The Ambition of the Dreadlord Raveres
Part II: Allies, Foes, and Bargains
Episode Fourteen
Jacque awoke with a nervous start. Clutching at his sheet he calmed himself down enough to quiet his breathing. Already awake and out of bed, Sir Jean stood across the room wearing nothing but his braies. He was looking out the window and breathing deeply.
Dawn was just creeping over the horizon and sunlight was beginning to show itself. Without moving his head around the knight spoke,
"The morning of battle… You never sleep soundly."
Jacque looked towards his master's scarred back and gulped. Sir Jean turned 'round and rubbed his scruffy chin. His chest was more heavily scarred than his back, and Jacque saw that his master's skin had been marred by nearly every weapon he knew of: Sword, mace, hammer, arrow, bolt, lance, spear, billhook, halberd…
Sir Jean had been wounded at least once by every one of them. Jacque had seen his master shirtless before, indeed as his squire he'd dressed him hundreds of times. But right now, in the morning light, Sir Jean's muscled body didn't look strong. He didn't look knightly.
He looked old. He looked tired. His chest hair was almost all grey now, and his beard was showing much more salt in it.
"Get up my boy." He said with a nod. Then he smirked and asked, "Shall we shave?"
Jacque nodded and threw off his sheet as he slid out from his bed, and then the words hit him; 'shall we shave'.
He furrowed his brow and rubbed his own face. It was smooth and bore only light blonde 'fuzz'.
"Master, what would I need to shave for?"
Sir Jean chuckled as he stepped towards a washbowl, he'd already made ready.
"Come here, I shall do yours first."
Jacque's face could only barely make 'surprise' as he struggled to speak, "W-wha I? But… Sir?"
"Sit my boy. Come on now, we must be ready."
Jacque nodded and sat in one of the chairs that Sir Jean had moved around and re-set. The washbowl was steaming with freshly heated water and Sir Jean wet a small piece of soap. The boy couldn't help but feel confusion as his master played at a barber and directed him around.
He laughed as the bristles of the application brush wet and lathered on his skin, and Sir Jean smiled,
"Okay, now hold still my lad."
Bringing his razor to Jacque's neck he began 'cutting' the hair. Mostly he was wiping the froth away, but Sir Jean smiled and Jacque smiled back.
"Now… A very long time ago."
Jean flicked the razor, "I was a squire too."
He nodded before moving to Jacque's right side.
"And my lord had me shave him the morning of any 'major' battle."
He scoffed and leant closely while pausing to concentrate.
"What's a 'major' battle you may ask?" he chuckled again, "I thought the same myself when I was younger…"
He coughed, "So I asked him,"
Sir Jean stepped back and furrowed his brow as he addressed his former master, comically exaggerating his expressions and voice, "MY lord? Why the shaving?! What's a major battle?"
He smiled to himself and Jacque laughed loudly. Then he furrowed his brow and turned back to his squire before continuing.
"A major battle, he told me, isn't one determined by numbers."
Jacque remained still as Jean shaved his 'moustache'.
"A major battle is one filled with people counting on you, one where you change in yourself as you write a page in the book of fate…"
He smirked, "one where you feel the Lady with you…"
Sir Jean paused and he removed the blade from Jacque's face. He stared into his squires' eyes and the boy stared back.
"Do you understand?"
Jacque nodded, "I think… I think so."
The knight's lip pursed and he held a breath tightly. He nodded in approval before leaning back and grunting. Jean held out the razor and cleared his throat,
"Clean the blade, clean your face, we must make ready."
The boy furrowed his brow as he complied. Sir Jean stared to their side out the window. And Jacque swore he could see his master's stern face and hard eyes glisten.
…
Raveres shed the soft and heavy sheets of her bed and rose with a groan. Her arms felt stiff and her body slowly loosened. She'd slept in the nude, as was her habit, and when she stood, she threw her head back and stretched out her arms.
Looking down her right arm she saw the wound that she'd earned when she lost her ship. It healed as best as it was going to and had left a three-inch purplish scar across the middle of her bicep. She snarled and grumbled as she looked away,
"I fear I'll be getting a few more of these before I return home."
Raveres let out a breath and looked towards the balcony and windows.
"Sun's up…"
She began rubbing her eyes and a yawn overtook her before abruptly stopping as the weight of the observation hit her;
"The sun's up!"
Turning quickly, she searched for her clothes and armour. Before retiring to sleep she had 'played' with her cuirass; rubbing it down and wearing it while exercising with stretches and lunges. She'd left it in a pile along with her cleaned trousers and blouse on the ground at the foot of her bed.
"By Khaine's cock when were we supposed to meet anyway?!" She swore and shook her head as she began pulling her trousers up her legs.
While Sadalsuud's 'gift' of the silken lingerie was utterly soft and pleasant to wear, she didn't like the idea of her womanhood touching anything associated with the Arabyan. The dark dress and underwear lay in a pile nearer the doorway of the room. She shuddered and shook her head as an intimate image of Sadalsuud came to mind,
"Gah! No!" she snapped, 'out, out! That is not what I want to see! Elianna… Elianna, sweet gods above never let me forget her flesh.'
Having forced the near-revolting mental image of a nude Sadalsuud from her brain she instead began wistfully thinking about the blonde Asur slave. A rap at the door tore her from the pleasant daydream and she nearly lost her balance.
"Y-yes?! Who's there?"
She tied off her trousers and reached for her blouse as a familiar voice spoke in Druhir.
"It's Yurin my lady… The knight and squire are readying themselves and are in the hall, they're awaiting you."
She nodded as she brought the shirt over her head. Yurin hadn't come to her room last night… In fact, after she left the Bretonnians she didn't see another soul down the palace's corridors the whole evening. She was so tired that after she did her stretches and shed her clothes she'd crawled into bed, absentmindedly having forgotten that she was supposed to have been expecting him.
Raveres took a breath and cleared her throat as she straightened her blouse. 'Sternness Raveres.' She told herself, 'You are in command.'
Clearing her throat noiselessly she leveled her head and ever so slightly narrowed her eyes at the doorway.
"You may enter."
The man hesitated for a moment before drawing the handle and pushing the door open. Yurin was dressed in light leather jerkin, the colours of which were the same as Sadalsuud's personal guards; underneath it he wore a plain cotton shirt, and leather vambraces.
'A requisition from the palace armoury, I'm sure.' She thought with a private smile.
His pants were simple cotton hosen, but obviously well-made and above that of peasant quality. At his hilt were two thin swords, one shorter than the other. Along his belt were a few pouches and a small water skin. Over his right shoulder, and crossing his chest, was the strap to a small pack.
'For not knowing anything about warfare he seems far better equipped than I expected.' The Druchii thought.
His face was blushed and he averted his gaze, embarrassed, as he stepped forwards. Raveres' eyes had widened and she smiled sadistically behind her hand.
"Well… looks like you've decided, have you?"
Yurin held his tongue before eventually nodding.
"I have. Most of my personal effects have been packed away and they'll be ready to leave the city if you'd be willing to give me leave to see to it." he cleared his throat, "When it comes time for you to… well to leave 'properly' that is."
Just then a sadistic thought came across her mind and she did her best to stifle her devilish grin,
"What's to say that my offer still stands?"
The human's face dropped and his cheeks reddened like ripened fruit.
"W-wh I… I." he began stuttering.
Unable to keep up her façade Raveres howled with laughter and shook her head. Regaining her composure, she grunted and coughed before becoming plain and serious as she was before. Drawing a breath, she waved him forwards,
"I suppose that's acceptable. Now help me dress."
Yurin's brow was contorted in dismay and he hesitantly stepped into the room. His expression showed that he at once realised his error, and also that some form of retribution was acceptable for making a noble lady wait. But he did not enjoy the laughter at his expense.
Yet Yurin was bookish and meek, and Raveres was tall, confident, a warrior, and more than that; nobility. As it stood, he wasn't about to voice himself to her. She moved her arm behind her and scratched at a patch on the back of her neck. As she ran her nails up her skin, she felt the chain of her necklace. It reminded her and she cooed.
"But first oaths… come here."
She half turned while bending over to pick up her sword. Yurin eyed the blade uneasily as he walked towards the centre of the room. His expression of apprehension wasn't helped when Raveres sternly ordered,
"On your knees."
He hesitated, visibly gulping, and she laughed, "Fear naught, I shan't hurt you."
Yurin didn't appear entirely convinced but he knelt all the same. Bewitched, like so many others, by the terrible beauty of a Druchii. His mind raced as he madly thought, 'if she ordered me to nearly anything it'd be hard to refuse her…'
Raveres pressed the tip of her sword against the floor and held it in place with pressure from only her index finger. Her mind raced as she tried to invent an acceptable sounding oath, having never done a retainer's oath of allegiance before.
The only other time she'd 'bought' property was under duress and so at present she struggled to come up with a convincing voice.
'You're in command.' She reminded herself, 'Look at him! He's entranced.'
With a nod she began, "Do you swear yourself in service to me?"
Yurin looked up and nodded.
She smiled, "So you desire to leave this sandy place?"
The young man nodded wearily, "I do… Anywhere would be better."
Raveres cocked an eyebrow, "I don't quite know about that but-"
He nodded more enthusiastically, "Yes… I," he hid an eager smile before looking up at her, "I wish to follow you, in your service."
"Do you swear to serve me faithfully?"
In his mind he screamed; 'of course!' but his voice came out even and calm, "Yes."
"Swearing to defend both the honour of my person and that of my noble house in Naggarond?"
'Yurin!' his mind cried, 'Really think about it! This is different than the pep-talk we had in our cell last night! Think about it! Naggaroth! The frozen land of the dark elves… the Witch King…'
The inner, reasonable, voice of his mind began searching through every piece of horrible lore he'd read about the lost Asur children of Naggaryth but, on his knees, looking up into the disarming, neigh-magical, gaze of a female Druchii he would do anything if she commanded him to.
With a nod he finally responded, "In whatever way I can."
Raveres relished his almost reverent gaze and she leaned backwards as she asked a final question, expectantly looking forwards to his answer.
"Until death releases you or I see fit to dispense you from my service?"
At this Yurin visibly took the full weight of what he was doing. The spell appeared to be broken and his eyes fluttered. His mouth opened yet no words came out. He averted his eyes and looked down at Raveres' bare feet. She watched him with interest, wondering all the while what was going through his mind.
Her skin was so pale that Yurin found himself tracing the blue veins which ran across the tops of her feet. His heart beat faster as he briefly considered the softness of her flesh. He blinked and tried to think clearly but he desired only to be out from the place he was.
'That's a lie…' a voice growled. 'You want her, don't you?'
His cheeks felt hot, and he forced himself to shut his eyes.
'You wish to serve, just so long as you might taste her?'
He exhaled and ignored the licentious words echoing in his skull. Looking back up he nodded,
"I do."
The Druchii smiled and tilted her head, "Then it is done."
The slight parting of her lips and the exposure of her white teeth shot through Yurin like an arrow and for himself he knew that his heart had been completely pierced; stolen by a woman he barely knew, of a culture so foreign and alien to him that she may as well have been a mythical fey.
Raveres wrapped her lithe fingers around the sword's hilt and extended the blade, flat side up, towards Yurin's face,
"Kiss it."
The swift appearance snapped Yurin out of his daze and he swallowed a nervous breath before extending his neck and lips towards the blade. The whole while he began thinking a mantra;
'Don't embarrass her, don't ruin this ceremony, she's a Druchii, she could kill you for the slightest provocation!'
Raveres herself had no idea if this was really any good as a Druchii 'oath' of fealty but, she held back a deep sadistic laugh as she countered; neither did he
She watched him with pursed lips, doing her best to hide her pleasure with his total compliance at her order. After the peck to the black steel, he wiped his mouth and leaned back.
"I suppose you're mine now Yurin…" she chuckled and motioned for him to rise.
His shoulders shuddered and he physically reacted to her words with a strange mix of fear and glee.
"Fail my trust in you and I'll have more than one way of exacting retribution."
He nodded profusely as he stood. Leaning the blade against the bed Raveres finally indicated his swords with her left hand, asking a question which had bothered her since he appeared.
"I thought you told me you weren't a fighter?"
He adjusted his belt and looked down at the blades uncomfortably. His voice was somewhat breathy and far too elated for Raveres' liking, but she chalked it up to his youth and fear.
"I, I'm not… I've had rudimentary training but…" He exhaled and his eyes filled with fear, "I'll be honest my lady…"
His voice rose, "I don't want to die; I'll admit that my allegiance to you comes from a somewhat selfish desire…" his eyes widened at his slip and he added quickly, "But, I just want to ply my abilities!"
Raveres smirked as she walked towards her cuirass. The young man nodded and took a breath as he recomposed himself,
"I mean, you're an adventurer a-and sure to be going to the many far lands of the world,"
He laughed nervously, "It's just, k-knowing so many languages a-and being stuck here with only unappreciative-"
"Yurin?"
He quieted and meekly responded, "Yes my lady?"
"Help me prepare, you're not going to die."
He gulped and exhaled loudly as he stepped behind her and took the breastplate, she was offering him.
"As my first retainer, I forbid it. Understood?"
He furrowed his brow and scoffed, "Well, let's hope the pirates listen to you then and realise you've forbid my death ha-"
Raveres cold eyes silenced him and he quietly turned to, adjusting the straps and tightening the armour.
"There will be Arabyans a plenty to die first, I'm sure. As well, Sir Jean will be there," she laughed, "Even that big fucker Asada will be there."
She nodded and began pulling her hair back.
"Keep your head low, and use that brain of yours. You're not going to die today."
Yurin didn't feel convinced but he quieted and realised she was giving him a moment of reprieve. An extremely generous gift from a noble to one of their servants: she'd forgiven his nervousness and familiar tone, just this once.
'You're hers now you fool! Do you think she'll forgive such impudence or stupidity again!?'
Raveres narrowed her eyes slightly and watched him with a knowing smile across her lips,
"Squiring for a Druchii woman… Never thought your life would take this turn would it?"
"Indeed not, my lady." He quietly responded.
Yurin's hands moved apprehensively and his face attempted to be clinical. But she could tell he was uncomfortable being so close to her, and 'dressing' her. When he finally finished and stepped backwards, Raveres cooed to herself,
'Torturing this human is going to be an endless stream of entertainment.'
Flexing her hand and enjoying the tight grip of her gauntlet on her flesh Raveres picked her sword back up and sheathed it.
"There is one more thing to do…"
The young retainer's face lit up and he nodded over-eagerly, "Aye, what is your will my lady?"
Raveres scoffed, "A little too much profession there Yurin…"
He looked down embarrassed and tried again, "What would that be, my lady?"
She nodded once approvingly, "Better."
Then Raveres pointed towards her eyes, "I can't go into battle without paint. Find that servant-girl who helped me bathe yesterday."
Yurin nodded curtly and turned towards the door, "I'll be back swiftly my lady!"
…
Sir Jean eyed Captain Asada uneasily. The gargantuan muscled man reminded him of a darker skinned Brother Sean, but where Sean's eyes and expression were kind and penitent, Asada was wrathful and filled with spite.
Jacque was pacing nervously with his left hand on his hilt and his eyes towards the floor. Loudly at the other end of the hall Jean heard the familiar voice and language of Druhir.
"Are we ready to wet our blades?" Raveres asked with a laugh.
Her hair was drawn into a tall, elvish-style, ponytail and her face was adorned with dark Druchii battle paint. Her eyes had been shadowed and rounded with black smudge, accentuating her piercing gaze and the brightness of her pupils while two black lines had been drawn down her cheeks; from the rim of her eyes till they ended half an inch from her jaw.
At her side was the translator from yesterday, he was armed and armoured but appeared utterly uncomfortable to be so. Asada's expression faltered when he saw Raveres, and Jacque's mouth parted open as he stared.
Sir Jean bowed politely, "My lady."
Looking to Asada the gruff Arabyan ignored them and began walking towards the doors.
"Follow me…" he mumbled.
Passing out of the entrance hall Raveres raised a brow and looked around in curiosity at the nearly deserted palace.
"Sir Jean," she began, "Where is Sadalsuud?"
She laughed, "I expected him to have been here to wish us off, and I expected him to have seen me away at least."
The Druchii smirked, her attitude was strange to Sir Jean and he let out a chuckle of exasperation; 'Probably best to stop trying to pin her mind down… Perhaps the desert heat has scrambled her personality?' he sighed, 'In any case I suppose a Druchii is to an Asur as a Bretonnian is to a Reiklander…'
Clearing his throat, the knight stepped beside her and nodded, "Lord Sadalsuud is actually awaiting us at the docks."
Raveres smirked as they stepped onto the wide landing and began descending the palace's steps. Yurin followed quietly behind and attempted conversation with Jacque. The young squire appeared eager and happy to finally speak with someone other than Sir Jean. The knight smiled approvingly.
"We're to ride there?" Raveres asked.
As if on cue servants led a train of horses into view at the base of the stairs. Michelle, Sir Jean's horse had been groomed and cleaned and she proudly trotted, displaying for all to see her broad muscles and scars. And to Sir Jean she looked just like a filly again. He became lost in his memories as he looked at his towering Bretonnian steed.
The Arabyan horses, smaller and swifter than Michelle, were built for the sands and for harassing tactics. But his girl, his eldest companion, she was made for breaking defensive lines, for carrying him and lance through the enemy, through the lists, ever onward. She stood four hands higher than the other horses, and with her mane freshly washed and her coat brushed, she shone brighter than the mail and tabards which were draped over her.
Coughing he shook his head and wiped faux grit from his eye,
"Aye, we'll ride through to the docks and meet Sadalsuud down there."
Raveres narrowed her brow at Sir Jean and was about to ask him another question when Asada interrupted with his booming voice,
"I shall lead you to the docks, follow me closely. When we board the vessel, I will be in command."
He easily mounted the first horse in the line and looked sternly at Sir Jean,
"Make sure your witch knows her place. If she countermands my orders or dares to give me a word of backtalk, I will remind her of her womanhood."
Sir Jean furrowed his brow and held his tongue, 'Now there's a foul man to be sure…'
Mounting Michelle Sir Jean responded in Arabyan,
"Captain Asada, I do not control her, but I can assure you I'd speak softly as concerns the Druchii."
The man growled and pulled his reins tightly, setting down the palace's promenade without waiting for the rest to be a-horse. Raveres' brunette servant appeared to be struggling to mount his steed and was relaying to her in Druhir what he'd overheard from Asada.
The she-elf shot a look past Sir Jean at the captain and then she met eyes with Sir Jean. She took in a breath and appeared to cool, but the knight knew that she wasn't going to forget the man's words. When the party was mounted, they cantered down the street after Asada and his brown mare.
Raveres was seething at Yurin's words and she couldn't hear anything of the small parting ceremony for the volume of her inner monologue. She couldn't quite explain why Asada's threat had offended her so much, but she resolved that she didn't need much justification.
'Perhaps this mission should be the captain's last?' she asked herself.
Sadalsuud loudly spoke from a small platform to a crowd as he waved to the dismounting party. Beside him and no doubt whispering through his beard the whole time was the ancient Wick'tus.
The people cheered and waved as Asada stepped down the quay and onto the Dhow. Raveres, encouraged by the crowd, straightened her back and stepped forwards confidently, all the while imagining the big captain falling over and drowning.
Watching the faces of the people as they bellowed their alien encouragement, she began to forget revenging herself on Asada, and instead found herself reservedly waving back to the occasional spectator.
Behind her Sir Jean held his chin up and kept his hand at his hilt. As much as the people's adulation made him want to break 'face' and smile he had to maintain his adherence to duty; they were going to battle, not a tourney.
Jacque's cheeks were red as he saw young women eye him with faces of plain arousal, the hype, the moment, the sudden importance of the event had made people look upon these random strangers as heroes.
Sadalsuud's loud and bombastic words of encouragement certainly helped to blow the significance of the event out of proportion.
'We're headed to bring a pirate to justice' Jacque thought doubtfully, 'yet you'd think we were heading to slay a kraken!'
He smiled and looked back at Yurin, repeating his thoughts almost verbatim. The bookish translator nodded absently and appeared absolutely flustered and embarrassed to be in view of so many people. Compared with Jacque one would think that the boy should have been the scribe and the young man the squire. Sniggering to himself Jacque enjoyed the dichotomy.
As the group boarded a roar came over the crowd at the arrival of Prince Balik. Accompanied by several personal retainers he came into view riding a camel, draped in red and gold coloured cloth. He waved happily to the people and Raveres looked at Sadalsuud. The fat regent's face dropped slightly before he began acting and putting on a diplomatic air. Wick'tus was invariably giving his regent advice on how to proceed.
Dismounting the camel Balik adjusted his light armour and waved while kissing at the crowd, 'Probably imagining they're his own people…' Raveres thought with a smirk.
The Prince bowed comically to Sadalsuud and she could tell that he knew it was to be an insult. Three retainers followed after the prince, each bearing a scimitar at their belt and similar uniforms of white-gold jerkins. Balik mounted the ramp to the ship and immediately locked eyes with Raveres. His face lit up and he smiled, exposing his ivory teeth and cocking an eyebrow.
She cringed internally but offered the slightest nod in acknowledgement as she prayed, 'May Mathlaan take him.'
Then she grunted, "Sir Jean, any advice on how to deal with the prince?" she scoffed, "Again."
The knight cocked an eyebrow and smirked, "Other than kicking the plank out from under him?"
Raveres sniggered and hid her amusement. Sir Jean cleared his throat and resumed a serious expression,
"Leave the prince to me, I'm sure he'll want to butt heads with Asada."
She nodded and turned to Yurin asking in a whisper, "Is that wine in your water-skin?"
Her voice seemed uncharacteristically abrupt and the retainer shook his head. "I-I'm sorry my lady but-"
She shook her head and he quickly silenced.
"We'll be away soon, it'll be fine."
Some of the crew bowed their heads and were more enthusiastic in their addressing of Balik than Asada seemed to have liked. Regarding the display before her Raveres noted it with interest.
'Gods above they better not have any issues with fighting the pirates I swear.'
Curling her fingers in her hands the Druchii noticed for the first time the whole while, she was nervous. She gulped and could feel the tightness in her skin and the beating of her heart.
"Annio…" she whispered.
Sir Jean raised a brow and leaned to her side, "Sorry my lady?"
Waving him off she shook her head and turned to look off the stern of the ship.
"Nothing." She dismissed.
'When I see that ship again, when I see those sails, I will not fail.'
Under her breath she prayed,
"Khaine guide my sword, that my vengeance be true. Mathlaan? Bear us swiftly to my goal and I shall feed the waters red with blood."
Digging her nails into the palm of her left hand as hard as she could she grit her teeth and quietly whimpered as she finally cut herself deep enough to draw her own blood. Stepping to the rail of the ship she ignored the trumpets and the yells of the crew as they cast off.
Surreptitiously she extended her hand off the railing and tightened her fist as hard as the muscles would allow. It burned somewhat and she held onto the rail tightly with her right hand as she forced a few, thin, drops of blood to drip from the edge of her palm and fall off the ship.
"I know this is a paltry token… But I swear to you, my gods, that I will fulfill this bargain."
Sir Jean stepped to her side, "There are a few small things I feel we should discuss…"
His voice trailed off as she focused on her prayer, but she nodded along and gave the appearance of her attention.
'Nothing will stop me from taking that man's head' she thought, 'And no one, will tell me what to do with his crew.'
…
Sir Tormande held his helm tightly as he watched the Emir's ship at the docks. The cries of the jubilant peasants irked him and he wanted to snarl. The two 'false' knights stood leaning at the edge of the crowd, atop a street which sloped down into the curved bay of the city's port.
Sir Cratoun tightened the bandage over his left eye and growled in pain as he asked,
"When do we strike?"
Tormande squinted as he saw the she-elf stride oh-so-proudly onto the deck of the swift Arabyan Dhow. Peasants unwittingly waved and stared adoringly at the exotic foreign creature.
'If only they knew she'd hang them with their own entrails and see their children in chains.'
He rolled with disgust as the dark elf climbed to the aft of the ship, purposefully remaining in view of all onlookers. Her companions followed; the hapless elder knight, his squire boy, and a new human. Bedecked in the colours of the Emirate and two swords at his belt Tormande hid his expression.
"Soon…"
'She's got a ship, a full crew, and yet another companion? A representative of the Emir too?! Foul fucking witch!' Sir Tormande boiled.
The crowd became louder as several mounted men paraded through the gate closest the ship. At the fore of the new arrivals were a camel and an elaborately dressed fool. Tormande knew him by sight as Prince Balik, or the 'the pauper-prince'.
"My, my." He announced with a hollow chuckle, "Her allies come from far and wide, don't they?"
Cratoun sniggered. Behind the two knights Sir Finise reluctantly stepped forwards,
"We can make use of the harbour master's storehouse. It's empty for the moment…"
Tormande nodded with a sadistic smile. "The brawlers from the tavern? Are they willing to play along?"
He turned and Finise held his breath while he nodded. With a grotesque expression Tormande exhaled,
"Excellent."
Then he cleared his throat and stepped away from the wall he was leaning against and nodded to Cratoun,
"We'll wait for their return; hopefully their numbers will have been thinned, and then we'll kill that old fool, grab the bitch, and beat that boy senseless."
The one-eyed knight bared his teeth in an evil grin while Finise shook his head.
"Look… Tormande. Why don't we at least try to get Lord Lucian to approve of our plan? Maybe come up with a more legitimate-"
Tormande reached forwards and wrapped his heavy gloved hand around Finise's throat, ignoring the passing Arabyans.
"Shut your goddamn mouth! If you had of had any ounce of spine in you, we would have beaten that knife-eared cunt when we first met her, and Cratoun would still have his eye!"
Cratoun snarled and nodded in agreement. Throwing Finise to the ground Tormande stepped over him and spat to his side.
"Fuck Lucian and that old Jean… He thinks because he's from an age of errantry he's better than us?"
Rolling his shoulders and stomping up the street Tormande's fist trembled, "Elf-loving traitor…"
Cratoun cackled like a hyena as he followed, "Bet she fucks the old fucker!"
Tormande smirked but also shook his head at his companion's lack of creativity. Cratoun continued to howl with laughter as they walked up from the docks and through the gate into the city again.
"Soft old prick… must be an elf-lover; since he knows their disgusting knife-ear language!"
Finise wearily came to his feet and ran his hand through his hair, 'By the lady… what have I gotten myself into?'
As the other knights stepped up the street he called, "How will we know when they return?"
Sir Tormande laughed, "You'll keep watch!"
Exhaling heavily Finise turned as the Dhow struck its lines and cast off. The Druchii's white hair shone brightly in the sunlight and she turned her head, surveying the crowd as they waved the crew farewell.
Beside her the knight and the Emir's man spoke amongst themselves, while at the edge of the ship's quarterdeck a tall dark-skinned Arabyan bellowed orders so loudly Sir Finise thought he could hear it over the noise of the crowd. Prince Balik seemed overjoyed as he waved enthusiastically at the people.
'This isn't going to work…' Sir Finise thought with a shudder.
…
With the city a mere pinprick on the farthest edge of the horizon Raveres noted the shift in the wind. Though her time aboard a vessel was only a few months, her education with the first mate and Lieutenant Hathan had shown her several things that she was now surprised to have retained.
The way that the water was flowing, the wind, the cloud movements, even the creaking of the ship itself. Raveres felt familiar with and subsequently in-tune with the ship. She knew that she'd never become a full raider; she detested the sea, but she was at least confident that she knew more than the average land-loving noble. And as the men worked the rigging around her, she felt odd.
If she shut her eyes, she could almost imagine that the last week hadn't happened. Thinking about it enough she could almost hear Captain Dorath and his first mate shouting their orders and the whistling of the brutish Druchii seadogs.
"There she is! Our golden lady!"
Coming to the top of the ship's steps and feeling the warm sun on her cheeks, the wind in her hair, she swore she had heard Dorath's voice. Looking from the fore to the aft she confirmed that there were only humans to be seen.
'Loathsome creatures…'
But hearing the friendly nickname, in Dorath's voice, was a melancholic blow to her heart. Since bearing witness to his death, she realised that until now she hadn't thought of, or mourned, her former crew. All she had said was that, 'they fought well… but not well enough.'
Scoffing she recalled the remark when she got to see the wreckage of the Witches Wail, and the bodies of her crew floating amidst the white-capped waves.
Her crew…
'And how brief a command it was.' a voice painfully threw at her. Feeling her heels hit the wooden deck harder with each step; Raveres began to heat with anger.
'Not now…' she ordered, 'leave me be! I will see my honour restored, and I will see those bastards revenged for every drop of Druchii blood they spilt!'
'Especially mine.'
She nodded purposefully, 'I will see it. I will see it done'
…
Scowling and holding her arms folded across her chest Raveres stared off the bow of the ship. After the excitement of their departure wore off it became plain that she wasn't happy to be back aboard a ship, and her mood wasn't improved that they were nearing the end of the day and hadn't seen a single potential target.
She didn't have the patience at the moment to keep a façade of compliance with Sir Jean's 'lessons' and so she made no effort to mask her displeasure. The result of this was that she received a wide birth from the rest of her companions, and especially the crew.
They feared her as if she were a sea-witch. Arabyans were a superstitious people to begin with and sailors too. The resulting combination of the crew made it so that some of the Arabyan sailors wouldn't even get close to her shadow or touch it let alone meet her eye.
Even the most senior of the men aboard the ship avoided her gaze and would shoot her looks of contempt when they could.
"What does Asada think."
She asked, though her tone was such that it sounded less like a question and more like a venom-filled statement. Sir Jean swayed uneasily and held the rail for support as he turned to look at the captain of the vessel. Issuing orders and watching his men scurry about their work the dark skinned, mountain of a human; Asada glared over the deck at his passengers.
Prince Balik was loudly laughing and joking with his retainers and several crewmen. Evidently the fraternisation had put Asada into a fouler mood than he usually was in. Raveres followed up her question with a scoff,
"Tell me knight, how does a poufy captain of the palace guard come to have such naval experience?"
"I'm told that he was a privateer or master of ships long before he came to be in Emir Hashan's service." The Breton swayed again and for a moment Raveres cooled and raised a brow in concern.
Both Yurin and Jacque were taking turns vomiting off the starboard rail. At first the Druchii found it entertaining, but the constant retching and useless state that her first retainer was in didn't make her look favourably to his continued service.
The last thing she needed now was the only other speaker of Druhir, and her only other companion, Sir Jean to begin falling ill to the motion of the ocean. The elder knight coughed and begrudgingly spat off the edge of the ship,
"My apologies my lady."
His voice was uneasy but his rigourous sense of decorum still came through,
"But yes, as I said he was a sailor of some kind before he became the palace's chief defender."
Raveres nodded and masked a growl among her words,
"So, what does the sailor-turned glorified sentry think about our mission? Have you any indication of his strategy for finding our quarry?"
Sir Jean stepped closer and shook his head before smirking,
"I think any hunting tips he's not about to divulge to either of us."
Pursing her lips Raveres shot a look down the ship at the idiot Prince Balik and the stern Asada. Looking off the bow once more Raveres roared in frustration and Sir Jean noticed the twinge in her face, the tightness of her hands, the impatient tapping of her foot. He steeled himself and his attempt at levity evapourated, his voice became serious,
"Soon my lady."
'She was going to slaughter as many men as she was going to be able to…' he thought apprehensively, 'And I've agreed to help her.'
The gravity of his error came to roost and he stepped back as his brow furrowed.
"Raveres?" he asked.
She rolled her shoulder, but kept her body facing away from him. Her voice was cold and bitter,
"What?"
"After this I am returning with my squire to our homeland. Bretonnia."
She visibly tensed before moving her head to the side. Barely able to see Jean out of the corner of her painted eye.
"And?" Her voice seemed less cold, and somewhat disappointed.
"I know this will sound ludicrous-"
She scoffed and interrupted, "I'm sure it will, but continue."
"I wish I could teach you more… As you said yourself that day on the sands, you needed and you wanted my help."
He coughed and stepped closer, "I would follow this…" he chuckled involuntarily, "I would teach you and tutor you to be knightly, to be noble as I have imparted my Jacque…"
She furrowed her brow.
"Yet, I don't know if it would do you any favour."
Raveres finally turned to face the knight.
"You are a Druchii, not an Asur, not a Bretonnian."
Her face was pensive and her brow tightly furrowed as she listened.
"I cannot change you."
She blinked several times as she considered his expression and the tone of his voice.
"I…"
He stopped and exhaled unhappily as he lost his train of thought, with a half-smile he apologised, "I'm sorry my lady. I'm just an old fool making no sense."
Raveres slowly raised a hand, "No. What do you mean?"
Stepping backwards Sir Jean held up his arms,
"Forget my words, we're on the eve of battle and if the mind is allowed to wander it saps one's focus."
Her face actually seemed to relax and her expression became earnest and bordered on child-like as she pressed him,
"Whatever do you mean Sir Jean?"
Turning towards the stairs to the lower deck the knight shook his head,
"I must pray, we will speak later."
The fact that Raveres cooled instantly and allowed him to leave spoke volumes to the subliminal paternal respect she was affording the knight. She blinked and felt her ire subside in her heart somewhat.
'Prayer…'
Raveres cleared her throat, "Wait knight."
Stopping on the first flight of the stairs Sir Jean turned an eyebrow raised in pensive contemplation. A strange notion overtook her and she wanted to recoil at the words which came across her tongue, but her body felt compelled to speak honestly.
"May I join you?"
Sir Jean's face immediately registered disbelief and surprise. Stepping forwards Raveres continued with a smirk,
"I've a perverse interest in your young gods."
The Breton smiled slightly, "I'm no monk or priest, but… The gods deserve their respect."
He appeared to consider her request for a spell and then nodded, "You may."
With a submissive bow Raveres followed appreciatively.
'Invocations of Khaine, Mathlaan… why I'd prostrate myself before each of his gods if it meant my sword would be true and my victory assured.'
She smiled, 'I'll even make Malith jealous with my piety.'
Thinking of her eldest brother always made her envious, but if she could become more worldly and knowledgeable than even him in any respect it would be a victory for her.
…