Lady Laura ran her finger along the Commander's scar again. She found she was intrigued by the raised and reddened flesh. "Where did this injury transpire?" she asked.
"I was at the Ragnar Colony."
"Oh. I have heard much of Ragnar; though never phrased in complimentary terms."
"Yes. I dare not relate a great many things I learnt during my stay in Ragnar to a member of the fairer sex. Needless to say its reputation as a lair for degenerates is not exaggerated."
"How did you happen upon a Cylon?"
"We had docked to replenish our supplies. I had allowed many of the crew to indulge in some of their more decadent indulgences. Whatever your avarice, you would find an outlet for it in Ragnar. Many of my crew yielded to the pleasures of the flesh."
"But not you," she interrupted, hopeful.
"No, not I. I would never entertain such a notion in such a depraved city. Nonetheless, we had been at sea for several months, and I could not, in any conscious, deny my men this luxury."
"How does your crew visiting taverns and whorehouses give rise to you coming to such harm?"
"Mr Galen, my Head Carpenter, spent a lengthy amount of time with the one woman. This woman accompanied him to the wharf to bid him farewell. She asked him a great many questions about our ship and he, eager to impress her and overjoyed that she showed such an interest, answered enthusiastically. When she asked to the identity of the Commander, he thought little of pointing me out in the crowd that had gathered. She jostled her way closer and then removed a pistol from beneath her skirts."
Lady Laura clutched his hand when she saw a wave of pain cross his face at the memory.
"The doctor was present on the dock and my life was somehow saved," he said.
"You must have been very unwell."
"Yes. I know more about Ragnar than I could ever wish to after recuperating there for such an extended period."
"And the woman?"
"She is now a guest in one of your cousin's dungeons." He paused for a moment, looking, she thought, regretful. "I believe she was subjected to a visit to King Richard's torture chamber. She made the admission to being a survivor of Troy."
They remained silent for a time. Laura wondered if one Cylon had survived Troy, how many others had besides. Did they share the same need for vengeance that this young woman obviously had? She was fretful that they believed they were now sharing passage with another Cylon. The race's hatred of Colonials could not be underestimated. The fire would be just the first in many ways they would try and devastate Galactica.
"What are your thoughts?" he asked. His hand was discovering some hidden niche behind her knee. She let out a small cry of merriment as he delighted a certain sensitive region.
"You did not pay for a whore in Ragnor. Were there other occasions and places you did recompense women for such a service?"
He remained silent for a time, before finally confessing. "I cannot hide my discretions from you. You will surely know when I speak untruths from the manner of my expression in any case."
She realised that she could not be bothered by his admission. He had found an outlet for his needs in a place that would ensure no harm came to either party.
She knew some young women were forced into whoring, but she also had faith in the Commander that he would never have humiliated women in that profession. He would have selected the woman involved with the same meticulous care she presumed he carried out all his assignments.
"Is that where you come by the knowledge of using your mouth to evoke such pleasantries?" she asked. She suffused in colour remembering the intimacy. "I have never laid with a man who partook in such an act."
He chuckled with mirth. "No, I would not perform such an act with a floozy. Tauron tradition dictates that all men are instructed in various acts for their partner's pleasure. At the age of thirteen we are taken away to share a cavern in the wilds with an elder who explains the theory of such things."
"Oh." She had to admit she was taken aback. She had never heard of such a thing before. If she did not know better she thought the Commander might have been having some amusement at her expense. "I always thought Taurons were a more savage people," she admitted to her prejudice. She slowly let his words sink in. "Theory?" she queried. "Does instruction include the more practical side?"
He let out a scoffing noise. "Not with the elder, that is certain. I would have taken flight from the cave with extreme fleet of foot if that suggestion had been put forth."
She laughed along with him: imagining him as a young boy being terrified by a lecherous aged painted man.
"You do not have any of the traditional Tauron body paintings?"
"No. My father took my family to Caprica before my birth. I returned to the land of my heritage on my thirteenth birthday. My father's mother introduced me to many of my people's traditions and rituals." An ethereal glow came across his face. "It was a time of great joy for me. The Cylon revolution occurred just prior to my fifteenth birthday. My sense of duty forced me to join the ranks of the Fleet to fight the barbarians who massacred so many."
"So young to be exposed to such brutalities," she whispered.
"Yes. My life was forever altered, I cannot deny. Though I was not as young as some. It is common for boys as young as eleven to enlist in the Fleet. My own son, Leland, was merely twelve when I sent him away to take up duty on the Odyssey."
"What duties could he carry out at such a young age?"
"Leland was the ship diarist. They record the happenings on the ship: one that is less formal than the Commanding Officer's Logs. "
She thought of the young boys whom she had taught at her schools. Due to their poverty, many had needed to depart prior to their schooling being completed. She would have thought that the Commander would have sufficient funds, however, to ensure his eldest completed his education.
"Your wife readily agreed to this arrangement?" she asked. If she had been his wife, and the mother of his children, she would have fiercely argued against such an arrangement.
"Yes. She was quite eager. Apparently rearing two children with an absent husband was not her ambition in life."
Laura frowned, trying to imagine what sort of woman the Commander's wife must be.
"The young lads can be so immature that they have a tendency to become homesick and cry for their mothers," the Commander continued. "This reputation causes them to be referred to as 'snotties' by their shipmates. Some Commanders even take to sewing buttons on their sleeves to prevent them from wiping themselves on this part of the uniform."
A sudden notion occurred to her. "Do we have a diarist on board?" she asked.
"Yes, Bartholomew. Most of the men call him by his pet name: Boxy. He is twelve, though quite tall for his age, so you may not have immediately recognised his youth if you encountered him on deck."
"And he has been recording everything that has happened on the ship since we sailed?"
"Yes," he confirmed. The Commander frowned down at her. "You think he may have observed something or someone acting suspicious on board?"
"Is it not a possibility we should explore?"
"That is an excellent proposal, my Lady."
She placed her palm upon his chest, feeling the tempo his strong heart established for his body.
"I am thankful for your experience during these uncertain times. I feel safe here in your haven," she confessed.
Their gazes met and held. He eventually leaned down to place his lips upon hers and she sighed with the rightness that she felt within herself at the act.
"Perhaps, my lady, you could permit me to introduce you to some other Tauron customs I was taught in my youth."
She hummed and let her lips meet his again for but a moment. "That is an excellent proposal, Commander."
0.0.0
Lady Laura quietly rose from the Commander's bed chamber and pulled on her dress, not bothering with her undergarments.
She allowed the Commander to rest; considering he had been awake for several hours attending to the aftermath of the fire.
She had only just poured herself some water from a carafe, mindful to not overfill her glass or spill any of the now precious resource, when she heard a knock. She tied the bodice of her dress up a little tighter and opened the door to reveal the Viscount.
"Lady Laura!" he declared. "I am so relieved to find you here. I have grave news."
"Yes?" she prompted.
"I have become a victim of great mischief, ma'am, and I need to report it to yourself and the Commander."
"What misfortune have you encountered?" she asked, concentrating on keeping her tone without the sarcasm that oft slipped out when she spoke to the Viscount.
"One of the officers of Galactica has come to my quarters as I reposed. He ordered my manservant to hand over several items I had brought on this voyage to ease my pain."
"Your pain?" she repeated, arching an eyebrow.
"I shall be in constant pain without basic provisions!"
Laura bit down on her bottom lip. "Viscount, I had been advised of your generosity in offering to share your supplies with the rest of the crew."
She saw his face become unsure. "You have?" he asked.
"Yes, Viscount. That was my business here with the Commander. I was ensuring he noted your benevolence in his logs so that my cousin, King Richard, will learn of your good deeds in time."
She watched as the Viscount silently calculated whether or not this conclusion would be beneficial to his campaign. He then looked back up at her; his eyes showing uncertainty whether he should accept her way of thinking.
"I would suppose," she continued, "that knowledge of this information, along with the other heroics you are sure to display whilst on this perilous passage, the King will most likely reward you the title of Earl at least on our return."
His eyes lit up instantly. "Earl Doral does have a nice ring to it," he said.
"I believe the late Duke of Delphi recently passed without one heir. Duke Doral flows from one's mouth with such sweet harmony," she added in a light voice. "One could presume King Richard could even be persuaded to bestow you this duchy if he learns that you risked your life to save the crew."
"Duke Doral of Delphi? Imagine!"
Lady Laura smirked. "Yes, just imagine," she said in a dry tone.
"You are correct, Lady Laura. I must be strong if I am going to assist you in negotiating the threats to Galactica."
"Yes," she agreed gravely. "Be strong. In the name of King Richard," she added for effect.
The Viscount beamed before bowing and exiting the Commander's quarters. As soon as the man had left she heard a low rumble of laughter come from the bed chamber.
"I shall need to remember that you are very adept in speaking untruths, ma'am."
She snorted. "I did not utter a lie, sir. How are we to know that my cousin is not keen to award Viscount Doral with the privilege of being a Duke of Delphi? He did make the man a Viscount, after all, and I fail to see where the sense was in that decision!"
"And your explanation as to why you are in my quarters?" he teased. "That is not a lie?" The Commander walked to her side and ran a finger down the side of her arms.
She gave him a mock serious look. "What sort of woman should you think I was if I did not allow you time to complete your daily logs?"
"What type indeed," he murmured, before he dipped his head and captured her lips. She instantly responded to his firm touch; opening herself to him. When they finally parted, his fingers swept her hair back from her face in a gentle manner. "I wish we could return to the chamber and while away the hours, but I must report to the deck to appraise our situation."
"Yes," she cupped his cheek and smiled. "I understand. I should return and ensure my attendants are all still in good health."
He leaned down and murmured a 'yes' into her skin as he muzzled and suckled on her neck. She could not resist plunging her fingers into his thick, and, she had found, surprisingly soft hair. She guided him until his lips and tongue laved the point at the base of her neck that beat in time with her heart.
"Commander," she whispered.
"Later," he answered also in a whisper.
"Yes," she vowed, her muscles of her sex clenching already in anticipation. However, she resolutely pushed away from his temptation, gathered her belongings, and with one more yearning glance in his direction, left to return to her own quarters.
0.0.0
After she had freshened herself up and eaten a small amount of pickled vegetables and cured meat that Callandra supplied her with, Lady Laura sat brooding as to how she could assist the Commander.
"Kara, have you met a boy whilst mingling with the crew?" she asked.
"Many boys, ma'am." Kara gave her a saucy smile. "In addition; many men. But I am sure you are interested in one in particular. Tell me his name and I will tell you if I have encountered him."
"He is merely a boy: Bartholomew."
"Boxy!" Kara cried. "Of course I have made acquaintance with Boxy! Though why, Lady L, are you seeking a wee snotty?"
Lady Laura blinked. Kara had not taken long to learn the terms used on the ship. Or perhaps Zachary had provided Kara with these details. The Commander had not mentioned whether or not Zachary had been sent away as his brother had been, but it was within the realms of possibility.
"The Commander informs me this Boxy is the ship's diarist. I thought, perchance, he may have made some entries of the comings and goings on deck last night. By studying these entries, we may find a pattern in some person's behaviour that could very well lead us to the culprit."
"I believe you have been reading one too many of your works of fiction, Lady L. However, I will go and fetch Boxy for you."
"No, wait," Victoria interrupted. "I will go. I have been confined to this room for an exhausting period and am in urgent need for the air to refresh my senses."
"Do you even know who Boxy is?" Callandra asked with a frown. "I did not think you had made acquaintance with any of the crew."
"I believe I know of him," Victoria said as she readied herself to leave.
Kara yawned and made no move to stand. "Thank you, Tory. I was not in the most tolerable mood to venture out just yet. If you have difficulty locating the boy, the Viscount's manservant, Billy, can be of assistance. I have seen him speaking with Boxy on several occasions."
"Yes, thank you, Victoria," Lady Laura added. She noted the way Callandra continued to scowl in Victoria's direction. She chose to ignore the undercurrent between them at this point in time and, instead, she lay down to rest herself whilst she awaited the boy's visit.
Some time later, Lady Laura was awoken by a commotion outside.
"What now?" Kara grumbled as she rose to open the door.
Mr Tigh, the Viscount, Billy and Victoria stood in a circle in the gangway.
"What is the cause of all this excitement?" Lady Laura asked everyone in general.
Mr Tigh gave her a stern look. However, she had come to notice that Mr Tigh rarely gave her any other type of look. "Maybe you could explain to me, Lady Laura, why your attendant is so interested in the whereabouts of our young snotty?"
"I sent Victoria on an errand to fetch the boy," she said. "Why is this such cause for concern, sir?"
"The concern has come about, ma'am, as young Bartholomew's body has been discovered."
She felt the flesh on her skin raise. "Body?" she asked with trepidation.
"Yes, ma'am. He's dead. His throat has been deliberately cut."
