Gale McLeary, James Clearwell, and Cynwaer Fiachin
Flashback
Time: 10:40 am, 25th Sola
It always seemed like
dead bodies were heavier, somehow. As though the soul occupying anybody's body were lighter than air, and removing it made a body sink toward the earth even harder. With just two of them, it was a bit of a chore, but they managed. The rope tied around the man's ankles was quite helpful in pulling him up.
Gale was just pondering the rope in question when James appeared, dressed down from his military uniform into something middle-class. The gruff, older man looked up from his resting when he heard steps on the cobble, after having struggled the body up with the man he hadn't sent away,
“James.”“Gale.” James had been trying to resist the stretch of the alleys, but it was quickly overcoming his ability to do so.
“This is the body, then.” It wasn't really a question. He pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and covered his nose and mouth with it.
“Aye, ‘is is t’ bloke. There's two things abou’ ‘im. There's t’ rrope abou’ ‘is ankles, aye, but also..” Gale carefully tilted the head aside,
“there's two, clean.. puncturre woun’s, on t’ neck.”“Do you think that's what killed him?”“Aahhck, I cannae be surre. I'm nae doctorr. If he wasn’t dead before, he’d ‘ave bled out righ’ quick.”“Well, let's get him to the hospital, then. The morgue should have a look.”“Ehhh… ‘old on.” Gale seemed to dislike the idea,
“‘ooever did this an’ dumped the feller in t’ sewer ‘ad reason.”“Reason enough to conceal a killing in the slums.” Which meant some kind of powerful secret? Those with powerful secrets had a tendency for pet rats. The dressed-down lieutenant examined the sewer grate and the body from where he stood. After a brief pause, he pondered,
“they used a rope? They didn’t just lift him, or grab his limbs..” He took a deep breath and approached the body, crouching by the neck to examine the wounds Gale had described.
“Too posh?” Was that a remark of the disposer, of James, or both?
“How far d’y’ suppose..” Gale looked around, wondering how much other activity had covered the tracks of this.
“I’ll look into it.” James nodded, and motioned his head at MacGregor. Mac carried a large, cheap cloth to wrap the body in, and maybe contain the smell for a little bit. The middle-class young man began looking for the signs of a body dragged. An overturned, loose cobble, scattered, loose rubbish trailing off from a larger pile, toward the dump site, a smeared ooze leading toward the same. An unoccupied space about the size of a body, among some refuse. Was that rust-colored stain blood?
The high-pitched squawks of a bird-of-prey – and an agitated one at that – interrupted the men.
Not long after, Cynwaer rounded the corner, the source of the squawks perched on his shoulder with mottled wings half-unfurled, and a shorter woman a step behind him. Neither person said or did anything for a moment, their eyes open in shock as they first looked at the foul and stinking corpse, then at the three men surrounding it.
Cynwaer was the first to recover, and he raised a brow.
“Well, feck me,” he said, his level voice making it sound as if he had just stepped in rubbish, rather than run across the possible scene of a terrible crime.
This feckin’ day jus’ keeps get’in’ bet’er and bet’er.” He brought a hand up to scratch the chin of the bird. It chirped and nuzzled against his finger.
“‘Tis nae righ’, Neirynn?”The woman, however, was markedly less calm about the whole situation. Her loose, auburn hair flew across her face as she snapped a hand to the pistol holstered at her side. Before she could pull it out, however, Cynwaer stopped her with a quip.
“Come now, there’s nae need fae aw’ that song an’ dance.” He nodded to the trio.
“Cannae imagine ‘ow they’re gae’n tae try an’ kill us wi’ ‘ow they’re standin’, aye.”“That’s well and good, Captain,” the woman’s voice came out as a growl. Though she complied with Cynwaer and kept her weapon where it was, her dark, piercing eyes flitted between each of the men. Suspicion filled her gaze.
“But I know a murdered stiff when I see one, and these three right here sure look like the ones that did our grey mate here in.”Cynwaer shook his head and sighed. He had to admit that for a second surprise of his day, this was a pretty big one. The first had been running into Matilda – the woman, and also the surgeon of his ship – as she had been trying to corral Neirynn into returning to Remembrance. It seemed as if the harrier had gotten tired of waiting for her owner to return, and had decided to simply go off and find him herself, instead.
So, yes, stumbling across a likely – and possibly recent – murder was quite a step up from that.
“My surgeon o’er there,” Cynwaer addressed the men, pointing to Matilda.
“She’s o’ the opinion that three o’ you are who fecked that poor fecker up. An’ I dae’n see any reason tae disagree wi’ ‘er, aye, sae dae any o’ yer three ‘ave an excuse, or should we cut ta’ nonsense an’ jus’ get tae ta’ part where yer run an’ we ‘ave tae catch an’ dae yer aw’ in?”The birds had come already? Wait.. that wasn’t a crow or raven, or even a vulture, and they hadn't been there for that long. All four men looked at the bird and followed it with their eyes. James was unable to track the beast back to the man and woman that had approached the group of three. The man - the Captain - and the bird were close, which was impressive, but sadly not important immediately. That anyone had come across them and decided to pay attention was a surprise, unless these folk were party to whoever did this.
Gale was the first to respond, offering a chortle that might have been heartier if the air and circumstances were more pleasant,
“beg parrd’n, but do I ‘earr someone else tha’ carres?” Genuinely surprised, he stood from rolling the body with the second man, while the third had stepped to block for Gale, seeing the gun.
First order of business was lower tension. There was no way of knowing if these two were here for the body in the first place or not. Then again, if they were here to take care of a body anyway, what was a few more? The way this man and woman were approaching the situation read strangely. About as strange as the trio of men currently bundling up the body.
“Werren’t us, I c’n tell ye tha’.” Gale put his hand on the shoulder in front of him, stepping by calmly,
“but yer nae enforcers, ‘at’s plain. Last place I'd expect tae see those lads.”He looked over the situation carefully. James had kept quiet, perhaps he was continuing to investigate the origins of the body. Perhaps he was waiting for an opportune moment to reveal himself. “Step off, lads.” Gale motioned the other two back, stepping over by the dead man’s head and turning his attention to Matilda,
“you think we done ‘im in? Nae. Come an’ see, Miss Surgeon, since I’ll guess my worrd would nae convince ye.” He knelt and watched the pair patiently as the two men with him moved away, giving the body space that the surgeon could approach without anyone standing over her. He was just in need of a doctor of some calling, a surgeon was great.
Matilda glanced at Cynwaer, who merely responded with a shrug. He did, however, drop a hand to his sword, and Neirynn kept a watchful gaze over the men with her beady eyes.
“Cannae say I’ve e’er ‘eard o’ killers invitin’ a surgeon to check their victim, aye,” he remarked nonchalantly. It was perhaps a little too nonchalant if he wanted to play a nondescript pedestrian, but with a bird like Neirynn on his shoulder, and with Matilda – who had very clearly referred to him as ‘Captain’ despite having been told not to – following him, that role was likely not one he would play well in the first place.
He tilted his chin towards the corpse.
“Off yer go then, Matty. ‘Ave a look at yer grey mate.”Matilda nodded, and shot piercing glares at each of the three men as she pushed through them to the body. She knelt, eyes narrowed, and hand cupping her chin. With a light touch, she turned the dead man’s head to one side, just enough for her to see the two small holes in his neck. Her face darkened, and she chewed on her lip.
“Two lancings to the jugular. He must have bled out in seconds,” she said, voice impassive and clinical.
Very carefully, she touched the holes. The man’s neck was, as expected, cold from being dead, and slimy from having been in the sewers. But Matilda didn’t seem to care about that.
“Smooth edges, so the implement must have been sharp. Pointed.” She balled a hand into a fist, as if she were wielding a dagger, and mimicked a stabbing action into the corpse’s neck.
“The strikes had to be precise for the entry wounds to be this clean,” she commented.
“But then why do it twice? Once would have been enough to bleed grey mate white.” She looked over the rest of the body.
“No signs of a struggle, either, so I don’t think his killer had to worry about him fighting back. So anger? But the body is intact. Rage would manifest in mutilation, usually.”“Could be jus’ one blow?” Cynwaer piped up.
“Like some strange two-pronged fork?” Matilda asked. From anyone else’s mouth, such words would have almost certainly sounded mocking, but Cynwaer knew better. She was actually considering it as a possibility.
“Maybe. If not a fork, then perhaps some other implement with two points that are in close proximity to each other.”She regarded the body with a scrutinising gaze for a moment longer, then stood up.
“Ah well, it’s not my job, anyway,” she said, her voice suddenly regaining colour and emotion. She looked at the three men, her cheeks slightly flushed and gaze averted.
“Sorry about that. I was too quick to pass judgment.”Cynwaer cut in at that moment.
“Aye, she’s righ’ about that, but…” He trailed off and glanced at the rope around the corpse’s legs, and the sheet held by Mac.
“Maybe yer did’nae kill this poor bastard, but I’m still nae sure what yer dae’n tae ‘im.” He paused and smirked.
“Yer nae cleanin’ ‘im up fae some other fella, are yer?”“Nae trrouble, Miss.. Matty?” That went well. MacGreagor and Jonson stood aside, standing by and watching for any
more uninvited guests. The tension seemed to have gone from the pair, and Gale found his muscles relaxing just a bit. Trying to deal with a gun in these circumstances wouldn’t have gone well, especially when he’s got just a dagger, bow, and arrows.
“Tha’s a fairr question. We hauled the poorr scunner ou’ t’ sewer, there. Someone bothered tae ‘ide t’ body, beyond just put’in’ t’ feller in t’ slums. Oye, lads. Wrrap ‘im up. Cannae be left tae rot.”“Miss Swann, to you,” Matilda snapped, her earlier bashfulness gone.
“I’m Matilda Swann. Surgeon of the Rem–”“Recompense,” Cynwaer quickly cut in, and gave Matilda a look of warning. Matilda caught it and nodded, her cheeks flushing once more at her near-mistake. Cynwaer turned back to Gale.
“‘At’s what we call our current ship. Jus’ got ‘er nae tae long ago, aye. Pirates fecked our last one, an’ ‘tis pure luck we got awa’ wi’ ta’ skins on our backs.” He may have said too much, but he had to play it safe. Sprinkling a bit of truth over falsehoods never failed to make the latter seem that much more palatable.
“Oh, an’ I’m ‘er Cap’n. Yer can call me Cynric Fletcher.”He then turned to look down one of the alley paths, he could hear the familiar footfalls of the lieutenant approaching,
“James.”“Gale. You’ve,” James, dressed in his own civilian clothes and armed with a dagger and buckler, stepped into view from around a corner and eyed the woman and man that had appeared since he left,
“made friends. Lovely bird.”Neirynn chirped, as if thanking James for the compliment.
Cynwaer grinned and scratched her neck.
“Aye, she is.” The older man nodded, looking casually at the pair of strangers before turning back to James,
“aye, aye, friends. Cap’n Cynrric ‘n Miss Swan. Did ye find anything?”James looked at Gale questioningly, who merely motioned for him to continue. James eyed the Captain and his Surgeon again, before taking a slow breath and speaking,
“the body seems to have been dragged from the next alcove, but I can’t say for certain. There seems to have been something large removed recently from a pile of refuse, about the size of our body, here. The rope would suggest it was used to do the dragging, which would further suggest whoever did so could not or would not lift the body’s legs or arms to drag it.”“Jus’ wha’ I needed, thank ye,” Gale nodded graciously as he turned to the Captain and Surgeon fully,
“as you ‘earrd, we’re,” he paused briefly, “bein’ nosy, an’ cleanin’ up. Speakin’ o’ nosey, does yerr fine featherred frriend there oft’n brring ye tae find bodies? Seems an odd business, it does, Cap’n.” The man grinned, not meaning to seem hostile. However, it was his turn to ask questions.
“If yer’ve e’er seen a sea ‘arrier, yer’ll know that they’ve a nose fae meat,” Cynwaer explained. That wasn’t a lie. Neirynn, little huntress that she was, could always be counted upon to find prime fishing spots, and if they were on land, wild game. It was just a shame that not everything she found was always edible for her non-harrier crewmates.
“An’ ‘tis nae like we were followin’ ‘er. We jus’ got a little turned around findin’ our way back tae the ‘arbour, aye.”Gale seemed to have negotiations with this unknown party in hand. James slowly turned from the three and looked back down the way he came. He took a moment, staring, and slowly followed the path he’d found from the alcove beyond, down the alley and to the grate, where he’d been then dumped, his expression concentrated with deep thought. He approached the grate, staring down as though the answers might just climb out for him to pick up.
Cynwaer glanced at James. He didn’t quite believe that these four men were here solely for the purpose of cleaning up the body. For one, altruism had its limits, and for two, James wasn’t exactly trying all that hard for his disguise. His clothes may have been that of a civilian’s, but the dagger and buckler? Those weren’t exactly the sort of things a civilian might use. A basic sword, an axe, or even a truncheon made sense, but daggers and bucklers called for a bit more skill than what your average citizen would possess.
He shook his head. It didn’t matter. Whatever was going on here, he wanted no part in it. At least, not until Renegade and Songbird arrived at Sorian. Whilst he was still waiting for them, Cynwaer intended to make good on his word to lay low. Or as low as he would allow himself.
“Aw’righ’, well,” he began, motioning for Matilda that it was time they left.
“Good luck an’ ‘ave fun wi’ what yer dae’n, aye? We’ll be makin’ tracks first.”Gale nodded and grunted, before turning to the body again,
“poor bloke bled ou’, ey? Wha’ a way tae go..”Bled out?
“Just a minute, please, Cynric,” James did a final sweep for blood stains from where he stood. He’d brought out his handkerchief, a plain white thing, to cover his nose and mouth, again.
“I was unable to bring our benefactor with me today. Gale has expressed hesitance in taking the body to the morgue, and now, I think I agree. He bled out? There was no such large bloodstain or puddle. Was he killed elsewhere? Did someone clean up and not take care of the body? If someone were willing to use the sewer system, they could get to a great many places in the city. If they were the right person, no one would question them.” He looked again at the grate and then meaningfully inland, toward the city walls.
“None of this makes sense. If Gale is right, someone of great influence could have had a hand in this. Someone who could have eyes in the hospital, in the morgue.” Finally, his eyes settled on Cynric,
“Agrona would have had another way. Unfortunately, that is not a card I keep in my deck.”Matilda shrugged.
“It’s not my job to find out,” she said.
“And it doesn’t look like it’s yours, either.”It was Gale’s turn to look questioningly at James. Even if he wasn’t sure about relying on this guy they’d just met, James was right. They didn’t have a reliable way of disposing of this body besides taking it to the morgue. He turned to Cynric, as well,
“hate ta ask a new frriend f’r such a strrange favorr. Can’t imagine anyone else’d even bother tae stop.”Cynwaer stared at Gale, then at James, and blinked once. Were they seriously, seriously, asking him to do what he thought they were?
“Aye, maybe we’re new pals, but I’m nae lookin’ tae get involved wi’ whatever ta’ feck’s gae’n on ‘ere, I’m nae.” He shook his head, still not quite believing what he had just heard. These men were as audacious as they were suspicious, asking him – practically a stranger – to help them hide a corpse. If Cynwaer had wanted to stay out of this out of respect for his promise to Renegade and Songbird earlier, he now wanted to do the same for himself.
Gale gave a pitch to his head and torso as he started laughing, and he shook his head. James gave relenting nods. Of course not.
“Gae try askin’ some other fecker down at ta’ docks fae ‘elp. Nae short’age o’ sailors lookin’ tae earn easy coin, aye,” Cynwaer continued. He was no stranger to the darker side of Sorian, and he dabbled with it as easily as he drew breath, but even he had his limits. This whole situation stank worse than the corpse, and his gut told him to put as much distance between it and himself.
The laughing subsided and the laugher looked at the corpse again,
“aah, fuck. Yeah, she's got us doin’ some rrigh’ weirrd shit, she does. S’pose I’ll ‘ead down tae t’ dock, ‘en. Got any coin, James?”“Yes, some silver from Agrona.” James reached into a pocket and pulled out a small satchel, handing it off. He didn’t like not having more of a plan.
As Gale took the satchel and went off, he stopped and spun in place, to turn and look at the sea captain,
“any chance yer one o’ them sailors lookin’ f’r coin?”Cynwaer’s first instinct was to reject the offer. Matilda, however, spoke before he could say anything.
“The coin could be useful, Captain,” she said, her voice a quiet mutter just loud enough for him to hear.
“We do need to replenish our medical supplies soon.”She did have a point. The coin he had taken as his cut from the attack on the taxman hadn’t been much. It might cover for a few days of harbour fees and sailing, but nothing beyond that. And until he found another way to earn coin that didn’t involve blowing up the King’s men, he had to seize as many opportunities as he could to pad out his coffers.
And so, he harrumphed and turned back to Gale.
“Bring ol’ gray mate to Recompense at night. There’s tae many folk about on ta’ wat’erfront righ’ now, an’ unless yer can make ‘im invisible, I’d nae e’en try. ‘Ow yer wan’ tae bring ‘im o’er, that’s up tae yer, but yer make it tae obvious, I’ll say I nae know yer, aye.” Then, he looked at the coin pouch in Gale’s hand.
“An’ keep ta’ coin. I dae’n make a ‘abit o’ takin’ payment ‘fore ta’ jobs ‘nywhere done.”When the surgeon had spoken first, it had sparked a bit of hope in his old bones. Indeed, the Captain seemed to be swayed. Gale stowed the coins away in his clothes and chuckled, relieved,
“whew, nae ken ‘ow I was gonna pull ‘at off.”A delivery to a ship. James nodded, a smile softly lifting the edges of his mouth underneath his handkerchief,
“yes, I think we can manage that. How do you feel about durian?”
That night, a horse-drawn cart radiating the overpowering stench of durian approached
The Recompense. It carried three crates in a row, the last of which carried the subject of the evening’s visit. James disembarked from beside the driver and approached. He carried a coin filled with 20 silver and 3 gold buried among the lesser coin, compliments of “Agrona”. He would wait until the right moment to hand that over.
Adaleida didn’t like any of this. Not one bit. But then again, she knew what she was getting into when she agreed to sail with Cynwaer.
As Remembrance’s – or Recompense’s, as she had to remind herself – quartermaster, keeping track of all that went into her holds was her primary business. And so, for Cynwaer to tell her to receive a shipment of durians – something which she knew he didn’t like having aboard, no less – out-of-nowhere came as not just an unpleasant surprise, but a suspicious one.
She frowned as she sat on the ship’s gunwale, looking down at the approaching cart. A cooling landward breeze made a mess of her pale, blonde hair. She brushed a few strands away from her face, but kept her gaze locked on the cart.
No, she didn’t like this at all.
But, Cynwaer was the Captain, and he had yet to make a decision that was too wrong. The two ships that had been shot out from under them aside, of course.
Adaleida harrumphed and hopped off her perch once the cart was at Remembrance’s gangway.
“You’ll no take a step closer,” she called out, voice firm and imperious. She took her time getting ready – smoothing out her blouse and patting dust from her trousers, and tugging her gloves snugly over her hands – before striding down the gangway to meet James.
“I’m Adaleida. Quartermaster of Recompense,” she introduced herself curtly, hands folded over her chest and head tilted back slightly.
“The Captain’s away on business, but he gave me leave to handle our exchange.”She glanced over the man’s shoulder, at the three crates in the cart. There was nothing outwardly strange about them, but still she knew for a fact that not everything was as it seemed. Her lips pressed into a thin line. If it was something that Cynwaer wouldn’t tell even her, then it had to be either something incredibly stupid, incredibly risky, or just something he hadn’t entirely wanted to do. She made a note to check with Matilda later. The surgeon had been with him; she had to know a thing or two about what was going on.
James stopped and lifted his dominant hand as she first addressed him, taking a couple small, respectful steps back as the woman came down to greet him. He nodded at her introduction,
“I’m James, I usually work with the Adventurer's Guild. Seems there was a bit of a mixup, it's not all durian. It didn’t seem like your captain would mind, however. Two crates of mixed fruit and one crate of durian.” He’d picked up on a bit of distaste from the Captain at the mention of the particular fruit, but only thought of a change in his plan as he went to source the fruit. It was an easy change to explain away.
Plenty of good fruit for a ship full of sailors, though James was not about to make any assumptions of the story the Captain had spun, if any. The last container was full of, not just durian, but a fair bit of cracked durian, which is where the potent smell was coming from. Crack it open and the smell would only get worse, best not to. Which was good, because that was the one he didn’t want anyone opening until they were ready. MacGregor and Jonson were present and ready to carry cargo themselves, while Gale had taken the role of driver.
At any rate, the young man produced a
very convincing faked shipment manifest for the Quartermaster’s perusal. He’d hand over the payment once Mac and Jon had taken the last crate.
Adaleida looked at the manifest, then waved it away.
“I’ll no need that,” she said brusquely.
“If the Captain agreed to take your shite on, then I’ll not argue with his ghost.” She would argue with his person when he returned, later. Everything about this arrangement felt sloppy and rushed in planning. Whoever had heard of a ship being paid to accept goods? It wasn’t as if they were transporting this anywhere, either. Anyone with half a functioning brain would find this whole thing suspicious.
Well, it wasn’t as if anyone aboard Remembrance would go running to the guards. Not without weapons in hand and malice in heart, at least.
“I’ll be taking your coin,” Adaleida said, extending her hand and jerking her head towards the ship.
“And I’ll have my own boys bring your stuff aboard. You and yours can go once you’ve paid.”The paper was folded and tucked away as James motioned for Mac and Jon to drop the crates in the dock. They were already handling the first two, so it was just a matter of bringing down the third.
“Very well.” The quicker they could leave the last crate and be gone, the better. He deposited the satchel into the woman’s hand and watched his two hands set the last crate down.
“That's that. Have a good evening.” He nodded to the woman and boarded the wagon with the other two. Gale started driving them away promptly. That could have gone better, but he had some ideas of how this could go better for next time. Having an existing contact was a good start. They'd have to expand their operations into the docks, as it seemed like it would pay off to be in good graces down here.
Adaleida watched the wagon depart, hands on her hips and a frown on her face. There was something, an air about James, that she didn’t quite like. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but the man hadn’t acted as common or base as he had appeared to be. Perhaps he was just a well-read individual, maybe he used to be someone of higher-society, or maybe she was just being overly-cautious. Regardless of the reason, the niggling feeling in her heart refused to leave.
She shook her head. Well, if it did turn out that there was something wrong with this whole deal, Cynwaer could deal with it. He was Captain, after all. She looked at the crates, clicked her tongue, and turned back to ascend the gangway back onto the ship.
“Oi, I need strong hands to bring cargo aboard! I’ll no have any layabouts aboard our ship!”Meanwhile, the cart pulled away from the docks and into the streets.
“This all coul‘ave gone bet’er.” Gale spoke softly as the other two disguised men-at-arms rode in the back. At least the horse was happier, with the cart now much emptier.
James nodded, responding without hesitation,
“oh, absolutely. It, also, could have gone much, much worse. Things went about as well as we needed them to. I’m just glad durians smell strong enough.”“Ha! F’rr once.” Gale was ready to grab some mead. What an awful, long-ass day.
Lemons
Remram
Xaltwind
Snowdrops
Skyline
Vampiretwilight
TheMushroomLord
wintersoldier
Blizz
