturbed.”

“I don’t like being disturbed unnecessarily,” Scaerthrynne corrected her. He peeled back the last layer of the bandage, revealing a long, angry red patch running along the outside of Vallena’s forearm. Its edges were dry and jagged, whilst a few spots in the middle still glistened under the engine room’s yellow light. “I don’t know, Val, but this doesn’t seem unnecessary to me.”

“Okay, Scratch,” Vallena said and tried to pull her arm back. He didn’t let her. She groaned. “Aw, come on, Scratch! It’s not that serious!”

“It’s still wet,” he said. “Which means it’s still healing, which means that yes, it is that serious.” He reached into the satchel and fished out a small vial of a clear liquid – sagerose spirit – and a cotton swab. Keeping a firm grip on Vallena’s wrist, he picked up the vial with his free hand and uncorked it with his teeth. Then, he wetted the swab with its contents before placing it on the bench.

Vallena winced in anticipation of what was to come. “That stuff stings!”

“Should’ve thought of that before being careless around steam pipes, Val,” Scaerthrynne replied. He glanced up from the wound at her. “You’ll be fine,” he said, the edges around his words noticeably softer, his tone a touch gentler. He rubbed his thumb over her wrist and up to her palm. “This isn’t anything we haven’t done dozens of times before, Val, and you’ve been doing fine so far. I’ll be quick as always, so don’t worry about a thing, alright?”

Vallena bit her lip and looked at him. She nodded. “Alright. I trust you, Scratch.”

“I know you do,” he replied. He tilted his head, taking another look at the wound before pressing the swab against it. Vallena flinched and drew a sharp breath through her teeth. Scaerthrynne ignored her, as he did when her arm tensed. Moving quickly, he traced the wound’s edges before spiralling inwards with frequent and gentle taps. He repeated the process a few more times, wetting the swab with more sagerose spirit as necessary, making sure he cleaned every last inch of the wound. Vallena looked away, her mouth clamped shut and eyes squeezed tight, all throughout the process. Only the kicking of her legs and a hissed breath every so often gave away her discomfort.

“Good girl,” Scaerthrynne said at last, tossing the swab onto the workbench. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Vallena nodded hesitantly. “So…Is it all done?”

“Nope,” Scaerthrynne replied without missing a beat. He dug his hand back into the satchel and pulled out a fresh roll of bandages. “And you know it’s not. We’ve to wrap it back up.”

She looked at the bandages, then at him. “Can’t you leave it open? It gets so itchy sometimes and it drives me crazy that I can’t scratch myself. The wound’s almost healed, too! I remember reading somewhere that wounds can heal better if you don’t wrap them up all the time.”

“So you have been reading. Interesting.” Scaerthrynne placed the roll at the top of her wound and unrolled it towards her wrist, covering the length of it with a single strip. Vallena grumbled, but didn’t resist. He then coiled it back up her arm. “You’re not wrong, Val. That is a popular idea in some parts of the world, and I’d be willing to give it a try if we didn’t spend most of our time in an airship’s engine room. But unfortunately, we do spend most of our time in an airship’s engine room, and engine rooms are…” He trailed off. Vallena looked at him expectantly, and he stopped what he was doing to look back at her. “Engine rooms are…?”

“Oh!” She took a moment to think. “They are…Dirty?”

“Good.” Scaerthrynne nodded and continued to dress her arm. “And if your wound gets dirty…?”

“It can get infected?”

“And when wounds get infected…?”

“They can rot?”

“And what happens if they start to rot?”

Vallena shifted uncomfortably, looking at her bandaged arm. “Then…Then we have to amputate?”

“Exactly,” Scaerthrynne said. His lips pulled into a smirk. “And while I know that there’re plenty of amputee characters in the books you love so much, you’ll find that they’re all missing legs. Not arms.” A blush crept over Vallena’s cheeks as she looked at him with surprise on her face. Scaerthrynne kept a straight look as he met her gaze, his brows arched. “Captain Quinnan Fair, corsair extraordinaire? Sky pirate who goes on plenty of adventures but does very little actual pirating? Accompanied sometimes by Aedalynn Scamall, or Senna Tache? Personally, I think Aedalynn’s a better fit for Quinnan, even if it’s clear that the author wants us to support pairing him off with Senna. I can see why, but I think their personalities are just too–”

“Y-You knew?” Vallena squeaked. Scaerthrynne simply smiled at her. “But-But how–”

“You’ve been reading them when you should’ve been studying,” he said with a grin. “Face it, Val, you can’t sneak things by me that easily.”

“What do you mean?”

Scaerthrynne didn’t reply immediately, instead taking his time wrapping another layer of bandages around Vallena’s arm. The girl whined and nudged him with the toe of her boot, but he ignored her. “Well,” he said slowly when he finally deigned to respond. “I noticed you reading the texts I gave you rather intently these past few weeks, and it got me curious. You see, I distinctly remember handing you this airship’s operations manual and a few engineering and medical treatises. Dry stuff, to be honest, and yet you seemed to be so captivated by them that you were reading them every day for hours at a time.”

Vallena huffed. “W-Well, what if I was? You should be proud!”

He shrugged. “Maybe you were, for the engineering and medical stuff, but I know for a fact that you hadn’t been reading the airship manual. You were on the same few pages for days on end, and that either means you can’t actually read, in which case I’ll have to admit that you’ve fooled all these years, or you’re reading something else behind the manual.”

“O-Or maybe I was re-reading it!”

Scaerthrynne scratched his chin, as if considering the possibility. “That does sound possible,” he mused in a serious tone. A look of satisfaction grew on Vallena’s face and she huffed triumphantly. “Remind me, that thing I sent you down there to find, what was it again?”

“You mean…The…” Vallena’s face scrunched as she thought hard. “The…Type two-ten runic manifold?”

“Ah yes, that thing,” Scaerthrynn confirmed with a nod. “The funny thing is, the type two-ten is specific to a unique engine, the Thurri type two-seven-nine. This airship was built with those engines, but most users of the two-seven-nine had them replaced…A year or so ago, I believe, when it was discovered that a severe defect with their elemental-mechanical interface unit would lead to catastrophic failure under high load. It’s riveting stuff. I have a copy of the article if you’re interested. Anyway, what that means is that this airship’s not using the two-seven-nine, and so it wouldn’t make any sense for us to have a type two-ten manifold in our storeroom.”

“But you told me–”

“Intentionally wrong information,” Scaerthrynne cut in.

“So it was–”

“A test.”

Vallena’s face fell. Her shoulders sagged. “And I–”

“Failed.” Scaerthrynne spoke that word as a cold, unforgiving fact. “You should’ve called me an idiot when I asked for a two-ten. That, or you shouldn’t have spent so much time down there searching for something that doesn’t exist.” He paused to tie the loose ends of the bandage into a knot. “Anyway, going back to the original question, I saw the books in your bag the other day and everything fell into place.” He finally let go of her arm. Vallena pulled it back and held it close to her chest.

“Sorry, Scratch,” she said in a small voice. “I tried to study, I really did! But I–”

Scaerthrynne stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Save your apologies for when you’re older. That’s when you’ll really need them.” She looked away. He sighed. With eyes the colour of blood, and a face that wasn’t exactly the friendliest sight, or even just an approachable one, Scaerthrynne wasn’t unaccustomed to people averting their gaze when speaking to him. Vallena was amongst the few who usually didn’t, and only did when she was well-and-truly apologetic, ashamed, or both. “You’re still a child, Val. That gives you an excuse to be stupid. Enjoy that while you still can.”

“Hey!” Vallena protested, snapping her head around to look at him. “I thought you said I wasn’t stupid.”

“No, I said you weren’t that stupid,” Scaerthrynne replied. Vallena started to argue, but he quieted her with a raised hand. “But you’ve got it in you to be smart, I’ll say that much.”

That got a smile out of her, and Scaerthrynne found it hard not to smile with her. “You mean it?”

“Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

Vallena ran her fingers through her hair. “And…Does that mean I’m not in trouble?”

“In your dreams.” Scaerthrynne’s response was immediate. Vallena whined. “But don’t get it wrong. I’m not punishing you for reading. I like what you’re reading, too. They’re nice. And I’m not punishing you for trying to hide it from me, too, although I’m quite confused why you felt the need to. What I am punishing you for, though, is that you didn’t learn even the most basic information about this airship. We’re engineers. What engines this airship is using should be the first things we know about it.”

“Yes, Scratch.” Vallena frowned as she rolled her sleeve back down.

“Good, with that out of the way…” Scaerthrynne stood up from his chair and beckoned for Vallena to come closer. “Sit,” he told her, and she did. “I’ve already taken apart your pistol,” he explained, sweeping a hand over the benchtop. “And I’ve even arranged everything neatly for you. The heavy trigger pull can be solved with a new trigger spring, and the delayed hammer stems from a problem in a shear plate. That’s as much as I’ll tell you. You know where we keep the spares, right?”

Vallena settled into the chair, looking over everything with furrowed brows. “I think–”

“Perfect.” Scaerthrynne picked up the clock. It clicked loudly as he manipulated its dial. “You have an hour, then I’ll be back to check on your work. Remember the issues you told me you had with it. I expect them to be fixed, and the weapon reassembled to satisfaction.”

“And what’ll you be doing, Scratch?” Vallena looked at him over her shoulder.

“Reading your books, what else?” Scaerthrynne grinned at her. And even though Vallena was being punished, she still giggled. “I wasn’t joking when I said they’re nice. I’m at the part where they’re fighting dark elves, too. Can't wait to find out which of my people they’re beating up next.”
In Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron → 5 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

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FLASHBACK Sola 26: Part 1
Takes place between this post and this post






Time: Early Morning
Location: Coastal Regions south of Sorian / North of Felipina
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“Captain?”

Sjan-dehk awoke with a start. He snapped his eyelids open. Blinding light, stabbing his irises and painting his world a painful white, made him immediately regret that decision.

“There’s someone asking for you, Captain.”

Groaning, he hauled a hand up to shield his eyes from the glare. So leaden were his muscles that even an action so simple felt like an arduous chore. It was as if he had spent the past few days bedridden, and was only now starting to move again. “Wait, Azwan,” he said groggily, his voice hoarse. Colourful, blurry spirals wriggled across his vision, the sort one got from staring at the sun for too long. He blinked several times to rid himself of them. Sunlight peeked through the narrow gaps between his fingers. It was bright. A little too bright. “By the Mother, how long was I out?”

Azwan hesitated a moment. “Thereabouts an hour, Captain.”

“A whole damn hour?” Sjan-dehk exclaimed, his voice cracking, and shot upright. Still addled by sleep, his head swam from the sudden motion. He let out another groan. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his brows with a thumb and index finger, and drew in a deep breath. Briney ocean air wafted up his nose. The slow rustle of breaking waves filled his ears. Far overhead, seabirds cawed and squawked. The swirling eddies within his skull calmed, then stilled. “Should’ve kicked me awake before even a quarter of that,” he grumbled and looked up. Azwan’s broad face, well-defined features, and impeccably shaved head looked back at him.

He cleared his throat and tugged at the collars of his tunics. “I-I thought you needed the rest, Captain,” he said sheepishly, his words trailing off into a mumble towards the end.

A sudden yawn took the place of whatever response Sjan-dehk had thought up. “Suppose you’re right,” he mumbled. And if he had to be perfectly honest, Azwan was absolutely right. Sjan-dehk was in dire need of rest. He had barely slept last night; events simply hadn’t allowed for much of it. For one, returning from the skirmish took far more time than expected – shifting winds pitted Sada Kurau against stiff headwinds for a vast majority of the trip – and so too did his duties ashore. Between changing his ship’s place of berth from the piers to the harbour’s bay, overseeing her repairs and end-of-day routines, and writing daily reports, he was left with just over three hours of sleep before he had to rise again.

And for two, it wasn’t as if he had been sleeping well in the first place. But at least he could be glad that he had been granted respite from the confusing dreams that had been plaguing him, last night. It was also his fault that he had such an early start to the day, he had to admit. After all, it was his idea to return to the site of the skirmish at daybreak.

He cleared his throat. “Suppose you’re right,” he repeated, louder and clearer this time, and turned to look towards the sea. Just in front of him, a line of men from his crew waded through the shallows with trousers rolled up to their knees, and sleeves to their elbows. They picked through debris – little more than charred splinters and tattered rags – drifting in with the flowing tides. Farther away, Sada Kurau waited, svelte form silhouetted against a bright, early morning sky, and flags fluttering in a gentle breeze. Her sails were furled and her yardarms brought to her deck, but Sjan-dehk knew that her crew were keeping a vigilant watch for any dangers, and were ready to prepare her for sail at a moment’s notice.

Everyone was hard at work. Work that came about from his orders. And what was he doing? Taking a nap on the beach. Ridiculous.

“But I’m not the one sweating my arse off or wetting my feet,” Sjan-dehk continued, sweeping his hat off of the ground beside him before standing up with a grunt. He brushed sand from his clothes, then hopped in place a few times to shake it free from his equipment. “And besides,” he went on, placing the hat securely atop his head and securing its chinstraps. “A good Captain shouldn’t rest before their crew, eh?”

“As you say, Captain,” Azwan replied. He cleared his throat. “My apologies, Cap–”

“No need,” Sjan-dehk cut him off with a wave. “If anyone should apologise, it’s me. Shouldn’t have been a grumpy cunt to you. Sorry about that.” Azwan flushed and started to say something, but Sjan-dehk cut him off again. “Mother alone knows all of us could do with more rest, but you know what they say. We rest only when we’re done.”

Azwan nodded slowly. “And…When will that be, Captain?”

“Mother alone knows,” Sjan-dehk replied with a grin. He clapped Azwan on the shoulder. “Anyway, let’s go see whoever’s asking for me before they die of old age. Lead the way, First Officer.”

Setting off at a measured pace, the pair marched up the beach, following the water’s edge. There wasn’t a need to rush; Sjan-dehk was certain of it. That Azwan had taken the time to personally rouse him, and that he had done so in such a gentle manner, was proof enough that whatever the situation was, it was neither dangerous nor urgent. Along the way, they passed more of Sada Kurau’s crew. A few, like the ones earlier, were sifting through flotsam. The rest brought hammers and chisels to larger pieces of wreckage that had beached themselves on hidden reefs and rocks. They chipped away at fire-blackened surfaces, revealing the unblemished wood underneath.

“What are they doing?” Sjan-dehk pointed to the latter group.

“Master Hai-shuun believes that they’re worth salvaging, Captain,” Azwan replied. “Waste wood for fires or material for non-essential repairs, I believe.”

Sjan-dehk nodded, then shrugged. Hai-shuun was Sada Kurau’s Master Carpenter, not him. If he believed that he could do something with these debris, then Sjan-dehk wasn’t going to argue. “And the stuff floating about?” Sjan-dehk went on to ask. “Anyone fish out anything interesting?”

“A few waterlogged ledgers, Captain,” Azwan said, sounding almost apologetic. “But nothing else.”

That came as neither a surprise nor a disappointment to Sjan-dehk. Even when he had first thought up the plan to search the wrecks of last night’s enemies for clues – be it about the missing privateer, or perhaps a reason for those three ships to be skulking around the coast in the first place – he had already known that he wouldn’t get much out of Sada Kurau’s two victims. Both had, after all, exploded in a rather spectacular manner, and the resulting flames would have surely burnt what remained to the keel. Waterlogged ledgers were already far more than what he had expected to recover.

“That’s good,” he said. “Separate the pages before drying them, if possible. If not, leave it until we’re back aboard Sada Kurau. Either Dai-sehk or Mursi should know what to do.”

“Aye, Captain. Underst–”

A yell from the shallows drew their attention. They turned, just in time to see a man leap away from what appeared to be a degloved section of a ship’s hull – the exterior strakes had been torn away, leaving the rib-like framing underneath exposed. “What’s going on?” Sjan-dehk shouted.

“Bloody crabs, Captain!” The man shouted back. “Cunt damn near sliced off my toe!”

Sjan-dehk chuckled and shook his head. Nothing to be worried about, then. “Well, get out of the water and see to your wounds if you’ve any,” he called out. “And someone recover his tools. Master Hai-shuun would have you lot dredge up the entire seabed to find them, otherwise.”

The man nodded, and with the support of another sailor, waddled onto the beach, much to the amusement of their fellows. Getting injured by a sea creature was part-and-parcel of life as a Jafin. Still, Sjan-dehk and Azwan stayed around to make sure that the wound wasn’t serious – it was nought but a cut that looked far worse than it actually was – and to ensure that the man was properly seen to, before moving on.

“Not too far, now, Captain,” Azwan said. “Apologies for the long walk, Captain. He walked right straight into our sentries at the edge of the security cordon.”

Sjan-dehk sighed. “It’s fine, Azwan. No need to apologise. Just means the cordon’s doing its job.”

They were nearing the edge of the beach. Patches of grass chequered the sand here, growing in lushness and denseness the farther away they were from Azwan and he, until they became a strip of grass sitting in front of a small copse of palm trees. “He’s just over there, Captain, in the shade.” The First Officer pointed towards, and into the treeline, just as they themselves passed under the thin, tapered shadow of a wreck’s bowsprit. Shorn ropes hung from the wooden pole, like strips of flesh clinging to bone. Beneath it, the keel sat half-buried in the sand. Barnacles, molluscs, and other marine growth mottled her bow with dark greys and pale greens.

Cynric and Recompense had done a fine job of disabling their opponent without annihilating them outright, although they had still punished her terribly. Much of the wreck’s starboard flank beneath the waterline had been shot away, and where there should be a rudder, sat only a splintered stub. Seawater flooded through these new openings, pushed in by the ebbing and flowing tides, and anchored her firmly against the rocks and mud of the shoals. Shouts and calls echoed from within her exposed bowels, accompanied by sounds of tools against wood and metal.

“Any luck with this one?” Sjan-dehk jerked his head towards the wreck.

Azwan shook his head. “Nothing yet either, Captain.”

“Nothing?” Now that was a disappointing surprise. A curious one, too. Surely, if the crew could find ledgers amidst flotsam, then this markedly intact carcass should be a treasure trove of salvage. They should have found some small items of import, at the very least.

“Aye, Captain.” A tinge of shame tinged Azwan’s words. “I have the crew sweeping her decks again, to be safe. Master Hai-shuun and the carpenters are taking apart her interior to search for hidden compartments and stashes, Captain.” He paused and coughed into a fist. “If I may, Captain–”

“You know you don’t have to ask, Azwan,” Sjan-dehk said. “I wouldn’t have you around if I didn’t want your opinion on things. Just speak your thoughts openly and plainly.”

That seemed to catch Azwan off-guard, and the First Officer remained silent for a moment longer. “As you say, Captain,” he said hesitantly. “I was just wondering if it might be possible that her crew threw her cargo overboard to lighten her. She couldn’t have remained afloat for long, otherwise, not with her lower hull shot through like that. Tidal action could’ve washed away whatever got left behind, Captain. She’s probably laid here for hours before we arrived.”

He paused again. “But that’s just my theory, Captain.”

“It’s a good theory,” Sjan-dehk remarked, nodding. There were some problems with it, of course – for one, any wave strong enough to do as Azwan suggested would have also been strong enough to either smash the wreck into pieces, or drag it out to sea – but it was still a plausible explanation as to why the crew were unable to recover anything of note from the wreck. And if nothing else, it was at least something Sjan-dehk could discuss with his First Officer. But, before he could share his opinions, the two of them stepped under the cooling shade of palm fronds, joining another group of men already loitering there.

Three of them were from Sada Kurau’s crew. They were armed with rifles, and held the weapons vertically, with hands wrapped around barrels and stocks resting on the sandy dirt by their feet. A sword-like bayonet extended from underneath each of their rifles’ muzzles, slender blades polished to a sheen. Steel helmets hung from their waistbelts, conical shapes making them look like small shields. “Captain’s on deck,” one of the sentries, a tall youth with skin tanned dark, announced loudly upon seeing Sjan-dehk and Azwan. The other two immediately stood to attention, holding their rifles flush against their legs.

“At ease,” Sjan-dehk said almost immediately. His attention was drawn towards the fourth man sitting on a boulder in the middle of the sentries. An old, battered bucket sat between the man’s legs, which were clad in trousers that had more patches than it did its original brown cloth. A vest of a similar colour draped from the man’s shoulders, open in front to reveal a scarred chest. The man looked up at Sjan-dehk, his wrinkled brows furrowed and eyes squinting.

“You the captain here?” He asked, rubbing his hand along a jaw covered in scraggly grey hair.

Sjan-dehk held up a hand, signalling the man to wait. He then looked at each of the sentries in turn. “Good work, you three. I’ll take it from here. You can go ahead and return to your duties…” Trailing off, he turned to Azwan with an inquiring look. “Unless you have something for them?”

“No, Captain.” Azwan shook his head. “You heard the Captain,” he said to the sentries. “To your posts.”

“Aye, First Officer, Captain,” the same tall youth from before said, holding a fist to his chest and bowing his head to Azwan, then to Sjan-dehk. The other two sentries similarly saluted both officers before all three of them marched away, heading further inland. Sjan-dehk waited for them to leave the copse. Then, he finally turned his attention back to the man.

“Yes, I am Captain here,” he said, replying to his question at last. “You ask for me. Why?”

The man snorted and wriggled a finger into his nose. “You sure know how to make an old man wait. By the Gods, I thought I’d see them before seeing you, Captain.” He slapped his hands on his knees and let out a long breath. “Look, I’ll get to the quick of it. Save us both time and trouble, eh? How long are you and your boys going to muck around here? It’s been nigh on two hours since you lot showed up, I’ll have you know, and the morning’s not getting any longer. There’s crabbing to be done, and it can’t be done once afternoon comes around, I’ll have you know.”

“Why not?” Sjan-dehk asked without even thinking.

“Well, it’s not bloody natural, is it?” The incredulous look on the man’s face, and his tone, made it seem as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. Sjan-dehk didn’t think so – he couldn’t even see the barest hints of logic behind it – but neither did he have the time or desire to pursue the matter.

“We are still working,” Sjan-dehk said. “Will need more time. If you want to go find crabs, I will tell my crew to let you. They will not stop you. But you do not want that, then I apologise. Find other beach.”

“I’ll catch piss-fucking-all with you lot stomping through the shallows,” the man grumbled. He looked away, a pensive look on his well-creased face as he chewed on his lip. Then, his shoulders sagged as he sighed and shook his head. “Ah, Gods damn it. No use arguing with you lot. I may be an old bastard, but I’m sure as shite in a sty not a stupid one. Give a man a privateer’s flag and suddenly he thinks he’s got the biggest prick in all Caesonia.” He grabbed the bucket by the handle and stood up.

Sjan-dehk didn’t understand what he had said at the end, and so he offered a simple, “I apologise.”

“Bah, you can take that damn apology and–” The man cut himself off abruptly. “Ah, it is what it is. No point getting upset over things now. Besides, I’m not the daft idiot wasting his and his crew’s time. Whatever it is that you’re after, Captain, it’s long gone by now.” He started to walk away from Sjan-dehk and Azwan. “I’m sure as shite that those cunts from earlier left nothing in that wreck of yours. Went through the whole thing like soldiers through a whorehouse, they did.”

“Wait,” Sjan-dehk called after him. The man stopped and turned, his impatience clear on his face. “You say there were other people here? Before us? They also search this wreck?”

“Yes, yes, and yes,” the man replied brusquely with arms crossed over his chest. Sjan-dehk fixed him with a stern glare. He glared back. Sjan-dehk then glanced at Azwan. The First Officer responded with a single nod and stepped into the man’s path. For a moment, the latter looked between the two Viserjantans. Then, he relented, but not before coughing up a glob of phlegm and spitting it on the ground. “Gods damn it, fine, I’ll tell you everything I know. The two of you can drop this ‘tough cunts’ bullshit.”

Sjan-dehk walked around to join Azwan. “You were here earlier, you say. Why? What did you see?”

“Gods help me, would it kill you to slow down?” The man glowered at Sjan-dehk, but nevertheless went on with his story. “To answer your first question, the crabbing hour starts early, I’ll have you know. I’m out here everyday before first light. That’s when it's best to catch the little bastards in their burrows. On a good day, I can easily fill two of these things, if I had another to fill.” He hefted the bucket. “Any road, to answer your second question, what I saw was what I’m seeing now. Daft idiots picking through shite washed up on the beach like pigeons with bread. Only difference is that you lot are privateers, and they were pirates.”

“How do you know?” Sjan-dehk asked. “That they are pirates?”

The man laughed derisively. “How could I not bloody know? Pirates these days like to fly their bloody flags all the damn time, as if they want to be found. They’re nothing like the ones I fought back in my day, I’ll have you know. No, back then, hunting pirates took actual skill. You had to learn how to spot them on sight and even by fucking smell, sometimes. You privateers these days have it easy, and yet somehow the lot of you still find ways to muck everything up more often than not.”

“How many were there? How many ships?” Sjan-dehk pressed on with his questions.

“I don’t know, maybe thirty? Forty?” The man shrugged. “I wasn’t bloody counting, I’ll have you know. But I did see their ships. Two sloops-of-war, maybe eighteen guns each. That should put their strength at a high of maybe two hundred, and a low of maybe a hundred-and-fifty.”

“And…You watch them all the time? Until they leave?”

“Are you bloody thick? Of course not. I don’t plan on dying to fucking pirates, I’ll have you know. I left when it was clear that they weren’t going to leave anytime soon.”

Sjan-dehk nodded slowly. “What else did you see?”

The man shrugged again. “They were looking for something, just like you lot, but I don’t think they found it, whatever it was.” Sjan-dehk urged him to elaborate with an expectant look. “They were arguing, there was some shouting, and it was clear that those cunts were upsets. There was a fight or two, but it was amateur nonsense. Nothing like the brawls the pirates back in my day used to have, I’ll have you know. Looked like a bunch of bloody noblegirls pulling each other’s hair.”

“And…Which way did they go, you think?”

“Well, unless they planned to turn themselves in for being some of the worst pirates to ever sail Aquana’s bountiful bosom, I don’t think they’d go north to Sorian.”

“South, then?” Sjan-dehk asked.

“Or east. How should I know?” The man scowled. “Now, can I bloody go?”

“Wait a while,” Sjan-dehk replied. He turned to Azwan. “Did you understand all that?”

“I understood enough, Captain,” the First Officer replied. “What are your orders?”

“Before that, why don’t you tell me what you make of this, First Officer?”

Azwan looked at Sjan-dehk, his features creased in puzzlement, as if he hadn’t quite understood what had been asked of him. When his Captain said nothing, and merely met his gaze with a raised brow, however, he cleared his throat and spoke. “I don’t think he’s lying,” he began, uncertainty in his voice. “The crew did find crabs in the shallows, so his reason for coming here makes sense, I think. And his story about pirates salvaging the wreck would explain why our crew couldn’t find anything.”

“Good. And what do you suppose we should do?”

Azwan furrowed his brows. “I-I wouldn’t tell you what to do, Captain, but I think we should sail south. They wouldn't have gone north, and it might be best if we assumed that they didn't find anything and continued southwards on their search. If they went eastwards, they would've sailed into open water and could've ended up anyway, Captain." He grimaced. "But they have quite a headstart, Captain. I'm not sure if Sada Kurau can catch them."

Sjan-dehk considered his words for a moment before nodding and flashing him a grin. “Very well done, Azwan. Speak with confidence in future, eh? You've a damn fine Captain's mind. We just need to get you the proper demeanour and you'll be set to haunt the seas on your own ship." He turned to look at the beach, at his crew still picking through flotsam and debris. They were strung out in a long, ragged line all along the coast, with most gathered around, or on the wreck of Recompense's victim. “How long do you need to get them back to Sada Kurau?”

“An hour at most, Captain,” Azwan replied. “Maybe three-quarters of that, if the tides are in our favour.”

“An hour is good,” he said. “Organise that, if you please. I'll finish up here and return to Sada Kurau ahead of you to get her ready for sail. Once everyone’s back aboard, we will weigh anchor. I want us to get moving in an hour’s time, at the very least. Quarter past that, at most. You’re right about their headstart, but Sada Kurau won’t let them slip away that easily. At the very least, let’s see if we can’t find out where they went.”

Azwan nodded. "Aye, Captain," he replied, the excitement showing through just those two words, and in the purpose in his steps as he marched away from the copse and back onto the beach.

Sjan-dehk turned back to the man. “Apologies,” he said. “We will go now. Give us one hour, please.”

The man scratched his jaw. “Gods help me, you’re going out hunting for them, aren’t you?” Although his well-creased face didn't show it, the disbelief in his words were palpable, and the glint in his dull eyes betrayed his approval. Sjan-dehk's eyes similarly showed his surprise, but before he could say anything, the man cut him off with a harrumph and a wave of his hand. "Before you start thinking all sorts of nonsense, I didn't understand a damn thing between the two of you, but I've sailed long enough to know the look sailors get when they're...When we're about to go looking for a fight, and I swear by Triumpheus' shiny arse, the two of you aren't even trying to bloody hide it."

A smile graced his cracked lips, the first since Sjan-dehk had met him. He wiped a hand on his trousers before extending it. "Captain Maxwylle Trellawney. Captain of the Duke of Montague, Royal Caesonian Navy, as was." Sjan-dehk accepted it and gave it a firm shake. "Sorry about earlier, Captain. It's not often...Well, it hasn't been the case that anyone would do anything about pirates like these, not in recent days. I've not seen hide or tail of a serious privateer or even the Gods-damned navy in bloody ages, I'll have you know. It'd take a raid on Sorian itself to get them to do anything, I'll bet both my wrinkled balls on that." He stepped back and looked Sjan-dehk up and down, almost as how a senior officer would with a new recruit. "But Gods help me, it pleases my old Captain's heart to find a bloody lunatic who'd go chasing after pirates hours after they've fucked off. Brings me back to the good old days when I was the one on the hunt, I'll have you know."

"That is what we should do, yes?" Sjan-dehk replied plainly. All this praise for doing what he saw as an obligation was, in truth, making him quite uncomfortable.

"I fucking wish that was the case, but no, it bloody isn't," Maxwylle countered with a snort. "Not been for a long time, now, so you can stop with that Gods-damned humility, take the Gods-damned compliment, and be on your Gods-damned way. You'll want to head south." The lackadaisical tone from earlier was gone, as was his slovenly mannerisms. Sjan-dehk could easily imagine him at the head of a planning table, giving instructions to junior officers. "My eyes aren't what they used to be, but I'll scoop them both out myself with a spoon if those pirating cunts aren't sailing old Windward-class sloops. They were built tough, but they were too damn slow to be of any use, so the navy sold the bloody lot. An eastward course would have them sailing in reaches, and the Windwards never were good at that, so if these pirates have anything between their ears, they'll be going south to take advantage of the morning southerlies. They wouldn't have gotten far, so I'd bet my cock that you can catch them. But if it comes to a fight, don't bloody try to outlast them. Their hulls are thicker than your average noble's skull. Just out-sail them and you'll be grand."

Sjan-dehk blinked and nodded slowly. That was far more information than what he had expected, or could have asked for. "You have my thanks," he said, hoping that such simple words, spoken when such halting speech and clumsy pronunciation, would still be able to convey the full extent of his gratitude. Such knowledge could only come from someone with a wealth of experience sailing and fighting upon the seas, and could easily mean the difference between success or failure, or even between a premature visit to the Abyss-Keeper and seeing another sunset. "We will make good use of this, I promise."

"If you want to thank me, just send one of them down to the bottom for old Trellawney, eh?" Maxwylle grinned and clapped Sjan-dehk on the shoulder. "Stay safe out there and good hunting."

Sjan-dehk chuckled. "Only one?" He asked. Tipping his hat towards the older man, he grinned and said, "You ask too little. I will send two."


It didn’t take much effort for Sada Kurau to track the pirates. The scattered trail of flotsam her prey had left in their wakes made following their southerly course a task far easier done than said, as did the terror they had visited upon the coast along the way.

Standing on his ship’s quarterdeck, Sjan-dehk’s lips were drawn into a grim line, and his brows creased in unease, as he gazed across the narrow stretch of water separating Sada Kurau from shore, and at a small hamlet sprawled upon the rocky beach. Even without a spyglass, it was clear that the settlement had been attacked recently, and terribly so. Smoke curled in wisps from torched buildings. Some remained standing as half-destroyed ruins, whilst others had been reduced to little more than heaps of charred timber. People shambled aimlessly through the debris, their faces blank, their movements slow. A handful picked through debris. Others wept over corpses left on the ground. None of them seemed to care about Sada Kurau.

Sjan-dehk tightened his grip on her gunwale, his jaw set. The pirates had come through here, there wasn’t any doubt about that, and it hadn’t been long since they left, if the darkness of the smoke and the lingering embers in the ruins were anything to go by. Sada Kurau couldn’t be more than two hours behind them.

“Still two hours too late,” he muttered angrily beneath his breath. Deep in his heart, he knew that it couldn’t have been possible for him to have caught the pirates here. They had too much of a lead, and as quick as Sada Kurau was, she wasn’t one of those arcane vessels that existed in myths. That she had managed to get here in as little time as she had taken was miraculous enough.

But that didn’t stop Sjan-dehk from admonishing himself. “Too fucking late,” he grumbled.

“Did you say something, Captain?” Azwan asked from behind.

Sjan-dehk shook his head. “Just talking to myself. Nothing to worry about.”

“Master Dai-sehk would disagree, I think,” Azwan said and joined Sjan-dehk at the gunwale.

“He disagrees with many things,” Sjan-dehk replied with a mirthless chuckle. “I suppose that’s what makes him such a good surgeon.”

“As you say, Captain.”

For a moment, neither man said anything more. The two of them simply looked at the ruined hamlet, at the sobering sight of its wrecked buildings and shell-shocked people. Azwan shifted uncomfortably, his face as grim as Sjan-dehk’s, but with shades of grief and reminiscence in his features. After what felt like eons, he finally spoke. “Master Hai-shuun has examined the flotsam we fished out of the water, Captain.”

Sjan-dehk nodded. “Good. What does he think?”

“Pieces of crates and barrels, planks that he believes are used for repair work,” Azwan replied. Sjan-dehk threw him a sidelong glance with a raised brow. The First Officer cleared his throat and went on in a voice that was markedly less confident. “I-It looks like they’re jettisoning rubbish and supplies they believe to be unnecessary, Captain. Might be that they’re making space for plunder, or trying to increase speed.” Again, Sjan-dehk said nothing and simply looked at Azwan. “I would continue along the coast, Captain,” the First Officer concluded. “W-with our speed, we might be able to catch them, still.”

“Well done,” Sjan-dehk said, nodding and patting Azwan on the back. “We’ll make a damn fine captain out of you, yet. But for now, bring us three points to larboard handsomely and make distance between us and shore. We’ll continue tracing the coast at full sail.” He looked at the hamlet again, and his face turned grim once more. He chewed on his lip. “And have the crew beaten to quarters. Everyone at their stations, guns loaded and ready to fire at a moment’s notice. Have lookouts search the coast for any signs of our friends, but I want them to keep an eye on the horizon as well, just to be safe.”

“Aye, Captain.” Azwan nodded. Then, he turned towards the hamlet as well. “What about them, Captain?”

That was one question Sjan-dehk had hoped he wouldn’t have to answer. He chewed on his lip, his brows furrowed in thought. More than anything, he wanted to send his crew ashore to help those people in some way or other, even if it was just to give them what little Sada Kurau could afford to give. But there he knew that there wasn’t any time for such altruism. Every moment spent here, and not on the chase, was another moment the pirates had to slip away. And letting them escape could very well mean allowing other hamlets or villages or settlements to suffer a similar fate.

“Who’s the duty scribe this morning?” Sjan-dehk asked.

“Yayansha, Captain. I think he’s below decks, completing this morning’s logs. Shall I call for him?”

Sjan-dehk shook his head. “No, no need. Belay my earlier orders. I will handle things on deck. You instead will go to my quarters, get the maps of local waters, and bring them to Yayansha. From here on out, I want every attacked settlement we come across, as well as this one–” he pointed to the hamlet “–to be marked on our maps and added to the log with both absolute and relative positions, and details of the attack. That means what we see, what we believed happened, and what we did, if we did anything at all. Find Adnash, he’s good at drawing maps, and have him make copies of everything Yayansha makes. We’ll give those to the privateers when we return to Sorian. See if they can be convinced to send anyone to lend a hand.”

Azwan nodded. “Aye, Captain. Yayansha to annotate our maps, Adnash to make copies of them.”

“Let’s get this–” Sjan-dehk began, but something caught his eye. Or rather, someone – a young woman on the beach. Her threadbare dress was tattered at the hem, and her hands were dark with blood. She stood over a mangled corpse, tears cutting rivulets down a face dusted with dirt and grime. Red, puffy eyes, blue irises, and a despairing gaze looked towards Sada Kurau. Sjan-dehk met it for only a moment, felt it pierce him to his soul, before he couldn’t hold it any longer. He averted his eyes.

“I’d give them what we could if we had the time.” His voice was low, and tinted with shame. Whether those words were aimed at himself, at Azwan, or even at Sada Kurau, he didn’t know. They just had to be said.

“I know, Captain. We all do.” The First Officer cleared his throat and awkwardly patted his shoulder. “We’ll do our duties, Captain, and catch those pirates before they can do this again.”

Sjan-dehk drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Aye, we certainly will,” he said firmly. When he looked back at the beach, the woman was gone, but the body was still there. Sjan-dehk straightened his back, pressed his fist to his chest, and gave them – the body, the woman, and the hamlet – a quick bow of his head. “The Mother knows her own, even if they know not her. May she bring them peace.” Sjan-dehk wasn't a devout man by any stretch of the imagination, but he only had such words – meaningless as they were – to offer.

Then, he turned to Azwan. “To our duties, First Officer.”

Sada Kurau passed three more settlements after leaving the hamlet. With each, it became more and more evident that the pirates’ patience was wearing dangerously thin. They no longer razed buildings – that took far too much time for too little reward, Sjan-dehk figured – and instead vented their frustrations on hapless villagers. The coast was lined with corpses. Most appeared to have been shot, but there were more than a few who swung from trees and makeshift gallows. Men and women; the young and the old; the pirates had spared no one. And from what Sjan-dehk could see through a spyglass, for some, death had been but the last of a series of depravities visited upon them.

To see such devastation, and to know that the perpetrators were just beyond reach, weighed heavily upon Sjan-dehk’s shoulders. How many more would have to suffer? How many more had to die before he could finally catch up to the pirates? These questions were familiar to him. He had asked them before, and thus he knew that they served only to demoralise him, to infect his spirit with hopelessness.

And yet, he clung onto them, for he also knew that those same questions, and that same weight, was what galvanised him. It was what pushed him. No matter how many the pirates killed, no matter how far or how speedily they sailed, Sada Kurau would catch them, and she would punish them dearly. There could be no other way. Sjan-dehk took in the despair, and tempered it with his resolve, until it transformed into tranquil, righteous fury. And he knew his crew did the same, for by the time Sada Kurau found her quarries, a steely, solemn silence had descended upon her decks, interrupted only by the most necessary calls.

The two pirate vessels sat in a line, almost bow-to-stern, and just off the coast of a village that appeared to be on the cusp of being a town. The main road running from square to shore was paved, and a majority of its buildings were built from stone and tile. Its population, however, was still small enough for the pirates to corral everyone in the square. At least, Sjan-dehk couldn’t see movement elsewhere in the village through his spyglass. “They outnumber us,” he said matter-of-factly.

“We shoot faster, Captain, and straighter,” Mursi replied from beside him. The Master of Arms stood with a smoking pipe cradled in one hand, and the other on the gunwale. His head of black hair was in a mess, as it usually was, and his clothes were stained with gun oil and lubricant, as they usually were.

“That, we do,” Sjan-dehk muttered. He continued watching the events in the square. An argument seemed to be developing between an elderly man and one of the pirates. The two gesticulated wildly to each other, whilst armed men walked down a line of kneeling villagers, stopping at random. “Looks like they’re asking questions,” Sjan-dehk continued. The argument became more heated, until the pirate drew a pistol. “Don’t do it, you bastard.”

The old man stepped back, his hands raised in front of him, but it was no use. A single shot, a small puff of smoke, and he fell where he stood like a collapsed sail. “Fuck,” Sjan-dehk spat, lowering the spyglass. He had seen enough. “Well, they either don’t see us, or they don’t think of us as a threat.” He shook his head, then pointed at the two ships. “We’ll prove them wrong. I want those bastards gone. We’ll sail in and rake them with our starboard battery, then loop around and hit them with the larboard. Mursi, what do our guns have in their chambers?”

“Solid shot, Captain.”

Sjan-dehk nodded. “Hit them with that first, but reload the larboard battery with explosive shells. No matter what happens, we must eliminate them with those two passes. Otherwise, it’ll get messy.”

“It’ll be done, Captain,” Mursi said and marched off to the gun deck.

“Azwan,” Sjan-dehk called out and turned to the First Officer, who stood on his other side. “Have all senior officers gathered on the quarterdeck, latest by the end of our second volley. And tell Kai-dahn that he can bring his Seaborne up on deck. I want them ready for an amphibious assault as soon as possible.”

“We’re going ashore, Captain?”

“Aye. Taking out their ships won’t stop them from wrecking this place. It’ll probably just make them angrier savages.” Sjan-dehk stepped away from the gunwale. “We’ll finish this properly, and that means taking the fight to those bastards. By push of bayonet, as the army likes to say.”

“As you say, Captain,” Azwan said and hurried off to carry out his orders.

Maxwylle hadn’t been exaggerating when he said that the pirates’ ships were durable. Sada Kurau’s initial volley, although accurate, did little damage to them. Her solid, iron cannonballs couldn’t punch through the thick planks which armoured their hulls. The shots either embedded themselves into the wood, or bounced off due to the steep sloping of their tumblehome designs. But, whether because of shock, or a lack of crew aboard, neither ship returned fire, allowing Sada Kurau to take her time meandering into position to deliver her second volley. No matter how strong a hull, or how thick the wood, they were nothing before the sheer destructive power of explosive shells. Resounding blasts echoed through the air as gaping holes were torn into the ships’ sides.

So confident was Sjan-dehk of Sada Kurau’s victory that he started discussing the upcoming landings with his crew in the midst of all the cannon fire. He, and the other senior officers, crowded around a small table on the quarterdeck, their eyes drawn to a hastily scribbled diagram of the village.

“Excuse the shite drawing,” Sjan-dehk said. “But it’s the best I can do on short notice. Anyway, before I get too deep into things, I’ll outline our roles for this operation. I’ll be leading the first wave of Seaborne, along with Wahkyara. Kai-dahn, Azwan, the two of you have the second wave. Dai-sehk, you’ll go with them with your physicians and healers– I mean, healer. Hai-shuun, Avek, third wave. If we need a fourth, it’ll have to be Mursi and Sai-keh, but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Sahm-tehn, the ship will be yours. Sohn-dahn, your boys will be on standby in case we need more hands for any non-combat duties. Everyone clear?”

He waited for the chorus of acknowledgements to end before drawing everyone’s attention to the drawing, pointing out a few details. “From what I can see, the village, town, whatever it is, isn’t too complex. Single main street down the center, two poorly-defined avenues along the flanks, all converging on the square. There’s a few multi-floor buildings in the centre, but elsewhere, it’s all simple houses and such. On the right, we’ve fields, and on the left, jetties.”

“How many enemies are we facing, Captain?” Kai-dahn asked.

“A hundred-and-fifty, maybe two hundred,” Sjan-dehk replied, quoting Maxwylle’s numbers. “I’m assuming that they’ve disembarked most of their crew, if not all of them. Can’t imagine why their ships didn’t even try to return fire, otherwise.”

Kai-dahn’s visage darkened. “Then that main street will be a problem. It’s too wide for us to advance down safely, not with us outnumbered so heavily, Captain. Our flanks would either be too weak, or entirely open to enemy attack.”

Sjan-dehk nodded. “I agree. That’s why we’re not going down the centre.” He tapped both avenues in turn, then the scraggly line representing the beach. “After Wahkyara and I land, I’ll take Detachment One down the right. Wahkyara will swing left with Detachment Two and secure the jetties and secure the ships, just in case there’s still any pirate left aboard with ideas of joining the fight. The both of us will advance as far as we can. Give us some room to breathe. Then, when the second wave lands, Kai-dahn, you will link up with Wahkyara, and Azwan, you will join me on the right.”

“That leaves the centre open, however.” Kai-dahn furrowed his brow. “They can storm through and cut the both of you off from the second wave, or worse, envelope both Detachments, Captain.”

“Yes, but we have Sada Kurau.” Sjan-dehk looked at Sahm-tehn. “You’ll use her guns to dissuade anyone trying to come down the main street. Doesn’t matter if you don’t hit anyone. Just make it clear that it’ll be a terrible idea for them to even try.”

Sahm-tehn’s thin lips twisted into a frown. “That street goes straight to the square, Captain. I imagine you don’t intend for us to fire explosive, shrapnel, or canister, but even a solid shot can ricochet off the ground and crush the people we’re trying to save. I don’t imagine you want that, Captain.”

“No, I don’t,” Sjan-dehk said and turned to Mursi. “I was hoping you might have a solution.”

Mursi chewed on his lip a moment, tapping his fingers on the table, before nodding. “We can remove fuses from shrapnel shells and empty them out, Captain. We’ll be left with a hollow iron shot that should shatter on impact with the ground, but still be hard enough to kill a man.”

Sjan-dehk grinned at him. “Thank you. You just saved me from looking like a fucking idiot.” He drew a circle around one of the buildings near the middle of the street with his finger. “But to be safe, we’ll have this as our limit of cannon fire. It’s a house with a blue roof, you can’t miss it.” He turned to Sahm-tehn again. “But before you fire on the street, we’ll need Sada Kurau to cover the first wave’s landing. I doubt they’re stupid enough to come out into the open or even try to mount a serious shore defence when it’s clear that we’ve got artillery superiority, but let’s play it safe. Give them full broadsides, and do whatever you must to keep them away from the beach.”

“Aye, will do, Captain,” Sahm-tehn replied.

“At the end of it, no matter which wave you are, we’ll all regroup in the square,” Sjan-dehk said, pointing to a few rectangles on the diagram that were larger than most. “There’s a big, long building that has a tower thing sticking from its roof. If you get turned around, use that to get yourself orientated. Based on what I’ve seen of local arms, firepower will be our greatest advantage. We can shoot faster, straighter, and hit from a lot farther than them. And so, we’ll all be going in with longarms, myself included. Mursi, see to it that we all have rifles.”

“Already done, Captain.”

“Good. Oh, Kai-dahn, I’ll brief Wahkyara myself on the specifics of the landing. Send him to me before we start loading the boats.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Sjan-dehk stood back upright and stepped back from the table. He looked at everyone present in turn, and they similarly looked at him. There were many emotions on their faces. Anticipation, nervousness, a touch of excitement, even, on Kai-dahn’s. But none showed fear. Sjan-dehk knew they felt it, however, just as he did. But that was normal. Nobody was truly unafraid whilst standing on the cusp of battle. “We’ll be fighting on Caesonian land for the first time, today,” Sjan-dehk said. “But we’ve all done this many times before. In Kai-dahn’s case, I’m sure this should be your hundredth.”

“Hundred-and-tenth, Captain.”

“Of course you’d be the sort to keep count.” Sjan-dehk shook his head with a chuckle. Calls echoing from the main deck told him that Sada Kurau had fired her final guns. “But anyway,” he continued, his voice and face serious. “We’ve all seen what these pirate bastards have done. We know that they deserve whatever terror we’re about to unleash on them. And we sure as the Abyss know their type. Scum who believe that they’re to be feared because they can brutalise those who can’t fight back.”

He paused to watch his officers nod in agreement. “So let’s show them the error of their ways. If they want to be seen as a fearsome threat, then we shall treat them like one. We’ll fight them as how we fight any of our greatest foes, and crush them like how we’ve crushed everyone else before. After all, only three things from the sea are unstoppable. One is a tsunami. Two is a typhoon–”

“And three is a Jafin!” Avek finished heartily, his boisterous laugh echoing across the ship.

“Exactly.” Sjan-dehk grinned. “Now, shall we?”
In 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 2 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Sjan-dehk & Dahlia

Time: Night of 26th Sola



Sjan-dehk heard the falling ropes first, but Inshahri was quicker on the move. Before he could even call for her to stop, the young woodshaper leapt towards the noise, pushing the fallen coil aside with her foot, and a stack of empty sacks with her hands. Pale moonlight illuminated the unmistakable outline of a girl – she couldn’t be much older than Inshahri, Sjan-dehk estimated – who was very clearly not part of his crew, and very clearly not Viserjantan.

“Found you!” Inshahri chirped, her words a lilting melody. She reached for the girl, but this time Sjan-dehk stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Well done, Inshahri,” he said, then glanced at Yasawen. “I’ll take it from here. Both of you, report to your stations. Yasawen, Master Dai-sehk should be on the orlop down below. Inshahri…” A woodshaper would be most useful with Hai-shuun and the carpentry team below decks, but if this Caesonian stowaway was truly possessed of magic, Inshahri’s counter-arcane abilities might prove to be invaluable.

“You report to Haifahl at the mainmast,” Sjan-dehk decided. That should place her close enough for her to react to any attempts at magic by the Caesonian girl.

“Aye, Captain,” Inshahri said, snapping to a salute before sauntering off. Yasawen followed suit, albeit less exuberantly. He snuck a few hesitant, apprehensive glances at the Caesonian girl as he walked away.

“Captain,” he began.

“It’ll be fine,” Sjan-dehk cut him off and drew a pistol. He grinned at Yasawen. “We all know which is faster, between magic and a bullet, don’t we?”

Yasawen paused for a moment. Then, he nodded and quickened his pace.

Sjan-dehk turned his full attention to the Caesonian girl. He levelled his pistol at her, hammer fully cocked and blackened muzzle pointed squarely at the centre of her forehead. “Now, to deal with you,” he began. “I do not remember letting a Caesonian board Sada Kurau. I also do not remember taking on…No, recruiting new crew. So why you are here, I do not know.” He curled his finger around the trigger. “By my laws, I can kill you right now.”

He lowered the pistol slightly, until the muzzle hovered over her chest. “But I will not,” he said. “Not yet. Do what I tell you, and you might live. Otherwise, you die.” He took a step back. “Come out from the dark and let us talk for a while.”

There was an almost inaudible sigh as the girl seemed to glare at the boards of the ship as if they were the reason for her current problems. Finally, Dahlia raised her hands, dryly stating, “Well, congratulations. You’ve caught the world’s least threatening stowaway. I’m sure this will go down as one of your greatest triumphs.”

Then the captain pulled a pistol, and her eyes flicked to the barrel now aimed squarely at her chest. “A gun? Really?” she deadpanned, arching a brow. “How rude.”

Sjan-dehk didn’t give the girl the satisfaction of a direct response to her words. Instead, he waved her out from her corner with the pistol. Heads and eyes from across the deck and up the masts turned towards the pair, some curious, some suspicious, but all waiting to see what would happen next.

“Why are you here?” Sjan-dehk asked brusquely, keeping his distance. If Inshahri was correct, and this girl did possess magical abilities, then she had to be treated like a potential danger. A very, very lethal one, at that. But in the back of Sjan-dehk’s mind, he found that hard to believe. Didn’t Caesonia have a poor view on magic in general? Why then, would a magic-user risk exposure to sneak aboard Sada Kurau? Wouldn’t it have been disastrous for her if she had been discovered just mere moments before, and handed over to the city guard?

Dahlia tilted her head, her lips twitching into the faintest of smirks. “That depends. Are you asking because you care, or because you’re trying to figure out where to send my thank-you note?”

He quickly pushed all those thoughts aside. They weren’t of any use now. “Someone sent you?” He asked and allowed the pistol’s muzzle to drift slightly higher, until it was level with her head. “Or you come alone, with no one?”

“The gods sent me,” The sentence was delivered as if it were the most obvious answer to his question. “Apparently, divine intervention doesn’t come with advance notice. Sorry about that.”

Sjan-dehk narrowed his eyes. Part of him wanted to shoot her right then and there. He should just shoot her right then and there. Nobody would blame him for it. But he was too curious. There were questions he needed answered. And besides, who knew if this girl’s magic was the sort that triggered upon her death?

No, he couldn’t kill her. Not yet, at least. That might not be the right thing to do, but it was the smart thing, the safe thing to do.

His mind raced. The girl had the airs of a professional – she did things like this regularly, at least, if her glib tongue and outwardly calm demeanour was anything to go by. Most people’s guts would turn to water from the moment their eyes looked at a firelock straight down the barrel. Most people also wouldn’t be so quick to quip and offer wit upon being discovered. And if she was a professional, that likely meant that she didn’t come here on her own volition. What would be the point? Sada Kurau was a beautiful ship, but she wasn’t one that announced wealth or power. Certainly, there was nothing about her that signalled that there was anything worth pilfering aboard.

That meant that the girl was here for something else. Information, most likely. And that meant that she had to have been sent by someone.

“Think carefully,” Sjan-dehk said. He couldn’t help the smirk that pulled on his lips. Despite everything, the girl’s spirit and nerve impressed him. “You are here. Alone. We are at sea. You are only alive because you have answers I want. The people who send you here, you think they will care if I shoot you? Throw you to the waves? I only want to know why you are here. Sada Kurau, we have done nothing to your people. Not anything bad.”

He paused, glancing towards the bow of the ship. There was nothing to see but interminable darkness, as he had expected. Rushing water, crashing waves, and the ruffling of sails were the only natural sounds of such a night. The roughness of the sea, which pitched the deck up-and-down, amidst the absence of any powerful winds did tell him that they were sailing close to shore, however.

Good. That meant that they were well on course to search for the mysterious vessels.

“Tell me what I want, and I guarantee you can live,” Sjan-dehk said.

Dahlia kept her smirk firmly in place, even as her heart hammered like a drum beneath her ribs. ”I mean, if you really wanted me gone, you’d have done it already. So why not indulge that curiosity? I’ll try to make it worth your time.”

Sjan-dehk smirked again. “That is good try, but not good enough,” he said. “For now, you are more useful alive than dead. But if you want, you can jump into the sea. I will not try too hard to stop you.”

She tensed up for a moment then let out a long, exaggerated sigh, “Why am I here?” She gestured loosely with one hand, the other still raised. “Let’s call it… curiosity. Your ship caught my eye, and I thought, ‘What’s the harm in taking a closer look?’ Turns out, a lot.”

Her gaze flicked to the pistol and back, her lips twitching into a half-hearted smile. “Look, I’m not here to steal your treasure or sink your ship. Not that I’d say no to a treasure map, if you’ve got one lying around.” She shook her head. “I just needed a way out of Sorian. Your ship happened to be convenient. Lucky me, huh?”

That gave Sjan-dehk pause. It did sound like a plausible story – someone possessed of magic wouldn’t be too happy living in Sorian, he imagined. And given that Sada Kurau was perhaps the most foreign vessel currently in harbour, it would make sense for someone like the girl to pick her as a means of escape. “That is…” Sjan-dehk began and trailed off. Then, he sighed and holstered the pistol. “That much, I can believe for now. But you chose bad time to come aboard.”

He jerked a thumb towards the top of the mizzenmast. Barely visible by the faint glows of lanterns, the flag of a Caesonian privateer fluttered weakly in the gentle wind. “We are privateering, and will return to Sorian soon. But…” He trailed off, tilting his chin towards the girl. “We do not dislike your…Your kind. If you did no other crime, then you will be safe here. With us.”

There was more he wanted to ask, and wanted to say, but a shout from the bow interrupted him. “Larboard prow, contact!”

That stole Sjan-dehk’s attention momentarily. “Steady as she goes, but prepare to maneuver!” He shouted back, making sure that the rest of the crew heard his order. He looked at the girl with a wry smile. “It is not good time for you to be here, at all. We may have to fight.”

Dahlia’s eyes lit up at the mention of a fight, her smirk breaking into a grin. “A fight? Now we’re talking! I knew this trip would get exciting.”

She stepped forward, her tone brimming with energy. “Point me in the right direction, Captain. I’ll happily jump in.”

“If we are lucky, it will not–”

A series of low, muffled thumps – like distant thunder – interrupted Sjan-dehk. He looked towards the bow again. Flashes of fiery orange pierced the darkness like a dagger, each of them illuminating for the briefest of moments the outline of a ship in the distance.

There wasn’t any time to think. There wasn’t any need for him to. “Everybody to cover!” He bellowed.

He rushed over to the girl, closing the distance in the time it took for him to blink, and roughly grabbed her by the collar of her shirt. Cannonballs sliced through the air overhead even as he pulled her down with him onto the deck. The infernal screams of the dreadful cannonade, the bone-chilling splintering of wood, and the dull thuds of Sada Kurau’s pointed prow deflecting as many shots as it could, seemed unending. Men shouted all around him, but Sjan-dehk kept himself calm. This wasn’t anything new.

“Recover!” He shouted once the salvo was over, scrambling to his feet with a hand hooked under the girl’s arm to pull her up as well. All things considered, Sada Kurau wasn’t in too bad a shape – large holes had been shot out of her bulwarks and gunwale, especially towards her bow, and there were shorn ropes and broken rigging hanging from above, but nobody seemed injured. “Master Sahm-tehn, send your men aloft for repairs! Master Hai-shuun, your crew to the orlop!”

“Aye, Captain!” came the series of acknowledgements from somewhere amidst the chaotic deck.

Sjan-dehk grabbed the girl by the arm and pulled her behind him. “You follow,” he said curtly before going back to barking orders to his crew. “They’re right ahead of us! Bring us hard to larboard on a course to cut across her keel–”

“Captain! Second vessel spotted in the mist!” A shout came from above. “Two vessels direct front! They’re sailing in line!”

Sjan-dehk swore beneath his breath. “Continue with my previous orders, but signal intent to our friend and tell them to engage the forward vessel. We’ll take care of the cunt in the rear!”

Dahlia hit the deck hard, Sjan-dehk’s grip firm on her collar. “Well, this is cozy,” she muttered as cannonballs screamed overhead.

When he hauled her up, she stumbled but quickly quipped, “Appreciate the save. Real gentlemanly.” Staying close behind him, she added, “So, is this level of chaos normal, or am I just lucky?”

“Normal enough,” Sjan-dehk replied shortly. He would have preferred to have been able to get the jump on just one of the ships, or to at least take them separately, but such was the nature of combat. Things rarely ever went according to his preferences.

At the shout of a second vessel, her smirk grew. “Two ships? Wow. You really know how to make a stowaway feel special.”

Sjan-dehk didn’t reply immediately. The bulk of his attention was focused on Sada Kurau. Getting her into a position to rake the enemy vessel was the best course of action, but it was also one that would leave her exposed to withering broadsides from the enemy as she approached. Granted, that depended on how fast Sada Kurau’s foe could reload, and how accurately they could fire in the dead of night. But unarmoured as his ship was, Sjan-dehk didn’t want to take any chances. One lucky – or unlucky – salvo would be enough to put them out of action.

“Up,” he said, pulling the girl behind him as he climbed the steps to get onto the quarterdeck. “Helmsman, turn us three points to larboard,” he quickly ordered as he took position beside the wheel, looking out over the deck. “Swing us out of their arch-of-fire.”

“Aye, three points to larboard,” the helmsman replied. The tall, lanky man slowly turned the wheel, and the ship responded in kind, lurching over to the left.

“Not special,” Sjan-dehk said, finally responding to the girl. “Special is if we board. We are not. If only one ship, then yes. We can board. But two? Too…Too risky. We shoot from far. Use cannons. If at the end they still float, then we go across and see what they have. If not, then we let them sink–”

Another series of flashes interrupted him, and he flinched on instinct. Placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder, he was prepared to pull her down once more. But then he noticed their angle, and he relaxed slightly. Not a moment later, cannonballs shot past Sada Kurau’s starboard side, some coming worryingly close to her, and a few landing only glancing blows as they ricocheted off the hull. Still, the impact was enough to make the hull shudder, and Sjan-dehk kept a tight grip on the girl to keep her from falling over.

“Steady as she goes,” Sjan-dehk said quickly. The helmsman echoed the command and righted the wheel.

Grimacing, the Captain looked out towards the bow into the darkness. Luck alone had spared them from a second broadside, but he wasn’t too certain if it would save them from a third. If his enemy was smart, and they had a captain worth the title, they would be turning their ship to go broadside-to-broadside with Sada Kurau. With these winds, and Sada Kurau’s agility, Sjan-dehk doubted they would succeed, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t fire off perhaps one or two more salvos that could at least brush against his ship.

He chewed on his lip. He would need someone on deck to handle the wounded, specifically the ones who would suffer minor injuries. That would leave Dai-sehk able to focus on the more severe injuries. Casting a glance over at the girl, Sjan-dehk hesitated. Although he had already gathered that she was a magic-user seeking to flee Caesonia, he still had his doubts about her. Enough to make him wonder if he should bring Yasawen up on deck, where she might be able to catch him using his abilities.

Sjan-dehk shook his head. No, that didn’t matter. The safety of his crew, did. If it came to it, he would have to simply do something about the girl. And besides, he could always just keep her away from the boy while he went about his work. “Someone call Yasawen up on deck!”

Dahlia clung to the railing as the ship lurched again, her knuckles white against thewood. “So, not special,” she said, feigning a wounded tone despite the chaos. “I’ll try not to cry myself to sleep over that later.”

When Sjan-dehk yanked her up the steps behind him, she followed with an exaggerated sigh, her feet barely keeping pace. “You know, I’m starting to think you brought me along just for my charm.” She ducked instinctively as another volley of cannon fire roared through the night, her breath catching when the hull shuddered beneath them. “On second thought, maybe you just wanted a human shield.” As the captain barked more orders, Dahlia tilted her head, eyeing him warily. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but feel a grudging respect.

When he mentioned Yasawen, however, her smirk returned. “Calling for backup? Don’t tell me I’m too much for you to handle already, Captain.” Another explosion rattled the air, and she flinched, gripping the railing tighter. “Alright, I’ll admit it,” she muttered, mostly to herself. “This is a little more exciting than I signed up for…” Then she sighed and added louder, “How can I help?”

A scowl briefly flashed across Sjan-dehk’s face. The girl’s bravado – regardless of whether it was an act or real – was starting to become tiresome. “Nothing for now,” he said curtly, his eyes scanning the deck, then the darkness beyond Sada Kurau’s bowsprit, then the billowing sails overhead. He grimaced. Even though both wind and waves were in their favour, the strength of the former sat poorly with him. They were sailing towards shore. The same speed that would shorten the time Sada Kurau spent under the gun sights of her enemy was the same speed that could very well throw her against shallows.

“Take depth soundings from the bow!” He shouted. Again, the order was echoed across the deck. Not long after, two men made a mad dash towards Sada Kurau’s prow. “Report every five minutes! Helmsman and riggers, ready for rapid maneuvering!”

“Aye, Captain!” came the chorused response.

Sjan-dehk glanced at the girl from the corner of his eye. “We can do nothing for now,” he said calmly, even as his grimace deepened. The moments between coming under fire from an enemy and being able to pay them back in kind were always the most tense. One’s mind would be hard-pressed to not imagine all sorts of grisly scenarios. What if the enemy turned faster than expected, and fired a devastating salvo? Or what if Sada Kurau wasn’t getting into as good a position as intended? The possibilities were endless.

But Sjan-dehk’s veteran sensibilities put an end to them, nonetheless.

“For now we can only sail and wait,” he continued. In an effort to calm the girl, whom he imagined must be new to naval combat, he cleared his throat and swiftly added, “Sada Kurau knows what to do. With her, we will survive. We will win.”

Dahlia leaned on the rail, her smirk softening as she watched the crew hustle around her. “Sounds like Sada Karau’s been through this plenty of times, huh?”

Sjan-dehk nodded. “Yes. Many times.”

The rapid thumps of approaching boots caught Sjan-dehk’s attention. He looked over the girl’s shoulder, at the landing of the steps leading up to the quarterdeck, and saw Yasawen jogging towards them. The boy’s face was flushed with exertion, and his clothes in disarray. “Y-You called for me, Captain?” He asked even as he tried to catch his breath. Sjan-dehk could see that he was doing all he could to not fully double-over and brace his hands on his knees.

“Yes.” Sjan-dehk nodded, then tilted his chin towards the deck. “Station yourself amidships. Minor wounds and such will be yours to deal with. Major ones, you send below to Master Dai-sehk. Is that clear?”

Yasawen glanced nervously to his sides, his gaze turning curious when he saw the girl. His eyes lingered on her for a moment before returning to the Captain. “Yes– I mean, aye, Captain! Are they any…Um, any guidelines as to what’s major and what’s minor? I-I ask only to be sure, Captain.”

The brunette had watched Yasawen jog up with all the grace of a flustered deer, her lips twitching into a faint smirk. When his gaze landed on her, lingering for a moment too long, she gave him a wink.

Sjan-dehk raised a brow, amused. “Guidelines? In battle? You’ve plenty to learn, kid.” He shook his head, then gave Yasawen a shrug. “You’re the medical man between the two of us. I’ll leave deciding on what’s a major and minor wound up to you. Though if you want my advice, just handle what you can and give our Master Dai-sehk what you can’t. I just want my crew healthy and intact.”

Yasawen nodded. He drew in a deep breath and forced himself to stand upright, with back ramrod straight and eyes as steely as he could manage. Sjan-dehk didn’t have the heart to tell him that he looked comical rather than serious, even if he appreciated the effort. “A-Aye, Captain!”

“To your station, then,” Sjan-dehk said and quickly dismissed Yasawen. The less time he spent around the girl, the better.

The boy’s boots were still thumping down the steps when a call came from the ship’s bow. “Forty-nine feet and thereabouts to the bottom, Captain! Sand and reef!”

Sjan-dehk chewed on his lip as he did the numbers in his head. Forty-nine was cutting it close to comfort, but it was still good. Sada Kurau had roughly six feet of her hull underwater, and needed at least twice that number to account for swells or dips in the waves. Aside from Sada Kurau’s depth-under-keel, the call told him one other thing – roughly how much time had passed since the enemy engaged them. He peered into the darkness, and could only barely make out the tiny dots of flickering light that marked where the enemy crew had placed lanterns along their ship.

Bright flashes cut through the darkness, but they were far away enough that Sjan-dehk didn’t think them to be a danger. Not to Sada Kurau, at least – those flashes were likely the muzzle flashes of their opponent’s friend as they opened fire on Cynric’s Recompense. Now that, that worried Sjan-dehk. He didn’t know how strong his ally was, or how they would fare under fire or even in combat. He had to act fast.

“Gun deck, load shrapnel! Set time to fifteen!” He leaned almost half his body over the guardrail to bark his orders. “All sailing hands, swing us hard to starboard and bring us directly towards our opponent! I want us to get clear eyes on her arse before we open fire!”

Dahlia tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched Sjan-dehk’s focused expression. The way he stared into the darkness, the gears turning in his mind, practically radiated intensity.

“So, who’s attacking us?” she asked, her tone laced with teasing intrigue. “Pirates? Rivals? Or maybe an ex you just can’t quit? ”

Once again, Sjan-dehk didn’t reply immediately. He had far more important things occupying his mind. For a start, he needed to definitively locate Sada Kurau’s prey. All he had seen of her thus far were the flashes of her guns and the lanterns of her crew, and now even those meagre hints had been swallowed up by the darkness. Chewing on his lip, Sjan-dehk wracked his mind for his next few moves. Sada Kurau was sailing at speed – perhaps too much speed – towards her prey’s last known location. Without anything to tell him his foe’s heading and direction, it could very well be that Sada Kurau was going to find herself in a terrible position at the worst time possible.

“Pirates, I think,” Sjan-dehk replied curtly, and with only half-his-mind.

Dahlia let out an amused laugh, though her eyes scanned the darkness uneasily. “Pirates. Of course. You make it sound like this happens every Tuesday.” She squinted toward the disappearing lanterns, her head tilting in suspicion. “Wait, why’d the lights go out? Is that… bad? Like, really bad?”

He didn’t care about the lack of gun flashes. The enemy crew was likely still in the midst of reloading, and it would be a while before they were ready to fire again. But the disappearing lanterns were another matter entirely. Either they had been doused – in which case Sjan-dehk was facing a captain and crew who knew what they were about – or the ship had turned in a way that brought them out of sight. Sjan-dehk preferred it to be the former. Better for him to face a skilled foe, than a ship whose movements he couldn’t tell.

“Thirty-five feet to the bottom and thereabouts, Captain! Sand and reef!”

The call from the bow made her freeze, her brows shooting up as she instinctively grabbed the nearest railing for balance. The sudden flurry of activity on deck added to her unease. “Thirty-five? That’s close, isn’t it? Please tell me you know what you’re doing.”

Sjan-dehk swore beneath his breath. Sada Kurau was much too close to shore to be sailing at such high a speed. But neither could she slow down – that would be to surrender her one indisputable advantage, and in the face of an unseen enemy, no less. It was a decision between two equally bad choices. Sada Kurau could either maintain her speed and risk running aground, or ramming the enemy, or she could slow down, and instead risk being caught by the enemy.

Then, he saw it.

It was nothing more than a vague outline, and moonlight reflecting off oddly-shaped waves, but they were enough to catch his eyes. “Starboard battery, target will be approaching from the bow!” Sjan-dehk shouted and, grabbing the girl by the arm to pull her behind him, rushed for the stairs. He descended it quickly, and reached the starboard bulwark just in time to see a sheer cliff of wood and glass appear from the darkness like a ghost. “We have her by the stern! All guns, fire as you bear!”

When Sjan-dehk grabbed her arm and rushed her to the starboard side, Dahlia mock-complained, “Careful, Captain. You’ll bruise my pretty skin.” But her teasing faltered when the enemy ship emerged from the darkness like a ghostly giant. Her breath hitched, and her smirk vanished. “Well. That’s… terrifying.”

“Aye, starboard battery, fire as we bear!” The muffled shout came from beneath his feet.

It would only take a few seconds for Sada Kurau to get into position, but it may as well have been several eternities. Sjan-dehk kept his eye on the enemy ship as they drew closer and closer. It didn’t look as if she was moving, and it didn’t take long for him to figure out why. Her sails, dark grey and almost invisible in the darkness, were limp, and fluttered weakly against the oncoming wind. More likely than not, she had tried to turn to meet Sada Kurau, but her crew couldn’t tack her sails fast enough to keep them billowing. It was terrible luck on their part, but that was the nature of battle. Fortune often played a larger role than tactics.

“Cover ears,” Sjan-dehk said to the girl. Not a moment later, the first of Sada Kurau’s guns opened fire.

So close were they to the enemy that Sjan-dehk could easily hear the shattering of glass, the splintering of wood, and the panicked yells of the crew as Sada Kurau raked their ship. And had it just been solid shot, it would have been bad enough, but Sada Kurau was using her shrapnel shells. Designed for clearing decks and bombarding shores, they could be timed to explode after a certain distance, showering anyone unlucky enough to be in the vicinity with metal shards and rifle balls.

Glass and thin wood, such as the sort which covered most ship’s sterns, weren’t sturdy enough to shatter such shells. And so, Sada Kurau’s salvo easily sailed into the innards of her foe before they exploded, one at a time. Sjan-dehk didn’t even want to imagine the carnage that was unfolding within. He caught sight of a flash of orange as Sada Kurau’s final guns savaged the enemy. A fire, either from a fallen lantern, or just the sheer devastation, had likely broken out. Sjan-dehk wasn’t too keen on staying long enough to find out which it was.

“Fucking well done!” He shouted over his shoulder. “Now bring us hard to star–”

“Captain!” A frantic shout came from the quarterdeck, behind him. “Ship approaching from larboard!”

“Fuck,” Sjan-dehk spat. Taking the girl by her arm, he swiftly crossed the deck to the other side. And sure enough, there in the distance was another ship, white surf surrounding her bow, and bright – brighter than those of Sada Kurau’s earlier prey – lamps illuminating her prow. There was no telling what she was, but if her billowing sails and apparent haste was anything to go by, she was probably in league with the enemy.

“Where did she come from?” Another shout from the quarterdeck.

“She must’ve lagged behind!” Sjan-dehk answered. “But don’t worry about that! Proceed with orders! Bring us hard to starboard and get us around the ship we just wrecked! We’ll use her as cover!” Even as he said those words, he knew that it wasn’t the best idea. This new enemy simply had to make a turn to starboard, and they would be able to fire a broadside into Sada Kurau’s stern. But there wasn’t any choice. Sjan-dehk didn’t know how close they were to shore, and to make a turn to larboard to meet this new enemy – even if it was a sharp one – would take too much time and distance.

“Twenty-two feet under keel and thereabouts, Captain! Sand, reef, and rock!”

“Hard to starboard, now!” Sjan-dehk barked. “Tack all sails if you have to! Otherwise we’ll run aground!”

The yardarms swung wildly overhead, their sails straining to catch the wind from a different direction. Sada Kurau lurched hard as it turned. Sjan-dehk moved about the deck to keep his eye on the newcomer. Much to his displeasure, she was also turning as expected, to catch Sada Kurau in her stern. But she was a lot slower, and was much more cumbersome in her turn. With some luck, Sada Kurau would circle around the now-burning wreck of her prey, and meet her new victim broadside-to-broadside.

“Wait!” It was Yasawen. “I can help!”

Sjan-dehk snapped his head around, just in time to see the boy rush towards the bulwark. Fain wisps, like a leafy green mist, swirled up his arms, intertwining and splitting as they tickled his tanned flesh. “Fucking idiot!” Sjan-dehk shouted, for the moment forgetting the girl. He raced towards Yasawen. “Don’t just stand there!” His words were rushed, and his crew didn’t seem to catch them at all, entranced as they were with the display of arcane power. “Someone stop him!”

Yasawen’s mouth moved, but Sjan-dehk couldn’t hear his words over the din of battle. The swirling wisps quickened, coalescing into something closer to smoke. More and more green trails rose from between the deck’s planks. They crawled out of the water like snakes and buzzed around Yasawen’s hands, eager and ready to be used according to his will. “Don’t you dare!” Sjan-dehk yelled, still pushing his way towards the boy. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

Then, everything happened at once. Yasawen abruptly stopped murmuring. He swung his wisp-shrouded arm upwards in a sharp, almost violent, motion. In an instant, the green smoke burst from him, cutting faint lines through the air as they hurriedly dove into the sea.

Sjan-dehk finally reached him. He tackled the boy.

But it was too late.

The sea lurched and churned, as if a great creature was just lurking beneath. Then, right when Sjan-dehk sent Yasawen crashing painfully onto the deck, it stopped. Grunting, Sjan-dehk pulled himself up, peering over the gunwale. White crests, a sure sign of agitated waters, surrounded Sada Kurau, but they seemed to be calming. Not too far off in the distance, the enemy ship continued to approach, its wake clear even in the dark of night, the ruffling of its sails loud.

Then, something shot out of the sea. It was far too dark, and it moved too quickly for Sjan-dehk to catch it, but whatever it was, it speared the enemy ship from keel to deck. So violent was its impact that the entire vessel almost heeled over. A few moments later, the object fell from the sky, landing not too far away from Sada Kurau. Sjan-dehk looked in the direction of its landing and managed to just catch sight of the boulder before it sank beneath the waves.

“Yasawen!” He shouted, but the boy didn’t respond. Sjan-dehk was about to check on him, but the sight of the enemy ship stopped him. Flickers of orange burned on her deck, and wicked tongues of flame shot out of her gunports. Her bow dipped low in the water, but still she continued to press onwards. But she barely managed a few yards before the flames became too much for her to bear. Her magazines detonated, and she exploded into a shower of embers and debris.

“Get us out of here!” Sjan-dehk shouted. Splinters rained from above, most of them splashing into the sea, but a few falling close enough to make him worried. As the ship lurched and continued to turn away from the burning hulk of the enemy, Sjan-dehk kneeled and grabbed the boy by the collar. “You idiot,” he growled.

Yasawen blinked. A sickly pallour coloured his cheeks. “I-I helped–”

“We could’ve handled it!” Sjan-dehk shouted. His eyes fell to the boy’s arm, the one which he had used to channel his power. Yasawen’s entire forearm was sand. Not covered in it, but made of it. Some of it was in the midst of hardening to stone, while other parts fell away in clumps. That wasn’t too worrying, however; as each falling clump left behind a gouging hole, more sand rose to retain the shape of Yasawen’s arm.

“Not only did you damn near turn yourself into a fucking sand sculpture,” Sjan-dehk continued. “But you’ve also given yourself away!”

“B-But there’s only our people-” Yasawen whimpered.

Sjan-dehk turned him towards the girl and pointed at her. “She’s not! Congratulations, you just made sure that we have to do something about her, now.”

As Sjan-dehk barked for the guns to fire, Dahlia winced at the deafening blasts, instinctively covering her ears despite his earlier warning. Her eyes widened at the splintering wood and flashes of orange erupting from the enemy ship. Her balance faltered as Sjan-dehk dragged her across the deck again, her voice rising in alarm. “Wait, there’s another one? How many of these guys are out here?” Her unease turned to outright shock when Yasawen’s magic came into play. Dahlia froze, her jaw dropping as the green mist swirled and the sea erupted beneath the enemy ship.

Her eyes darted between Sjan-dehk, Yasawen, and the unfolding chaos. She watched, wide-eyed, as the ship was hit by something she couldn’t quite make out with her eyes, her voice trembling as she muttered, “That’s… definitely not in any naval manual I’ve ever heard of.” The fiery explosion that followed made her flinch, shielding her face from the heat and falling debris. “And here I thought the cannons were overkill...”

When Sjan-dehk tackled Yasawen and began berating him, Dahlia’s smirk faltered. Her gaze flicked nervously between the two, her tone cautious but questioning. “Whoa, hold on. You’re mad because he used magic? I mean, sure, it was… dramatic, but it worked, right? I don’t see the problem.”

Her expression froze when Sjan-dehk pointed at her, the gravity of his words sinking in. She took a deliberate step back, her hands half-raised in defense. “Wait, wait, hold on squared! I don’t care if he’s throwing fireballs or summoning sea monsters. What do you mean you have to do something about me?” Her voice pitched higher, tinged with nervous energy, and her earlier bravado cracked further.

She frowned, her shoulders tensing as she motioned vaguely to the wreckage and chaos around her. “Look, I didn’t sign up to be a loose end or whatever you’re thinking. I just wanted a ride out of Sorian, not… whatever this is.”

“Liar.” Inshahri’s sing-song voice came out of nowhere, and the girl followed soon after, a carefree, cheeky grin gracing her lips. She moved as she always did, with a spring in her light, swaying steps, as she made her way towards the girl. “Liar,” she repeated and giggled. In the aftermath all that had just happened, and in the midst of a battle, everything about Inshahri’s mannerisms struck Sjan-dehk as odd. But still, he held himself back and allowed her to do whatever it was that she wanted to do.

“Excuse me?” she retorted, her tone sharp and defensive.

“Your magic isn’t yours,” Inshahri said, her smile never wavering. She cocked her head. “It looked strange to me earlier, but I couldn’t tell why. Now I can. You and that magic around you, your melodies are so very, very different! Not like Yasawen and his, or me and mine.” She buzzed around the girl like a bee around a flower, looking at her from every angle. “Someone gave you that magic, didn’t they? Or they did something to you. Or maybe you stole it from them?”

Dahlia’s mouth opened in disbelief. “What? No. No way. You’ve got the wrong girl,” she said quickly, her hands waving as if to push the claim away. Dahlia’s face drained of color. “What are you even talking about?” she asked again, this time quieter, almost to herself. She took another step back, her eyes darting to Sjan-dehk for some kind of explanation or reprieve. “Captain? She’s not serious, right? I don’t have magic. I’ve never done magic. This is—this is ridiculous!”

Sjan-dehk’s suspicions began to return. It did feel like too much of a coincidence – not only was this girl a magic-user, but they also seemed to understand Common Viserjantan. How many such people were there in Sorian? “That is true?” He asked, eyes narrowing. “You were…Given this magic?”

“No! I don’t know what she’s talking about!” she protested, shaking her head.. A faint memory flickered in the back of her mind, too blurry to grasp, like a half-forgotten dream she couldn’t quite piece together. “I mean… not that I know of? What does that even mean?”

She turned to Inshahri, her voice rising. “If someone did something to me, I’d know, wouldn’t I? I’d feel it or… or remember it, right?” Her tone softened into something closer to desperation. “This has to be a mistake.”

But the certainty in Inshahri’s words and Sjan-dehk’s suspicious gaze pressed on her like a weight. Dahlia’s breath quickened, her earlier nonchalance now completely replaced by fear. “I swear, I don’t know anything about magic. Whatever this is, it’s not me. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t do this.”

And then it hit her.

A memory, faint but insistent, surfaced in her mind—Seraphina speaking in hushed tones with another person. Words she hadn’t understood. A strange, fleeting warmth that had passed through her body, was dismissed at the time as nothing more than nerves or fatigue. Dahlia’s heart sank. She must’ve had someone cast spells on me, she thought to herself. What was she thinking? Why would she do that?

Sjan-dehk watched the girl’s expression change with a cold, hard look on his face. He had been taken for a fool, although he had to admit that he hadn’t exactly made that a difficult task. He had been too quick to trust the girl’s story; too quick to extend his sympathies to someone who didn’t deserve them. “So, you are lying, yes?” He asked, voice empty of emotion. “You are not…You do not have magic. Someone gave it to you, and send you here to do something.”

He asked no questions. The girl wasn’t going to answer them, more likely than not. Sjan-dehk looked out into the darkness, at the burning flotsam in the water, at the wrecks Sada Kurau had left in her wake. They were done here, it seemed. He couldn’t hear any firing in the distance, and so he assumed that Cynric had also made short work of his target. “Let’s get out of here,” Sjan-dehk called out. “Turn us around and bring us back to port. And someone get Mursi and Kai-dahn up here. We’ve got ourselves a spy to wrangle.”

“W-What’re you going to do to her?” Yasawen asked in a small voice.

Sjan-dehk shrugged. “Regulations say I should shoot her and throw her body overboard, or something like that, but…” He trailed off and fixed the girl with a scrying glare. “No telling what magic she’s got. Could be one that blows her up once she’s dead. I’m not going to take any chances.” He looked at Yasawen, then at Inshahri. “Don’t suppose either of you know anyone that can…I don’t know, remove that magic from her?”

Yasawen shook his head, but Inshahri nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes!” She chirped. “Mistress Kadahya should be able to do something about it! She’s the chief counter-arcane specialist on Sudah, you know? She can even tell you what magic’s in the girl, I bet!”

“Can she? I'll have to keep that in mind,” Sjan-dehk said with a mirthless chuckle.

Then, he walked back towards the girl, looking down at her with arms folded across his chest. Experience told him to just torture the information out of her. Whoever that had sent her had likely done so without any good intent, and who knew how much time he had before they did something more drastic? But Sjan-dehk couldn’t bring himself to give the order. The girl looked young. Far too young to be caught up in something like this. He could see her being a petty criminal, but a spy? That was a little far-fetched. Perhaps she had been telling some modicum of truth, when she said that she wanted no part in this.

“You…” He began, but then cut himself short. “Fuck it, you clearly understand what we’re saying. Anyway, congratulations. I’m not going to kill you, but I can’t let you leave Sada Kurau, either. Not until I’m sure that you won’t go reporting whatever it is you found out to your master, and I’m sure that’s going to take a very, very long time. Welcome to the crew.”

He shook his head. This wasn’t an ideal solution, and he knew it. But it was the best he could manage, for now. “First things first, I’m getting Mistress Kadahya to look you over as soon as she has time. I want that magic out of you. Two arcanists on my ship-”

“There’ll be more!” Inshahri piped up. Sjan-dehk glanced at her and sighed.

“A handful of arcanists on my ship is already more than what I can handle,” he said. “I don’t need another one to give me worry.”

Dahlia’s breath hitched as Sjan-dehk’s words sank in. Her eyes widened, and she took a sharp step back, her voice rising. “You can’t just keep me hostage! That’s not how this works!” Her words tumbled out in a frantic rush, her earlier bravado completely shattered. “I haven’t done anything to you! I didn’t hurt anyone! You can’t just decide I’m part of your crew like that!”

Sjan-dehk blinked once. “Actually, I can,” he said simply. “You snuck onboard Sada Kurau. You came here with bad intentions, and really, there’s nowhere for you to go. And besides, I’m Captain. I have the right to press people into service if I need to.”

She took a step back, her fists bawled, “This—this isn’t even my fight! I didn’t ask for any of this! I’m just trying to survive, okay? You can’t—” Her voice cracked, and she clamped her mouth shut for a moment.

When she spoke again, her tone was quieter but tinged with desperation. “Look, I’ll tell you what you want to know. I’ll cooperate. But you have to let me go when we get to port. You can’t keep me here forever.” Her gaze darted to Yasawen and Inshahri, searching for even a shred of sympathy, before returning to Sjan-dehk. “Please. I’m not a threat to you. Just let me go when we dock, and I swear you’ll never see me again.”
The two arcanists looked at each other. Then, they looked at Sjan-dehk.

She paused, her hands trembling at her sides, then added with a bitter edge, “I’ll even tell you about the bitch who sent me. She’s the real danger here, not me.”

Sjan-dehk nodded. “I appreciate that,” he began, and then sighed. “But that’s not the point. What concerns me is that you will tell her. I don’t have any guarantee that you won’t tell her…Whatever it is that you were sent to find. I’m not taking any chances. And besides, we’re going to get that magic out of you. If anything, you should be thanking us.”

He shook his head. “But at the end of it, you’re not going ashore when we return, and after all this, I’m not going to moor Sada Kurau at the docks, anyway.”[/color] Although he hadn’t any intention to reassure the girl, he still nevertheless added, “Don’t worry. You’re not stuck here forever. We’ll have to go home someday, and when that day comes, you’ll certainly be released. It’ll be an earlier release if you can somehow convince us that you’re not going to go running back to your mistress, however. Though I’ll be fair and tell you right now that as far as we’re concerned, you’re a liar. Your words’ not worth the air you use for them.”[/color]

Dahlia tapped her foot. If she didn’t get off this ship, they’d certainly kill her parents. She’d have to play ball.. “Let’s be real for a second—keeping me here? That’s not going to stop these people. If anything, it’s just going to make them come after you harder. And me? I’m your only shot at staying ahead.”

She paused, then tilted her head with a sweet but condescending smile. “Unless you think you’ve got it all figured out. Maybe you like surprises, like waking up to your ship under siege. But me? I’d rather avoid that. I’m offering you a heads-up—a chance to know what she’s planning before she makes her next move. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Sjan-dehk arched his brow at the thought of Sada Kurau coming under attack. He resisted the urge to grin or smirk, and instead kept his expression neutral as the girl continued.

Dahlia threw her hands out in mock surrender. “But sure, go ahead. Keep me here, make me part of your crew or whatever. That’ll definitely end well. Because, you know, nothing screams ‘smart captain’ like forcing the one person who knows your enemy’s next move to swab decks instead of helping you avoid getting ambushed.” She let her words hang, then raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to argue.

She took a step closer. “Look, Captain, I’m trying to help you. You let me go when we hit port, and I’ll give you everything you need—names, plans, weaknesses. You’ll be ready, and I’ll be out of your hair. And look, I won’t tell them anything, I swear. They have my parents hostage so why would I care about helping them? I honestly just want to help my parents. It’s a win-win no matter how you look at it..”

She arched an eyebrow, her smirk returning. “Or you can keep me here and hope for the best. Your call, Captain.”

“Are you done?” Sjan-dehk asked. He didn’t wait for her to reply before going on. “Firstly, I appreciate your concern for Sada Kurau, but it’s unnecessary. She, us, we’re all veterans. Between us, we’ve fought more battles than anyone can count, and we’re still mostly alive. So if your masters and mistresses believe they can beat us in a fight, they’re more than welcome to try. I’ll personally invite them, even.”

He took a step back and finally allowed his grin to show. “And even if they win, and they slaughter me, and everyone aboard, and they burn Sada Kurau, it’ll be a hollow victory. The Commonwealth will take it as an act of war, and they will surely return to your lands with fleets and armies and plenty of devastation.”

Despite the weight of his words, he said them lightly. It was hard not to – the past five years had made war an almost normal activity. Part of him worried over that. Another part of him reminded him that the war was over, and that he shouldn’t be throwing that threat around lightly, even if he knew that the Commonwealth wasn’t the sort to turn the other cheek when slighted. He breathed out slowly through his nose.

“But I suppose you’re doing this for your parents, and that’s itself admirable,” he said. If his parents, or any of his siblings were taken captive, he doubted there were any lines he wouldn’t cross to rescue them. “So I think we can compromise. I’ll let you off on shore. You can return to your mistress, and you can find out for me why they sent you in the first place. That’s all I want to know.” He paused, letting his words hang in the air for a moment before giving the price for his offer. “But you must do two things. First, when you return to Sada Kurau, we will have your magic removed. And two, you’ll stay with us for a few days. Just to be safe, and just a little more incentive for you to not tell them anything that brings harm to us.”

Dahlia exhaled slowly. “Alright, Captain. You’ve made your point. I’ll take the deal. You let me off when the time comes, and I’ll get you the answers you want. No games.”

She straightened up slightly, “And for what it’s worth, I get it. You’ve got a ship to protect, a crew to think about. I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here. But this? It works for both of us.”
In 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 2 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

Kalliope & Sjan-dehk
Part 4

Date: Sola 27th
Time: Early Morning
Location: Small Inn

Kalliope stirred as the first light of morning filtered into the room, the warmth of the bed and the weight of exhaustion keeping her in a hazy, dreamlike state. Her body felt heavy, her muscles achingly relaxed in a way that seemed unfamiliar. Slowly, her senses began to return. First, the scent of salt and something earthy, comforting and faintly familiar. Then, the steady rhythm of a heartbeat beneath her ear. The rise and fall of a chest.

She froze.

Her mind, still sluggish from sleep, struggled to piece together what was happening. She blinked up at the ceiling, her thoughts sluggishly fumbling over why it felt closer than it should have. And then it hit her. Her cheek was resting against someone’s bare chest — firm, warm, and undeniably alive.

Her breath caught, and her heart seemed to stop altogether as the weight of realization began to creep in. Slowly, tentatively, she shifted her head ever so slightly, her eyes trailing upward to find a face. Sjan-dehk. He was there, his features softened in sleep. His lips parted slightly as he exhaled a slow, steady breath, utterly peaceful in a way that struck her like a lightning bolt.

Panic seized her.

A rush of heat flooded her cheeks as her body stiffened. That’s when she realized…her skin. Her bare skin. The blanket was draped over her, but beneath it, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Her hands clutched at the fabric instinctively, pulling it tighter around herself as a flood of half-formed memories and blurred sensations assaulted her. She couldn’t make sense of them. There was too much, and yet not enough.

She sat there for a long moment, her chest tight and her pulse racing as she tried to catch her breath. Her mind scrambled for answers, replaying the events of the previous night in her head, but they felt slippery, disjointed. There were gaps, and the more she searched for them, the harder they were to grasp. She couldn't really remember anything beyond sitting down to look over the letter.

“Sjan-dehk,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she gave his chest the smallest of nudges. When he didn’t stir, she tried again, this time with a bit more urgency. “Sjan-dehk!” She was sitting up now, staring down at him as she held the blanket to her chest.

The peaceful, dreamless sleep should have been his first clue that something was wrong.

For sleep didn’t come easily to Sjan-dehk. Not in recent days, in any case, and certainly not this kind of serene, untroubled sleep. Most of his nights since coming to Sorian had been plagued by dreams, or nightmares, or something else entirely. He didn’t quite know what to call them. Only when he was well-and-properly fatigued did his mind spare him of that mysterious lady, of those terrible scenes, of painful memories he would rather forget.

And as far as he could recall, last night hadn’t tired him to that point. It had been exciting, surely, but it didn’t exactly take much out of him.

Kalliope’s urgent call pulled him from his rest. Sjan-dehk’s eyes shot open, and he quickly sat up, the sudden move almost throwing the covers off of his body. The first thing he noticed – even before his vision cleared – was the cooling draft washing over his skin. That was strange; he didn’t recall taking off his clothes. “What happened?” he asked, his voice hoarse and groggy. “Did we fall asleep?” With a few rapid blinks, he cleared the sleep from his eyes.

Then, he felt his heart stop.

Sitting right beside him, and with only the covers protecting her modesty, was Kalliope. “S-Sorry!” He blurted out, immediately turning his head away. From what he felt upon his body, he knew that he too was utterly naked, but that fact only floated on the surface of his strangely lethargic mind. He tried to think, but his thoughts crawled like torpid snails into his head. And when they arrived, they were in a tangled mess, each with no clear start, no clear end, and splitting into their own threads and melding with each other.

He drew in a deep breath.

The last thing he could remember of last night was reading the letter with Kalliope. Everything after that, however, wasn’t just a blur. It was completely missing. There was a gaping hole in his memory, and the more he tried to piece things together, the more confused and worried he became. But one thing was for certain. Kalliope and he had done something, and based on what he had awoken to, it wasn’t difficult for him to figure out just what that something was.

“Fuck,” he said in a quiet voice. Turning back to face Kalliope, he looked at her with a face that made his worry, his unease, and his haunted realisation all too clear. “Fuck. What did I fucking do to you?”

Kalliope stared at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly as her mind spiraled further and further out of control. His reaction – the panic in his voice, the guilt etched across his face – wasn’t helping her own. If anything, it made the situation even more real.

“Fuck,” she repeated, her voice quiet but laced with disbelief and growing terror. The word sat heavy in the air, the irony of it hitting her like a slap. Her gaze dropped to the rumpled blanket that clung to her chest, and her lips parted as the weight of what they must have done settled over her. She didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or scream…so she let out a small, bitter laugh.

“That’s exactly what it looks like we did, isn’t it?” she said, her tone biting with a mix of sarcasm and disbelief as she pressed a trembling hand to her temple. “Fuck.” It came out much more harsh than she intended and she realized she needed to calm herself down some as she took a deep breath.

“Okay,” she began, trying to work through things. “Here's what I remember. We entered the room, I began trying to work out the letter, but it made no sense. I remember feeling frustrated and also drinking–” she froze as her eyes went wide. “The tea…” She whispered in horror, but then she turned to Sjan-dehk. “Do you remember any more than that? You drank the tea too, yes?” There was a frantic quality to her voice as she slowly began to realize that they may have been drugged, but she needed to confirm what Sjan-dehk remembered.

The tea!

That got Sjan-dehk’s mind back on track. He thought back to the previous night, to the strange taste of the tea, and how Kalliope couldn’t seem to identify it. Now that he placed every event, every word said back then under scrutiny, he began to make out a picture. All had been normal up until the point when she drank from her cup. Sjan-dehk had thought that she had been merely teasing him, but the way her words came out had sounded a little different from her usual, playful tone.

“Yes, I did,” he said in a murmur, then shook his head and, in a louder voice, continued, “I remember that you drank it first, and you said something about…” He trailed off, familiar awkwardness returning to him. He wasn’t quite sure if he missed it. “About the kiss in the estate. Then I drank, and after that I can’t remember a damn thing. I just remember feeling…I don’t know, carefree? Or drunk.”

He looked past Kalliope and at the cups. They were still where they had been left. “You think maybe someone laced it?” He asked, even though he felt quite certain he already knew the answer. A quick glance at the table all but confirmed it for him. “The letter,” he breathed. “It’s gone!”

“Shit!” Kalliope’s voice cracked like a whip as Sjan-dehk’s words reached her. All sense of modesty vanished as she flung the covers off herself and spun to the edge of the bed. The cool air hit her bare skin, but she didn’t care. Her mind was too preoccupied, too focused on the implications of the missing letter to care about her state of undress.

“Cover yourself!” Sjan-dehk shouted out, and immediately looked away again, this time holding up a hand in front of his eyes to make sure he didn’t see anything he shouldn’t. Moving blindly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, taking the sheets with him. By sheer luck, he found his trousers on the floor and hurriedly tugged them on before following behind Kalliope, his eyes averted and aimed at the ceiling, the walls, and at anything other than her.

She spotted her undergarments crumpled on the floor nearby and scrambled to retrieve them, her back to Sjan-dehk as she quickly began to pull them on. Her movements were frantic, almost desperate, her fingers fumbling over the fabric. If Sjan-dehk looked at her back – and it would have been hard not to, given her sudden urgency – he would have seen the scars that marred her skin. They were pale, jagged streaks, unmistakable remnants of violent lashings. Anyone with experience in the horrors of such punishments would recognize them for what they were: the brutal, lasting marks of a whip. And there were so many of them. It was as if her entire back had once been a canvas for someone’s cruelty.

But Kalliope didn’t give him time to process what he saw. She hurried to the table, her bare feet padding softly against the wooden floor as her eyes darted across the room, searching for the letter. “It has to be here somewhere,” she muttered, half to herself, half to him. She dropped to her knees, peering under the table, her heart racing with dread. “It could’ve fallen, or–”

Her words stopped abruptly as her gaze fell upon the chair near the table. There, sitting almost mockingly, was something so horrifying it turned her blood to ice. The innkeeper, Elyna’s head, sat perched on the chair, her expression frozen in a grotesque mask of fear. Her lifeless eyes stared blankly ahead, and clutched between her lips was what appeared to be a rolled-up piece of paper.

Kalliope’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she couldn’t make a sound. Her stomach churned violently, threatening to empty its contents as the sight fully registered. Then, finally, a scream tore from her throat, raw and filled with utter terror. She stumbled back, tripping over her own feet as she fell to the ground. Her palms scraped against the floor as she scrambled away from the chair, her body trembling violently.

“Elyna!” she cried, her voice breaking as she pressed herself against the far wall, as far from the chair as she could manage. Her emerald eyes darted wildly to Sjan-dehk, wide with fear and horror. “She’s—she’s—her head—Sjan-dehk!” Her words tumbled out in a frantic rush, her hands pressing against her mouth to stifle another scream as she shut her eyes tightly, trying to get ahold of herself. Trying to convince herself that her friend's head wasn't sitting on that chair.

Sjan-dehk’s jaw set when he saw the innkeeper’s head. All of his earlier confusion and awkwardness disappeared in an instant. Whoever it was that had drugged them had not only caused both him and Kalliope great trouble, but they had also seen fit to murder an innocent innkeeper who had made the mistake of providing a room to the two of them. And all for what? A letter? Some foul business? That very thought made him sick.

He placed a hand on Kalliope’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Then, he carefully draped the sheets around her. “I’ll handle this,” he said quietly before walking over to the severed head.

In all honesty, he didn’t know how he was going to handle this. Dai-sehk was the better man for such a situation; that man would have identified the type of weapon used, which hand the killer used, and also what time the innkeeper had met her untimely demise, all within the time it took for Sjan-dehk to simply get his bearings. But the surgeon wasn’t here.

Sjan-dehk sighed and knelt before the head. The look of fright told him that the innkeeper likely had to see her killer, and their intent. Was it someone she had known? It seemed unlikely – someone like that could have simply taken her by surprise. No, this was a stranger. Next, Sjan-dehk looked at the neck. The cut was mostly clean, with very few jagged edges and hanging flesh. Whatever blade had been used, it had been a remarkably sharp one, and wielded by an experienced knifeman. And they had to have taken their time. That meant that the innkeeper had to have been killed before she was decapitated. And that, in turn, told Sjan-dehk that the killer wasn’t just a simple madman. All this had been done with a purpose in mind. But what?

He paused and blinked. It hadn’t occurred to him until now, but he could still remember a time when a sight as grisly as this would turn his stomach. When did that stop happening? He knew the reason why, though; he had seen many, many atrocities of every type during the war. After a while, his eyes simply stopped seeing them as anything out-of-the-ordinary. After a while, his mind didn’t even think of them as anything outrageous, but rather, something that had to be investigated.

“Fair seas; black sands; tall mountains; shadowed trees; long rivers, may you find where you will be at peace,” he muttered beneath his breath, then closed his eyes for a moment. Maybe he could – no, maybe he should remember what it was like to be affected by such crimes.

Carefully, he took the rolled-up paper between his thumb and index finger, and slowly pulled it free of the dead woman’s teeth. It was mostly dry, and unfolded easily enough. He read it quickly once, then again, and only after that did he start reading. “To the Captain and the…The pretender. You…You’re not as clever as you think. She trusted you. She gave you a place to rest. And now her bl- her blood is on your hands.”

He glanced at the head. “What a load of fucking gullshit,” he remarked. Then, he continued.

“This is only the begi- the beginning. You can try to run. But there is no…escape. You both have your secrets. Your sins. Your scars. Things you th- thought were buried. I…I know them all. I see you for what you truly are.” Despite the gravity and grimness of the situation, it took all of Sjan-dehk’s control to not burst out in a derisive laugh. He had only been in Sorian for roughly a week. What secrets did this person know of him?

His face hardened at the next line, however. “Sailor, your crew will be next if you’re not careful.”

“It’s Captain,” he muttered. “And what a fucking idiot. If they wanted to go after my crew, they should just do it. Now that we’ve got warning, we’ll know what to do. Bloody fucking amateurs.”

“As for the girl, do you really think the world has forgotten your crimes?” Sjan-dehk glanced over the paper’s edge at Kalliope. “Maybe I- I’ll finish what the whip started.” He drew in a deep breath, but he found it difficult to calm himself. He had seen the scars on Kalliope’s back, and he had guessed that they were whipping scars. But to see it confirmed like this just made his blood boil. He crumpled the paper and tossed it aside as if it were poison.

“They signed off with ‘B.R.’, and said something about last night,” he summarised. “So whoever did this-” he gestured to the head and shook his own “-stuck around for whatever fucking reason.”

He squatted in front of Kalliope, placing both hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry for all this,” he said quietly. “Maybe we should’ve gone to Sada Kurau after all. But I promise you, whoever it was that did this shite’s going to get what’s coming. They can threaten all they want and try to sound mysterious all they want, but Sada Kurau’s fought tougher foes before. It’s them who should be scared.”

She stayed slumped against the wall, her breaths coming shallow and uneven as Sjan-dehk read the note aloud. Every word sank deeper into her chest, coiling like a viper around her ribs and sinking it's venomous bite in deeper with each sentence. She didn’t flinch when he crouched in front of her, his hands firm and steady on her shoulders. The steadiness was a mockery to her chaos, and for a brief moment, she hated him for it. Hated that he could be calm while her insides were tearing themselves apart.

“This…” Her voice came out a cracked whisper, but the anger surged too hot to stay contained. “This is my fault. All of it. Elyna’s death. The tea. The letter. Whatever happened between us last night.” Her teeth clenched as her emerald gaze darted away from him, shame flickering in their depths. “If I hadn’t…if I hadn’t teased you, pushed you, thrown myself at you like some desperate, stupid girl–”

Her nails dug into her arms, tearing into the already tender flesh she’d been clawing at moments before. Blood beaded and ran down in slow rivulets, but she didn’t care. The pain was grounding, but not enough to stop the torrent of self-loathing spilling from her lips.

Sjan-dehk listened to her, and though he shook his head, he said nothing for now. He had an inkling as to what was coming. It was something he had gone through several times before. Both as the one listening, and the one spiralling into despair. As much as he wanted to comfort her now, he knew that now was the time to allow her to speak. To allow her to release as much of the pressure building up in her heart and mind as possible.

“I’m an idiot,” she spat, her voice sharp and filled with venom, directed entirely at herself. “I thought flirting and games were harmless. But no. No, because here we are. Drugged. In a bed we never should’ve been in together. And you–” Her voice cracked, and her fingers curled tighter against her bloodied arms. “You looked like you hated that you found yourself here, rightfully so. And now you’re stuck in this mess because of me.”

Her head fell back against the wall, her eyes squeezed shut, and her jaw tightened as if she were physically holding herself together. The weight of his steady presence was unbearable. She felt like she didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve his patience or his understanding. He shouldn’t be here. He should be with his crew, his ship, his life – not cleaning up the wreckage of hers.

“Maybe if I’d just stayed out of your life entirely, none of this would’ve happened,” she muttered bitterly, her voice soft but trembling with the sharp edges of her emotions. “Maybe if I hadn’t teased, or flirted, or—fuck—been alive, you wouldn’t be in danger now. Your crew wouldn’t be in danger. Elyna would still be alive. And last night wouldn’t be some…some nightmare we have to drag around with us.”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, the storm of guilt and anger building and crashing inside her, but she forced her eyes open, fixing Sjan-dehk with a look that was both desperate and resolute. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her nails unclenching from her arms. The blood-streaked trails on her skin stung, but they were nothing compared to the ache of the weight crushing her chest.

“You shouldn’t be here, Sjan-dehk,” she said, her voice steadying as a cold, bitter resolve set in. “This isn’t your fight. You shouldn't have to deal with this. And if they want me, then they can fucking come for me.”

Her lips curled into a bitter, humorless smile. “Maybe they’ll succeed where others failed. Maybe they’ll finally finish what I couldn’t do myself, no matter how hard I tried.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of a dark history she refused to explain. Her jaw tightened, her knuckles white as her fists curled at her sides. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t break. She would not yield.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Sjan-dehk repeated with a nod. “You’re right there. As far as how things should be, I should be home in Iwa-Jafi, sitting in harbour and waiting for my next assignment. I shouldn’t be on the other side of the world, in a strange city and surrounded by strange things. If you’d asked me a week ago about how I think things should be, I’d tell you that I should be doing what I swore to do, and be patrolling Viserjantan seas for pirates. That, or doing whatever nonsense the navy wants me to do. Maybe I’d just be standing on Sada Kurau and staring into nothing all day. Who knows?”

Before she could say anything, he placed his hands on her shoulders once more. Determination was in his eyes when he looked at her. “But now that I’m here, I can’t say I regret a single thing. Aye, I’ve likely gotten into more trouble than I should’ve, but that’s nothing new for me. Trouble’s always close behind me, wherever I go.” He placed his hands on hers, and carefully brought them to the floor. His touch was gentle, and his expression soft, as he picked up his sash and used it to wipe the blood off of her arms.

“I don’t hate that I’m here,” he said as he dabbed the cloth against her wounds. “I’m…Well, you likely know by now that I’m not exactly used to this sort of thing. But I don’t…” He trailed off, heat flooding his cheeks and the words suddenly refusing to leave his mouth. He forced them out, anyway. “I don’t hate it. If I look like I do, then I apologise. I just don’t really know how to respond to them.”

He glanced up at her with a grin, meant to comfort her. “But I guess I’m learning, eh?”

Once the wounds were clean enough, he dropped the sash. Then, he pulled Kalliope into a hug. His movements were awkward, and his arms didn’t seem to know where they were supposed to go, but he hoped that he made up for it with his sincerity. He placed a hand on the back of her head, fingers brushing through her hair. “What happened to Elyna isn’t your fault,” he whispered. “The only person who should be blamed is the one who killed her. For what reason did they have to kill an innkeeper, of all people? To send a message? That’s just a wicked cunt being a wicked cunt. Nobody could’ve expected that they’d do something like that over a damn letter.”

“And as for Sada Kurau and my crew,” he continued, pausing to let out a short chuckle. “Don’t worry about them. Worry more about the ones going after them. They might not look it, but every last one of them’s a veteran in their own right. They can take care of themselves. And nobody sails with Sada Kurau expecting to have an easy and trouble-free time. They knew what they were getting into when they decided to join her crew.”

He gently pressed her head into his shoulder, his other hand slowly patting her back. “And I’d hate to tell you this, but you’re stuck with me whether you like it or not, on this. I’ve already sunk at least two of this…’B.R.’s ships, and I’m not about to stop. I reckon they’d come after me eventually, even if you weren’t involved.” He leaned back and looked at her with a smile. “So you’re not alone in this, Kali. If they want you, then they’ll have to deal with me, with Sada Kurau, and with her crew.”

Kalliope froze in Sjan-dehk’s embrace, her breath hitching as his arms settled awkwardly yet firmly around her. She didn’t move at first, her body stiff against his, but the steady rhythm of his heart and the warmth of his touch began to chip away at the walls she’d frantically built around herself. Slowly, hesitantly, she wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him as if he were the only thing tethering her to reality.

Her grip tightened, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself rest against him. His scent filled her senses, grounding her more than she cared to admit. It was comforting, soothing even, until a memory flashed vividly before her eyes: waking up tangled in him, her head on his chest, his heartbeat lulling her into a moment of peace she hadn’t known in years.

Her breath caught again, but this time for an entirely different reason. The shame she’d tried to push away surged back, sharp and unrelenting. She squeezed her eyes shut, holding onto him for just a moment longer, before finally pulling back. She untangled herself from his arms carefully, her hands lingering for a second before she pushed herself up from the floor and stepped away entirely.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her voice trembling but sincere. “For your kindness. For your reassurance. I…I don’t deserve it, but thank you.”

“Don’t say that,” Sjan-dehk said, his voice just as soft. “You do deserve it. And for what it’s worth, I’m giving it to you anyway.”

She turned away, her movements deliberate as she crossed the room to retrieve the rest of her clothing. She didn’t meet his gaze as she dressed, her hands fumbling slightly as she pulled her dress on and fastened the ties. “I’m sorry for freaking out like that,” she said, her tone quieter now, as if she were ashamed of her outburst. “I… I don’t know how to deal with all of this currently. Everything feels like it’s crashing down at once, and I…I just need some time to process.”

She glanced over her shoulder, her emerald eyes flickering with a mix of gratitude and unease. “You should go back to your crew. They need you more than I do right now. And…” She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip before forcing the next words out, her voice laced with nervousness. “I’ll… I’ll make sure there’s no, um, child that results from…from last night. You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll handle it. That way, we can just…pretend it didn’t happen. Move on.”

“My crew will be fine,” Sjan-dehk said with a shake of his head. “If they can’t live without me for a few hours, then I’ve taken on the wrong people. Don’t think I can leave you on your own right now, even if I want to. Which I don’t.”

At first, Sjan-dehk didn’t understand what Kalliope meant by her next words. But when he did, a flush came over his cheeks, and he averted his eyes. Clearing his throat, he composed himself as best he could before speaking. “That…You won’t need to do that,” he said awkwardly, scratching the back of his head and glancing at her. “If…Well, if something…I mean, someone results from what we did, I’m not going to run away. I’ll ah…I’ll take responsibility for it. Properly. I’ll be proper about it, don’t worry about a thing.”

He swallowed hard before continuing. “And, well, whatever happened, happened. We don’t…Well, to pretend that it didn’t happen won’t make things any different.” The pink flush of his cheeks deepened to a burning scarlet. “It really doesn’t bother me. Honest.”

Her words were rushed, her face flushing slightly as she fiddled with the hem of her bodice, avoiding his eyes. After a moment, she straightened, forcing a small, tight smile. “Thank you again, Sjan-dehk. For everything. I won’t forget it.” She folded her arms across her chest, suddenly feeling very small as she stood there. “And I suppose you're right, we're in this together now. So if any more threats or anything come to you or your crew, please let me know? I'll be sure to do the same.”

Sjan-dehk nodded and released a mental sigh of relief, grateful for the change of subject. “And if you like, you’re welcome to stay about Sada Kurau for as long as you need. Doesn’t sound like dry land’s going to be safe.”

Her eyes then caught sight of the head on the chair and she felt like she's been stabbed once more, but pushed it aside as she sighed. “Fuck. I guess I need to figure out what to do with her…”

A grimace formed on Sjan-dehk’s face as he followed her gaze. “We should treat her proper,” was all he could manage to say. He walked over to the head, picking up a sheet along the way. With respect and as much solemness as he could manage, he carefully draped the white cloth over the head. “I’m pretty sure the rest of her should still be downstairs,” he mused aloud. “We can…Collect her, and do whatever it is you Caesonians do with your dead. Otherwise…I don’t think anyone would complain if I send her off the Jafin way.”

He paced around the room, picking up his clothes along the way and throwing them on. “It’s the least we can do, I suppose. But don’t rush yourself, Kali. Take all the time you need.”

Kalliope’s jaw tightened as Sjan-dehk spoke, her vivid green eyes fixed on the sheet-covered head with a hollow stare. His kindness, his willingness to take responsibility, and the way he respected Elyna–even in death–only made it harder for her to keep her emotions at bay. She folded her arms tightly across her chest, a futile attempt to shield herself from the storm of feelings threatening to consume her.

She inhaled sharply through her nose, turning her head away from him as she tried to gather her thoughts. “I…” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard. “I can’t…pretend last night didn’t happen. You’re right about that.” Her gaze remained distant as she spoke, her words slow and deliberate. “But I also can’t fully deal with it right now. Everything’s too…raw. And I don’t trust myself to say or do the right thing. Not yet.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line, a flash of guilt passing across her face. “I crossed a line I set for myself, Sjan-dehk. Something I swore I wouldn’t let happen.” Her voice was softer now, almost as if confessing to herself. “And it wasn’t just about last night. It’s about what led up to it, all my flirting and teasing. About how I let myself…” She faltered, shaking her head. “Let myself start feeling things I shouldn’t feel. For you.”

“What are you-” Sjan-dehk began, his eyes widening and hands frozen in the middle of tightening his sword-and-pistol belt around his waist. For the moment, he could only focus on her. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? Had he heard her correctly? Questions sprouted in his head, and thankfully, he didn’t have to wonder for long. Kalliope went on before he could finish his sentence.

Her arms dropped to her sides, and she finally turned to face him, her expression as guarded as ever. “I’ll explain, Sjan-dehk. I owe you that much and more honestly. But I need time to figure out…how I feel. About all of this. About us.” Her voice softened as she added, almost as if to herself, “If there even is an ‘us’ to figure out.”

Sjan-dehk nodded slowly. There was little doubt in his head as to what Kalliope had meant, and what it was that she needed to figure out. A flutter rippled across his heart at the thought – how else could he react, knowing that a lady as pretty as her held fondness towards him? And yet, at the same time, a ball of nervousness settled in his stomach, mixed with relief. What if she had said what she wanted to say? How would he have responded? How did he really feel about her? Sjan-dehk found no quick answers to those questions. Never had he thought that he would have to even consider them.

He cleared his throat, using the action as an excuse to avert his gaze for a moment. “Yes, there’s no rush for…This sort of thing, yes?” He said awkwardly. Might have to start thinking about this thing as well, he added in his head. The least he could do was to be ready with an answer when Kalliope told him how she felt. He just hoped that it wouldn’t be a disappointing one.

She shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through her auburn waves before refocusing on the grim task at hand. “As for Elyna…” Kalliope trailed off, her lips pressing into a thin line as she glanced back at the draped head. A pang of guilt twisted in her chest–Elyna deserved more than to be treated as a problem to be solved, but circumstances didn’t leave them much choice.

“I hate this,” she muttered bitterly, more to herself than him. “But we can’t risk this being traced back to us. If someone ties her death to me, or to you, it’ll be a death sentence for both of us. If we’re lucky.”

Her eyes flicked to Sjan-dehk’s face, searching his expression for any sign of judgment or disagreement. “A Jafin burial might be the best option. It’s dignified, it’s final, and it keeps her far from prying eyes.” She hesitated, her brows furrowing in thought. “I’m hoping the rest of her body is downstairs, like you said, and no one else has found it yet. Maybe we can make it look like she disappeared. If her people suspect foul play and decide to start asking questions, we’re both going to be in deep shit.”

“We Jafins leave no graves, as they say,” Sjan-dehk replied. The pain lacing Kalliope’s words and on her face didn’t go unnoticed by him. He stepped forward, adjusting his belts as he did so, and placed himself between her eyes and the head. “We’ll have to get her to Sada Kurau. She’ll take care of her properly until it’s time for her to meet the Eternal Horizon. I’ll have the crew see to it.”

A heavy silence fell as she considered their options, the weight of the decision settling on her shoulders. “I’ll go with you,” she said finally, her voice quiet but resolute. “To…collect the rest of her. She deserves at least that much respect.” She exhaled, her hands trembling slightly before she clenched them into fists at her sides. “And if we do this right, we can make sure no one ever ties this to us.”

She paused, then added in a near-whisper, “I’m sorry you got dragged into this. You didn’t deserve it.”

Turning toward the door, she glanced over her shoulder, her expression a mixture of guilt, gratitude, and something far more complicated. “Let’s get this over with. Then we can figure out the rest.”

As Sjan-dehk placed his back atop his head, so too did he wipe his mind of his earlier thoughts. Now wasn’t the time for him to ponder over the events of last night; of how Kalliope and he had woken up this morning, or even about his feelings. He had a mission – to recover the innkeeper’s body if it was still around, and then somehow bring it to [/I]Sada Kurau[/I]. That was all he needed to know.

“I’ll go first,” he said, approaching the door and drawing a pistol. With a hand on the knob, he drew in a deep breath before opening it suddenly. He burst through the doorway, firelock raised and aimed at the far end of the corridor. Then, he quickly spun around to check the other direction. “Hallway looks clear,” he called back to Kalliope. Even so, he maintained a vigilant watch. The innkeeper’s murderer had been watching them throughout the night. They could still be hidden away somewhere.

“You know this place better than I do,” Sjan-dehk said. “Lead the way, and I’ll watch your back.”

Kalliope moved swiftly and silently down the hallway, blade in hand. “Elyna’s room is at the far end, left side,” she whispered over her shoulder to Sjan-dehk. “She always retired there alone before dawn. Well, unless she decided to enjoy the company of someone for the night. If her body’s anywhere, it’ll be there.”

The faint scent of lavender clung to the air, a scent distinctly Elyna for Kalliope, a pang of hurt gripped her chest. Her jaw tightened, her grip on her weapon firm as they reached the door. She paused, her sharp green eyes darting to Sjan-dehk. “Be ready. If the murderer is still here, well,” she murmured as a darkness crept over her features, “you might have to stop me from ripping their fucking throat out.”

Sjan-dehk nodded, holding his pistol in one hand, and the other resting on one of his swords.

Pushing the door open cautiously, she stepped inside. Sjan-dehk followed in after her, sweeping the muzzle of his pistol over the walls and ceiling. The curtains were drawn, casting the room in dim shadows. At first glance, everything appeared undisturbed, but the air felt heavy, oppressive and a slight metallic scent mingled with that of lavender. Kalliope scanned the space, her stomach knotting as her eyes fell to the dark, viscous stain near the bed. Blood.

Her gaze lingered on the crimson trail leading to the far side of the room, where Elyna’s crumpled body lay, twisted and lifeless. The jagged stump where her head had been was unmistakable, confirming the gruesome reality.

Kalliope swallowed hard, forcing down the wave of nausea clawing its way up her throat. “Gods…” she muttered under her breath, stepping closer with measured care. She once again pushes her feelings aside, knowing they needed to get to business. She scanned the room quickly, not seeing any remnants of a killer, before she moved to open the curtains slightly to let in some light so they could see better. “Elyna has family up in Javaria. I'll right a letter in Elyna's handwriting for the staff to find that explains that she had a family emergency and had to travel up there. That'll buy us time to find who did this.” She pulled out a piece of paper and, using a partially written letter that was already on the desk, started copying Elyna's handwriting for the letter.

She turned to Sjan-dehk, her voice steady despite the slight tremor in her hands. “We need to get her to your ship, but doing so in broad daylight might be difficult. We could always leave the window unlocked, hide the body for now, and retrieve it later tonight when there's less eyes around and more shadows to hide in.” Her gaze flicked back to Elyna’s mutilated form, and her jaw set with grim determination, before she glanced back at Sjan-dehk. “Unless you have any ideas?”

Sjan-dehk shook his head. “No, can’t say I do. We’ll do as you say.”

He glanced at the body and grimaced. Then, he looked at Kalliope’s trembling hands, at the dimness in her eyes, and at the grimness colouring her visage. Wordlessly, he slowly and carefully picked his way to the bed sitting under the windowsill. He grabbed a corner of an unkempt sheet, pulled it free, and returned to the body. “Fair seas; black sands; tall mountains; long rivers; shadowed trees; clear skies, may you find peace wherever you may go,” he said again in a hushed voice as he covered the innkeeper’s body with the sheet.

Kalliope’s breath hitched as she watched Sjan-dehk carefully shroud Elyna’s body, his whispered farewell carrying a reverence that struck her like a tidal wave. The tenderness in his actions warmed her, softening the edges of the chaos inside her, yet it also made her chest ache unbearably. Every small, thoughtful gesture of his reminded her of why her resolve to keep him at arm’s length was crumbling. He wasn’t just kind; he was steady, dependable, and far too good for someone like her. Her grip on the desk tightened as she fought the rising tide of her feelings, forcing herself to bury them for the moment–just as she always had. “Thank you for that.” She all but whispered as she turned her focus back to the letter she was writing.

“We can put her on the bed,” he said and circled the body to tuck the edges of the sheet under it. He tried to perform the task with as much respect as possible, but that was a tall order, considering that he was trying to secure the corpse in the sheet as tightly as possible. “When you’re finished, I’ll bring the rest of her over. Prying eyes’ll likely think she’s sleeping.”

He looked out the window and chewed on his lip. “The murderous bastard could’ve people watching the entrance. Or at least, that’s what that cunt and his friends should do, if they’ve got any brains to share between them. Sneaking out the window might be better for us. Then we can leave it unlocked for tonight.”

The words came out clinically, as if he were planning an operation. But as he turned to face Kalliope, his gaze softened. When he spoke again, his tone was a world apart from before. “You should come to Sada Kurau with me.” It wasn’t so much a statement, as it was a plea. Leaving her alone, after all this, felt like the wrong thing to do. “At least for the rest of the day. It’ll be safer. We’ll be heading out again tonight anyway. Having you aboard will make finding each other that much easier.”

She folded the letter with deliberate care, the weight of Sjan-dehk's plea pressing on her chest. She hesitated, her eyes flicking between him and the shrouded body. Slowly, she stepped toward him. “I'll help move her.” She said while bending to help lift Elyna’s lifeless form onto the bed. Her movements were methodical, yet her mind swirled with conflicting emotions. “I’ll come to the ship,” she murmured, avoiding his gaze as they worked. “Later today. I promise. But I need to handle a few things first.” The words came clipped, heavy with an unspoken need for space–to breathe, to think, and to seek Riona’s advice before facing whatever unspoken connection lingered between them.

Sjan-dehk started to speak, but held his tongue. Both his heart and mind would be so much more at ease with her aboard. However, something told him that he shouldn’t push the matter.

Once Elyna’s body was settled, Kalliope stepped back, brushing a strand of hair from her face as she made her way to the closet. “There’s just one problem with leaving her on the bed to look like she's sleeping,” she said, grabbing handfuls of clothes and tossing them onto the bed. She began arranging them haphazardly, covering the lump of Elyna’s form until it resembled nothing more than a disordered pile of belongings.

She then moved to the desk and held up the letter she’d written, her sharp green eyes meeting Sjan-dehk’s. “If she’s supposed to be gone, it would be suspicious if someone found her ‘sleeping’ here.” Her tone was calm, it being eerily clear how used she was to covering up a murder. “If someone checks in here, it should look like she packed in a hurry. It’ll explain the mess.” She then moved to the door and placed the letter on a small table that sat against the wall just outside of the room. She then quietly shut the door and moved back towards Sjan-dehk. "This way, no one will question it until it's too late.” She stated as she glanced around one last time, nodding once she was satisfied. “Ready to go?”

“I’m not the best at these things,” Sjan-dehk said and took one last look around the room. Everything looked as normal as it could be. He couldn’t say that he found anything that he thought anyone else would find suspicious. At least, not with Kalliope’s forged letter selling the scene. That said, she did seem a little too well-versed in doing such things. It didn’t really bother him – his third brother was in more-or-less the same kind of work – but it did make him a little curious.

Well, curiosity would have to wait. “If you’re happy, I’m happy,” Sjan-dehk finished and tilted his head towards the window. “Should we jump out the window or try our luck with the front door?”

Kalliope gave Sjan-dehk a faint smirk, the glimmer of determination cutting through her weariness. “I think your call about going out the window is the right one.” She crossed the room, her movements precise and practiced. Unlocking the window, she pushed it open with a soft creak and glanced down to gauge the drop. “Not too bad and no window below us,” she murmured, then took her heels off and tossed them out. She swung one leg over the sill, her balance steady.

With a deft movement, Kalliope slid out and gripped the ledge, her feet finding purchase on the uneven wall below. Her descent was fluid, almost feline, as she dropped the last few feet to the ground, landing silently in a crouch. Straightening, she dusted off her hands and tilted her head up to Sjan-dehk. “Come on, Captain. Try to keep up.” Her voice held a wry edge, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of warmth.

Despite the situation, and the body on the bed practically under him, Sjan-dehk grinned. It was a tiny one, but still a grin nonetheless. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Not the first window I’ve jumped out of.”

He placed a hand on the windowsill, taking a moment to make sure he had a firm grip. Then, with an ease that was almost practiced, he vaulted through the opening. His scabbards scraped against the window frame, but they made only a quiet sound. He didn’t bother with the wall Kalliope had used to break her fall. Instead, he landed directly on the ground, rolling on his side to cushion the impact. He stood up beside her, brushing himself off with a self-assured smirk. “See?” He said.

For the first time this morning, the sun personally greeted him with its warmth and light. The sky was clear, and the clouds long and wispy. “Still early in the day,” he remarked before turning his attention to Kalliope. Part of him still worried over her, but he knew better than to fuss over her. “Let’s find our way to the street. Then we can go where we need to go.”

She shook her head, a faint smirk tugging at her lips despite herself. “Show-off,” she teased, the words slipping out too easily. She immediately scolded herself for how natural it felt, for the familiarity she wasn’t sure she was quite ready to embrace again. Clearing her throat, she turned and began leading the way toward the street, her steps purposeful but quiet.

Once they reached the alleyway’s mouth, she hesitated, glancing over her shoulder at him. “I’ll be at your ship this afternoon,” she said, her voice softer, tinged with an awkward edge. “Just…give me a few hours. I’ll keep my word.” She didn’t linger on his expression, turning away quickly as if afraid she might falter. “Take care of yourself, Captain,” she added, her voice barely above a murmur before she disappeared into the bustling streets.

“I’ll see you then,” Sjan-dehk called after her. He didn’t leave immediately, instead lingering just long enough to watch her safely disappear into the crowd. Only once he had fully lost sight of her did he start moving, turning away and in the direction of the docks. There would be plenty of work for him to take care of upon his return, he reckoned. That was, of course, on top of him explaining his absence the previous night to his crew. They had been expecting him to return, after all.

But even with all that on his mind, he still found it hard to avoid thinking about Kalliope’s expression as she had left. Had she seemed…Upset? Sad? Sjan-dehk wasn’t sure what to call it, but it couldn’t be anything too positive, he guessed. Somehow, that brought a sour taste to his mouth.

He shook his head. He could think about that later. For now, he would have to see to Sada Kurau, as well as prepare for tonight’s task. “Stay safe, Kali,” he murmured under his breath.
In 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 2 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

Kalliope & Sjan-dehk Part Two


Date: Sola 26th
Time: Evening
Location: Estate of lesser nobles merchant Lord Edric

She didn’t stop until they were safely out of sight, tucked away in a quiet hallway up past the stairs. Once she was sure they were alone, she released his hand and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, though her emerald eyes still carried a flicker of excitement.

“Well,” she said, glancing up at him with a sly smile, “we can breathe for a moment, though I imagine this is only the beginning of the fun.” She stepped closer, her voice softening, this time devoid of her flirtatious persona. “You know, you’re quite good at this. I know this is kind of out of your comfort zone and for that, I truly am grateful to you.” Kalliope’s smile softened as she looked up at Sjan-dehk, her usual playful edge dimming to something more genuine. For a moment, she let herself linger in the quiet between them, her eyes tracing the lines of his face and her thoughts slipping past her carefully crafted walls.

Sjan-dehk flashed her grin. “Glad that you are, though I think you’re doing most of the work here. I’m just following along.” They weren’t idle words; he was quite impressed by how quickly Kalliope could think on her feet, and how expertly she went about her business.

It was unspoken, the way her heart beat faster when he was near, the way his steadiness anchored her chaos. She knew shouldn’t be thinking about the warmth of his hand in hers or the way his voice, even awkward, stirred something deeper within her. And yet, she found herself speaking before she could stop the words. “You make it far too easy to forget this is all an act,” she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper as her gaze dropped to his lips for the briefest of moments before snapping back to his eyes.

Kalliope’s words didn’t go unnoticed by Sjan-dehk. He intended to pretend as if he had missed them, but then as luck would have it, he caught her gaze just as she looked at him. He wasn’t sure whether it was because of the blood still rushing in his head, or his still-drumming heart, but something about her captivated him, and for a moment stole all the words he had in his mind. Were it her eyes, bright as they were in the low light of the hallway? Or perhaps her face, pretty and alluring as it was?

Or maybe it was because of memories of her hand in his, and the way her lips parted–

Sjan-dehk put a quick stop to those thoughts. Enough. This wasn’t the time for any of that. In fact, he was quite certain that there wasn’t any time for such thoughts. Kalliope was a friend, and a good one at that. He couldn’t, he shouldn’t start thinking of her in such a manner just because excitement got his blood pumping and his heart racing.

“Oh, well,” he said at last, bashfulness laden in his voice. “Glad…Glad to be of service. And you, ah, you are very convincing as well. But I suppose if even I can forget it’s an act knowing it’s one, it just shows how good you are.”

Realizing what she’d said, her breath caught, and she quickly added, “You know, for the crowd’s benefit, of course.” But the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her, and she found herself wishing she could take a step back from the strange, unfamiliar vulnerability that had slipped through.

“Yes, for the crowd,” Sjan-dehk replied quickly. Almost too quickly. “But it was…It was fun,” he added without even thinking. “And ah, for what it’s worth, I…Uh, I don’t think I could’ve done it with anyone else.” Then, realising what he had just said, he hastily added again, “I mean, you acted and reacted really fast to everything, you know? I, ah, I just that you…You offset my uh…”

Mentally, he cursed himself for stammering and tripping over his words like a fool. He stopped, drew in a deep breath, and tried again. “What I’m trying to say is, you’re good at this. That…That probably made things a lot easier for the both of us.” His words came out sounding far more awkward than he would have liked, and probably didn’t even sound convincing, but they would have to do. Any more, and he would simply be digging himself a deeper pit.

He looked back the way they had come, partially to avert his gaze out of embarrassment, but also to make sure that they hadn’t been followed. “Looks like we slipped away,” he said, turning back to face Kalliope. His eyes fell upon her face, and those unwanted thoughts from earlier drifted into his mind once more, teasing him. Redness tinged his cheeks, and he swiftly looked away. “So, ah, where are we going? There’s a lot of rooms here, by the looks of things.”

Kalliope’s breath caught again as she watched Sjan-dehk stumble through his words. His awkwardness, his earnestness, it was all so disarming in a way she hadn't quite anticipated. For a moment, she simply stood there, her thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. His gaze, his voice, the way he made her feel like the world outside of them didn’t matter—it all pulled her in deeper. She was acutely aware of the fluttering in her chest, and for the briefest second, she thought she might not be able to keep her mask in place much longer.

But then, like a wave crashing against the shore, reality pulled her back. She shook her head slightly, focusing once more on the task at hand. She couldn’t afford to lose herself in her feelings, not now. Not yet.

“Ah, well,” she began, her voice steadier now as she found her footing again, “Thank you, years of practice I suppose. However, I’m afraid we don’t have time for any more distractions.” She straightened slightly, her usual confidence returning with a practiced ease. “Earlier today, I managed to steal the blueprints for this house. After reviewing them, I’ve narrowed down the two most likely rooms for study. Though, there's one I'd put my money on being the right choice as it's a bit more secluded.”

Kalliope’s eyes gleamed with a mix of determination and intrigue as she began to move toward the corridor beyond them, the air between them now thick with purpose. “I’ll lead the way. Just stick close, and we’ll be in and out before anyone notices.”

Her footsteps were silent as she made her way down the corridor and she blended in with the shadows incredibly well. A few turns later and they were in front of a door. She listened for a moment just to make sure there was no one inside before attempting the door. “Damn.” She said as it didn't budge. “Good thing I brought these with me.” She said with a grin as she looked at Sjan-dehk and pulled out a small set of lockpicks hidden within her hair.

“Convenient,” Sjan-dehk quipped before standing back, using his body to cover as much of Kalliope as he could while she worked. He threw glances up and down the hallway, keeping a vigilant eye out for anyone that might stumble across them.

She dropped to her knees and started working at the door. Kalliope’s heart beat just a little faster as she watched the door swing open, her grin widening when the lock gave way with ease. She’d always had a talent for getting past locked doors, and tonight was no different. “Bingo,” she murmured, pushing the door open with a flourish as she stepped into the room. It was dimly lit, shadows pooling in the corners, but it was exactly what she’d hoped for—quiet, secluded, and well off the beaten path. Perfect for what they needed.

She looked over her shoulder at Sjan-dehk, her emerald eyes gleaming with determination once more. “Alright, let's start looking for anything unusual. Letters, notes, anything that might give us a clue as to what’s really going on here.” She gestured vaguely around the room, her voice steady, though her mind was still buzzing with the rush of the break-in. “Be thorough, but quick. We don’t have much time before someone comes this way according to that group.”

Turning her attention to the desk at the far end of the room, Kalliope’s gaze sharpened as she approached it. The desk was large and ornate, but to her trained eye, it was simply another place where secrets might be hidden. She ran her fingers over the surface, examining the drawers first, but there was nothing unusual. They were locked, of course, but she had anticipated that. The thief in her smirked as she went about unlocking them as well.

Her thoughts wandered for a moment, but she pushed them aside. There was no room for distractions now, not when she could feel the weight of their mission pressing down on her. She flicked open the first drawer, her eyes scanning the contents—a few papers, a sealed envelope, a delicate silver letter opener. She ignored the letter opener for now and pulled out the papers, rifling through them quickly. A brief glance at the writing revealed nothing of interest, just mundane correspondence.

With Kalliope picking through the back of the room, Sjan-dehk decided to focus his attention towards the area around the door. That suited him perfectly – it allowed him to keep a close eye on the door, as well as a close ear on the hallway outside, while they worked.

There wasn’t much for him to investigate, however. A few shallow stacks of papers sat near the foot of a cabinet, but they turned out to be nothing more than either blank, unused sheets, or scraps with only a handful of jagged lines scratched across them. He stood up from them, his lips pressed into a thin line cutting between his jowls, and went on to examine the cabinet. A few tugs on the beautifully carved wooden handles told him that its doors were locked. He let out a low grumble, and was about to call for Kalliope’s help when he pulled a little harder.

As it turned out, they hadn’t been locked, but had simply been jammed. For a brief moment, he felt a little pleased with himself, but that feeling quickly disappeared when he realised that if the closer had been left unlocked, then it was unlikely that he would find anything useful in it.

A rack of clothes greeted his eyes. Coats, jackets, shirts, all of them seemed to have been left where they were for a long time, but none of them seemed out-of-the-ordinary. And as Sjan-dehk cautiously pushed them aside, he found only more ordinary things. Folded trousers on a shelf above, mothballs collecting in the corners, and a pair of shoes left messily on the closet’s floor. Nothing that shouldn’t belong in such a piece of furniture.

He frowned and knelt to pull out the drawers at the bottom of the closet. They slid out easily enough, and were mostly empty. One contained a few pairs of socks and nothing else, whilst the other didn’t have anything at all. A frustrated huff left his nose, but just as he was about to shut them, something about the empty drawer stopped him. It didn’t look right, and when he reached in to give the drawer’s bottom a few raps of his knuckles, he realised why.

The thing had a false bottom.

She moved on to the next drawer, and again, the contents seemed harmless. More papers. Nothing that screamed “secret plans” or “hidden agenda.” She opened each drawer methodically, checking behind objects, flipping through documents, but there was nothing here.

“Damn it.” She grumbled as frustration bubbled up in her chest, but she fought it down. This wasn’t over yet. There had to be something. She glanced up to where Sjan-dehk was, hoping he was doing better than she was. “Any luck on your end?”

“Aye, I found–” Sjan-dehk started, but then cut himself off abruptly when he heard the low thumps of approaching footsteps outside. “Fuck,” he swore, his voice suddenly dopping to a hushed, but clearly urgent whisper. He swiftly slid the drawers back into place and shut the closet. “Someone’s coming, and they’re coming fast,” he said in a voice just loud enough to be heard by Kalliope.

Kalliope froze for half a second at Sjan-dehk’s warning, her mind racing. The sound of footsteps echoed faintly down the hallway, growing louder, closer. “Shit.” She cursed under her breath, her hands already moving to straighten the desk. Each item was carefully placed back exactly as she’d found it, her movements quick but precise.

As she picked up the last opened letter she’d discarded as mundane earlier, something caught her eye—something she hadn’t noticed before. The handwriting, though tidy, had subtle irregularities. Certain letters were slightly slanted, others unusually bold. Patterns. It struck her like a bolt of lightning. This wasn’t just a letter. It was a code.

Her breath hitched, her mind screaming at her to hurry, but she couldn’t just leave it. Without another thought, she snatched it up, folded it swiftly, and slipped it down the front of her bodice, tucking it securely between her skin and her corset. Whatever it was, it was coming with her.

“Alright,” she breathed, her voice low and urgent as she moved towards the door. The footsteps outside were growing louder, closer. They had three options, go out the front and talk their way out, hide in the small closet and risk being stuck there for who knows how long, or go out the window and risk not being able to get back in and getting caught. She didn’t have time to think it through, only to act. Turning back to Sjan-dehk, she made a split-second decision. “We’re going out the front.”

She grabbed his arm, and tugged him toward the door. Gently, she eased it open just a crack, peering out into the hallway. The footsteps were nearly upon them, but she judged they had mere seconds before whoever it was rounded the corner. It was a risk, but it was the only chance they had now.

“Come on,” she whispered sharply, and without waiting for him to reply, she slipped out into the corridor, pulling him along behind her. The door clicked shut softly behind them, and she pressed herself against the wall just to the side of the door. Kalliope’s pulse thundered in her ears as she listened to the approaching footsteps. She knew they were going to be caught, there was no getting around it, she was just trying to formulate a plan to talk their way out. Her mind raced for a way out, a way to salvage the situation.

And then it hit her.

She turned to Sjan-dehk, her expression suddenly filled with a mix of determination and regret. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, so softly it was almost drowned out by the sound of boots hitting the floor just around the corner.

Before he could respond, she grabbed the front of his coat and pulled him toward her. Her back pressed firmly against the wall as she tilted her head up, and in one fluid motion, her lips found his. The kiss was bold, urgent, and entirely unhesitating. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his coat as she held him close, her body flush against his. Every muscle in her tensed, bracing for the inevitable.

Sjan-dehk’s eyes went wide. He barely had time to voice his surprise. One moment he was following closely behind Kalliope, and the next, she had him pinning her to the wall, with her lips pressed upon his, and their bodies tight against each other. His first instinct yelled at him to pull away, but he could catch a glimpse of an approaching figure from the corner of his eye. There wasn’t time to think.

And so, he leaned into the kiss, bracing himself against the wall with an arm just above her head. He had his eyes closed, but still the fingers of his other hand managed to find their way to brush against her chin. For what reason, however, he didn’t know. It was just something he thought lovers did with one another, and really, he was hardly thinking by this point. All he could feel were the frenetic beats of his heart, pounding so hard in his chest that it felt as if it would shatter a few ribs.

The footsteps slowed, then stopped, just a few feet away. Kalliope’s heart pounded in her chest as she leaned into the kiss, pouring every ounce of her performance into the moment. Her mind screamed at her to stay calm, to sell the act, not like it was hard as a small part of her mind betrayed her and threatened to lose herself in the kiss, Her lips moved softly against his, coaxing a response, her fingers loosening just slightly as if they had forgotten their earlier urgency. She prayed to every god she didn’t believe in that this gamble would work.

Just an act. All just an act. Sjan-dehk repeated those words in his head like a meditative mantas. But he still found them difficult to believe. Not with the way her lips shifted ever-so-slightly against his, or with the way her hand only just gently rested upon his chest. He tried to tell himself that it was all just to make their performance really, really convincing, but part of him couldn’t help but wonder just how much of it was an act. Another part of him wondered why he would even wonder about that.

Without thinking, he slowly slid his hand on her chin up to her cheek, caressing it in a way that could only be described as lovingly. His thumb circled slowly and gently over her skin, and he felt his body relax, as if they weren’t in the midst of infiltrating an estate. It just felt so easy, so desirable, even, to just lose himself to the kiss.

A low cough broke the tension, and Kalliope’s eyes fluttered open just enough to catch a glimpse of a figure standing at the edge of her peripheral vision. She broke the kiss with a soft gasp, her cheeks flushing a believable shade of pink as she turned her head to look at the intruder.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, her voice breathless and feigning embarrassment. “I-I didn’t realize anyone was—” She cut herself off, biting her lip and lowering her gaze, her hands still resting lightly against Sjan-dehk’s chest. Her performance was flawless, but inside, her stomach churned with nerves. This had better work.

Her heart raced as she realized it was the man who had shushed the group in the ballroom. His sharp, calculating eyes flicked between her and Sjan-dehk, narrowing slightly. He didn’t look amused and there was certainly suspicion in his eyes. She had one shot to sell this. For his part, Sjan-dehk did his best to appear like an embarrassed guard caught in the act. He averted his gaze – something easily-done with the help of his hat – and pretended to look busy straightening his clothes. The flush colouring his cheeks, however, was very much real.

“Oh dear,” she giggled lightly, staggering slightly to emphasize the bold, tipsy persona she had adopted earlier. Her hand slid from Sjan-dehk’s chest to her lips, as if trying to hide her faux embarrassment. “I must apologize,” she said, her words slightly slurred but still carrying a playful edge. “I didn’t think anyone would come wandering down here at this hour. My escort and I, well…” She trailed off, glancing up at Sjan-dehk with a sultry smile before looking back at the man, her cheeks flushing in what she hoped looked like tipsy, flirtatious guilt.

The man’s expression remained unreadable as he crossed his arms. “This is a private wing,” he said, his tone clipped and even. His gaze lingered on her a little too long for comfort before flicking over to Sjan-dehk. “Guests aren’t supposed to be here. Surely you were informed of that.”

“Oh, you’re absolutely right!” Kalliope chirped, waving her hand dismissively. “But you see, I simply couldn’t resist. These grand estates are so boring sometimes, don’t you think? All stuffy ballrooms and pretentious conversation. I needed some air, some adventure!” She giggled again, swaying just slightly as she took a small step forward, drawing his attention back to her. “And my dear escort here,” she gestured toward Sjan-dehk with a dramatic flourish, “was just helping me find a quiet spot. You know, to…escape the noise.”

Her emerald eyes met the man’s again, sparkling with feigned innocence and mischief. “But don’t worry, darling, we weren’t doing anything too scandalous. Just a little harmless fun.” She placed a hand on her chest, feigning mock sincerity. “I do hope you’ll forgive me. Surely you understand how dreadfully dull these parties can be and I simply couldn't resist getting my hands on my handsome escort.”

The man didn’t look convinced, but neither did he seem overly concerned. His eyes darted back to Sjan-dehk, lingering for a moment. “Is that so?” he asked, his tone sharp and probing. “And you, sir, what exactly were you doing wandering these halls with her?”

Her eyes flicked to Sjan-dehk, and for a brief moment, she silently willed him to follow her lead. Her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to intervene, to keep talking, but she knew it would only make things worse. That definitely would be viewed as suspicious. Sometimes speaking less was more. So instead, she settled for leaning lightly against him, her hand brushing his arm in what might appear as a tipsy, affectionate gesture. Inside, however, she was ready to spring into action if things went sideways.

There wasn’t much Sjan-dehk could think of to say. Nothing that wouldn’t make it sound too obvious that he was reaching for an excuse, at least. Experience told him to choose the easiest, most direct option, which was to simply incapacitate the man and make a rapid escape. But sense told him that he had to use finesse this time. There was still more in that room – and likely more in this estate as a whole – to investigate. A fight now would mean that they would have to leave all of that behind, and who knew when they would get a chance to return, if ever they could?

No, Sjan-dehk wasn’t about to let Kalliope’s efforts thus far go to waste.

“I apologise,” he said with a bow of his head. For the moment, he let go of the fact that he was Sada Kurau’s Captain, and instead imagined himself as a young midshipman. One that had only just been caught doing something very, very wrong, and now needed to think of a way to get his Commanding Officer’s attention off his back. “This, it is all my fault. It shames me to admit, but as my lady says, we were looking for a place for privacy. You see, the two of us, we…” He trailed off and looked away as if he were embarrassed by what he was about to say.

He made a show of drawing in a deep breath. “We are…Lovers, that is how you say it, yes? But it is not…It is not proper,” he continued, making sure to look at the man’s face every now and then. What Sjan-dehk was doing wasn’t something he had done often, but it was something that he knew could convince even the nosiest senior officer to stop prying any further if done correctly. The process was simple, really. All he had to do was just share so much information – the more useless, and the more unpleasant or impolite, the better – until the man decided he didn’t want to listen anymore.

Kalliope’s chest tightened, her heart thundering as Sjan-dehk’s words sank in. Lovers. The word sent a thrill down her spine, even though she knew it was just part of the ruse. Still, hearing it from his lips, watching his awkward earnestness as he sold the lie with such determination, made her stomach flutter in a way she couldn’t suppress. He didn’t even realize it, but the way he’d defended her—and the slight flush that crept across his cheeks—only made her feelings for him crash against her like waves against the shore, impossible to ignore and leaving her more disarmed than ever.

“And earlier, in the ballroom, we were quite…Improper,” Sjan-dehk went on, putting on a look of both innocence – as if what he was saying was simply a statement of fact – and embarrassment – as if he had committed a grave social error. “She had her hands on me, you see, and I…Well, I knew I had to take her away to…You know, take care of things. And then she said to find somewhere private, and I knew this part of the estate for today is…Is quiet and has nobody. I thought that this would be a good place for us to do what we want, so we came here.”

Sjan-dehk bowed his head again. “I apologise, really. We should have been more careful.”

The man’s sharp gaze lingered on Sjan-dehk for an uncomfortably long moment, his lips pressed into a thin line as if deliberating on whether or not to press further. His eyes shifted back to Kalliope, scrutinizing her with the kind of disdain reserved for someone who had clearly overstepped their station…or at least his perception of it.

“And your name, my lady?” he asked, his tone teetering on the edge of politeness, though it carried a distinct edge of condescension.

Kalliope straightened slightly, tilting her chin up just enough to feign an air of imperious grace. “Lady Alara Vayne,” she said, her voice dripping with aristocratic authority. “Of the House Vayne of Mariscia and Vayne Trading Company, if that wasn’t already clear.” If he dared to look into her, he would find there was a House Vayne on the continent of Mariscia and they were associated with a Vayne Trading Company. This persona worked so well for her because she had taken care to build it during several trips to the coastal country. She liked to have a solid disguise and Lady Vayne certainly fit the bill.

The man’s brows furrowed briefly as he turned the name over in his mind, but Kalliope’s delivery was flawless. He had no reason to doubt her, and after a tense pause, he gave a curt nod. “Well, Lady Vayne, I suggest you and your… escort find your way back to the ballroom before someone else stumbles upon you. Next time, try to keep your indiscretions to more appropriate venues.”

He stepped to the side, his dismissal clear, but then hesitated, glancing at Sjan-dehk again with a sneer that made Kalliope’s stomach churn. “Though, I must say, I’d have expected better taste from a lady of your standing. Perhaps next time, choose a companion who doesn’t look like he just stepped off the deck of some filthy barbaric merchant ship.”

Sjan-dehk bristled at that remark. It took every last scrap of his restraint to hold him back from telling the man that it was his ‘filthy barbaric merchant ship’ that was the cause of all his woes. The pointed words had even formed on Sjan-dehk’s tongue, but he forced them back down. There wasn’t a need for him to say anything, anyway. Sada Kurau would certainly pay the man’s remark back in full, in the form of ships and his fellows sent to the abyss.

Kalliope’s blood boiled, her hands twitching as she fought the urge to reach for her concealed dagger. But instead, she smiled, a tight, saccharine expression that was somehow more cutting than any blade. “Oh, I assure you, good sir,” she said, her voice as sweet as poisoned honey, “the only thing filthy about my escort is how thoroughly he’s made me forget all those dreary, stuffy nobles. If only they had half his charm.” Her gaze locked with his, a silent challenge in her emerald eyes. “But I’ll take your suggestion under advisement. Thank you ever so much for your concern.”

Without waiting for his reaction, she grabbed Sjan-dehk’s arm and began walking, her steps light but purposeful, though her nails dug into his sleeve just enough to betray her lingering irritation. As soon as they turned the corner and were out of earshot, she let out a sharp breath. “That pompous little—” She bit the rest of the sentence off, shaking her head as if to compose herself. “Let’s just get out of here before I do something I’ll regret. Care to spend some time somewhere away from insufferable nobles that's a bit more quiet and we could maybe read a certain letter?” She asked him as she patted the spot she'd hidden the coded letter she found.

To say that Sjan-dehk was caught off guard by Kalliope’s reaction to the man’s words would be quite the understatement. Although it was true that the man had been incredibly rude, the bulk of his vitriol had been aimed towards Sjan-dehk. And while Sjan-dehk would be lying if he said that he didn’t feel vexed by the treatment, he knew that it was all just part-and-parcel of putting on an act. Besides, he had responded in the way he had with the intention of aggravating the man, and surely Kalliope had to have caught onto that.

So why had she gotten so upset?

Sjan-dehk found no answer to that question, and he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to. Or if there was even a need to. It felt nice – heartening, even – to have her speak up for him, and after spending so many years and so much effort defending others, it was strangely comforting to be himself defended by someone else. That alone was more than enough for him.

And so, he simply followed behind Kalliope in silence as she practically dragged him away. Her nails, sharp and neatly filed, felt as if they were just moments away from cutting through his sleeve when they rounded a corner. “Of course,” Sjan-dehk replied to her question. The charms and quirks of high society had turned stale, and there weren’t many of those to begin with, in any case. “I found a false bottom in one of the closets. Shame we couldn’t have a look inside, but I guess that’s just for another adventure in future, eh?”

Kalliope slowed her pace slightly, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she glanced at Sjan-dehk. “Another adventure in the future, huh? Is that your way of saying you plan on sticking around and indulging in more of my harebrained schemes? Because I’ll admit,” she leaned in just slightly, her voice dipping lower with a wickedly teasing lilt, “That’s just my type of foreplay. I’ve always found a man who’s ready for danger and mischief…quite irresistible.”

She let her words hang in the air, her smirk growing as she began to descend the steps with deliberate, unhurried grace. Her fingers brushed the banister, her pace measured as if savoring the moment. She cast a sidelong glance at Sjan-dehk, her eyes glinting with mischief. So surprised was Sjan-dehk by her choice of words that he choked on air. Clearing his throat, he slowly met her gaze, his cheeks tinted by a flush, and looking as if he couldn’t quite believe his ears.

“So,” she began, her tone deceptively innocent, “shall we go somewhere that’s quiet and private?” She paused mid-step, turning slightly to look at him, the question lingering in the air as her gaze held his. Her lips parted ever so slightly, as if to say something more, but she let the silence stretch, teasing him with the unspoken.

Sjan-dehk’s eyes widened, and his mouth hung agape. Every thought in his mind came to an abrupt, sudden halt. Was she really suggesting what he thought she was? Surely not – they had only known each other for roughly a week. It was too soon. But perhaps such affairs worked differently here, and she was indeed asking him for a dalliance? How should he respond? And why did a part of him – as small as it was – hope that she was indeed propositioning him?

He swallowed and tried to look over her shoulder; at the bannisters; at the ceiling, and even at all the fixtures lining the walls. Anywhere but her mischievous face and her lips.

Then, with a wicked little smile, she added, “To look at this letter, of course.” Her voice was sweet, but her grin made it abundantly clear that she was thoroughly enjoying herself. She continued her descent, her footsteps soft but purposeful, tossing him a playful look over her shoulder. “Unless you have…other suggestions?”

At that, Sjan-dehk released a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding. “You really are a tease, you know that?” He said with a chuckle. Some of it was out of amusement, but part of it was targeted at himself. What a fool he had been acting. The rush of excitement must have addled his senses, for him to have jumped to such a conclusion. “Can’t say I’ve any suggestions. I’d suggest going back to Sada Kurau, but…”

He swept a hand over himself. “I didn’t exactly make it difficult for anyone to guess that she’s where I came from,” he concluded. And also, his crew had worked terribly hard over the past couple of days and nights. The last thing Sjan-dehk wanted was to tire them out even more by leading unnecessary trouble to the ship. Sada Kurau deserved the rest, too. For tonight, he would be on his own. “But I’m sure you know one or two hiding spots where we can look over a letter, right?”

Kalliope’s laughter bubbled up, light and genuine, as she caught the playful edge in his voice. Her eyes sparkled with delight, and she shot him a teasing grin as she continued down the stairs with a languid, almost cat-like grace.

“I can't help but enjoy making you squirm a little.” She mused, her voice tinged with wicked delight as she turned the corner. Her smile lingered for a moment before she began to ponder, her eyes scanning the surroundings briefly as she considered her options. Her mind wandered for a moment, sifting through various possibilities, before her eyes lit up with the perfect idea.

“Well,” she began, drawing out the word as she looked back at him, “I have just the place. An inn, not too far from here. I've built quite the relationship with them over the years, and they have a little suite they keep just for me. Quiet. Private. Perfect for... confidential matters.”

She gave him another sly, yet playful look. “No prying eyes, no interruptions,” she added, her voice lowering just slightly with a hint of something more dangerous beneath the flirtation. "You might just like it there."

Without waiting for a response, she started heading towards the exit of the estate, more determined now. “Come along, then,” she called back, her smile mischievous. “Let’s take a look at this letter in the comfort of my little hideaway. No distractions, I promise…unless, of course, you’d like a distraction.”

Sjan-dehk chuckled with a shake of his head. “No, I wouldn’t want either of us to be distracted when we’re going through something so…Well, something that might be important,” he replied with a small grin. Then, with a glance at her dress and a glint in his eyes, he added in a playful tone, “Besides, I’d think that you’re plenty enough of a distraction, Kali. I’m afraid you might’ve to do all the reading.”

For him, and by his standards, those words were daring. Overly-so, even. But surely, if she was – as she put it – going to be a tease and make him squirm, then it was only fair for him to give her a touch of that as well, in return. It wasn’t as if it was that hard for him to say such words. With Kalliope, they flowed from his lips as naturally as a river meandering through a floodplain. It was strange, he had to admit, but it also felt strangely good. As if this was a fun game between the two of them.

Kalliope stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes snapping to Sjan-dehk with an expression that could only be described as mock shock. For a moment, she simply stared at him, her lips parted in exaggerated disbelief, before a slow, mischievous grin spread across her face.

“Well, well,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement, “Look who’s learning how to tease me back. I’m proud of you, Sjan-dehk. Might even make me swoon a little.”

She leaned closer, her emerald eyes glinting with wicked delight. “Though if it’s the dress that’s the distraction…” Her voice softened to a conspiratorial whisper, just loud enough for him to hear, “I could always take it off.”

Once again, Sjan-dehk was struck dumb by her words. His face flushed a deep scarlet, and it was all he could do to avert his gaze. The image left in his head by Kalliope’s suggestion made it difficult for him to look at her. “That–” he began, immediately interrupting himself by coughing into his fist. “That won’t…Well, I-I don’t think that would be necessary, but thank you for offering.”

She lingered for a heartbeat, just long enough for the suggestion to settle in the air between them, before pulling away with a laugh. Her steps picked up again as she linked her arm with his again and led the way to their destination.

Neither of them noticed the faint movement in the shadows, where a pair of cold, watchful eyes followed their every step. The figure lingered in the dark corner of the estate, obscured by the dim light of the hallway, before vanishing back into the depths of the mansion as quietly as a breath on the wind.
In 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 3 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Time: Night
Location: Sorian Harbour; aboard Remembrance
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What a feckin’ eyesore.

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 Remembrance’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. “What a feckin’ eyesore,” he repeated in a dark murmur. Then, he looked to his right.

“‘Tis nae the trut’, Neirynn?” 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. “‘At’s a good lass,” 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. “Someone’s feelin’ affectionate an’ such ta’day, hm?” He chuckled again, patted her on the head one more time, and drew his hand back. “Best yer be back tae yer dinner, lass. We’ve a lang night ahead o’ us, I reckon.”

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 Remembrance’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.

“Yer e’er wonder, Neirynn,” 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, “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?”

Or if ta’ fecker who sends out mage’unters know jus’ who’s bein’ ‘unted.

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.

“Dae’n worry yer head about it,” 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. “Jus’ thinkin’ ou’ loud, ‘tis aw’. Dae’n worry.”

He glanced at the rabbit’s carcass, then looked back at her with a raised eyebrow. “On ta’ contrary, ‘tis yer food that worries me, aye. It did’nae belang tae someone, did it?” Neirynn averted her gaze, stretching out a wing to hide her face as she scratched it with a claw. Cynwaer groaned. “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?”

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

Cynwaer spun around, and came face-to-face with Remembrance’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. “Talking politics with Neirynn again?”

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

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

“Yer me quartermaster, Ada,” Cynwaer said. “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.”

“Normal,” 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. “Got it, Captain.”

“Sae, what d’yer need me fae?”

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

Cynwaer nodded slowly. Then, he pushed himself away from the gunwale and turned to face Adaleida, his lips curled into a knowing smirk. “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?”

“‘Tis nothing–”

“I’ve known yer fae a whiles now, Ada,” Cynwaer cut in. “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.”

Adaleida averted her gaze, and chewed on her lip for a moment before speaking. “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.”

Cynwaer nodded slowly, then jerked his head to his left. “Come along wi’ me,” 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. “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.”

“It gives the crew reason to go up high regularly, though,” 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.

“Aye, I s’pose there’s that,” 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. “Tell me, Ada, what d’yer think o’ ‘er?” Cynwaer asked.

Adaleida stood beside him with arms crossed over her chest. She shrugged. “Well-armed, built to be quick and nimble, but I can’t see her being well-protected.” She cast a quick glance over to Cynwaer. “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.”

“Good eyes.” Cynwaer caught her glance and grinned. “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.”

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

Cynwaer nodded. “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?”

“And if we sail with that ship, we get to see what she can do firsthand,” Adaleida surmised.

“Now yer gettin’ it,” Cynwaer said. “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’.”

Adaleida raised a brow. “You really think that’s possible, Captain?”

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. “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.” He shrugged. “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?”

“Aye, Captain,” Adaleida said. “Should I give the order, or do you want to give it yourself?”

“Save yer voice, Ada,” Cynwaer replied. “I’ll ‘andle this one.”

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. “Right lads,” he shouted and raised a hand. “Time tae look lively! Let's bring 'er out!”
In 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 4 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay




Time: Late Evening / Night
Location: Sorian Waterfront >> Sada Kurau
Interactions:
Mentions: Dahlia Fletcher @princess
Attire:


For the second time in less than half-a-day, Sjan-dehk left the Privateers’ Office. He moved with haste, his boots thumping loudly against well-trodden planks as he marched across the veranda and jogged down its steps to reach the cobblestones of the waterfront.

There wasn’t much of a crowd – Sjan-dehk supposed that it was late enough that most people had already found their haunts for the rest of the evening. Even so, there was still a steady trickle of longshoremen still grimey from labour; of well-to-do citizens who gave them wide berths; and of commoners strolling leisurely along the waterfront. Some moved with purpose, their heads bowed, shoulders hunched, and coats pulled tight against the chilly seaward breeze. Others instead stopped every so often to bask in the warm, yellow glows of street lamps, and gaze out over the dark waters of the harbour.

Sjan-dehk didn’t know what they were looking at. He heard no waves, and he doubted that the lamps were bright enough to show passers-by anything more than an endless, black expanse. But perhaps there was an attractive mystique to that, to stand before an ink-black void.

He shook his head and quickened his pace, pulling his hat a little lower over his eyes and holding the ratty book and bundle of fabrics in his arm close to his chest. This wasn’t any time to ponder; Sada Kurau was waiting for him to return before she could finally sail out for her mission. She would have gone out earlier, before the sun had fully set, had Sjan-dehk not needed to pay the Privateers’ Office another visit. It hadn’t been a long one, thankfully, but still he felt embarrassed for having needed to make it in the first place.

“Good evenin’, Cap’n,” a vaguely familiar voice called out to him. Sjan-dehk looked up and to his left, and saw a vaguely familiar man walk towards him. His head of fiery hair was in a mess, as was his green coat, unbuttoned down the middle to display a brown waistcoat and off-white shirt. Both his hands held onto the handles of a heavy crate.

“Good evening,” Sjan-dehk replied and furrowed his brow. “Captain…”

“Cynric,” the man completed for him with a mischievous grin as he approached. He hefted the crate with a grunt and rested it against his thigh. “Dae’n tell me yer’ve forgotten aw’ready?”

Sjan-dehk nodded sheepishly. “Apologies. Your names, they are still strange to me. Hard to say. Harder to remember.” He glanced at the crate. “These are…Supplies? No. Provisions?”

“Aye,” Cynric replied. “Figured I’d get ta’ lads an’ lassies some good drink tae keep ‘em ‘appy fae a whiles longer. Nae sailor like stayin’ in ‘arbour fae tae long, ‘tis sae.” He then tilted his chin towards the book and bundle that Sjan-dehk was carrying. “An’ I see yer’ve taken tae privateerin’?”

“Yes,” Sjan-dehk replied, shades of his surprise showing through. “How do you know?”

Cynric grinned. “I wan’ tae say that I recognise ‘at signal book that yer carryin’, but nae, ‘tis nae that. I jus’ saw you leavin’ tae privateer’s office earlier,” he said. “Hope yer dae’n mind me askin’, but did yer jus’ sign up, or are yer headin’ out on a job?”

“Sada Kurau will sail, yes,” Sjan-dehk said. “I joined in the afternoon, but I forgot to ask about your signals and your flags.” A sheepish tone tinted his words. As far as mistakes went, that was one that a captain as experienced as Sjan-dehk shouldn’t have made – signalling was how a ship talked, and it was as vital to a ship as her sails or hull or crew – and that he had made it brought him some modicum of shame. He took it as a lesson learned, however. At least now he knew one thing he had to look out for when sailing waters beyond the Commonwealth’s borders.

“Ah, dae’n s’pose yer mind ‘avin’ an extra ship tae ‘elp?” Cynric asked. “I was jus’ thinkin’ o’ signin’ mysel’ and my crew up as privateers tae, aye. Figured ‘at if I lend yer a ‘and, it migh’ dae us some favours in tiltin’ ta’ odds in our favour, ‘tis sae.”

He grinned again. “An’ maybe it migh’ convince yer tae put in a good word, tae.”

Neither of those seemed necessary to Sjan-dehk. Based on what he had seen, Kerr would be overjoyed to have another ship that wasn’t a gunboat, and a captain who knew what he was about, at his disposal. But Sjan-dehk was in a rush, and he had dawdled for long enough. And besides, if he was going to go hunting for an unknown ship – or ships – in the dark, he wasn’t about to turn away extra sets of eyes to help keep an eye out for things.

And so, he nodded. “Okay. That is good. How soon can you sail?”

Cynric hefted the crate off his thigh. “As soon as I get this bastard o’ a crate stowed awa’,” he replied. “I’ll ‘ave eyes on yer ship, aye? We’ll make sail when yer start makin’ way.”

“Yes, that will work,” Sjan-dehk said. “We should go now. Otherwise, will be too late.”

“Aye.” Cynwaer grunted as he took a few steps forward, trying to reacquire his balance. “I look forward tae sailin’ wi’ yer, Cap’n.”

Sjan-dehk nodded to him, said a few parting words, and continued on his way. It didn’t take long for him to return to Sada Kurau – the ship was docked only a short distance away from the Privateers’ Office – but it still felt as if he had been away for far too long. He went up the gangway. Just as he took his first step onto Sada Kurau’s deck, he caught the tail end of a conversation that was going by the bulwark, directly beside the gangway’s landing.

“...don’t know, Inshahri, I-I can’t sense anything.” It was Yasawen. “L-Look, the Captain’s back. Maybe you should ask him b-before you go any further.”

That got Sjan-dehk’s attention in an instant, and – the mission momentarily forgotten – he snapped around to face Yasawen. “Is there something you plan to do to Sada Kurau that I should – no, I must know about, Yasa?”

The boy wilted beneath his gaze, and he looked off to the side. “N-No, Captain,” he said in a small voice. It didn’t seem as if sending him off to explore Sada Kurau on his own had done him any favours. If anything, he seemed even more timid than when Sjan-dehk had first seen him.

“I-Inshahri’s the one who was doing…Things,” he continued, pointing to the girl standing beside him.

The girl pressed her fingers to her lips and giggled. “Aw, come on, Yasa,” she said, her voice melodic, and every syllable sounding as if they were part of a song. “Don’t tell me you didn’t have fun chasing down this mystery with me.”

Yasawen flushed. “I–”

“You can’t lie to me,” the girl sang. “I know you too well.”

Sjan-dehk sighed and held up his hand. “Alright, that’s enough,” he said and turned to the girl. It took him a moment to remember her name, as well as the reason why she was even aboard Sada Kurau in the first place. “Inshahri, yes?” He asked.

“That’s me,” the girl chirped.

Dark of skin and mischievous of face, Inshahri was another arcanist Sudah had sent over – a woodshaper and counter-arcane specialist. Sjan-dehk remembered that part about her clearly; both her specialisations were very much welcome aboard a ship-of-war, and he distinctly recalled being not as annoyed by her late arrival – a few hours after Yasawen – as he should have been because of that very fact. That she seemed to have some history with the geomancer, and was his utter opposite in terms of personality, had appeared to be an added bonus. Sjan-dehk had hoped that her presence would make it easier for Yasawen to ease into becoming part of Sada Kurau’s crew.

Now, however, that seemed to be wishful thinking.

Yasawen stood ill-at-ease beside her, his eyes looking at the sails; at the pier; at the sea; at everything but Sjan-dehk. His slouched shoulders made Inshahri look even taller than him, beyond the few scant inches that separated them. Coupled with his disheveled clothes – likely a result of squeezing through the narrow hatches and lower decks of Sada Kurau – he looked quite miserable.

Sjan-dehk let out a quiet sigh. He would have to do something about the boy at some point. Otherwise, he wasn’t going to last long as part of Sada Kurau.

Shaking his head slightly, Sjan-dehk spoke to Inshahri. “So, want to tell me what you’re doing?”

The girl hummed, her shoulders faintly swaying back-and-forth. “So you know I’m a counter-arcanist, right, Captain? That means I can sense magic and stuff like that.” She tapped a finger against her lip, turning to look towards the stern, then towards the prow. The cat-like smile on her face never faded. “I just thought I sensed something earlier. Still do, actually! It’s magic, that’s for sure, and it’s not Yasa’s.”

She looked at the boy with a playful look. “His magic has a nicer song. This one is just weird.”

Yasawen’s face flushed. “S-Stop it, I know y-you’re just teasing…” He muttered, eyes looking at the space between his feet.

“Enough of that,” Sjan-dehk interjected. He wasn’t quite sure why, but there was something familiar about how the two of them interacted with one another. Whether it was a good thing or not, he still didn’t know. “Inshahri, focus for now. When did you start detecting that magic?”

“Not too long ago. Maybe just a little while before you returned?” She hummed thoughtfully, then shrugged before wiping her hands over her shirt. It hung loosely about her shoulders, and was messily tucked into a calf-length skirt. A bright, yellow sash tied around her waist completed her simple outfit, one that reminded Sjan-dehk quite a lot of what Iyen preferred to wear. And now that Sjan-dehk took a proper look at her, she even wore her hair in a pair of tails that wasn’t too dissimilar from how Iyen wore hers.

“I tried looking, and Yasa helped, too!” She continued. “But we didn’t find anything, so I wanted us to go to the holds and the…And the…” Her smile faded slightly and she scratched her head. “What’s the place with all the gunpowder called?”

“The magazine,” Sjan-dehk said. He turned to Yasawen. “You did the right thing, stopping her. Nobody but Young Master Sohn-dahn and his boys, and Master Mursi and his gun crews should be there.”

Yasawen smiled hesitantly. “T-Thank you, Captain.”

“Boo,” Inshahri whined with a pout. “What about me? I found the magic first, Captain.”

Sjan-dehk flashed her a grin. “I’ll praise you once we find that magic, Inshahri,” he said and lifted the book and bundle. “Let me get these to Chief Sai-nahn and get us underway. Then, I’ll join the two of you to look for that source of magic. Just do exactly as I say and nothing else. I don’t want anyone accidentally killing themselves before we even leave harbour. It’s bad luck.”
In 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 4 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Myaatyun Kidelaut

(Character sheet)

Time: Evening
Location: Redwater


Kidelaut knew Redwater as how one might know an old friend – with fond memories of their past together, and a wistful longing to experience those times again.

He still remembered the day he first laid eyes upon the town. He had been a mere youth of fourteen back then – a recent arrival from Kimoon with nothing but dreams of making a name for himself in these foreign, Caesonian lands. And Redwater, unburdened by infamy in those good old days, had been a quiet town on the outskirts of Felipina, barely half-a-day’s ride from the city. Kidelaut recalled making the trip on foot – he hadn’t the coin for a carriage – with apprehension gripping his heart the entire way. After all, he hadn’t any idea what to expect. He hadn’t even known much about Caesonia as a whole.

And yet, when he saw the town rise into view, saw how it straddled the River Vermelleuve with its series of bridges and waterwheels, and saw how idyllic it looked sitting peacefully beneath the snow-capped peaks of the majestic Sans Pareil Mountains, the worry and anxiety melted away, replaced by awe. Kidelaut had, up until then, never seen a sight quite like it. The Redwater of that time had looked as if it had been pulled straight out of a fairy tale, and planted in the Caesonian countryside.

Kidelaut closed his eyes. Even now, everything was still vivid in his mind, as if his memories were of things that happened a few days ago, and not well over a decade in the past. He could still smell the crisp, alpine air, invigorating and refreshing; hear the chirping songs of birds unknown to Kimoon; sit beneath a sky that was never overcast, be it day or night; and see the eponymous red-tinted waters, courtesy of the riverine mosses which the locals used to make a distinct, crimson dye.

He exhaled slowly through his nose. For the better part of a year, he had called Redwater home. In return, the town had carefully etched those pleasant memories; those bucolic moments that brought him comfort during dark times, onto his mind.

And those etchings were now all that remained of the old Redwater.

“‘S’cuse me, this seat taken?”

A man’s voice shocked Kidelaut out of his thoughts. His eyes snapped open, and he blinked a few times to clear his mind. Still, he possessed enough mental clarity to notice that the man spoke with an accent, one that was just thick enough to identify him as a Varian northerner – someone who hailed from the eternally snow-covered lands beyond the Krasnivaya Mountains.

“No, not at all,” Kidelaut said and shifted further to his side of the bench, until he could rest his arm on the scrollwork of its armrest. He cast a sidelong glance at the man. Like most who ventured onto the streets of Redwater, he kept the lower half of his face covered. The upper classes had a preference for comfortable masks made of soft, layered fabrics. This man however, dressed as he was in garb that marked him quite clearly as a sellsword – drab, earth-coloured clothes beneath a cuirass and short tassets, and a sword by his side – wasn’t of such a class. And so, he instead had a thick scarf wrapped up to his nose.

“Please, do have a seat,” Kidelaut continued. The sight of the man’s scarf, and his attire, made him aware of his own. Just like the man, Kidelaut was dressed as a sellsword. Though his suit of half-plate might be a touch shinier, and his forest green shirt and trousers a little less frayed, he nevertheless looked every part a blade looking to be hired.

Such attire, coupled with the muggy air, made for a very discomforting experience. The scarf Kidelaut had pulled up to the bridge of his nose didn’t help with matters. Every breath felt like a chore, one that couldn’t even adequately fill his lungs. But Kidelaut also knew that without that strip of fabric, the air he would invite into his body would be little better than poison.

The man said a word of thanks, his armour clanking as he sat down heavily with a grunt. Then, he reclined with an arm stretched over the top of the bench, the hand of the other running through a head of straw-like hair which had the appearance of short and pointed grass. Kidelaut responded with a simple nod, his gaze fixed on Redwater’s main square, directly ahead of him and just beyond the point of his boots.

He sighed and hung his head. Here, he had no better view of Redwater’s sordid fate.

Gone were the clear skies; the light of the evening sun could barely pierce the thick smog which blanketed the town in clouds of dusty brown. Street lamps struggled to provide illumination, but their lights were little more than vague, yellow glows through the hanging filth. Gone was also the fresh, clean air; so pervasive was the scent of iron that it was palpable even through Kidelaut’s scarf. He felt the metallic tang creep into his nose, and could even taste it upon his tongue. And gone were the birds and their songs; it didn’t seem as if there were any living creatures in Redwater apart from the people who called it home. The only songs that remained were the droning hums and angry grumbles of distant machinery.

But worst of all was the river. Kidelaut couldn’t see it from where he sat, but he could hear it. One couldn’t escape the rush of water here in Redwater. Once, he would have enjoyed the noise, but now all it did was remind him of the sorry state of the Vermelleuve. It still flowed red, but it wasn’t the rosy pink of Kidelaut’s memories, and instead a sickly orange, as if the water itself had rusted over. Dam and dam exploiting the river for more and more power slowed its flow to a gurgling trickle as it meandered through town, staining desolate riverbanks and sapping life from all that it touched.

Kidelaut shook his head. If the Redwater of years past had been a setting from a fairy tale, then whatever it had become was surely a victim of a Kimoonese cautionary story. One that cautioned against the sins of rampant industry with all of the subtlety of a brick to the face, he noted.

Beside him, the man cleared his throat. It was an awkward, unnatural sound. “I hear that Veirmont is a fine place to visit in the spring,” he said.

“Not as fine as Vayansk in the summer, however,” Kidelaut replied. Under his scarf, he grinned. “It is good to see you, Jaakko.”

“Likewise, Renny,” Jaakko replied. Neither used the other’s real name. Both had done this exact thing too many times, and knew far better than to make such elementary mistakes. Jaakko glanced at Kidelaut from the corner of his eye. “Frostbite take my fingers, Renny, you look like someone just took a steaming shit in your dinner. What’s going on?”

“Do I, now?” Kidelaut chuckled and shook his head at Jaakko’s strange choice of words. “That is very, very strange of you to say, especially since our faces are hidden.”

“True, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you happy whenever you visit Redwater,” Jaakko replied, the grin on his face clear in his tone. “Call it my gambler’s instinct to bet on whatever’s most probable, eh?”

“As you wish,” Kidelaut said. “And you said it yourself. If I do appear morose, it is because of this place.”

Several years ago, when Kidelaut visited Redwater for the third time since moving to Hartworth, he hadn’t been just morose. He had been furious. The sight of a forest of chimneys spewing plumes of black smoke into the air; of sprawling refineries dumping their refuse onto dying fields; and of the mines burrowing deep beneath the Sans Pareil allowing their toxic run-off to drain into the Vermelleuve, had enraged him. Dutiful knight that he was at the time, he had raised his concerns to his then-master, only to be told that although such things were ghastly, they were ultimately inevitable along the path of progress.

And like a fool, Kidelaut had allowed such a flimsy excuse to placate him. Such moments, such memories made him wish for a temperament closer to Cynwaer’s. That seafarer was brash and overly-quick to resort to violence, but at least he would have fought hard for what he thought was right. He wouldn’t have simply taken a noble’s word at face value.

Kidelaut drew in a deep breath. The scarf flattened against his nose. “In any case,” he said. “Do you have what we asked?”

“Sure as the springmelt, I do,” Jaakko replied. He paused, eyes narrowing as he took a quick look around them, disguising that action with the pretence of stretching his neck. Apart from a handful of people quickly crossing the square, and a few hurrying past a row of squarish buildings to their left, there wasn’t much in the way of a crowd. Kidelaut had expected that. Redwater only truly came to life at night, well after sunset, and after the refineries closed for the day. Only then would the smog be at its least dense.

Satisfied that nobody was watching, Jaakko quickly slipped a hand between his cuirass and shirt, carefully pulling out a thin, stained, and slightly bent folder. It had no markings on it. No names, no labels, not even a scribbled drawing. To anyone else’s eyes, it would have likely appeared to be something mundane, of no particular import or significance. That was if they even noticed it in the first place.

And that was exactly what Jaakko and Kidelaut had intended.

Jaakko placed the folder beside him, as if he were simply putting it down for a moment. Without looking at Kidelaut, he slid it towards the middle of the bench.

Kidelaut waited five heartbeats, then pulled the folder towards him. He picked it up, peaked at its contents, and slotted it between his own cuirass and shirt.

And that was it.

“You have our thanks,” Kidelaut said with a nod.

Jaakko chuckled. “I’ll need more than that, considering the trouble I had to go through to get that,” he said with a shake of his head. “Tell Songbird they owe me more than just a drink, this time. Giving me less than two days to dig up all that information on His Iron Lordship, what were they thinking?”

“You managed it, however,” Kidelaut noted.

Jaakko nodded. “That, I did. Don’t make it a habit, though.”

Kidelaut tapped a finger on his thigh. “I do admit that I am curious, however,” he said, turning his head fully to look directly into Jaakko’s chilly, azure eyes. “You are rather forthcoming about working against the man who employs you. Is there a reason for why that is so?” He paused. “Oh, I mean no offence, and certainly no suspicion. Please, do not misunderstand. Your loyalty is without question. I am merely intrigued.”

He grinned, and his words took on a more teasing – a more Sioridann-like – hue. “Unless, of course, there is reason for us to be suspicious.”

Jaakko regarded him with a strange look in his eyes for a moment before shaking his head. “Frostbite take my– no, take your fingers, Renny. Songbird’s rubbing off on you,” he said with a chuckle. Then, he sighed, eyes gazing out towards and beyond the square. “But, to answer your question, my contract with that little bastard ends this week, and I’m not planning on signing another one, so he’s not going to be my boss for much longer. I’m sure as springmelt not going to care about whatever befalls him.”

He adjusted his scarf, pulling it further up the bridge of his nose. “And besides, it’s about time that bastard paid for all the shite that he’s done. By summer’s thaw, I’d even bet that it’s not just you and Songbird who have plans for him. Half of Redwater probably wants His Iron Lordship gone.”

Kidelaut nodded slowly. That wasn’t the answer he had been expecting, but it was certainly an interesting one. One of which he wanted to hear more. “That is news to me,” Kidelaut began, his voice low. For once, he found himself thankful for the scarves they had to wear. The fabric muffled their words, and kept them close. Conversations didn’t drift far in Redwater. “Please, do elaborate.”

“Come on, Renny,” Jaakko said. “Surely as snows will melt, you’ve heard of all the shite he’s done?”

“Only as much as what little I hear from beyond Redwater’s borders, I fear,” Kidelaut admitted.

‘His Iron Lordship’ was the moniker by which the people of Redwater – both high and low – knew a certain Gratien Wesschler, a captain of industry and mining magnate. That much, Kidelaut knew with certainty for a fact. He also knew that the moniker was a misnomer. Wesschler wasn’t an actual lord, for one. As far as Kidelaut knew, he wasn’t even of noble birth, even if he did act to the contrary. And secondly, it wasn’t just iron in which Wesschler dealt. Coal, bloodstone, silver, and even gems; if it came out of the ground, and if it came from Redwater, Wesschler likely had a hand in its extraction, refining, and sale.

All that made Wesschler a very, very rich man. It wasn’t a secret as to how he spent such wealth; even the lowliest miners were aware of the generous bribes he handed out like sweets during a festival, or the gifts he lavished upon the local nobility. Such acts bought him influence; bought him power; and perhaps most importantly, bought him the ability to have his way in just about every matter in Redwater. Indeed, Kidelaut had never heard of Gratien meeting trouble when he bought almost a third of all the mines in Redwater, or when he took over one of the larger and more productive refineries.

Kidelaut’s stomach turned at the mere thought of such corruption, but even so, he could admit that Gratien hadn’t done anything particularly reprehensible. True, his actions likely didn’t endear him to anyone – and had likely achieved the opposite – but Kidelaut didn’t think that a hostile takeover here, and a bribe to get his way there, were enough to antagonise half-a-town, as Jaakko had said.

“Well,” Jaakko continued. “Where do I even fucking begin?”

His shoulders heaved as he drew in a deep breath. “Maybe from his love for women? And I’m using ‘love’ very fucking loosely here. We’re both– Well, you were a sellsword, Renny, but I’m sure you’re no stranger to fellows who think with their cocks more than their heads, right?” Kidelaut nodded. “Well, this rat bastard lordship takes that to the bloody extreme. Frostbite take my fucking head if I lie, but I swear I’ve seen him with one girl in the morning, another in the afternoon, and maybe three others by evenfall.”

“Sounds like some people we’ve known, Jaakko,” Kidelaut noted.

“Yeah, well,” Jaakko said, his tone darkening slightly. “The people we knew had standards, Renny. At least they left married women alone, and didn’t…” He stopped himself and looked away. “Let’s just say that he’s not used to being rejected. I’ve heard from some of the local sellswords that if he can’t get what he wants by throwing money at it, he’ll use force.”

Kidelaut’s hands balled into fists, and he set his jaw. “And those sellswords, they don’t stop him?”

Jaakko turned to look at him with a flat expression in his eyes. “Renny, the bastard could sign a confession to every crime known to man and beast, and he’d still be a free man by sundown. Anyone who’s got family in Redwater knows better than to cross him.” He paused and leaned back onto the bench. “I guess that’s why he doesn’t pull his nonsense when me and the other North Varians are around. We’d cave his fucking head in with a hammer.”

“So, this…Iron Lordship is a vile lech in addition to being corrupt,” Kidelaut said. “Songbird is going to love playing with him, of that I am certain.”

Jaakko chuckled mirthlessly. “I hope they make it hurt,” he said. “By the long winter night, Renny, if he was just a corrupt, perverse bastard, that’d be enough for me to want him dead. But no, he has to go the extra mile and be involved in some shady horseshite.” He looked around once more. There were only the two of them around the square; everyone else had likely scurried into some building and away from the smog.

“I’ve written it all down,” Jaakko said, nodding towards the folder behind Kidelaut’s cuirass. “But since I’ve already started ranting about the bastard, I might as well continue.” He cleared his throat, coughing into a fist, before continuing. “Look, Renny, I don’t know much about mining and how it works, but I think I know enough to be fucking sure that you don’t need to bring in close to three hundred new workers every other week, and all of them from just about every corner of Caesonia. Either something in those mines is eating workers, or that bastard is up to no fucking good.”

That caught Kidelaut’s attention in an instant. What Jaakko was saying was eerily similar to the rumours of missing – or abducted, depending on who you asked – persons that had brought Sioridann and his paths to Redwater, and to Gratien, in the first place. “I know Wesschler owns a number of mines,” Kidelaut said, reaching under his scarf to scratch his chin. “I do not doubt that he is involved in some criminal enterprise or other, Jaakko, but I will ask this to be absolutely clear. Is it possible that his mines and his refinery are just that dangerous? Enough so that he would need that many fresh hires regularly?”

“Not a damn chance.” Jaakko’s response was immediate. Evidently, he had already considered – and then rejected – such a possibility. “That bastard treats his workers worse than dung, don’t get me wrong, but it’d take him actually, actively killing them to lose a few hundred every two weeks.” He paused to breathe. “I’m not even sure that they’re actually workers, to be honest. I’ve patrolled the mines and refinery many, many times since he started bringing in these people and I can’t remember ever seeing a new face at work.”

Kidelaut chewed on his lip. “That is indeed very troubling.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Jaakko said. Then, he sat up straight, clenching and unclenching his hands. “You know what, Renny? Now that I’ve said everything out loud, I’m not sure I can just walk away from that little bastard without giving him a piece of my mind. The North Varians listen to me, mostly, so if you need extra muscle for whatever you and Songbird have planned, you let me know.”

Kidelaut looked at him and grinned. “Ah, finally decided to fight the good fight, have you?”

Jaakko chuckled. “Just this once, Renny.” He stood up and stretched his arms. “Though I’ll definitely need new work once we’re through with that bastard, so who knows, eh?”

“Then I shall endeavour to make this operation of ours one that is spectacular enough to convince you and yours to join our cause.” Kidelaut stood up as well.

“I won’t deny that I’ve thought about it,” Jaakko said. “Especially after seeing just how people like that rat bastard treats the lower classes.” He looked off to the side, then back at Kidelaut. “Anyway, I should return to my duties before they miss me too much.”

“Very well,” Kidelaut said. “Be safe and be discreet. We would hate to lose a friend such as yourself.”

Jaakko waved his words away. “Eh, I wouldn’t worry, Renny. If anything happens to me, the North Varians would probably riot, and that bastard might be a bastard, but he’s not a stupid bastard. Not stupid enough to want a small band of very, very angry North Varians on his property, at least.” He nodded, and Kidelaut returned the gesture. “But I’ll be careful, and I hope your path is true as the autumn frost, Renny.”

Kidelaut said one last word of farewell before the two men parted ways. Jaakko stalked off northwards, to where most of the town’s workers had their quarters, and the part of the city that was closest to the mines and refineries. Kidelaut remained where he was for a moment longer, looking up towards an obscured sky, listening to the gurgle of a poisoned river, and tasting the tainted, metallic air.

He looked down and shook his head. An industrialist, hm? He mused. It felt almost poetic. Here he stood, in the midst of an old friend ruined by industry. And in his mind, he still clung onto memories of an old love, murdered by a soulless profiteer. Kidelaut made it a point to never take pleasure in ending his marks – he did what he did because there was no other option.

But for Gratien Wesschler, corrupt industrialist and exploiter of suffering, Kidelaut supposed that he could make an exception.
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