AN OFFICER AND A GENTLEMAN

In the north, everything larger than a rowboat flies its family's colors. The light blue and the black ship for Blackwell. The orange flame on the jet field for Flint. The grey arrow on the pink field for Harkon. The blue stream on the red field for Bralykburn. And the dozens of vassal houses each with their own colors.

But this little sailboat, in what's no doubt an effort to be inconspicuous, flies no banners and in doing so raises the alarm from sailors, deckhands, and dock workers alike. Strangers. Southerners? Is it the rebels? Or are they just criminals too cowardly to announce who they serve?

Whoever he is, the man who arrives on it clearly isn't familiar with the sea. He isn't at home in oiled leather and his clothes are brand-new at that. He looks like he's ready to throw up over the side, it takes him three tries to tie off the bowline, and he nearly falls into the sea when the vessel bobs while he steps onto the dock.

Three docks over, Dalla looks up from checking her own lines for fraying to watch the newcomer. She doesn't recognize him, which strikes her odd. Blackhold's a common port destination, but most merchants don't get this close to her family's fleet. What sort of visit would call for plain sails?

A familiar laugh snaps her out of her thoughts as Cade's voice giggles "You don't know what you're doing!"

For a second she allows herself to think Cade's safely talking to the Brylks, but the stranger turns to face her baby brother and says "No, I don't."

"If it's on the water, it floats." Cade smiles and stands, ignoring his Brylks' begging for more food. "Where are you from?"

The man shifts his weight to get used to the solid dock under his feet and says "Iziz."

Fear closes around Dalla's throat like ice followed by oh, kriff no.

She knew this was coming. There's only one reason anyone from Iziz would come this far north. But the pause gave her a false sense of security, made her think that just maybe Rash took no for an answer when she really should have sharpened her senses with every passing second. What kind of plan does this Iziz man in his shabby disguise have? Grab Cade and use him as a hostage to tempt her south? Or is he more straightforward and wants to take only her?

We look like everyone else. I am not the Dalla Blackwell Rash has in mind. He probably doesn't know who we are. Dalla drops the lines in a heap on the dock and starts half-jogging toward Cade and the stranger.

"Brother!" she yells, refusing to use Cade's name and relinquish her only advantage. "Brother, why are you ignoring your Brylks?"

Cade turns around to get a better look at her. "D-," his face falls for a half second when he sees her and he swallows the rest of her name. "Hi?"

"What's going on?" Dalla reaches her brother and wraps an arm around him, crossing his chest, while the other inches for the knife on her belt. "Who is this?"

The man bows. "Good morning, miss. General Tandin, of the Royal Militia."

Great. Confirmed. "You must be looking for Lord Blackwell. We'll inform Captain Jamos of your arrival and he can take you to the lord." She switches her grip to Cade's bicep, better to haul him away, but it doesn't seem necessary. Even Cade knows the Royal Militia spells bad news.

"Watch for spray on the docks," Cade squeaks and turns to scuttle away when the general calls after them.

"Thank you, Cade Blackwell. And you must be Dalla," General Tandin nods first to Cade, then to her. "I was sent to kidnap you."

Dalla tightens her grip on Cade. "I don't know who you are, but every man in this harbor is sworn to protect House Blackwell. Some of them have been my crew for years. All we have to do is say the word and -."

"That won't be necessary. Luckily for the both of us, I don't want to die today," the man knits his hands behind his back and walks up the dock, past Dalla's and Cade's slackjawed faces. "Tell me dear, where can I find your father?"

…

"He just sailed into the harbor?" Marlon cries in disbelief from atop the throne in the great hall. "No banners? And no one stopped him even when he came within arms' reach of my children? Cade, Dalla, are you alright? Where's your brother?"

"We're fine," Dalla says. "Cade, where's Thias?"

"He's with his friends sparring,"

"Retrieve my son," Marlon orders one of the sailors who followed them in. "And as for you, let me get this straight," He glares at the general. "Sanjay Rash sent you to kidnap my daughter, and you're not going to."

"That's right, my lord." General Tandin shuffles his feet as if he's not sure he should still be kneeling. He ducks his head instead.

Marlon isn't impressed. "If this is your way of coaxing me into handing over Dalla, you can stop now."

"I'm terrible at coaxing, so I don't try it. In fact, I don't aim to leave with your daughter at all."

"Then what are you doing here?" Dalla shouts. "If you're not here to kidnap me, and you're not -."

"Dalla!" Marlon snaps and turns his attention back to General Tandin. "General, I will only ask you once. Why, exactly, are you in the north?"

Tandin crosses his arms over his chest, a position Dalla assumes is more comfortable than the formal stance he's been holding. "King Rash sent me here to retrieve Dalla Blackwell and bring her south to be wed. With the turmoil in Iziz, I understood his reasons."

"You're not giving us many reasons to spare your life," Marlon interrupts.

"I'm not finished. Rash neglected to include images when he gave me this assignment, so I did some of my own research. In doing so, I discovered -" he glances toward Dalla. "Your family's reputation for seeking justice for members who have been wronged. And in all honestly, I would rather not take a tour of the bottom of the Northern Seas."

Marlon leans back in his chair. "Continue."

"Even if I succeeded taking Dalla out of the harbor, I would be dead before I reached Iziz," Tandin admits. "Your navy would have come after me, Dalla would kill me herself, my sailing skills leave much to be desired - the possibilities are endless. And like I said, I plan to live a long time."

That's not going to be an easy thing if he returns without her. Dalla sticks her neck out. "How do you plan on doing that? I don't know if you haven't noticed, but Rash doesn't take no for an answer."

"I understand that better than you. You're lucky I'm the first one he sent."

Lucky Tandin knows how to self-preserve? Yes. "Don't I know it?"

"You don't," Tandin corrects her. "Rash wanted to send Separatist droids, but Count Dooku forbade it. He said Rash has the militia already and the droid army is not for his personal use."

That gives pause to everyone in the room. Yes, Blackhold is built to withstand a siege. Yes, it held during the Mandalorian Wars. But the might of the Separatist army would tear the castle apart.

"How long has he been planning this?" Marlon demands.

"Since you rejected the marriage."

They rejected the match two weeks ago.

Marlon sits up straight. "Do you know the identities of the other potential threats?"

"There are none at the moment," Tandin replies. "Rash has complete trust in my abilities, the question of my self-preservation and my morals aside. The question now is how to proceed. If I don't bring a girl back to Iziz, he'll send others. But here, we have an advantage." He turns around to get the measure of Dalla. "I believe Rash doesn't know what your daughter looks like. If you know someone a bit older who looks like her, we can send a decoy."

A body double. Dalla briefly considers this. If Rash doesn't know about her accident, then they actually have a chance. But who could they send? A random girl who happens to resemble her? While that might work for Rash, it's dishonorable and it would send House Blackwell's reputation through the floor.

"If Rash claims he has Dalla, it carries the same effect as actually having her," her father announces. "It's a good plan, but unfortunately it won't work. You'll need to simply tell him you failed."

"In that case, I'd appreciate if one of you would give me a good black eye."

Marlon rises from his seat and walks down the stairs until he closes ranks with Tandin.

"You are a very smart man," he says and punches him in the face.

…

"Would you like ice? I feel bad not giving you ice," Shara worries.

"Salt gods Shara, he's a militiaman. I'm sure he's fine," Jamos sighs.

"It needs to look real," General Tandin examines his black eye and split lip in the refresher mirror. "I'll ask someone to bruise up my ribs before I set sail. But I have a few days before that."

"And how do you plan to spend those few days?" Jamos snorts.

"I do have a soft spot for fishing," Tandin admits. "If you'd be so kind as to recommend a good place to start?"

"Any dock in the north," Jamos replies. "Or if you prefer the open water, all you have to do is drop your anchor."

"When Jamos took me fishing by ourselves we started in the bay," Shara recommends. "It's a good place for inexperienced sailors."

"That I am." Tandin cracks a smile. "Thank you for the tip, Mrs. Blackwell."

"Just Shara. This is my husband Jamos," she gestures to her husband. "I remember you from the Fete, when we were younger."

"Ah, the Fete. I looked forward to attending that every year." he winces when he touches his swollen eye.

"General," Shara says. "May I ask an unusual question?"

"Of course, my lady."

Shara wrings her hands. "Have the dalgos come into season yet?"

Tandin turns away from the mirror.

"They have," he says. "The rupings have too. I thought you didn't have such creatures in the north."

"We don't," she answers, meeting his eyes. "It's too cold for them to survive, or I would have brought mine with me when I came to the north."

"I remember your trick riding. It would be hard to forget, even if you had a different name back then."

"I did," Shara says wistfully. "I was once known as Shara Rupingwood and then for a short time as Shara Rash."

Tandin watches her watch him for so much a facial twitch.

"Good thing it was a short time with that name," Jamos spits.

Shara gives him a look and he falls silent.

"Jamos, may the general and I have a word?" She places a gentle hand on her husband's arm, which turns the question into so much an order.

"Of course," Jamos says, bends to kiss her forehead and leaves the room.

The soft look melts from Shara's face when her husband rounds the corner and for a second Tandin has to remind himself she's not a Blackwell by blood. She's the mirror image of Dalla on the docks.

"You live in the south. Have you seen a man around my age named Bremon Kira?"

"Kira?" He repeats. "He was at the Fete every year. Isn't that the man who married the Rash girl, over a dozen years ago?"

"Melaana," Shara reminds him. "And it was seventeen years ago. Have you heard of him recently?"

Tandin shakes his head. "I'd imagine he's still where he was seventeen years ago, flying around the jungle on that ruping of his dreaming of what could have been with his wife and child."

Shara's face falls. "Oh. He hasn't come back to the city?"

"Not that the royal militia is aware. We would have logged a member of a great House."

"He might soon," She continues. "If you find him, tell him where I am. Tell him I'd like to see him again, and he's always welcome at Blackhold."

"I will, Shara." He bows his head dutifully and goes back to his eye.

"One more thing," Shara says, voice slicing into him like a knife. "You work with Sanjay Rash. Who is he?"

Tandin blinks, confused. "My lady, he's the ki -."

"I know he's the king." Shara's voice drops. "Seventeen years ago, I was married to him. You know that. And the man demanding my niece's hand is not the man I married. So tell me, not as a general or a professional but as a person with two eyes in his head, what kind of man is sitting the throne?"

Tandin grabs the sides of the sink.

"He and Lady Rash were a volatile team, but after her death he's relentless," he says, staring into the sink bowl. "He wants the rebels gone. He wants your niece. And he isn't going to stop until he has an heir and House Rash is the height of society."

Shara shuts the refresher door halfway. "He's always wanted that. But he…" she gathers herself again. "He couldn't get me pregnant in the two years we were together. I don't know why he believes he'll be able to produce an heir now. I have five children now with my husband, by the way. Four strong sons and a daughter, so it obviously wasn't a failure on my part. And I may have been born in the south, but I assure you my heart and my resolve are a hundred percent northern, and if you come after one of us you come after all of us!"

Tandin jumps at the sudden outburst. Shara composes herself. "He's a filthy coward. His mother was a monster, and she poisoned him into one. He was a coward when I left him, and he is now. You know it, I know it, everyone knows it. General, I remember you and Dane Bonteri working together in Iziz before I left. I remember you every year at the Summer Fete and carrying the casket at my father's funeral. You were honorable men. I know you're still that man. I know fear of death isn't the reason you didn't take Dalla."

Tandin shuts off the tap.

"I'll try to warn you when he sends others," he says. "But I swore a sacred oath to serve my king. I need to go back and fulfill it as best I can."

"The honorable way isn't with Rash," Shara insists. "Dane's son realized that already. When you do, he'll help you. And if he doesn't, then we will. House Blackwell pays its debts."

Tandin meets her eyes in the mirror.

"When I come back from my fishing trip, I'll ask your husband to bruise my ribs." He says. "Thank you for your hospitality, Shara. If I see your friend, I'll be sure to give him your message."

"I look forward to the day."

Tandin hears the rest of the sentence: I look forward to the day you stop serving a coward.

But Shara just smiles. "My children should be home by now. I'll leave you to your fishing trip."

…

Thias and Cade Blackwell lean over a board game spread across Thias' bedroom floor, their eyes glued to the pieces.

Thias moves one of his pieces three squares. "You're saying King Rash sent a general to Blackhold?"

"Uh-huh," Cade replies and picks up one of his own pieces. "He's fishing in the bay right now."

"Where's Dal?"

"With father in his office." Cade sets the piece on the board with a thunk. "Where else?"

That makes him feel a little better. Usually Thias would be hurt that Father hadn't brought him into the equation, but no doubt the conversation is about security and politics. Thias knows exactly how Dalla manages security, and politics bores him stiff.

"What's Father's plan?" He says and moves another piece. Whatever their father's coming up with, it won't suit an eleven-and-fifteen-year-old with protectiveness in their blood. "If Rash is sending people to kidnap Dalla, then we have to do something. It's an insult!" Thias makes a mental note to carry a charged blaster with him at all times, just in case Sanjay Rash has the nerve to show up in the north himself. "We don't take insults sitting down."

"Father just wants to keep Dalla safe," Cade announces. "He's called Houses Harkon and Flint and their bannermen to stop and search any vessel that isn't flying a banner they recognize. No way is Rash going to fly northern colors."

"He's too pompous to," Thias mumbles and shoves one of his pieces along the course with his index finger. "What about the others?"

"What other bannermen do we have?" Cade whispers. "Rash has the south in a chokehold. Who would give up a chance to get on his good side by backing the north?"

Thias looks at the game board. Cade's always been better at this one that him, and it shows. His little brother has his pieces boxed into a corner yet again, and he's only a few moves away from winning his sixth game in a row. He wants to pound something: if he can't even think his way out of a board game, how's he supposed to think his way out of a battle? How's he supposed to tell Rash to keep his hands off the Blackwells with just enough anger to keep him at bay, but not so much that would bring the Rash bannermen down on their heads? How's he supposed to keep his sister from doing the terrible thing he knows she'll do if there's no way out but down the aisle? He's half-tempted just to cheat at the game so he at least feels like he's getting some control, because right now he's -

"Someone with nothing left to lose," he realizes.

"Huh?"

Thias gets up, the game forgotten. "Cade, do you remember Mina Bonteri?" he asks and yanks open one of his dresser drawers.

"The senator? Should I?" Cade asks, following his brother.

"She and her family came to the Hold for Mom's funeral." Nothing in this drawer but socks. Thias tries the next. "She helped Aunt Shara take care of us."

"She gave me candied jogans," Cade remembers.

Thias remembers the candied jogans too. They were a treat Mina had brought from Bonteri Estate and given to the boys to keep them busy while she, Aunt Shara, Uncle Jamos, and Dane Bonteri were trying to set Dalla's broken bones.

"Before she left, Mina told me that if we ever needed anything to just comm her," his fingers brush something silk and he grabs the it. "She's dead now, but her son Lux is supposed to be with the rebels. He's a fugitive on the run for speaking against Rash and Dooku -."

"He could help," Cade realizes. "His parents were our bannermen and the rebels want Rash gone anyway. If they help us, then we could team up and get rid of him together. Like the Beast Wars!"

The Beast Wars are kind of a stretch, Thias thinks and yanks the piece of silk free from his drawer. It's a small banner, Bonteri violet with their silver rose stitched in the center. Still a risky banner to fly, but less risky than their own.

Cade furrows his brow. "That's it? We're supposed to contact him with a banner?"

"It must have come undone," Thias explains, removes the drawer from the dresser and upends it.

When they pick out the wrinkled pieces of his clothing, they're left with wrappers for the candied jogans he was supposed to give Dalla when she could have sticky foods again. Thias ate the candy long ago, but the little slip of flimsi with Mina Bonteri's handwriting is good as new. He picks it up with his thumb and forefinger like it'll dissolve in his hands.

"We're going to contact him with this."

"Great!" Cade runs to the other end of the room and grabs his comlink. "It should still be light in Iziz; let's call him now."

"Not yet," Thias folds the flimsi and puts it in his pocket. "He's not going to listen to us. We need Father. Otherwise it would be like baiting a line with wood."

"We have the navy. If we tell them we have a navy, they have to help us!"

"We don't have the authority to give them the navy. Only Father does. And without the navy, they don't have a reason to help us."

"We can't wait!" Cade cries, going for the flimsi again.

Thias holds it above his head, out of Cade's reach. "We only have one chance. Once Father and Dalla are done talking I'll go ask him about when we should."

"We have to do it now!" His baby brother's face has gone tomato-red from anger and now he's speaking a mile a minute. "That man says that Rash is gonna send other people! They're going to come and raid Blackhold and take Dalla back with them and maybe you and then -."

Thias slowly lowers the flimsi.

It's not anger he's red from, he realizes. It's fear.

"And then I'm going to be all alone," Cade sniffs. "I can't do it. I don't want to run the north. I want to be a beastmaster like Aunt Shara and work with Brylks and guide the catches and help the navigators set the course when they guide the ships."

He wipes his nose with his sleeve. "I don't want to be alone. And if Rash gets his way that's going to happen."

Anger flares in Thias. He wanted to kill Sanjay Rash just as bad as Uncle Jamos did when he first heard about the betrothal, but now the false king's done worse. He's messed with the baby of their branch of the family.

With the flimsi again stored safely in his pocket, Thias opens his arms and Cade buries his face in his chest.

"That's not going to happen," he murmurs and rubs his little brother's back. "I swear to the salt gods, Cade. We're not going to leave you all alone."

…

"Rash will send others with no honor and no fear of death," Tandin says while the sun breaks over Blackhold's docks and Dalla runs a final check over his vessel. "And make no mistake, they will find you. You need to decide what you'll do when that happens."

Dalla looks out over the harbor.

"I already have," she says as if they're the only two on the dock. As if a score of her crew aren't standing with hands on weapons just in case he gets second thoughts about not kidnapping her.

Tandin follows her gaze to the castle's stone steps, eroded and repaired over the years and leading directly into the sea.

He doesn't respond. Does he approve? Does he have the wrong idea? Or is he just glad she has any plan at all?

The silence is shattered by a woman's heavy footsteps and "Dalla Niamh Blackwell, don't tell me you're sending that man south without some food!"

Maris, the owner of Blackhold's best pub and inn, bustles up the dock with an enormous basket in her hands.

"It's quite alright," Tandin says. "I have plenty of ration bars -."

"You know what tastes better than ration bars? Sand." Maris thrusts the basket into his hands. "Now you eat the nyorks first. They'll go bad and your tum won't thanks you for that." She swats his midsection with the back of her hand and he winces. It must hurt like hell, so close to the ribs Jamos bruised for him but he doesn't let on.

Maris does. "The fish is salted. It'll last longer. Should hold you out for the whole journey. Oh, and the fruit cake! That's Shara's specialty but you're not to let that king get a whiff of it! You make sure it's all gone afore you get to the city."

"Yes ma'am, of course."

"I ain't no ma'am. Just run the pub and the inn. But I won't have nobody saying our northern hospitality is outshone by your southern 'otels." She brushes her hands off on her skirt and playfully wags a finger at Dalla. "You learned anything from me, girl? Sendin' a man off with ration bars!"

"I hear you loud and clear, Maris. That's why we put him up in your inn."

"And good thing you did!" Maris gives Tandin a final look and heads back down the dock. "Remember, nyorks first!"

Tandin watches her go down the dock and peeks into the basket when he can't see her anymore.

"You should set sail," Dalla interrupts. "You'll want to take advantage of all the daylight you can."

She holds the boat in place while he steps in with the basket and settles himself on his seat to take the sail.

"You made it this far. I trust you can get back," she says and unties the bowline.

"I'll manage," he grunts. "It's harder with bruised ribs, but I'd rather have them than your knife in my eye."

"There are inns. They'll keep you if you have credits."

Tandin makes no move to disclose whether or not he has credits. "The north is the safest place for you, my lady." The wind catches his sail and he steers away from the dock. "Whatever you do, you have the advantage on the water."

"I'll keep it in mind," she replies after a while. "How do you plan to explain to Rash why you don't have me?"

"Your father's an observant man," he shouts over the water. "And he protects his children. It won't take much to -."

The wind tears the rest of his words away.

This chapter is dedicated to my teacher and the insane things he did in the name of helping his students.

Thank you to Starwarshobbitfics, MusicKeeper, and Johnt12345 for their reviews to the past two chapters! And so DuchessKenobi can also enjoy your lovely comments, please consider checking out our forum!