Chapter 11

Mist and Mirrors

As if this gigantic ship was a domain of its own, thin clouds of mist wafted through the winding pathways of blackened wood and metal; it was almost tempting to use the word 'city' for a Black Ark like this, a swimming community in its own right, with its own laws. It was a bustling, swimming metropolis capable of housing thousands within its massive hull, alien and strange in its appearance.

That the ground Yalene was walking on was part of a ship was almost unthinkable, the level and smooth surface didn't look like any deck she had ever seen. How the Druchii kept the ground they were walking on so polished and shiny that she could see the shade of her reflection on it, Yalene never knew, but it was the same shiny material that was embedded into the wood and into the buildings and towers. Since space was limited on any naval vessel, the Druchii had determined to build vertically, so a myriad of bridges and stairs connected places. This place reminded Yalene of an anthill, an anthill forming a labyrinth made of polished wooden walls, fine artwork etched into stone and wood, overflowing with the pale, coldly and cruelly beautiful inhabitants. The strangest thing was the smell, however. Underneath the fish and typical smells she would associate with any city, there was a certain characteristic scent, like smoke and cedarwood, which was actually quite pleasant.

This was a military vessel that currently served as a temporary port, and as such was filled with Druchii of all kinds, provided all kinds of Druchii were armed. They had passed the strangest and most quiet marketplace Yalene had ever seen, with Dark Elves followed by slaves, mostly human. There had also been a small group of scantily clad women that Ruvol had whispered to her were Death Hags, and that she should under no circumstances make eye contact with them. She had also seen a glimpse of what she thought might have been a tall, fair-haired High Elf man in chains, and even a Dwarven slave. The sight of so many creatures in chains was almost as unsettling as the sight of the black dragon roaming the skies far above, just a small dot in the clouds. A dragon, for goodness's sake! The insanity and sheer danger of this place was breathtaking.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Ruvol Blackwater's voice woke her up out of her reverie and she quickly hurried up the stairs he was leading her. She had to admit to herself that this man cleaned up nicely, although she wouldn't have voiced that thought out loud - his ego was inflated enough already. He might have been a bloody pirate, but he was exactly as vain as she had initially assumed, putting an unusual amount of importance on his grooming. She also thought he was more childish, demanding and even insecure than she had initially thought. He did wash himself meticulously, but he scoffed at earrings and other jewellery as 'not manly enough' and would not even allow rings on his fingers. Ridiculous. He was fine with washing his long hair regularly, but doing anything else but binding it into a corsair's topknot was – again – not manly enough.

Today, however, he had done all he could to preen himself and let himself be preened, as Yalene was now acutely aware. He had opted for clothing that was elegant in simplicity, trousers and shirt black as midnight and accented by dark blue elements and some sort of blue sash. Instead of his cloak made of Sea Dragon hide, he had chosen his fine, grey one, while his hair was glossy and braided into a half-loose style that Yalene had seen with Druchii, Eonir and Asur alike. Even more so, there was a perpetual smile on his face – he looked happy and in good spirits. It made him look younger, but that was not something that Yalene thought he would cherish to hear. She also didn't think that he would cherish to hear her opinion that one had to merely change every inch of colour on his body and clothes and ignore the tiny, tattooed runes on his cheekbones to make him appear like one of those majestic High Elves she had encountered a few times.

It turned out that he had led her to the top of one of the spires on this Ark, where they were both able to see this ship from a different perspective. The two Druchii sailors that were with them on the plateau politely ignored the two of them while Ruvol grinned as he watched her reaction.

He was not disappointed, because the sight took Yalene's breath away. All the topsy-turvydom of this Ark was now on full display, as well as the ingenuity of the architecture. In the cold, biting winds tugging at their clothes, Yalene found that there was beauty in this place, a strange, alien, awe-inspiring and altogether saturnine beauty, enshrouded by the mists crawling across the sea.

"This is the 'Bastion of a Thousand Tears'.", Ruvol Blackwater exclaimed proudly, his eyes shining brightly. "When the Witch King first tried to retake Ulthuan, two Black Arks like this one were beached to found his first city." A little quieter, he added wistfully. "It takes so much wealth, connections and magic to build one of those monsters and make them float, but it is worth it. It's every corsair's dream to commandeer a Black Ark someday."

"So it's your dream as well?"

"Of course.", he smiled, letting his fingers glide over the black wood before he turned to her. "One day. But first, listen." In the corner of her eye, Yalene noticed that the other two Druchii sailors were departing as she listened attentively to the captain. He checked that they were indeed alone for one moment on this plateau, and then addressed her in Reikspiel for good measure, just to ensure that their conversation was not easily overheard. "Remember what I told you: Stay behind me, watch and learn. Don't make eye contact, don't speak unless spoken to, don't move unless it's to follow me or unless told otherwise. Nobles have very specific rules when it comes to common folk. We both have to stay three swordlengths away from her at all times unless she beckons me otherwise … even then, you stay back. This is important: Nobles will cut you down if you break that rule."

Well, that seemed paranoid to the extreme, but for now, these rules were her rules. She would just go along with that indignity and continue to have her gaze on the horizon that promised freedom, instead of thinking about her current predicament. She was currently detaching herself from everything and conserving her energy for her eventual escape. She would learn as much as she could, see wonders when there were wonders and ignore tragedy although there was pain aplenty. It was too risky, so she would not allow herself to be touched by the Druchii, their slaving practices, their delight in cruelty or those scheming ways any further. Soon enough, she would leave it all behind and would not look back. But until that day, she would let Ruvol Blackwater pull at her strings as if she were a doll. As if he had read that thought, the Druchii Captain stepped closer to her and lifted her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes.

"Aloof is good … it means confidence. You are one of mine, you ought to be proud." That delusional statement combined with his smouldering gaze and unabashed sincerity made Yalene smile involuntarily with amusement, but she hid it quickly within a dutiful curl of her lips as she had just obeyed his command. That seemed to placate him, as he continued in an even voice. "Vervain is a rather eccentric creature. The esteemed and terrible Lady Sevirr doesn't believe in wasting precious resources such as slaves and doesn't torture them to death as others of her station do. In that regard, she is practical – her slaves are always loyal, well-behaved, in good shape and rarely beaten."

Yalene knew that she was supposed to be impressed, but she still snorted in amusement. "'Esteemed and terrible'? Is that the language used?"

Ruvol, in turn, looked at her incredulously for a moment, before a fading smile flickered on his face. "It is a bit strange, now that you mention it. It's just how things are." He sighed, rubbing his temple with his index finger. "But back to Vervain: her position as a sorceress is more important to our people than her highborn status. She's also very hard to please and erratic. I have had dealings with her in the past: She's an aesthete through and through, dealing only with beautiful things and people. Her definition of beauty is rather broad, though. She loves art, but her taste varies, she loves animals, but her love for a monstrous Cold One and a fuzzy ferret is equal …"

"Cold One?", Yalene interjected, looking at him quizzically.

"Giant Lizards. They make for the best cavalry. Topic for another time." Ruvol explained quickly, with a hint of pride in his voice, before he continued with the description of Vervain's exploits. "There's this story about a group of idiots that cut the ears and lips of Vervain's latest breed of Dark Steeds. Next thing everybody knows, the screams of the ones responsible fill the halls of her estate for weeks and she keeps writing her letters on what is clearly dried skin."

That sounded like a lovely woman. Yalene kept her face expressionless on purpose as Ruvol reminisced with a look on his face that might have indicated some sort of strange fondness. "She never raises her voice and she is civilized in her dealings, but if you cross her, she strikes back with everything she has. I respect that. It also makes her one of the rare trading partners that won't habitually swindle you … it just depends on her mood. In past years, she has financed me without charge one year, but pressed me for every bit of profit the next year. Another year, she refused to finance me at all, but she has always been straightforward. You have to understand that this is a worthy ally to have. Usually, Druchii can only be relied upon to honour their military and craftsmanship contracts."

That was an incredibly sad state of affairs. How did this society even function when people couldn't be relied upon to keep their word and scheming was seen as the norm, even an ideal to aspire to?

Ruvol eyed her up and down, wiped away an imaginary speck of dust from her shoulder and - pleased with himself and with her – gave her a light pat on the cheek and swirled around theatrically, cloak flying. Yalene was almost impressed, since that kind of flair had to be practised carefully, and he pulled it off in a tiny, dark alleyway or what counted as such in the deep bowels of a vessel. She matched his crisp walking pace until they arrived at their destination after a few minutes. Where they were, Yalene couldn't tell, but the wooden ceiling was high above them, the area bathed in the violet hue of witchlights. The forefront of the 'house', which seemed to be just a door within an endless, massive wooden wall, was as promising as it was elaborate, decorated with lavish bronze relief depicting dancing nude women, their bodies arched and stretched into graceful figures. The craftsmanship was excellent and Yalene had to admit that the motive, while somewhat scandalous, was lovely and pleasing to the eye. The door itself, gilded and decorated with delicate carvings, was to a door as a castle was to a house – technically the same, but worlds apart in splendour.

More astounding than the artwork however was the person standing beside that door, right next to two guards whose faces were largely obscured by their helmets. The lean shape of first mate Iruvan peeled itself out of the shadows, passing his captain and Yalene with a respectful nod, but otherwise acknowledged them merely as one would a passing acquaintance and left. There might or might not have been a knowing glance between him and Ruvol, but otherwise, they just left each other to their own devices as the former left, while the latter asked the guards to please announce himself for the scheduled visit with Lady Vervain.

Before Yalene could muse about that strange non-meeting, she had to focus on her surroundings, as stepping through the door when prompted transported her into another world within the blink of an eye. The Ark itself looked foreboding, with mists in the street, the salty scent of the sea ubiquitous. This changed when stepping through the door onto the thick carpet in rich blue colour. The ivory-coloured ground itself was polished so thoroughly that it was hard to tell which material had been used, only that it was shined enough for a mirror image. The walls were painted in the same colour as the ground, upholding the illusion of a large, bright and sunlit space that this place certainly was not. The illusion of space was only heightened by the apparent lack of obvious guards or servants. Instead, while Ruvol and Yalene gave their cloaks to a young, human slave, they barely saw another soul when walking through the bright halls, decorated with tasteful landscape paintings, lovingly crafted furniture and a fair share of beautifully polished and framed mirrors of differing sizes. Dark blue, white and silver were the dominating colours in this place, and Yalene could have sworn that she saw marble worked into the rooms. It was insane to think that that much work and luxury was done in what basically amounted to a ship, and it boggled the mind especially since Ruvol had told her earlier that Lady Vervain only rarely travelled, and that this Ark only served as a temporary port and would resume its duties after this raiding season. Still, these quarters had been furnished and altered to her wishes and out of her pocket. The woman had a severe case of entitled prickdom combined with way too much wealth, that much was certain.

The room in which they were led was overwhelming for all the wrong reasons. The lady herself was lounging on a couch in an admittedly appetizing manner, clad merely in the scantiest of white underwear that barely covered her private areas and light thigh-high see-through stockings, her body covered in a sheer, white robe that absolutely left nothing to the imagination. What was the purpose of such a piece of clothing when it did nothing but entice the viewer to look a bit more closely at her underwear? Nevermind, she was a Druchii, after all. Even for an elf, Vervain was dainty and graceful, with sharp features, vibrant violet eyes, alabaster skin and long, silvery white hair that reached down her waist. She looked thoroughly amused at her other guest while eating grapes with a piquant delicateness that would have made some elven goddess of beauty weep. Indeed, she fit in perfectly with all the cold and beautiful things in this home, surrounded by guards in polished armour in another display of cold perfection.

More impressive than the lady herself was her guest, but only because he was sitting in a luxurious bathtub being washed by a bronze-skinned human man who had the displeasure of being clad in merely a loincloth and nothing else. The Druchii man himself looked displeased, to say the least and fixated Ruvol with a hateful gaze as the latter entered the room smiling like a young boy receiving the gift of his dreams while Vervain rose, mirroring his smile.

"Ruvol! So nice of you to come by." Her voice was airy and possessed a dreamy quality, speaking barely above a whisper as if she breathed and singsonged every word that came to her mind. The high pitch of her voice only heightened that musical impression in her speech patterns. It was a dainty gesture she made that placated her guards and negated the rules of noble distancing with barely a flick of her wrist. The way she moved was sensual and languid, as if she was in a perpetual, dream-like state, her sheer robe trailing behind her like a moonlit cloud as she extended her hand to Ruvol, who promptly and with the routine of an expert charmer placed a polite kiss on her hand. Yalene noticed that he stepped away from her immediately and kept a distance of about three feet at all times during the conversation … so there were more rules at play, or so she gathered. Meanwhile, Vervain continued. "I am so pleased that you are here. Your officer has no manners at all … his perfume is cheap and he gifted me with a golden statue and an untrained slave. How trite." In another woman's hands, these words would have been a sharp rebuke, but the airy way she voiced them made it appear like she was not fazed at all, and had merely taken steps to remove the offensive smell of said perfume by putting her guest into a bathtub at once, right before her eyes. Yalene stole a glance at the man who was reportedly an officer of Ruvol's, and promptly recognized him. That square jaw and short, black hair had caught her attention the first time that she had seen that famed and troublesome Viroges on deck. What was going on here? Yalene wisely decided to keep any speculation to herself and let the scene play out.

Before Ruvol could answer, Viroges interjected, grumbling as he did so. "For the record, that perfume is a scent by Cervellas … ."

"If it's bad, it's cheap." Vervain cut him off gently, but firmly. "You should be clean now, boorish guest of mine. Why don't you get out of the tub?"

Reluctantly, Viroges did so, and even in the sexually open society of Dark Elves, he was currently shamed by having to stand naked and dripping with water in the middle of a lady's living room while she eyed him up and down. Yalene couldn't help but to steal a glance also as the young man, the slave, as she reminded herself, scrambled to get a towel. Slowly but steadily, Yalene became better in telling the differences between elves. She could tell that Vervain was short and delicate, almost fragile, which only added to her otherworldly beauty. From what she had seen of Iruvan, he was more lithe and leaner than average and possessed sharp features; Ruvol possessed chiselled features, was powerfully built and unusually tall, with slender hips and pronounced muscles, which gave him a distinct, wiry look. In comparison, Viroges was stocky and broad-chested, although Yalene couldn't help but notice the bared lower body, no matter how much she didn't want to. She noted for herself: Strong calves and medium-sized manhood. What an embarrassing scene. She tried to keep her eyes down and listened to the conversation as not to make the situation more awkward for the officer, if that was even possible.

Vervain didn't even so much as spare a glance at the humiliated, naked Druchii. Instead, she turned towards Ruvol, her smile as pleasant as a spring morning. "You however smell most pleasant, my dear. No trace of seawater whatsoever. I am pleased. But allow me to chide you for your lack of leadership. Look what your officer has brought me." She pointed at the back of the room, where said golden statue stood. Yalene recognized this as a statue of Sigmar, no doubt stolen out of a temple. It seemed that there was currently some sort of intrigue going on that mainly considered the favour of this lady, and that Viroges had messed up in a most spectacular fashion by gifting it. Good. If this Druchii was brought down by a statue of Sigmar, the Patron God of the Empire would have at least some small measure of vengeance for the Druchii defiling his temple.

But Lady Vervain wasn't done complaining. She then beckoned the young slave to step closer to her, who had up until now tried to frantically towel up poor Viroges. It took a shove from his master to follow that gesture, shaking in fear as he promptly intruded into the forbidden sword length-distance. Vervain had to stop her guards with a halting motion, as they had stirred from their statue-like countenance when the intrusion happened. Yalene didn't know him, but he acted as if he was merely interpreting body language and looked very much like a Tilean to her … perhaps a member of Lavinia's crew, since he looked around her age. There were no visible marks of abuse on him, thank Shallya, but he was clearly terrified and did not know what to do, his eyes darting around nervously. The fact that he could be universally considered attractive was probably the reason why he had been brought as a gift in the first place.

"What do you think, Ruvol? After that horrible statue, what do I do now?" She looked the young slave straight in the eye, her voice an ephemeral whisper. "Are you for me or are you for Khaine?"

That question was chilling in its innocence. Of course, Ruvol Blackwater was not fazed; for him, this was business as usual. "My officer is not here on my orders; he is here on his own accord." He said in a warm and somewhat playful tone, his eyes shining with amusement. "The statue is horrible, but this slave is a fine specimen. Let Khaine have a healthy slave, but there is no need to give him the beautiful as long as you can enjoy them. Take this handsome young man and train him like only you can; if he displeases you, you can still sell him or give Khaine his due. It costs you little, but you could gain much more."

Vervain weighed her head as she ran her fingers through the poor Tilean's hair, who was shaking violently at this point, while Viroges was just staring daggers at everyone in this room. "His eyes are beautiful. Yes, you are right. I will do just that." As disgusting as it was to see that a fellow human being was measured so callously and only barely escaped the fate of horribly dying on the altar of the god of murder, Yalene couldn't help but to feel relieved that the Tilean had survived this little exchange unscathed. Meanwhile, the Lady waved for another of her servants to usher the Tilean away.

In the interim, Viroges had used the time to wrap the towel around his waist to have some measure of modesty, his eyes now containing a hopeful gleam. "Thank you for accepting my gift ..." Too bad he was cut off quickly, as Lady Vervain was silencing with a gesture.

"I accept your gift as an apology for your horrible behaviour. That is the only reason why you are still breathing. Now leave my house. Goodbye." She made a gesture as if to wave away the Druchii like a bit of dust. His eyes grew wide and he looked down upon himself, barely covered as he was. Vervain wrinkled her nose. "You may keep the towel. I will also send you your clothes cleaned and free of that terrible stench. Now shoo." When Viroges started to open his mouth to reply something, Vervain repeated with slightly more force. "Shoo!"

It was pitiful, and Yalene felt sorry for this man, a proud corsair himself, who was now being complimented out of the house and would have to walk the streets merely with a towel around his waist. His return home to the ship would truly be a walk of shame, and the casual cruelty the woman had displayed was now replaced by amusement as she turned to Ruvol again. "Now that this troublesome guest is gone, let's talk business. I hope you will discipline him?"

"If milady wishes him disciplined, how can I refuse?" Yalene could tell that he was barely able to contain his joy, but he did. Heroic effort, that. Since the woman barely wore anything, he was already showing a heroic effort in terms of etiquette and basic decency. How he was able to keep eye contact was a mystery.

Vervain nodded, pleased, and then turned her head towards Yalene. "Once again, you display good taste. You are always accompanied by these beautiful women. Is she for me?"

"I'm afraid not." Ruvol smiled apologetically, gesturing towards Yalene to come closer and present the gift, as he had instructed her beforehand. Yalene had no idea what the box contained, but it weighed nothing, which told her that the scene unfolding would be interesting. With the most deference she could muster, she slowly approached, only to witness how the ritual of gift-giving played out. Another elven woman slid across the room to meet Yalene, her collar marking her as a slave as well. It was her who took the box from Yalene's hands, only to peer into the box, nodding in satisfaction, and then carrying that box towards Vervain to present the contents in that tedious ritual.

The reaction was loud and clear, as the Lady cooed at the sight unfolding towards her, and she gingerly picked up the contents of the box after clearly habitually running her hands around its exterior as if to check for something. It was nothing but a handkerchief, beautifully and skillfully stitched with a complex pattern of strawberries. Indeed, this looked to her like a family heirloom, as the stitches were fine and would have taken hours and hours to complete. It was a masterpiece as far as handkerchiefs of the non-silk-variety went, and in a sense, Yalene understood why the Lady Vervain preferred it to a golden statue and a handsome slave. It looked to her like this woman was obscenely rich, so she could have any gold statue she wished. But this little piece of art, this lovingly stitched piece of cloth was simply skill, and that was not always free to be bought, especially if she lacked the experience of the world. How can one ask for a pattern of strawberries without ever having seen strawberries?

"I love the colours. I love the pattern." Vervain announced in a dreamy voice, pressing the handkerchief against her chest. "Thank you, how thoughtful of you."

"I'm glad you like it." Ruvol replied, way too smugly for his own good. "If my gifts make milady smile, I could present them to you all day. You invited me for a reason, so how may I serve your pleasure further?"

"So direct … it is only proper to reply with directness: I need your help." She sighed, still in a dream cloud of delight. "Send your girl outside, let's have some wine and I tell you what I need."

'Here we go again' Yalene thought, willing herself to not roll her eyes and lowering her head as she silently and swiftly vacated the premises to leave the Druchii to their devices.

Ruvol had been nothing short of enthusiastic when leaving Vervain's abode, quickly ushering Yalene back to the ship. Since he was still impeccably groomed and not gone long out of her sight, she assumed that the news the sorceress had to share were exciting enough to make even Ruvol Blackwater, serial seducer and scourge of the seas, stop in his tracks. He then left her with a pile of books and scrolls he had collected from his captains after their most recent raid on a Bretonnian vessel a few days ago and hurried into the officer's mess, a room adjacent to his cabin.

Whatever got him excited would keep him that way, Yalene thought to herself, and just hoped that he would leave that excess energy with either Lavinia or Katharina, his favourite little toys, instead of her. While she couldn't deny that he was clearly experienced and had made their one encounter moderately pleasurable, she simply didn't trust him – there was no telling if he would be having mood swings, throwing a childish tantrum, expecting applause or feel the sudden urge to sacrifice to his murderous god.

While she was working herself through the pile of books and scrolls, she noticed that this would have been the library of a person on an explorer's vessel, containing detailed maps, descriptions of foreign religions and cultures, especially the Lizardmen. This was an enigmatic race, rarely studied in the Empire. Yalene considered herself a learned woman, but she had to admit that she knew next to nothing about Lizardmen in general. It seemed that the captain of the vessel had gone on an expedition of sorts. Intrigued, Yalene checked the log entries carefully, which led her to the conclusion that the expedition had been to the Southlands on the far side of the world, and had been afterwards racing towards the safe harbour of the Bretonnian province of L'Anguille. Their haste had led to disaster, because Ruvil had been right: After weathering a storm, they had run out of most supplies and had attached themselves to the trading vessel and its escort ship to limp back home.
Tragically, if they had restocked properly at any port before that instead, and lost a little time, they would have never met their fate at the hands of the Druchii.

Judging from the whole log, Yalene concluded that the Bretonnians had to have found something within the jungle. She also found a lot of material in regards to the language of the Lizardmen, cultural background, and finally a journal that described a temple that this ill-fated expedition had found, written in a clear and crisp hand. The author of this journal also mentioned rather excitedly how much funding he would have to request. It took her a while, but from all of those nuggets of information, the description of the climate, the log and Ruvol's nautical charts, she was able to make an educated guess where the Bretonnians had found that untouched temple presumably full of treasure.

That was the crux of the matter. It seemed that she had her hands on a plan for an expedition that undoubtedly doubled as a treasure hunt. Were she among Imperial or even Bretonnian scholars, Yalene wouldn't have hesitated to report to just about any authority to get funding. But she was among Druchii now, and whatever might be found in that temple would benefit her captor in particular, and the Dark Elves as a whole. Since Druchii were firmly on the side of destruction and practised the dark arts far too close for comfort to the ruinous powers, it was ethically wrong to alert them. Given that determining the exact location required her specific skills and the fact that the Bretonnian-speaking humans on this vessel were illiterate, she was fairly certain that she could simply hide this information. Crossing out a few lines of the journal would erase the most important clues forever, even if there was a Druchii literate in Bretonnian on board. It would be so easy to just let the clues disappear forever and hope that another stout-hearted adventurer would find this temple and uncover its secret far from Druchii eyes.

That was not even taking into account that the Lizardmen were quite likely not amused to have their temples sighted without having been asked. Lustria was a very recent discovery, and yet they already had a reputation for crushing any curious explorer venturing into their jungles. It was hard to say on which point on the ethical spectrum the Lizardmen stood, but their motives and their language seemed so different, so alien. She wanted to learn more, but the only way to reach that goal would be to notify Ruvol on this potential lead.

While she was weighing her options, Mireille rushed into the cabin, her eyes wide and her voice filled with urgency. "Master needs you in the officer's mess right now."

Fantastic. When the word 'master' was used, Ruvol was usually about to go on a violent, bloody and oh so manly rampage. It was smarter to acquiesce quickly, so Yalene put down the journal and made haste.

Mireille didn't follow her after Yalene entered the officer's mess, her eyes downcast, giving a graceful and short curtsey as it was expected from her station. When she lifted her head, she could see that the room was packed with Druchii; some faces she had seen before on this vessel, some of them she hadn't. However, from the markings on their clothing she could see that this was a gathering of all captains in this flotilla in addition to the officers of the 'Defiance', save that poor Viroges fellow that had tried to curry favour so pitifully earlier. She had never been among so many Druchii and had their undivided attention … in Hochfels, in the Freiherr's mansion and even on the Black Ark, she had been all but invisible, oftentimes beneath notice. But now, she could feel all eyes on her for the first time and had the distinct urge to flee instantly. While she was dressed modestly for pleasure-slave standards, it still felt like she was put on display whenever she was in the vicinity of more than two Dark Elves. If she was completely honest with herself, she was afraid of being in the same room with any of those creatures, Ruvol and Iruvan being notable exceptions.

Ruvol's eyes wandered down upon her form to excellent theatrical effect while he paused, stretching that pause a little too long to make it wonderfully dramatic, before he addressed her in a sickeningly sweet and unabashedly smug tone.

"Yalene, you infiltrated the human lands, correct?"

She nodded obediently as her heart started to sink.

"You have collected a lot of information about human customs. Even the military ones, if memory serves."

Oh goodness, would he try to force her to give up military information so he could attack the Imperial Fleet? What was he doing? Again, Yalene nodded cautiously, wary of the response, shifting uncomfortably.

The smile on Ruvol's face grew wider, his eyes gleaming. "We are about to get creative, so we can as well consider softer methods. Tell me what the humans do to punish insubordinate officers."

Ah, this was about Viroges. Yalene was reasonably certain that Ruvol wanted to kill this man in the most horrible and 'artful' fashion imaginable and now wanted to be told by her, an expert on human customs, before his officers that even the soft-hearted humans would hang such a wretch. He was about to be disappointed, as she would not be accomplice to murdering a man, even if it was a Druchii, if she could somehow help it.

"That depends on the crime.", she replied in a pleasant tone, keeping her eyes down as not to let herself get distracted by any reaction or the fact that all of her instincts told her to flee the scene. "Insubordination is considered a serious crime in naval tradition, but it is hard to educate and train a capable officer, hence execution by sacrifice to the god of the seas is only the last resort reserved for the most egregious offences, like attacking or murdering a superior officer. Organizing or executing a mutiny, however, is grounds for court-martial."

She could hear a disapproving exhale from one of the Druchii and therefore had to force herself to remain calm and even in her demeanour. "An insubordinate officer is usually given the choice between being flogged or keel-hauled, the latter being more dangerous, but saving face. A dozen lashes are a usual punishment when being flogged. If the crime was committed against their own comrades, they might run the gauntlet like any crewmember."

"The gauntlet?" Ruvol perked up, suddenly interested.

"Corporal punishment that involves the entire crew. The crew must form two rows on deck while the condemned walks between them in prescribed circuits while every and each crewmember hits them with ropes or anything else that would qualify as an improvised cat o' nine tails." Pausing for a moment, Yalene had to mentally pat herself on the back for knowing several words in Eltharin for whip, although she still struggled to remember which word elves used for something simple like bread. "Any crew member that is suspected to hold back has to take the place of the condemned. In any case, it is considered a punishment that is supposed to save face for the condemned, so he keeps his honour and all of his failings are forgiven afterwards."

She didn't tell him that the naval tradition was about the mildest version of the gauntlet and that whipping the condemned beforehand was commonplace. She also failed to tell him that the version of the gauntlet that the soldiers practised was much more brutal and always lethal, while the Imperial cavalry used stirrup straps from their saddles instead of whips or ropes. But then again, it was much more difficult to train a cavalryman or a naval officer than a soldier, the former being more educated and trained more extensively, hence the desire to preserve lives. All in all, Yalene was hopeful that the Druchii might opt for that supposed 'honourable' and non-lethal punishment for an officer that Ruvol considered dangerous, ambitious and popular. He would have a problem on his hands, but he should have thought about that before he tried to bait her to sully her hands with blood.

Ruvol shot a glance to another stone-faced elf she had seen on the ship before. His head was bald, aside from the hair he needed for a corsair's topknot. "What do you think, Nenkith?"

There was a flicker of a cruel smile on the face of the elf named Nenkith, while he stroked his chin. His voice was unusually hoarse, as if from an injury, his tone grave and quiet. "I think that the humans steal traditions from us and do it badly. In the time after the Sundering, there was a tradition like she describes called Six Steps to Torment. The difference is that it was only twelve people participating and that the people had daggers, barbs, whips and in the end boiling oil. This is a punishment for insubordinate behaviour, but if the condemned survived, he was scarred, but his honour was restored." Nenkith closed his eyes for a moment in quiet contemplation. "Viroges has stolen from the spoils of the crew, since he neither checked with me, you or Iruvan, it is a serious offence. The punishment would fit the crime, please Khaine and if he survives, his honour is above reproach."

That was the strangest kind of honour that Yalene had ever heard of, but it seemed to be good enough for the attending officers and captains, who nodded or mumbled some words in agreement, some more reluctantly than others. Apparently, Nenkith was meant to have some authority about all things traditional or 'the old ways'. Yalene could also see the intrigue behind it – she had seen Iruvan leaving the Lady Vervain's abode, suggesting that he had accompanied Iruvan to her place with the unappreciated gifts. That meant that Iruvan had known all along that 'merchandise' - to call it that even in her thoughts left a sour taste in her mouth – had been taken. Possibly with his knowledge, or even his blessing.

This had all been a setup for this Viroges-person. Poor guy. At the very least, he was not to be killed outright. Viroges had been a thorn in Ruvol's side for a while now, and the solution she had provided gave that rebellious officer a chance to survive his little scheme, despite Ruvol's and Iruvan's best efforts. At the very least, Ruvol Blackwater was now vexed. One less drop of blood on his hands had to be a disturbing thought for him, poor pirate.

Ruvol pretended to ponder over that decision, before he nodded empathically. "See to it that this is done properly."

Nenkith nodded, and Ruvol dismissed his people. Only then, he made eye contact with her, a silent command to follow him. Yalene waited dutifully, fearing the things that were to come, and was slightly relieved to see Iruvan following the captain. She didn't know why, but having company meant that she would at least escape any wrath Ruvol might have accumulated a little bit longer, and the longer he had time to cool his head, the better.

When they arrived back at the cabin, Ruvol kept his face carefully neutral while Yalene tried to fade as much into the background as possible. Iruvan checked the door, twice, and then smiled. "That went well."

"Well?" Only when it was seemingly certain that they were not overheard, the captain rushed towards Yalene, and without a warning, grabbed her by the hips and vigorously swirled her around, his laughter only silenced when he was planting an energetic and unnecessarily loud kiss on her mouth. She was too stunned to resist, and still a little dizzy when he placed her down.

What had just happened?

"That didn't go 'well'. That was perfect!" Ruvol wore a boyish smile on his face and was clearly as giddy as a maiden in love for the first time. "And here I was, racking my brains over some way to kill that man without killing him outright, punishing him without punishing him too much and here you are with your human ways, human way of thinking and human customs and hand me the perfect solution on a silver platter. Who would have known that you people use the same punishment as we do?" He beamed a smile at her, his hands still on her shoulders as if to steady her. "Nobody in their right mind would call me unjust now. I even respected his 'honour'."

He seemed cheerful as if he had just mentioned the most normal thing in the world with Iruvan nodding along, even smiling in a way that could be almost construed as fond. That they both would treat the life of a fellow being with casual cruelty was something she had come to expect, but that information was not safeguarded as closely as possible and that they both didn't seem to be ashamed of showing her that they had some bond of friendship right before the eyes of a slave baffled her.

"I still want to shoot a bolt in his face, though ...", he started, but was interrupted by Iruvan.

"That is unwise. You know as well as I do that sometimes, things are not so simple. Viroges' family is too rich for comfort; if you harm him without bloody good cause, they will retaliate. Let him self-destruct and enjoy the sight. Who knows, he might not even survive the Six Steps to Torment."

For a moment, it looked like Ruvol wanted to pout, which Iruvan took as his cue to look pointedly at the state of the cabin, then to Yalene. That was quite understandable, because her research was visible by the open scrolls and books strewn on the ground, which was quite honestly looking like a mess. "It seems you have been busy. Care to share your findings?"

For a moment, Yalene hesitated. She could just lie and would probably get away with it. That would keep the Lizardmen in the Southlands safe, it would keep their temple a secret and their treasures untouched. On the other hand, she had a feeling that an operation like this would take a lot of time, time that Ruvol Blackwater could not use for raiding. Spring was almost there, a time in which the coastal cities were traditionally even more vulnerable due to storms, and as far as she had understood, the Sea of Claws and the Bretonnian coast were the current targets for her captor, who had already described his plans to her. If she gave that information, she not only got them off her back to plan her escape, she might also put a halt to whatever plans they might have had for these waters, or the coasts of Tilea, Bretonnia, Westerland … or Nordland. What was more important? The Lizardmen's temple or the lives of her countrymen, or fellow humans in general?

After a long pause and a deep breath, Yalene began describing her lead in the Southlands.