The Pirate
"Norman. Good afternoon."
"Good afternoon, princess. Back so soon?"
"I gave him a few hours, and he assured me he'd be here. Is he?"
Norman gave her a lopsided smile, and then nodded to the door, "See for yourself. Through the back."
Blade nodded her thanks, motioned to Boy to stay, and then moved slowly through the door. The interior echoed the exterior - luxurious, comfortable, all red and gold, with two suits of armour flanking the entrance. She glanced around her, suddenly quite uneasy. She stepped further onto the red-and-black tiled floor, well aware that her boots were probably still quite dirty from the trek through Wraithmarsh, and that her highwayman's coat was still slashed open in a few places by knifes and fangs.
She didn't want to smarten herself up - she didn't want to give the Pirate King the satisfaction, whether he knew she had done it or not - but she found herself almost automatically smoothing down her hair and adjusting her long jacket. She stopped herself, immediately, and shook her head. Then she walked across the hall to the next door. She hesitated, hand an inch away from the wood, and then sighed, and knocked.
"Come."
The voice was relatively young, slightly high and posh. Blade hesitated again. She could still turn back.
She shook her head and pushed open the door, taking a few steps into the room.
"Ah, hello my dear! I was wondering when you were going to show!"
Blade paused, taking a moment to look him over.
He looked young, around thirty, with a thick head of brown hair, styled back on his head, and intense green eyes. He wore very expensive clothes, again of deep red and gold (Blade had an odd feeling that he'd had them dyed to match the house - or, worse, the other way round), with a small cape and a holster belt that clipped around his hips and then crossed over his chest. He had a cream bowtie, neatly fixed, and his maroon waistcoat had a lining of pure white fur.
The scene in front of her was... unexpected. The Pirate King was standing with one foot up on a white block while a young woman to his right painted him. His back was ramrod straight, and he was holding a golden pistol into the air.
She had just started to look it over, interested, when he pushed the pistol away in his holster, turning to her, warmly, "Hello there! Come in, come in!"
He sounded hospitable, polite, with a warmth to his voice that she wouldn't have expected of him, and she was surprised into softening a little. She returned a slight echo of his smile, and took a few steps further into the room.
He mirrored the gesture, completely ignoring the painter and moving over to her, smiling, "Always a nice surprise to have company - I don't get many visitors to my little costal paradise." His eyes flickered over her, casually, "Especially ones who might help redefine a man's concept of paradise."
She raised her eyebrows, for a moment not really believing what he had said, the words and all that they implied taking her back slightly. Her words froze in her throat, the courteous reply she'd been meaning to give completely forgotten.
He saw the reaction, and smiled, slowly, "Thank you, by the way, for sending dear little Roxa round to find me. I hadn't seen to her for quite some time, I have been very inattentive."
She looked at him for a moment. His voice... It just wasn't... right. His tone was so courteous one might forget what he was actually saying.
He raised an eyebrow at her lack of reply, "Well? You are Blade, yes? I got your little present. Nice weapon, very nice. Expensive? Do you always send a knife with your messengers? Some sort of calling card, is it... Blade?"
Blade stayed silent, watching him, her surprise shifting neatly into caution. She could sense a game of cat-and-mouse emerging, and she sure as hell wasn't going to be the mouse.
We need his help - and he wants to play his little game. So you must play it - or Lucien will get what he wants.
Her hand tightened slightly. Like hell, Theresa. Like hell she was going to play along with this.
He looked her over again, "Not a talker, are you? Well you'll have to engage me in some form of communication, my dear, or I'm afraid I will have no idea of what I can... do for you." He gave that smooth, refined smile again, "And vice versa, of course."
She straightened a little, and raised an eyebrow, "Sorry about that, I was just mentally debating turning round and going back where I came from."
The pirate looked delighted, "She speaks! And what a... beautiful accent she has."
She forced herself not to blush. Her accent was unusual, she knew - partly developed from the cultured Theresa and partly the slight drawl of the gypsies.
She shook her head, gathering herself, "I'm Blade."
He smiled, "I know. There's little that goes on in my kingdom that I don't know about, essentially." He moved closer to her, holding up a finger, taking on a mockingly-scolding tone, "You're the little miss who shot a hole through The Leper's Arms' door."
Her face flushed slightly, but not much. "And?" she asked, slowly, her voice deep with warning.
He smiled, "Nothing. It was just an observation. Like, for instance..." he leant towards her, lowering his voice, as if they had reached something of particular interest, "Dearest Roxa told me you came through Wraithmarsh. Is that correct?"
Blade paused for a moment, and then nodded, slowly, "Yes. Hence..." she made a vague gesture to her scruffy appearance.
He nodded, looking at her, thoughtfully, "On the rare occasion that people make it through Wraithmarsh they're lost, confused... scared. But not you. You're looking for someone. And if you're looking for someone in Bloodstone, let's be honest - you're looking for me."
"I hardly see why I would have come to your house if I were not looking for you." Her voice contained the slightest tint of sharpness, firmly letting him know that she was not going to play ball on this.
He noticed, and smiled, "Of course. You're here for something. My assistance, perhaps?"
"Perhaps."
"Well. Perhaps we should discuss terms." He raised an eyebrow, "Over a drink?"
"I don't think that's a very good idea."
He gave a small laugh, "Well, I never discuss business without a glass of wine in my hand. Come." He turned to the painter, finally acknowledging her presence, "We'll discuss the shoddy nature of your skills later, Miss Carver. Norman will see you out."
Miss Carver blushed red, and took up her equipment, quickly leaving the room.
Blade moved round to the easel, curious, and glanced over the painting of the pirate, "It doesn't look so bad."
Reaver narrowed his eyes. She remembered what Norman had said - Maybe he'll shoot you for the hell of it. He does that - and quickly lowered her gaze to the floor. She had no desire to be on the wrong side of one of the greatest shots in all of Albion. He seemed to let the comment slip, and the smile slid back onto his face, "Come. Through here."
She followed him, shooting him a look as he stepped back at the door, courteously, allowing her to go through first. He smiled, and then motioned her to a seat by a long, mahogany table, and she slowly sat down. He walked over to a glass cabinet on the wall, glancing at her over his shoulder, "Are you hungry?"
Blade thought about it. Her supplies had run out early this morning, when she was a few miles away from Bloodstone, and, since arriving, she hadn't found any shops at all that could cater for her vegetarian needs.
She shrugged off her jacket, pulling off her gloves and pushing them into the pockets, "Have you got any fruit?"
The pirate shot her another amused look, and then shook his head, turning back to the cabinet, "Coming right up."
Blade's cautious eyes flickered over his turned back. She watched closely as he picked up a bottle of wine and two goblets and placed them on the table in front of her, and then turned back again to the cabinet.
She looked at the bottle. It didn't have a label.
"Here."
She looked up just in time to catch the large, green apple he had thrown at her. Reaver smiled, "Oh, very good. You're a quick one, aren't you?"
She tossed the apple and caught it, deftly, "I have my hobbies."
He smiled again, slowly, "I bet you do."
She raised an eyebrow, and then shook her head, turning her eyes to her pack and rifling inside until she found a sharp, small bladed knife. She cut the apples into quarters, the blade cutting easily through the flesh, and then sliced out the core with smooth, deft semicircles. Then she started cutting the quarters again into thinner slices.
She heard him sit down in the chair opposite her, and glanced up. He opened the bottle of wine and took her glass, filling it.
She watched the red liquid pour, still slicing with the knife, using her palm as a makeshift cutting board, "What is it?"
"Claret."
"Claret?"
"Yes."
He handed it to her, and she brought it up to her lips. She paused, "It's doesn't smell like Claret."
"No. It's an older Claret, foreign, uncommon, unfortunately overlooked."
She glanced at him, "Clairet."
He smiled, "Correct." He nodded to the glass, picking up his own, "Enjoy."
Blade paused, and then slipped a piece of freshly cut apple into her mouth, following it with a sip of the rosé. It was... different. Full of vanilla and spices and taste, and thick, like pure grape juice. Having been brought up for the larger part of her life in a gypsy camp, Blade knew alcohol. But... this strange, rich flavour was new to her.
He watched her, closely, "Do you like it?"
She thought about it, and then nodded, "It's... different. But, yes, I do."
He smiled, "Good."
She took a bite out of another slice of apple and watched as his eyes followed her lips. She paused, and then shook her head, firmly, "You said we should discuss terms."
"Yes I did." He shifted in his chair a little, getting more comfortable, and then looked at her, "Maybe you should tell me what you want my assistance with, first."
Blade looked at him for a moment. How much should she tell him? He had seemed to have no idea of who she really was, unlike most people back on the mainland. And, despite her having not so subtly told his guy out the front that she was a Hero, Norman hadn't appeared to have transferred this information.
And what about him? Did he truly know how unique he was, how powerful? Well, considering his arrogant demeanour, maybe he did, but did he know why? Did he know he had Hero blood? Maybe she should keep that little personal detail to herself... along with hers. Better if he just thought she needed his help as a fighter, as an excellent marksman. No reason for him to know more than he needed to.
"Well." She said, slowly, impassively, "Where do I begin..."
Reaver watched her. He heard what she was saying about Fairfax, about his many evils, the people he had killed, the men he had enslaved and so on and so forth, but he wasn't particularly listening. He was watching her. The girl had cropped, dark hair that just brushed her neck, with light, hazelly-brown eyes. Her highwayman attire was something reserved for places like these where she would need an extra edge - this girl was obviously no sort of buccaneer.
Though... she had managed it through Wraithmarsh. Those weapons she had so reluctantly lowered to the floor were not just for show. Her body was toned, strong, and she had the look of a fighter in her eyes. And Norman had said something about her being very renowned in other parts of Albion. What gift was this that had wandered so willingly into his humble abode?
Reaver watched her as she grew more animated, more passionate in her cause, seemed to relax slightly in his presence. But there was something in her tone. Something almost like... need. Desperation. And it was well suppressed. Something was going on here...
He raised a hand, stopping her in the middle of her telling him another of Lucien's travesties, and cocked his head slightly to one side, "What's in it for you."
She seemed slightly taken aback, "What d'you mean?"
"I mean what I said, my dear. What's in it for you. Why are you doing this."
She paused, and a glimmer of her protective shell came back down, "Just... consider me a concerned bystander."
"A good-hearted civilian."
"If you like."
He looked at her for a second, and then shook his head, "No no no, I don't buy that, I'm afraid."
She raised an eyebrow, "Sorry?"
"What makes this so personal?"
"It's not personal."
"You're in this for something. What is it." She just looked at him, and he shook his head, "This to me sounds almost like a quest. You've singled out Lucien and you're not going to stop tracking him until one of you is dead. Now. There's only two reasons why one would do that, in my eyes: for revenge, or... because he has something you want." He looked at her for a second, considering, "So which one are you. Vengeance or riches."
She shook her head, giving a small, harsh laugh and taking a too-quick sip of her drink, "You are way off the mark."
"I am never off the mark." He replied, dangerously. She looked at him for a moment, and then nodded, slowly, realising her mistake. He paused a second himself, calming, and then smiled, refilling her glass almost to the brim, and then continued: "That is the price of my assistance, I'm afraid. Tell my why, and I'll consider helping you."
Blade paused for a long time, looking at him. Then she shook her head, slowly, "Revenge."
"Why."
"Let's just... leave it at that. I want revenge. Or... justice, whatever you like. Will you help me?"
Reaver looked at her. And make it that easy? Not a chance. "What's your name." He asked, curiously.
"Blade."
He shook his head, impatiently, "Blade is not a name. It's a ridiculous sobriquet, and probably not one of your own concoction. What is your real name."
Blade paused, as if thinking about it. Then she shook her head, "Jaina." She replied, very reluctantly, "My name's Jaina."
"Jaina." He repeated, nodding, "Unusual." She blushed, and he smiled, "But quite beautiful, of course."
She shook her head, angry at her embarrassment, "Well, I hardly think you're really called Reaver."
He smiled, and leant forwards, putting a finger on her wrist, playfully, "Ah yes, but I'm not the person of question here, am I. You are. You came looking for my help, not the other way around."
She shook her head, averting her eyes to her left, as if she was now wishing she had never come. He smiled. He looked at her glass and noticed it to be, again, empty. He took it, solicitously, and got to his feet, moving back to the wine cabinet for a refill. The Clairet had done well in relaxing her - she was nowhere near as attentive as she had been at first, and didn't even notice as he slipped a little something extra into this new drink.
He turned back, placing the glass in front of her, "Your curiosity is, perhaps, understandable, but I am afraid I will not indulge it. After all, you are placing me at quite a disadvantage, here."
"A disadvantage in being given the chance to stop a killer?" she asked, sceptically.
He smiled, as if realising his 'oversight', "Well, of course. There is that."
She shook her head, absentmindedly lifting the rosé to her lips and taking a sip. She placed another slice of apple into her mouth and he smiled. Was she using the sweet fruit to rid herself of the taste of the wine? Or was she more used to those sugary, over-flavoured concoctions that children frequented? Probably the latter. That could play to his advantage.
He smiled, curiously, and leant back slightly in his chair, "So where do you come from, Blade. Or does that count as too personal for you."
She gave him a frankly quite adorable look, exasperation with a touch of anger, "Bower Lake gypsy camp. East of Bowerstone."
He raised an eyebrow, mocking surprise, "A gypsy camp? I would never have expected it of you! Your apparel is so..." he looked her up and down, "Refined."
She gave a small, lopsided smile, and popped another slice of apple into her mouth. He smiled back, realising he was getting somewhere, and pressed it, teasing her: "I bet you were one of the most foxy-lookin' gals in the camp with that little number."
She gave a small laugh, and then shook her head and took a long drink from her glass, placing it back down on the table and licking her lips, unconsciously. His pirate eyes easily caught the movement, and he felt something tighten in his chest. He raised an eyebrow. She frowned for a second, and then, realising what she'd done, she flushed a little, averting her eyes to the floor.
Reaver smiled, "My my, we're a shy one, aren't we?"
She shook her head, quickly, "It's just, it's good wine, I wasn't..."
"Of course. But, please, if you again feel the need to show your appreciation, don't restrain yourself on my account."
She sighed, wearily, "You're insufferable."
He smiled, "And here was I thinking we were having fun."
The girl paused, looking at him, and then just shook her head, raising the goblet to her lips again. His eyes followed it, lingering on the slight glisten the wine made on her bottom lip, her throat constricting as she swallowed. He had never had to work so hard to win someone over before. The challenge was both infuriating and exhilarating. He hardly had that big an attention span for women, but he was finding the chase of this one hard to resist.
Anyway, he reflected, eyes once again tracing her glass, This won't take too long. Something tells me my little Blade is going to be slightly more... amenable after this drink.
"Stop staring at me."
He smiled, "It's pleasing for me to watch you drink. Is that a crime?"
"No, but it is very annoying."
He smiled again. So sweet. And, yet, not as innocent as she seemed. His eyes shimmered over the single gold ring on the finger of her left hand, and then returned nonchalantly to her face. Nothing that had ever stopped him before.
Jaina hadn't seen. Her eyes once again traced the table, the walls, the floor, anywhere but his face. She shook her head, slowly, and yawned. She covered her mouth, quickly, blushing slightly, and he smiled. She caught his eyes, "What."
He smiled again, "I don't know what you're talking about, love."
"You're staring at me! Come on, out with it! What do you want?"
Reaver paused, considering it, and then smiled, "I wish to add another clause to my price."
Her eyes narrowed, immediately suspicious, but there was still an almost soft quality to them that he had been banking on, "You said me telling you why I was hunting Lucien was your price."
"Just one, I assure you." He looked at her for a second, a smile playing around his lips, "I want you to spend the night here."
