L O R E N T I N E Q U E E N
A plan of sorts had worked itself out. Leon and Eun-Ji were already headed for the cargo hold as quickly as they could get there. Manfred had been tasked with talking to the helmsman or captain (whoever was in the wheelhouse) and bringing the ship to a stop. Meanwhile, Zarra, Carmillia, and Dorothea found themselves trying to push the crowd over the top into violent riot... but not
too violent.
The first of these three groups wound their way through the dining area at the front, just hurried enough to draw some murmurs and turned heads. "What is it with people tonight!?" exclaimed one patron. "Goddammit, Ethel," grumbled another, "Second group in as many minutes. Young people these..." Then, they were out of earshot and pushing through the saloon-style doors at the rear of the room. A small lounge area, with rattan furniture, end tables, a small library, and an attendant standing beside a mini-bar and humidor full of fine Joruban and Corriban, and Palaparish cigars flashed by in instants. A mustachioed man looked up from an avviso bemusedly and a woman in a fancy but somewhat worn dress jumped back.
There seemed to be something almost... instinctual driving Eun-Ji forward. It was almost as if she'd been in similar situations before. Leon, for his part, struggled to keep up, relying on a certain amount of natural agility, and still managing to placate disturbed patrons along the way with a brief conciliatory word, bow, flourish, or smile. The lounge narrowed into a hallway, wide enough that only about three could walk abreast. There were doors to either side and Leon nearly found himself going through one until he noticed a Kerreman word on it that he recognized as "Do not". Through the door on his side were a pair of mages, busy powering the engines that moved the great riverboat's novel 'paddle-wheels'. On the other side, he caught a glimpse of - nevermind, they were past it.
Eun-Ji slowed for a moment, seeming to look for something but, up ahead, through another set of double doors, loomed the saloon. There was a slight 'click' and she could see and sense the kinetic energy as well as she could hear it. That door had just closed. Her eyes flashed about the patrons beyond the glass-and-wooden doors and spotted a trio, moving as one, purposefully. Subtly, as she'd learned in the Lotus Sentry, she reached out with her manas, hoping for the telltale signs of the latent stored energy that often lingers in slightly larger quantities within magic users. It was hard to pick out in the bustle. Someone had recognized Leon from a show he'd once done and a few others had turned their heads. Nonetheless, the members of that trio were magic users. They were headed for an access hallway. They appeared to be paying little attention to the revelry around them. This was worth investigating.
Meanwhile, Manfred planted a quick kiss on Dory's lips. He did not want to get involved in politics, but the sad history of House Hohnstein was well enough known that he could not possibly begrudge her wanting to get her own back right now. She headed down with Carmillia and Zarra, the latter a dancing monkey in his bright red uniform.
From his perch on the upper deck, where a few drunken patrons played lazy games of shuffleboard in the distance, Manfred made his way toward the pilothouse, the churning waves lapping far below, great gouts of black smoke billowing above him into the pure night sky.
As Manfred approached, he could see that it was not the captain that awaited him in the pilothouse. He'd have recognized the military cut off such a uniform immediately. Even those aboard merchantmen wore it, for such were the Kerreman people - even Feskans. Instead, there was what looked to be the second mate, a helmsman, and a seaman lounging around at the door.
"Good evening, fellows," he said, walking up. He smiled pleasantly enough, in his Kerreman way.
"Hey, wait a second," the seaman called out.
"You can't be here! You been drinking, bub?" Four and a half more feet, Manfred thought to himself.
"Aww shucks, seems you've caught me. I've gotten a bit lost," he continued, still approaching,
"Thought you might have some directions for me."The mate opened the door and the helmsman glanced over.
"Go ask someone else!" the former spat, with the air of professionally offended lower nobility. "Damidammed drunkard."
"Gentlemen, please, I meant no harm," Manfred apologized, starting to back away and turn. The helmsman took his eyes off of the interloper. Emboldened, the Second Mate stepped forward, leering at a man who he didn't recognize as his social better the way one might look at a turd on the ground.
"Nonetheless, you have caused it," he scolded.
"I'm leaving. Don't worry. I'll be on my way," Manfred assured him. With that, he grabbed a hold of the seaman and, using a Kastang technique from his time in the military, flung the sailor over his shoulder and into the door. It flew open and smacked the Second Mate in the face. reeling backward, he caught the helmsman and they crashed into the control console.
Manfred Hohenfelter von Meckelin-Thandau strode forward. He delivered a short, sharp kick to the side of the stunned seaman's head and that was one threat neutralized. The Second Mate opened his mouth to shout. Manfred used a magusjaeger's technique to draw the sound out. He turned it into a telekinetic shove that smashed the man's head into one of the pilothouse's support beams. He, too, went limp. The helmsman was back on his feet. He turned to run but, here, his uniform hindered him.
Those coattails, Manfred thought, shaking his head inwardly.
Just like capes, they are never a good choice. He grabbed one and ducked a retaliatory right cross. Reaching into his dinner jacket, he drew a wheel-lock pistol and clubbed the man across the side of the face. He stumbled back, woozy, and Manfred put him in a sleeper hold until he went limp.
"I am sorry about this," he mumbled as much to himself as his victim.
"Truly, I am. You are but an enemy of circumstance."The Nobleman checked his pistol for bloodstains and, satisfied that there were none, tucked it back into its hidden holster. Stepping over the unconscious figures, he pulled the lever that sent a magnetic pulse down to the engines and their mages. Within moments, her could feel the Lorentine Queen slowing, coasting now only on its built up momentum. It would be best if he weighed anchor, he supposed.
As Manfred stepped out, he committed one final act of sabotage, ripping the wheel from its column with a bit of kinetic assistance. This, he tossed like a clay pigeon into the black waters beyond. Striding to the very front, he peered down at the near-mob.
Poor cretins. He couldn't blame them, really. Their lives were drudgery and the Rednitz who exercised such unconstitutional control over Feska noble only in name, and dubiously at that.
The ship continued to slow and, as he watched, aware that he should likely drop the anchor or offer support to Leon and Eun-Ji, he saw Dorothea make a move, coming up to the fore of the group, as if about be next in line to drink of the aberration's unholy sweet might. The woman that he loved, fiery and beautiful, reached into her bodice and... pulled out a pistol.
Godsdammit, Dory A gunshot echoed through the damp air and seemed to get people's attention. She began speaking, momentarily supplanting the Traveler's agent, who seemed... skeptical at best. Zarra, the slinky Perrenchman, was nowhere to be seen, and Carm was hanging back. Manfred scowled. Should the trio's scheme fail, they'd likely be put to flight. It was a delicate balance that the two women would need to strike and he did not envy them. Silently, he wished them luck and turned to make haste for the lower decks, where Leon and Eun-Ji would almost certainly have their hands full.
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