Disclaimer; I do not own Warhammer or any of the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story. And as always, everyone please read and review.
OOC: Pacificuser-thanks for the reviews. Comments are much appreciated. I used to read those books when I was younger. I haven't read one in a while but they are still some of my favourites, and very inspirational for naval battles-who knows, we might even see one of those before the story finishes.
OOC: Over eight thousand words-this is the longest chapter I have ever written so far.
-AAA-
Two days later found the mid afternoon producing a full sun and a clear blue sky, bathing the docks in its light. Seagulls perched lazily along the quayside, preening their feathers and occasionally diving into the harbour waters in pursuit of a passing fish. They paid very little attention to the dockyard workers who bustled about their business, many of whom were stripped down to their waist and perspiring heavily in the sweltering heat.
Harris lounged lazily back against a stack of barrels, a clay pipe clenched between his teeth. He inhaled deeply and blew the resulting cloud into the air with a satisfied sigh, watching the smoke dissipate in the gentle breeze, his attention switching briefly to the edge of the dock as a large black rat scuttled into view from between a pair of crates. The creature reared up on its hind legs and eyed him furtively, before scurrying out towards a piece of bread that had been dropped by a sailor. Snatching it up the rodent looked around again and darted back towards the crates.
Harris watched as a dark shape detached itself from the top of the nearest crate and dropped rapidly toward the scuttling form. With a flash of fur and claws the air was suddenly rent by a piercing scream, causing nearby gulls to take to the air. Abruptly the struggle ended as quickly as it had begun. The black cat picked up its victim by the scruff of the neck and crept away to the shelter of the crates to enjoy its meal in peace.
Damn rats, too many about these days.
His gaze drifted out towards the Vulture. With the last of the passenger's now disembarked she had been brought further inland the previous afternoon and was now lying about ten cables distant. Right now the ship was being heeled over onto her port side to expose part of her keel to the daylight. Sailors and dockyard workers were currently at work on the exposed section, scraping away with various tools to remove the long-clinging weed and to inspect the damage that had been done during the sea serpent's attack. Repair work had begun on the stern the previous day and was still continuing, with timbers and canvas currently being fastened into place to create a temporary plug for the opening. Now if things only went as the captain expected they should be on their way within another two to three days, for Harris knew that he was eager to resume the voyage.
His attention was drawn momentarily to the sound of raised voices. Raising himself from his sitting position the cooper craned his neck round and caught sight of Grunwald locked in a heated argument with three men, mercenaries judging by the cut of their dress. Harris allowed himself a smile-trying to hire experienced marines was proving more difficult than originally anticipated. Attacks by pirates had increased during the past few months, leading to a shortage of experienced fighters. He knew that more would come to the port as word spread of the greater demand but that would be of little help to them now. Grunwald's demands were not helping either-he had to hand it to the boatswain, the man had high standards and was an excellent judge of character to boot. If a mercenary did not meet his standards then he would not allow them aboard.
Unfortunately this had meant that fully two thirds of the marines who had answered their recruitment call had been turned away. At this rate they would be lucky to get a dozen men on board by the time the ship set sail, nowhere near enough in his opinion.
Thankfully after a few minutes the exchange ended on an amicable note and the tallest of the mercenaries, evidently the leader, shook Grunwald's hand. Business done the three of them set off in search of the town.
Well that should please the captain. I wonder how he's faring with the Big Wigs right now.
-AAA-
The city's courthouse was situated just off the main square, about one block distant from the governor's residence. Like many of the city's central buildings it was three stories high, whitewashed and fronted by stone pillars. The front face was lined with a number of large windows with various decorative symbols carved into the stonework. The buildings right-hand side had several smaller windows along the second and third floors whilst the left one had no openings of any kind. Both walls were decorated, but to a lesser degree. Their carvings thinned out towards the rear of the building, which had only four small windows along the top floor and was surrounded by a high wall topped with twin rows of razor sharp spikes. Most of the lower floor had been given over to a series of rooms where various disputed goods could be held, whilst any prisoners brought over from the town gaol-a large two storey building built from grey stone-were kept in the dungeon that was located in the courthouse basement.
Those who visited the courthouse never saw any of these corridors or cells, the guards stationed throughout the corridors would see to that. Once they had entered the building the visitors would be directed through the main entrance and up the grand stairway towards the second and third floors. From there a group of uniformed footmen would ensure that all parties were moved to the courtroom where their business was to be settled.
It was in the central court room on the second floor that the claims placed by the Vulture's captain were now being decided.
Varus sat to the left of the main isle, facing the large three seated platform that towered over everything else in the room. Governor Morcambe sat in the central seat, a magistrate to either side of him. The governor's face was set in a deep frown as he listened to the case currently being put to him by the man standing at a bench usually occupied by the prosecution lawyer.
Alexander Damar, the same bespectacled man who had passed Varus at the conclusion of his interview with the governor two days back, adjusted his spectacles and sat down, his speech finished.
"Do you have anything more to say on this matter captain?"
Varus rose from his seat, "nothing to say Your Honour, I have submitted all the evidence I believe relevant to the case."
"Very well," Morcambe raised his hammer and tapped the bench, "this court is now in recess. We shall reconvene in one hour."
"All rise."
The people who had gathered in court got to their feet as the governor and his magistrates rose from the platform and filed out through a door at the back of the room. This done they began to disperse.
Varus remained in his seat, casting a wary glance at Damar as the man left the room. Varus didn't like him, and not just because the man was disputing his claim to the cargo. He thought back to when he had first learned of this.
-AAA-
-The previous day.-
"Ah captain, I am glad you could make it. I trust that your stay has been a pleasant one so far."
"Yes sir, quite pleasant. The dockyard workers have been as helpful as you promised."
"That is good. Now I suppose you are wondering why I summoned you. Well I can tell you that it concerns the cargo you salvaged and I am afraid that the news is not good."
Varus looked up in surprise. "Have you discovered an error in my report your lordship?"
"I am afraid not. It seems that someone else has an interest in your cargo."
'What? Who...'
Taking a sip from his glass Morcambe continued, "do you know anything about a man named Alexander Damar?"
"No, I cannot say that I have heard that name before."
"Then you have clearly not learnt much about this port during the time you have spent here. Damar is an important man in these parts and owns a substantial quantity of the shares in a Miragliano merchant company owned by the Raphael brothers. They supply this port with a fair amount of trade and they have friends in high places. This man serves as their main contact in this port and in case you are unaware it seems that they were the former owners of the Marienburg when she disappeared. As such he claims that the cargo she was carrying belongs to them."
"So he has made a claim for the cargo then?"
"I'm afraid he has. And given the influence he holds it is not a request that I can ignore."
Varus felt a faint trace of panic at the back of his mind. Magritta depended greatly upon trade for her power and as such the merchants enjoyed considerable influence within the port. If the governor were to rule in favour of this Damar then the salvage would likely be confiscated and he would not receive a penny. He had been counting on the value of the cargo to pay for the cost of repairs to his ship and to appease the anger of the owners at his decision to delay an important voyage. Without it he was certain to receive the full brunt of their anger, especially if that upstart Atcher were to submit a duff report about him, and Varus was almost certain that he was going to do just that.
"Does he have any rights to the cargo?"
"That may depend on the cargo itself. I do not believe that the Marienburg was carrying cargo solely belonging to the Raphael brothers, but if any of the items that you have salvaged do belong to them he may have a claim. My court will sit in judgement on this matter tomorrow and I expect you to attend, my servant here will furnish you with all the information you will require. I understand that you brought some of the papers back from that old brigantine."
"Yes sir."
"As it turns out that those papers include the ship's cargo manifest. I have ordered my clerk to examine them and we will hear his findings in court tomorrow. The decision the court reaches will be based upon the evidence presented by both parties so I suggest that you take this time to prepare your case."
The governor rang the bell and Varus followed the footman out through the doors, his brow furrowed at this new turn of events.
-AAA-
Grunwald looked round as Kennet appeared on the quayside, a small sack slung over his shoulder. Behind him came two sailors hauling part of a spar towards a waiting boat. Seeing the boatswain Kennet quickly moved towards him, ordering his two followers to finish their task and return for the rest of the spares. Grunwald studied the carpenter as he approached, noting the man's swollen eye and the stitches above it that marked where the bottle had torn a gash in his forehead, not that it seemed to bother him. Kennet took great pride in his work and like the boatswain had never allowed a 'minor' injury to detain him from his duties.
"I see you're bearing up well."
"It's just a scratch Archie, we've both had worse."
"Don't take it too lightly mate, you know that head wounds are always more serious than they look."
"It's been two days, if anything was wrong I'd have known by now."
"I suppose you're right," the boatswain spat the tobacco he'd been chewing over the side of the quay, "have you just about finished now?"
"Aye, we're bringing in the last of the spars and I know Harris will be ready to transfer the water aboard tonight," he glanced at the Vulture's tilted form, "assuming the landlubbers have finished that damned job by then. Sigmar's hammer but they're taking their time about it."
Grunwald grinned at his friend's irritation, "Jonah do you still not know the docks men? They are incapable of rushing anything; if they do a job then you had better be prepared for a long wait. Besides I'd sooner have it done in a week and done proper like, as opposed to having it done in a day and coming apart on us."
"Yeah well, waiting's not my style. Ever since that attack I've been left feeling like an outcast round here, I don't know why but everywhere our crew goes we seem to be attracting dirty looks."
"It's that merchant who's disputing the captain's claim. I'll bet you he's instructed everyone in his pocket to stir up trouble for us, anything to try and sway the captain's decision."
Kennet snorted in disgust, "greedy bastard. I'll say this much-if any of his thugs come at our crew then there'll be trouble alright."
"Now now we don't want to be doing anything rash mate, don't forget that the authorities don't take kindly to troublemakers around here, and his lot have more sway than we do. We'd best watch our step or it'll be our arses in the fire."
"Then what do you suggest we do, cower onboard the ship like rats." Kennet could not believe what he was hearing. Ever since he had first met Grunwald he had never seen him bow down to anyone, least of all some arrogant trader.
"No, we just stay together and keep our eyes peeled. As long as this crew watches out for each other then we should be fine. Nonetheless the captain has issued general orders that we keep to the docks and the area nearby, that way if anything happens there'll be help to hand."
"He's going to let the crew ashore then?"
"He will tonight. Seeing as we're leaving the day after tomorrow he felt it was only fair they have some time ashore," Grunwald took another mouthful of tobacco, "and now that the men have had a chance to calm down they'll be less likely to dessert." Especially, he thought, with all this hostility on shore.
"Except for O'Donall of course."
"Except him, but I don't think the others are going to follow that one."
The object of their conversation was a crewman who had disappeared two nights previously. He had been assigned the evening duty of guarding the hold where the salvaged cargo was currently being kept. At midnight Sinjun had gone down to relieve him and discovered that the man was missing. A quick search of the ship had failed to find him and after one of the crew had reported hearing a splash on deck some time before midnight it was decided that the man must have deserted. O'Donall had been a solitary individual with few friends. Truculent and insubordinate by nature it was not difficult to imagine that he had decided to trade life on ship for the comforts of the land.
What was strange was that he did not seem to have helped himself to the cargo, with none of the crates displaying signs of tampering-a few stones of jade would have fetched a fair price ashore, to say nothing of the gems. Perhaps he had feared being weighed down by the load, but then why not liberate at least one stone for his purposes?
"I suppose you're right there. "The carpenter leant against a stack of crates, popping a string of tobacco into his own mouth and allowing his mind to drift back to his unpleasant experience in the tavern three days previously.
-AAA-
Kennet staggered backwards against the table, half stunned by the blow. The carpenter shook his head grimly in an effort to clear his vision and somehow managed to retain his footing. His companion, incensed by the unprovoked assault, lunged at the attacker, taking him by surprise with a blow to the jaw.
As the carpenter's attacker staggered backwards his three friends closed in, two of them seizing Kennet's companion by the arms and forcing him back against a table. The third man closed in and dealt a couple of low-blows to the gut that left the sailor doubled over in pain. His attacker, a smile on his face, turned to his fallen comrade.
"He's all yours Pike."
By this time Kennet had recovered and, seeing his friend's plight, promptly launched himself into the fray. His foot lashed out and connected sharply with the side of a knee. As the target let out an agonized scream and fell Kennet sprang forward and brought his own knee up into the man's jaw.
Seeing their friend go down the two men holding the sailor from the 'Vulture' released their captive and turned to meet this new threat. Both rushed Kennet, fists raised. The carpenter swiftly ducked behind the table, hitched his fingers under the edge and tried to lift it.
"Don't waste your time mate," one of the other drinkers called from the corner, "they're bolted down in case of fights."
'Great!' Kennet ducked a swing and lashed out, catching his attacker a sharp blow with his elbow. He saw blood spurt as the man's nose broke. Even amidst the mayhem he could smell the tang of alcohol on their breath and realised the danger he was in. These men were full of drunken violence and with their tempers roused they were ready to kill. Suddenly the second attacker cannoned into him and they went hurtling to the floor with crash.
As this went on Kennet's friend had regained his feet only to take a full shoulder-charge from Pike. As the man fell he struck a nearby table hard, his attacker's heavier form landing atop his chest and driving the breath from his body. Scenting triumph Pike began to pound him repeatedly about the face. The 'Vulture's' crewman buckled under the blows, his last sight before darkness claimed him being the leering face of his attacker.
Kennet was faring no better. Somehow he had managed to role clear, but as he rose to his feet something struck him in the forehead and his back hit the floor again. Pain flared where he had been hit and something began to run into his right eye. He forced the left one open and caught the glint of light on metal.
Then something flew across the room, striking the man squarely in the wrist. The tankard fell to the floor with a clatter, the knife landing next to it as its owner fell back rubbing his wrist with a curse.
All four men looked round as a smooth, almost melodic voice sounded across the now silent room.
"The last I heard weapons were not used in brawls."
The man who had been struck by the tankard retrieved his knife and strode towards Joseph, a murderous expression on his face.
Pike shook his head in mock sympathy, "you should have kept your nose out stranger, now I fear Jan here is going to have to remove it."
"He's certainly welcome try," Joseph slid smoothly off his stool but made no further move.
Jan paused, a wicked smile on his face, "Care to beg for your life stranger?"
"I don't make pleas to pygmies."
Incensed the man lunged, knife held before him. Joseph waited until the very last moment before spinning on his heel, his right hand clasping Jan's wrist in a steely grip, his left coming to rest on the man's shoulder. Pivoting round he threw his own weight behind that of his assailant, using the momentum gained to redirect the charge. Propelled by both his lunge and Joseph's throw Jan went chest first into the bar counter. Before he could recover Joseph seized his hair and yanked him back, sending the sailor crashing to the floor. The elf's right boot came down to deliver the coup de grace with a solid strike to the jaw and Jan lay still.
"Take your friend and clear off."
For a few seconds the three men were silent, stunned by what they had seen. Joseph took advantage of this to move out of the confined space of the alcove. He had not moved far when the spell broke and the three of them rose and came at him with a roar.
What happened next happened so fast that afterwards those watching could only agree on the general course of events.
The sailors rushed the stranger, probably seeking to pin him down with their advantage in numbers. Joseph's arm came up and down and Pike staggered back as the heavy knife struck him hilt first in the forehead. The elf ducked behind a table, grabbing the wrist of the first man to reach him. His hands locked themselves into position and with a carefully timed twist he flipped his assailant into a one hundred and eighty degree summersault that sent him sprawling onto his back, clutching his wrist in pain.*
The third man was only seconds behind him, launching a punch to the elf's face. Joseph swayed backwards, allowing the blow to miss him by centimeters. Again the man swung and again the elf dodged. Then Joseph struck, his fist impacting with a strength that belied his slender frame. As his assailant's head snapped backwards Joseph brought his knee up into the man's groin to drive the breath from his body, before seizing him by the hair and bringing the man's head down to impact against his rising knee with enough force to knock him to the floor. This time Joseph's foot descended onto the man's groin with a wince-making crunch.
Jan rose shakily to his feet now, whipping out a knife which he flung at the elf. Joseph ignored the blade as it whistled past his ear. Vaulting over the table he planted both feet in the sailor's chest, knocking him backwards into a heap.
By now Pike was back in the fight, his knife poised to strike, halting abruptly when something sharp pricked his throat. His eyes drifted down the curved blade, over the hilt and up to the cold eyes of the man who held it-eyes that gave no hint of emotion or mercy. Joseph spoke slowly in a tone devoid of any warmth.
"You have two choices-you can leave or you can die." He gave the sword a gentle thrust. Blood trickled out of thin cut above the man's Adam's apple.
Pike didn't hesitate. His knife clattered to the floor and Joseph withdrew his sword. Within moments the four sailors were limping out of the tavern.
Joseph watched them go then sheathed his sword and turned his attention to the fallen carpenter. "Hey," he gestured to the barman, "if you have any spirit bring it out now."
-AAA-
Kennet ran his fingers over the stitching, feeling the fine thread under his fingers. He had to admit the elf had done a pretty good job of patching the pair of them up. They had spent the next hour resting, during which a group of watchmen had arrived to investigate the brawl. Those present in the bar had answered a seemingly endless number of questions before the watchmen were satisfied and left to look for the four culprits. Then Joseph had escorted the pair of them back to the docks before going his own way.
Grunwald noticed his fidgeting. "Good thing that elf was there."
"Aye. By the way, how is the recruitment going?"
"Not well, only nine marines have signed on so far."
"I know more than that applied mate, you're too damn picky."
"You know my rule, we're short-handed as it is and if they don't make the grade I have no use for them."
Kennet sighed warily. "A shame that elf won't be coming with us. I wouldn't mind having him around."
"I got the feeling everyone was avoiding him, including you."
Kennet shrugged, "he's a strange one and I' m not sure I trust him, but he would be a good one to have around in a crisis."
"Yes, I don't suppose you asked him if he'd volunteer."
"I mentioned it but he didn't seem very interested, said he'd think about it then just walked off."
"Well now, that's a pity."
-AAA-
Varus watched apprehensively as the panel re-appeared when recess had finished. The courtroom clerk bowed respectfully as they approached the bench and ordered those present to be seated.
Morcambe tapped the desk with his hammer and rose to his feet.
"After careful deliberation and consideration of the evidence presented to this panel we have come to a decision. The brigantine Marienburg was discovered adrift and outside the territorial waters of any of the Estalian kingdoms, meaning that neither this port nor any of the other kingdoms have any claim upon the goods salvaged. We therefore award full salvage rights to the captain and crew of the Vulture. As to the claims presented by the representatives of the Raphael brothers, our analysis of the cargo logs taken from the Marienburg hasrevealed that none of the salvaged items match those claimed by the merchants, as to the fate of those items we can only presume they were lost with the brigantine when she sank. It is a pity that captain Varus was not able to salvage her, but in view of the circumstances that led to her loss we conclude there is nothing further that he or his crew could have done. Captain Varus, it is the ruling of this court that you are awarded full ownership of all salvaged items currently aboard your ship. This court is now adjourned."
Damar, to his credit, did not raise any protestations-he knew better than to make a scene in court. Instead the man gathered up his papers, adjusted his wire-rimmed spectacles and exited the court. At the doors he was met by two cloaked men who had been observing the proceedings from the public gallery.
"Fetch Atcher here immediately."
"He's here already here sir, downstairs."
"Take me to him at once."
Varus meanwhile shook hands with his lawyer and, after thanking the man profusely, exited the room once he was sure Damar had gone. He had no desire to meet with his sinister looking rival and with this dilemma now over all that remained was to finish provisioning the ship and deliver the governor's 'share' of the salvage.
As he descended the stairs the captain noticed Damar locked in conversation with a group of men in a corner of the hall.
I just hope he doesn't cause any more trouble. Perhaps it would be best if he went ashore as little as possible for the remainder of their stay.
-AAA-
"I don't understand why this cargo is so important to you Damar; you must make more than its value each year."
"My interest in this cargo is not your concern Mr. Atcher. Despite the court's decision we have the prior claim and if the item we seek has been recovered then it is very important that we obtain it. If our clients learn about it, and I am sure they will, then they will expect an immediate delivery."
"Then just tell them that you lost it, say the matter is out of your hands and the contract is cancelled".
For the first time Atcher saw the mask of calm slip, "oh no, these are not the sort of people you can cancel on!"
"It's a pity then that it seems to have slipped through your fingers."
Damar concealed his irritation with the young upstart. The aristocrat was an essential part of their plan and it would be important to keep him on their side, especially as his potential usefulness might be increased if things did not go according to plan.
"The final dice is not yet cast Mr. Atcher. I suggest that you focus on your particular duties and leave this little matter to me. Now as I recall you have some 'recruits' to prepare.
Atcher shrugged airily, "I suppose so, I could do with better raw material to work with, but I suppose that lot will just have to do."
"They will only be what you make of them youngster, no more and no less. And now if you will excuse me I have some arrangements to make." He turned and exited through the main doors, the two hooded men in tow.
-AAA-
As soon as they were out of sight of the courthouse Damar motioned the tall dark skinned Estalian alongside. "Have you kept an eye on that mercenary who brought us the scroll?"
"Yes sir, we have one of our men watching him now. He seems to have taken up residence in a tavern called the Miller's Lady."
"Good, in that case I have a task for the two of you."
-AAA-
The hot sun beat down upon the young nobleman, quickly soaking him with sweat. With a grunt of irritation he picked up his pace, endeavouring to keep to the shade wherever possible. His ill mood had been further aggravated by that recent meeting with Damar. Although they were supposedly on the same side Atcher did not like the man, there was something decidedly...strange about him. It was his face more than anything else; it frequently wore an expression that people only wore when deep in thought. Even when engaged in direct conversation the man's eyes had a habit of drifting off to the side and his face becoming set in concentration. It was unsettling to say the least. Atcher had the feeling the man could hold a full conversation and simultaneously plan his next dinner party right down to the guest list. A complex mind, near impossible to read. And he didn't like that, for nothing unnerved him more than a man whom he could not read.
-AAA-
Three days previously.
Atcher followed the footman through the elaborately decorated main hallway and up a flight of stairs to a small room at the rear of the house. His escort opened the door and motioned for him to enter. "The master will be with you shortly my lord." With that the footman closed the door behind him.
The nobleman studied the room. It was evidently a private study, as indicated by both the finely carved writing desk below the room's small window and a row of shelves in the right hand corner, all lined with leather-backed volumes. Atcher took one book down and thumbed idly through the pages. As he had suspected they were made of paper, rather than the calf-skin volumes used throughout lands such as the Empire and the kingdom of Bretonnia. The owner must be a man of great wealth and influence to have obtained such a collection of what was a relatively new technology.
The room itself was painted in a mixture of white and pale yellow colours and except for the desk and a small cabinet behind the door it was sparsely furnished, save for the coving around the ceiling's border, which was carved into shapes of what looked like armed men and dogs in pursuit of a horned animal-presumably a deer of some kind.
'So this one has wealth but he doesn't squander it. I always said you could learn the most about someone from their personal quarters.'
His musings were interrupted when the door opened to reveal a short man in his late forties. The man was dressed in black velvet, his black hair was greying rapidly, although his jet black eyebrows were as yet untouched by grey, and he wore a pair of thin wire-rimmed spectacles. With a quick appraising glance he extended his hand.
"Mr. Atcher I presume," the man had a strong grip.
"Mr. Damar." Atcher knew little about this man save what he had been able to learn through conversations with his father. Alexander Damar, if his name was anything to go by, was believed to hail from Bretonnia. The son of a wealthy merchant, at some point in his life he had committed an act that had earned him the fury of the king's justices and, fearing persecution, his family had fled east through the steep passes of the Apuccini mountains. Somehow they had navigated this treacherous goblin-infested terrain into the Border Princes where, finding favour with one of the local warlords, his father had established a small trading business which Damar had eventually succeeded to. Some eighteen years ago the business had been bought out by the Raphael brothers and Damar had been appointed as their chief administrator, eventually transferring his headquarters to Magritta as the city rose in prominence. Since then he had busied himself with building connections that would ensure his employees a strong level of power within the local trading circles.
"I'm glad you have arrived, and I trust that you had a pleasant trip."
"It was certainly an eventful one."
"Ah, I can guess from your tone that there is a story behind that. It would please me to hear it but first I believe we have some business to attend to."
"Yes," Atcher reached into his bag and retrieved the sealed document he had been preparing over the last few days. Without a word Damar reached across the desk and unfurled the calfskin document, his eyes scanning its contents. Atcher sat in silence as his host read.
After a few minutes Damar raised his eyebrows in surprise, but made no comment. Finally he rolled up the scroll and set it aside. "You have done well young man; I trust that this will serve us well with establishing the cover story. And now I hope you are ready for your next task."
"I have come prepared for that, and I trust that you have the men that I will require for the job."
"Yes, I have them quartered at various points in the town. Do you know how long before the 'Vulture' will sail?"
"Not exactly, but judging by the damage she received she should be in port for at least four days."
"Good, more than enough time. You can start briefing them tomorrow. Meanwhile I am going to have some of my men seek out the ship's crew. That way we can hopefully gather more information on what her captain plans to do."
"So the plan remains unchanged."
"It does, you will book passage on that ship again and our 'friends' will make the rendezvous once she is off the Sartossan coast." He moved over to the desk, opened a draw and withdrew a small hand-held mirror which he handed to Atcher. "This is enchanted and it is one of a pair. When you issue the command 'Give me sight beyond sight' you will be able to communicate with the bearer of its twin. I trust you will be able to handle our acquaintance Karl when the time comes."
Atcher nodded coolly in reply, "I am quite certain I can."
"Good, I won't keep you much longer but your letter also mentions something that interests me greatly." At the nobleman's puzzled expression he continued, "I refer to this strange ship you encountered-the 'Marienburg".
"What of her?"
"I am curious. Tell me everything that happened, starting from the beginning."
"To what end sir, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Oh, just humour an old man for now."
Damar sat in silence, his face set in an expression of deep concentration; as he listened to Atcher relate the events that had taken place several days previously-the discovery of the brigantine and the events surrounding her loss. When the tale was finished he leaned back in his chair, staring at his guest over crossed fingers.
"This cargo you say they salvaged, did you manage to get a look at it?"
"No, it was taken below and kept under guard. My servant did try to get down there but the guard would not let him past. We did consider trying to break in but decided it was too risky."
"These crates, describe them to me."
"There was nothing to describe-just two large rectangular crates and a few smaller ones. They were all rotting away by then of course."
"These larger crates, did have any markings?"
"Not that I could see," the older man had his interest now and Atcher decided to risk pressing his luck, "I have told you my story, now might I be permitted to ask you something?"
Damar shrugged, "if you must."
"Why the interest, did you have some connection with this cargo."
"Very astute." For a moment Damar considered ending the topic, then the thought crossed his mind-'why not, this one might prove some more use here.' He got up from his desk, opened the door and checked that the corridor was clear. Satisfied he returned to his seat.
"What I am about to tell you is strictly confidential, and I warn you not to repeat a word of this to anyone including your father. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Very well then, much of what I am about to tell you will in any case be discovered by the officials but there are certain facts that I wish to remain unknown. The 'Marienburg' was once owned by this company. Fifteen years ago we purchased her from a rival of ours. She was a sound investment and made several successful voyages until some ten years back when she set sail from Miragliano with a cargo of spices, fabrics and precious gems. With her speed we were confident she could outpace any pirates she might encounter and we know for fact that she made it as far as the tip of the Fool's Point Rocks. But after that she vanished, no trace of her was ever found."
"So you're concerned about the fate the gems-I'm not sure whether any of those were recovered."
"It is not the gems that concern us, in truth only a small part of the cargo was the property of this firm-the rest was being carried as a gesture of goodwill for some other traders we were dealing with at the time. Their disappearance caused a certain amount of ill feeling but we managed to smooth things over. There was, however, one item aboard which we prized very highly. It held great value and as such it was vital to ensure that the item reached us as quickly as possible, which is why we entrusted it to our fastest ship. Naturally its loss came as a severe blow to us."
"And you think that it may be in one of these crates that captain Varus recovered?"
"It was hidden in one of the rectangular crates and I know there were only three of those aboard. Chances are it may be in one of the two recovered."
"This item, what was it exactly?"
"That is on a need to know only basis I am afraid. I will of course inform you should the need arise, but for now you must content yourself with what I have told you. While we are on the subject, do you know if that captain has gone to the governor yet?"
"I believe he will be there by now."
"Then I must bid you farewell for now-this matter will require my immediate attention."
-AAA-
Well it's not my concern. I'm only here to prepare the men, let that one worry about the rest. Atcher finally came to the door of his lodgings and gratefully entered the tavern's cool interior.
-AAA-
While this was going on Ellaine Brionne was trying to resolve her own problems.
"Ellaine you know how I feel about this, are you sure there isn't someone else we can send along. I have several trusted servants who would be quite capable of accomplishing what you are proposing to do."
Ellaine bowed her head as Louisa finished pinning her hair in place, tying her mistresses' long tresses into a neat pony tail and finishing the look by fastening a length of red ribbon to the base of the neck. The Bretonnian noblewoman regarded her friend in the reflection of her dressing table mirror.
"We've had this conversation already Jane, we both know there is no other way. I have no one else around here to trust with something this important." She rose from her seat, "no I must attend to this matter myself, come Louisa." The two women descended the stairs and exited the house, climbing into the carriage that awaited them outside.
"The coachman doffed his hat in greeting, "where too miss?"
"The docks if you please. I have enquiries to make there." She knew that Jane's servants would already be combing the docks, making enquiries about all incoming and outgoing ships, but Ellaine needed to do something-she had never been good at sitting around idly waiting for news.
As the carriage pulled away from the house Ellaine allowed herself a brief moment of relaxation, something that had not come easily lately. This business was beginning the wear her down, and just when everything had seemed to be going according to plan it was now up in the air.
It had all started out fairly simple. Several months previously she had received a message from her cousin Belle. The two women had been close friends as children before Belle's family had moved overseas to Miragliano in search of better prospects. Initially delighted to have some news of her relative, Ellaine had become alarmed upon reading the contents of the letter. Belle, it seemed, had allowed herself to become romantically involved with a young merchant named Gerard Kaestos. She had described him as a good, honest man with much wealth to his name. But there was a problem-their two families were currently locked in a bitter feud and had forbidden their children to interact. Undeterred by this the lovers had continued to meet in secret; but in the end it had become too much. Tiring of their family's feud the pair was planning to elope and make their way to the Old World where they hoped to start a new life. Belle had written to her cousin to beg her for help in this matter, asking for sanctuary once the pair reached Bretonnia.
Although hesitant to become involved in such a feud Ellaine could sympathise with her cousin's plight and had immediately dispatched a reply, instructing Belle and her lover to rendezvous with her in the Estallian port of Magritta. Her friend Jane Courtalla would look after the pair until Ellaine arrived and once there she would help them decide what to do next. She hoped to be able to help resolve the issue without having to assist in their elopement, but if the need should arise then she was prepared to do whatever was necessary.
So, leaving her lands to the care of a local knight of the realm whom she knew she could trust, Ellaine Brionne had set sail from Bordeleaux with her maid.
Her plan had seemed straightforward, but it was not working out that way.
-AAA-
Djack pushed open the front door of the Miller's Lady Tavern, his nostrils taking in the mixed odours of ale, tobacco and hot food. He stood in the doorway momentarily, looking around until he located his quarry. "He's in the corner, go and get us a couple of pints and meet me over there."
"You get the pints mate, I met that guy last time, reckon I have a better chance of persuading him."
"No," the tall Estalian looked down at his Old Worlder partner. They had worked together for two years now but Djack did not care for the swarthy man, whom he regarded as rude and easily prone to losing his temper. This matter would require rather more delicate handling. "You lost the draw, now hurry up and get the drinks. The boss doesn't want any unnecessary attention in this matter."
His partner grumbled at being entrusted with such a menial task, but sidled away towards the bar. Shaking his head irritably Djack moved over to where the figure in question sat at a small table in the far corner of the room. The man had removed his broad-brimmed hat but wore the same scaled cloak and had bound his silver hair down under a black cloth cap. The right ear's pointed tip was quite distinctive against the black cloth whilst the tip of the left one, Djack could not help but notice, had been sliced clean off. How the hell can someone this distinctive be so hard to find?
"Can I join you?"
The elf did not look up, "if you wish."
Pulling up a chair, the Estallian continued the conversation. "Do you remember me?"
"Yes."
"Then do you know why I am here?"
"Only two reasons come to mind-your master is either dissatisfied with my services or her wants to hire me for something. Considering the effort I put into the last job I would hope it is the second."
"You are correct," he paused as his partner approached, a tankard in each hand, "sit down Saul." The Estallian then returned his gaze Joseph, noting the long scar that ran down the side of the elf's face. "My master would like to hire your services again. Are you interested?"
Joseph shrugged, "first I'd ask about the money."
"The money is good stranger, we'll give you give fifty gold pieces as a deposit and a further one hundred and fifty when the job is finished."
"Seems good, next thing I'd ask about is the odds."
"That will depend on you, but if you play things properly I reckon you shouldn't have any difficulty."
"Finally I'll ask what it involves-I require all the information, hold any back and you can hire someone else. "
Djack waved aside his partner's outraged protest. "The task is quite straightforward. There is a certain object that has fallen into the hands of another party. It has great value to us and we would like it retrieved. Currently it is being kept on a ship anchored in the port. We want you to go aboard and retrieve it."
"What is this package?"
"It is a small mahogany box with an eight pointed star carved into its lid. The box…," here he glanced around to make sure no one was eves-dropping, "…contains a green gemstone. It is very valuable, but more importantly it is a family heirloom of my master's and he is willing to pay handsomely for its return."
"Very careless of him to lose it."
"The stone was being transported by sea when the ship it was being carried on disappeared. It has only recently come to his attention that it may have been recovered."
The elf scanned him with a piercing gaze. After a few seconds (although to the Estallian it seemed like several minutes had passed) he asked "what is the name of this ship?"
"She is called the Vulture, and I think you will now understand why we have approached you for this job. You have a history with the crew and I believe that you know her captain, not to mention you must be familiar with the layout of the ship. This gives you an opportunity that none of our operatives will have. No-one will suspect you."
"My business aboard that ship has finished. I have no reason to return there."
"We thought about that. Our enquiries have revealed that the captain is recruiting mercenaries in preparation for his final voyage. You could always sign on and use you time aboard to retrieve the box. After that you will have a simple choice-stay on as a paid mercenary for their voyage or simply fail to show up when they leave."
"How do you know I don't have anything else planned?"
"We don't, it is a chance that we must take."
"When does the ship leave?"
"We don't know, but she certainly won't leave for at least another day. That should be more than enough time for you to complete your task."
"I've been on that ship for a while, what makes you think I would be interested in stealing from my ship-mates?"
Djack smirked at this. "I used to be in your line of work stranger. People like you and I do not have friends, only allies and accomplices, and only then when it suits our needs."
There was a lot of truth in that. Joseph took a small sip from his tankard, mulling over the chances of success. The Estallian was right in what he said, signing on as a mercenary would give him a good cover, especially as the ship's carpenter had extended him an invitation earlier that day. If he played it properly it would be a simple matter to get aboard the ship and move down to the hold during the night. If there was a guard then he could pose a problem-the elf would have to immobilise him quickly. This done he could theoretically be in and out in a matter of minutes.
"The stone must be very valuable if your master is willing to go to this kind of trouble."
"He has his reasons. Now that I have given you all the details you require, are you interested."
"I'm interested, and I understand your terms. Now these are my terms-my fee is two hundred gold coins and one hundred in silver, of which fifty gold will be paid as a deposit and the rest will be paid once I deliver the item, that plus my expenses. The deposit is payment for taking the risk and not for retrieving the box; if the item is not there it is not my fault I will keep the deposit regardless. Once we agree to this deal the terms and conditions may not be changed in any way. ** If successful I will have this task accomplished by tomorrow night and we will meet at ten bells in the Marlinspike."
"The same tavern as before?"
"Yes, its atmosphere will help us to avoid detection?"
The Estalian studied him carefully, meeting the elf's cold gaze. After a moment he held out his hand and gave a nod, "we have an accord. The box was concealed in a rectangular crate, like the two that were brought aboard to the Vulture. If the object has been recovered then it will be in one of those. There is one other thing you must know-do not remove the gem from its box. It is very delicate and any damage to it will void our deal. Under no circumstances must you remove it from its box, understood?"
The elf nodded, "understood." The two shook hands and Djack rose to his feet, "come Saul, our business here is concluded." He turned and left. With an ugly look at the elf, Saul followed him.
-AAA-
Saul gave vent to his anger once they were out of the door, "by thunder that one has some nerve. Who the hell does he think he is to demand more payment from us?"
"He thinks he is the one who will deliver the jewel to us. And don't forget that its value is considerably more than the amount he is asking, and I reckon he knows that. Just be thankful he agreed"
-AAA-
OOC: *Anyone who has watched Cowboy Bebop or Under Siege II knows the move I mean. I forget how the moves are executed though.
**Got this line from the hit film The Transporter starring Jason Statham. Great film.
-AAA-