STORY RECAP: Jack Frost had confessed everything to Queen Elsa. In exchange for his cooperation, the leader of Arendelle secret service, James Hawkins, promised to save his sister. Meanwhile, in Southern Isles, a civil war had been brewing, and put to a sudden halt by the death of her king. James Hawkins infiltrated the country to gain intel on the hostage and Scarrfaythe Black's next move.
We carry on...
As always, one word that fit the harbor of Southern Isles' main island was chaos. But amidst that chaos was a systematic organization tempered through centuries of trial-and-error. Yes, for newcomers, the sight, the moving about could be overwhelming, but take a moment to be part of the island, you'd start seeing the patterns.
Taverns, inns, shipyards and various shops of varying level of legality circled the perimeter of the port. These received a steady stream of incoming and outgoing customers, both looking to make purchase or otherwise just window-shopping. Just a few feet away from the permanent establishments were the street vendors, plying their goods of even more compromising quality and legality. Far to the south where the road led to the center of the island, carriages lined up, ready to launch the moment a client stepped inside.
Near the dockyards, big able-bodied men and quite a few women loitered around, hoping to catch the attention of a trade master and be put to work. Some were even already moving about cargo and barrels alike. On the docks itself you could see dockworkers doing maintenance on the numerous vessels. Some needed fresh paint, other mending of the sails. A breach in the hull needed plugging, others to be herded into the dry dock for complete inspection of the damage.
But it wasn't the chaos that was noteworthy. It wasn't the stank of sweat and salt and sea mingled with a thousand other aromas from whatever cooking and whatever ended up in the quay. It wasn't the clamoring of merchants, the crowd, the sailors, the employers alike. No, it wasn't those at all. It was the stillness. A lone stillness in the midst of people moving like drones in a beehive. And in that chaos, that stillness went unnoticed. The stillness was called James Hawkins.
Jim had been staring at the dockside notice board for some time now, more specifically the royal proclamation announcing the death of King Raegus. It had been pasted there for a week for all the literate to see. The funeral had come and gone along with the coronation—both a rushed and hasty affair. Southern Isles now had a new king.
He had shed his beggar disguise and appropriated a messenger look. He wore an ochre colored shirt and loose tan breeches, completed with black boots and messenger cap. He had a satchel filled with rolls of papers slung over his shoulder. It was a more inconspicuous disguise for staring at notice boards and snooping around town. As much as anyone else was concerned, he was on errands.
He still didn't know what to make of the sudden death of the previous king, more so of the new king. There was no movement coming out of the palace and the silence was discomfiting. He had planted a network of spies inside the castle ever since the youngest prince tried to kill the Arendelle monarchs, but they too produced no noteworthy intel. It was as if nothing's changed.
But something must have—his years of spying for Arendelle screamed at him as much. It was a too convenient death for a country in the brink of civil war. Someone must have been benefited, but whether it was Hans' party or the opposing, it remained to be seen. Jim, however, couldn't afford to wait that long. If Hans had somehow procured the support of the throne, Arendelle must be notified, but Jim couldn't be hasty. Nothing ruins a leader's credibility more than a false alarm.
Jim huffed and lowered his hat. He began walking away from the noticeboard, lest his prolonged stare invited suspecting eyes. He was deep in thought, mulling over his options of procuring information. So distracted he was, he didn't see ahead and bumped into someone.
"Ah, sorry," Jim muttered a quick apology and continued walking without waiting for a reply or seeing who he bumped into. If his thoughts were less preoccupied and he turned around, he'd see the man scrutinizing him from afar.
…
"Onus! Come on!" Scroop called at him, and when he didn't respond, he clicked his tongue. "What the hell are ye gawking at?" But Onus was rooted to the spot, his eyes glued on the back of the messenger he had just bump into.
People said many things about Onus—that he'd cheat you in dice faster than you can say "Wait a minute", that he was so short you'd lose him in a playground of kids—all mostly bad things. The one thing they acclaimed in unison was his pair of good eyes. And his prized eyes had just spotted someone that they shouldn't have.
They spotted a ghost.
"Ey, Scroop. That guy I just bumped into, he looks familiar ta you?" Onus asked his companion.
Scroop squinted his eyes until they were nothing but slits and searched for the man Onus meant. His efforts would prove futile as he was already lost to the crowd.
"Ain't got a good look," said Scroop. "Why? Someone ye know?"
Onus didn't immediately answer, pondering the possibilities in his head. "Someone we all s'posed ta know, but… Nah, can't be. He's s'posed ta be dead."
Anymore thoughts on the person fled his head because another thing everyone agreed in unison was that Onus had the memory span of a goldfish
…
Ralph hauled the last barrel out of the cargo hold of Storm's End and set it down on the dock. The captain of the ship was bargaining with a trade master off to the left while his crew chattered the day away sitting around a pile of boxes, waiting to be dismissed. Ralph wiped off a trickle of sweat rolling down his forehead; he would have to wait until they were done before he could ask for his payment.
He was about to join the crew's conversation when he saw a small familiar figure running towards him. Ralph felt his lips widened into a grin. His sister was probably done with whatever kept an orphaned urchin busy on the day. Vanellope hopped the few last steps and looked up to him, grinning cheekily.
"Ah, look who decided to show up!" Ralph felt he cheeks spread into a wide smile. "Why, isn't it the princess of Southern Isles herself!"
"Southern Isles doesn't have a princess, stupid." Vanellope drawled the last word for effect. Ralph still didn't know how someone her age knew about all the royalties and palace gossips. "Anyway, major body odor, come, come! I want to show you something."
Vanellope grabbed his hand and led him behind a pile of cargo before Ralph could utter a response. She tugged on his hand, signaling him to squat down so they'd be eye level. She then reached from somewhere under her clothing and produced a pouch. Even before she opened it, Ralph could guess what was inside by the clinking sound.
"Where did you get that?" Ralph asked when Vanellope loosened the strings.
"A friend."
"Why would someone just give you money?" Ralph scowled. "Vanellope, have you been stealing again?"
"Shush!" Vanellope clutched the pouch close to her chest and peered around to see if her brother's outburst attracted prying eyes. "Of course not! Someone really has been giving it to me. Now, I need you to hold on to it. It's growing suspicious and I don't want to attract unwanted attention."
"Wait a minute… 'has been'? 'Growing'? Just how long have you been receiving it? What did you do? And most importantly, who gave it to you?"
"Ralph, Ralph," Vanellope used her most condescending tone and it was very effective, "you're asking too many questions; your brain is probably near bursting right now. Don't need to mind it, okay? What's important is that we can survive another week. Now put it in your pocket before someone sees it!" She shoved the pouch into his hand. His fingers easily swallowed it, shielding it from view.
"I just don't want you to get involved in shady stuff, Nell!" Ralph massaged his tightened brows. "Please, promise me you won't do it again, whatever the person's asking you to do, okay?"
Vanellope hesitated. Her eyes were downcast. She seemed to be wringing her answer in her mouth. Finally, she sighed and spoke, "I don't wanna lie to you so I will say this; I can't do that, Ralph. The job pays well and we need it."
With that she darted off before Ralph could say another argument. He could only look on with anguish on his face before the trade master barked another order and he hastened to obey.
…
Katherine cocked her head the way she always did when she's making an observation. "I'm starting to think you're regretting your choice, Captain Silver."
"Aye? What's yer first clue?"
"For starters, you're here visiting me again. Don't you have a rebellion to plan with Mr. Psychotic and Mr. I'll-be-king?"
Indeed, he's supposed to. Or at least he was supposed to be checking his crews. Or made sure his ship was in tip-top shape. Or be anywhere else really, other than the cold stank prison cell of one Katherine Frost. Silver knew he shouldn't be saying anything. He knew he shouldn't volunteer any information. But she did something to him. Something that made everything he was doing grated at him and everything he knew constricted his chest so much that it suffocated. He needed to let it out. He needed to breathe.
"Ya know the king is dead, right?"
"So, you've told me. And now other sits on the throne. Henrik, isn't it?"
Silver breathed out a heavy sigh. Here it goes… "The new king supported Hans' plan. There will be no rebellion, only war preparation." Katherine was struck silence by this, but he wasn't even done. "Outland said 'aye' to the alliance. They'll be supporting the war efforts."
Katherine's expression finally changed for the first time in awhile. Usually so unfazed, her brows now furrowed with concern and a dab of desperation. The last time he'd seen that expression on her had been when she was first separated from her brother. "Isn't there anything you can do to change the situation?" she pleaded. "I know you want nothing to do with it. I can see it in your eyes."
Silver scoffed cynically. "What can a pawn like me do in the grand scheme of things? The rat on the ship can squeak all it wants, but the wind will still blow where it would."
"But you're not the rat, Silver. You're the sail! You can change the course of the ship!"
"Not without the captain's whim, I can't, and I sure ain't the captain on this godforsaken, ill-begotten voyage!"
Katherine stared at him intently, as if trying to dig out his soul and stake it to the ground, laid bare before the sun. Always, always, that girl seemed to know more than she should, courtesy of having more brain than a mere peasant oughta.
"You're angry, aren't you? For once in your life you're embarking on something so big yet you have no control of the wheel, and you hate every moment of it." She paused, waiting for the answer that wasn't forthcoming. Katherine moved closer to the bars that held her captive and pressed on. "Why are you here, Silver? And I don't mean here in this dungeon, talking to me. I mean here in this whole scheme, working for a man who clearly you serve grudgingly. It's not for the plunder, is it? If there's even a plunder in the end of the game…"
While Silver needed someone to talk to, there were things he wasn't quite ready to talk about, and she was fishing for just that one thing. Silver tipped his head and began walking away. "'s nice talking to ye, lassie."
His lack of response and abrupt turn clearly miffed her, but she said nothing of it. Instead, she moved back deeper into the cell and sat on the cot—her only piece of comfort in the sorry excuse of a place. "Likewise, Cap. Come back anytime."
…
Ralph was a big man so snooping around wasn't exactly within his forte. So far, he had knocked over a barrel of apples, bumped into a pole, stepped on a cat's tail (and was scratched in return) and tripped headfirst onto the cobblestone road. Alas, despite the commotion he had caused in his wake, the person he'd been following was still none the wiser, and it was not entirely due to his masterful espionage skill.
Late into dusk, Southern Isles' portside was still, if not even more of, a whirlpool of liveliness. General hullaballoo was to be expected and his sister didn't bother to spare a backward glance, so focused she was one the person she had been following.
After his sister's confession, Ralph had vowed to put an end to her mysterious source of income. No matter where the money came from, he knew it was too unclean and too dangerous for a ten-years-old to keep being involved in. Once his day job was done, he had searched for Vanellope. She hadn't seemed to be doing anything noteworthy when he found her loitering among the crowd in the market, but she suddenly perked up as if finding something in the crowd and scampered away before Ralph could talk to her.
Ralph hadn't seen whom she'd been stalking, but he saw her entered a tavern. He almost followed suit before thinking better of it. In such a small room, it would be inevitable to be spotted by his sister. So instead, he circled the premise and peered inside through a window facing the side alley.
Vanellope sauntered inside inauspiciously. She wasn't the only children there so her comings and goings went unnoticed. Misfits were common enough for a tavern near full and as long as she didn't do anything alarming, she might as well be the background.
Ralph still couldn't pinpoint who she was trailing until he noticed her lingered at a table a fraction of a moment longer. There sat the most hideous looking group of sailors Ralph had chanced his eyes upon, and that's saying something; he'd worked at the docks long enough to notice all colorful sorts. The sailors didn't seem to notice the little eavesdropper or didn't care enough to bother. Vanellope too, ensured she kept moving to avoid discovery.
The sailors didn't stay long. After a few rounds of drinks, they began making their exit. Vanellope didn't follow suit. She waited a whole minute before leaving the tavern as well. This time though, she didn't follow them and went to the opposite direction, passing where Ralph was hiding. Ralph inched deeper into the alley, but Vanellope didn't even spare a sideway glance. She was keen on making her way back to the town square. Ralph counted to ten before trailing after her.
If she was going back to the city proper, she sure chose the longest, least straightforward course. She seemed to take a turn randomly every so often that Ralph began to suspect she knew she was being followed. He almost thought of turning back when she stopped abruptly at the mouth of an alley. A beggar was sitting there, dressed in tatters and scraps. Vanellope sat next to him and they began conversing. At this point, Ralph began to think he was following the wrong hunch. Perhaps everything she did was just the random whims of a girl her age.
He was about to approach them and have that talk with his sister after all when he noticed the beggar slid a pouch toward Vanellope, and not the other way around. It was a subtle move, but Ralph had been observing them too keenly to have missed it. Judging from the pouch's misshapen form, it was filled near bursting with coins.
Could it be? The beggar looked innocent enough and he could always be a friend of hers, but what sort of beggar was well-to-do enough to give a fortune to an urchin? This was then his sister mysterious benefactor, and whatever business he had sent her to do must have involved the group of sailors.
And when everything began to click in his mind, Ralph almost leapt from his hiding place and confronted the both of them. Only one little flicker of self-control held him and pressed him to think, but it was enough. Ralph didn't just want the stranger to bugger off, he wanted him gone. Merely telling him off would not ensure it; nothing would keep them from seeing each other behind his back without his knowledge.
So, Ralph began profiling the beggar. His face, his characteristics, his clothing, and memorized them to the best of his ability. He then quietly snuck away, back to the direction of the port. He knew of a specific group of the most hideous looking sailors who'd appreciate the piece of information he'd just gotten.
…
Jack glanced around the room. There were five of them—himself, Elsa, General Manzie, Edmund and oddly enough Nicholas North—all sitting around the roundtable inside the General's office. In front of them was a glass filled with the strongest, harshest liquor in the Queen's collection. The source bottle was set in the middle of the table, ready to be passed around. Jack hadn't touched his, neither did Elsa. North's finished his first cup and reached for the bottle to pour his second. Manzie sat with a half-empty glass. Edmund though, was nursing his third and one very mean headache.
Edmund was rubbing his temples with one hand and squeezing his glass near crushing with the other. Jack couldn't help but to look at him with pity. "You alright?" he whispered.
"Yeah, sure," came the answer from the blue-grey haired man, but he didn't bother whispering. "I just learned that my father was the leader of this royal secret spy group and that's why he was all chummy with the royals." He then stared pointedly at North. "And he, my oldest friend whom I thought was just a regular ol' blacksmith, is part of the same group as well, so yeah, all's apples and spice. Not that I just came to a horrible realization that my whole life was a lie."
He drowned the content of his glass when finished the sentence and signaled to North to hand over the bottle. North eyes widened and looked around, hoping for someone to object. When none was forthcoming, he gingerly gave Edmund the bottle which the latter man snatched away and refilled his glass liberally. Jack cringed at this. He was as much a drinker as the next man, but the amount of alcohol Edmund could put inside his body without so much dulling his senses still fazed him.
"So, who else is in on this? The groom? My neighbor? Your little apprentice…what's her name… Right, Dani, thank you Jack." Edmund seemed to be trying to keep his words nonchalant but had little success. Suddenly, he stopped pouring and looked up with horrified expression. "Don't tell me my wife is in on this too?"
"None of them involved, you have my word," said North. Edmund relaxed visibly at this, but then North had to continue, "Your daughter's nanny though…"
"No!"
"…is lovely woman and not involved. Just a joke, Bunny. You look full of tension and ready to leap." North grinned sheepishly.
"Oh, I'm ready to leap, all right, and claw your eyes out while I'm at it, if I don't feel so stuffed." Edmund made a move to drink but thought better of it and set down his glass. "So, what other factoids you'd like to gobsmack me with? I know this is not all there is to it; if you're just regaling me with the tales of my father's past exploits, Her Majesty and Jack don't need to here."
"Yes, that's not all we want to talk about." General Manzie began. "The reason why we've summoned you here is to tell you about our coming ordeal and the enemy we're facing."
"Scarrfaythe Black, you mean?" Edmund raised an eyebrow. "What do you know about him that Jack hasn't told you about?"
"Truthfully speaking," Jack spoke, "other than him being a psychopathic madman who's hell-bent on conquering Arendelle, I don't know much about him or his past."
North took a long sip from his glass. "You may think you are exaggerating but that is fitting description, but it is not Arendelle he has his eyes upon."
"So, he's a conqueror, then?" Elsa asked. "Or wish to be one?"
"No, no, he cares little for spoils and glory," North waved his hand as if trying to swat away flies. "That is what makes him formidable enemy."
"You, young 'uns, are probably not familiar with his…legend, so to speak, but he was infamous some two decades ago." Manzie continued. "What happened then…was the worst war tragedy history has ever recorded. He was exiled for his crimes, but the damage his actions causes marred the country he served forever."
"And that is why you are here," North said, "so you have full clarity of the situation we are facing and just the sort of monster he is."
If last update was more of a prologue to a second book, this one here is the real chapter. You'd probably see the massive change in my writing style. It wasn't two months in the making. Previous chapter was done around last year while this one is very very recent. I'd like to think I'm growing as a writer. Two years were a long time.
So, yeah, someone's about to do something stupid. There'll be two (three tops) more chapters circulating around Southern Isles and then we'll go back to all the Jelsa stuff. I'm having so much fun writing and exploring more on this side though, but I know some of you probably can't wait to return to Arendelle.
Review Reply (feels like the first time in forever):
mekuro-K: thank you. People like you are what keep me going and writing. Your support is very much invaluable and every kind word boost my motivation to write the next chapter, and the next, and the next
Fenrir Wylde Razgriz: Lol, didn't mean to sound dark and depressed, but that was actually exactly how I felt at the time. Thank you for sticking around.
Anon Reviewer: Indeed, this one though seems like it's gonna take a few more years until completion. Hope I have enough readers to stick around for that, but thank YOU for your support.
MaravillaKatana: Aww, you flatter me. Thank you for your continuous support. I will keep on fighting!
Guest: Thank you for your support, and for being so kind and considerate with your words. I will try my best to finish the story with the best quality I can produce. No half-assing for me, no sir. It's people like you that kept me going (and made me do this comeback in the first place) so again, thank you.
somnusventus: thank you for sticking around! I will do my best to finish this story. A promise must be kept, no?
Guest04: I'm so grateful you're still reading! I can't thank you enough for always being around whenever there's an update. As for keeping well and doing well, well... I'm trying my best to fend off some personal problems, but I have support from a loved one so I'm coping.
Finally, this can't be said enough, each of your reviews means the world to me. Whenever I'm demotivated, I always scroll through the reviews and your kind words and support always brings forth newfound will and inspiration in me. So thank you, thank you so much for taking the time to review.
Next up: (obviously) Scarrfaythe Black story