Chapter 5: What We Leave Behind

In the six hours remaining to her at Menethil, Arrien decided it was time to replace her bloodied and torn nightclothes. In the mood of realizing she was becoming a pirate, she bought herself (or, rather, Giles was generous enough to buy her...) a pair of black boots that came up just to mid thigh, as she'd often seen pirates and seamen wear, keeping a simple pair of pants tucked into them. She also got herself a loose-fitting white shirt, tying it up loosely at the front, and a deep red leather corset to wear on top of that, and a flowing crimson skirt. Upon looking at herself in the mirror provided in the mages' quarters on board the ship, she grinned, quite feeling every bit the dashing pirate.

"You do realize this isn't going to be all glamour," Giles sighed, looking out the porthole to see Menethil vanishing quickly into the distance, "we're going to be robbing lots of people and taking things that don't belong to us. There will be plenty of killing and unpleasantries."

"Robbing from the rich and giving to us? I can handle that!" She was positively glowing.

"But haven't you forgotten one thing?" Giles slumped into his cot, "Falrevere is already rich..."

"He lost his estate by abandoning Kul Tiras to the Scourge, surely you realize that," Arrien finally started pouting, "...spoilsport," she muttered, plopping down onto her own cot. She closed her eyes and sighed, "Giles... I'm just trying to forget what I've left behind. It's been rather easy to get swept up in this piracy thing."

"Maybe you shouldn't forget," he said softly, "those we leave behind tend to be what drives us... my brother is working hard with the priests of the Holy Light to figure out a cure for the plague... or at least a way to halt its advancement."

Arrien's lower lip twitched a bit as she fought back tears, forcing herself to not think of her father as she last saw him, but rather think of him and her mother the way they'd been the night before when she went to bed. A sad smile formed over her lips as tears started to run down her cheeks. Giles moved close to her and hugged her tightly.

"They're what inspire us to do great things."

"If you're so against piracy, why did you bother staying on with the rest of the crew," Arrien asked, looking up at him, wiping her eyes.

"I don't know... I guess I was afraid of doing anything else. Plus, I told you I'd take care of you, so I will," he smiled, patting Arrien on the head.

"In the past few days you've become like the older brother I never had," the red-haired mage replied, smiling a bit, "of course, that would explain why you're such a stick-in-the-mud most of the time."

He laughed, pushing her away and standing, tugging on his robes in front of the mirror, "So, what do you think, should I grow some sort of swashbuckling facial hair? A well-waxed, curly moustache to stroke in the heat of battle while making piratey quips?" She just looked up at him with a queer look on her face.

"I think the heat is starting to get to you, Giles... or perhaps cabin fever," she laughed.

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Two weeks had past since they had left Menethil, and Arrien had become accepted by most the entire crew. She had already past her sixteenth birthday, which went unnoticed by all but her fellow mages. Her new clothes, particularly her corset, which caused her already curvaceous form to take on new levels of delight to look upon, had made her a number of new friends, most of which she had never wanted to begin with, but their pathetic advances were enough to make her laugh and gave her something to talk about with her real friends. At this moment she was standing on the poop deck, leaning against a warblade, watching the weapon master preparing one of his own. She'd been training in swordfighting for the past week, after having finally been accepted as the "one of them."

"All right... you're going to need to learn how to parry a bit better... it'll get you in a better position for a counter-strike," the scarred man before said in a gruff voice, "ready youself!" She stepped back, holding her curved blade up to prepare for a strike. Weaponmaster Tellanus lunged forward, and she deftly deflected his strike, following up with a strike of her own, which he blocked in turn. He brought his blade back around to strike at her, but Arrien made a quick circular motion with one of her hands and she was enveloped in a steady purple bubble. Tellanus's blade glanced off to the side, causing him to be off-footing, and Arrien spun about and behind the weaponsmaster and jabbed her sword in between his shoulderblades, laughing.

"Bah! Magic users," he sneered. Arrien heard applause behind her and turned with a grin, which quickly fatered when she realized it was not any of her friends behind her, but Duke Falrevere himself. The swordsman turned about as well, offering a quick bow.

"Well done, Arrien," Falrevere said with a smile, "not many magic-users would so reduce themselves to using melee weapons in combat. Nor would many noble swordsman emply magic to such extremes in their fighting. Do you know what that makes you?

"A cheater?" Tellanus offered, rubbing at a scar on his face that ran from his left temple to the bridge of his nose. Arrien's face flushed.

"Well, yes... but it also makes you adaptive," the Duke stepped towards the girl, "you don't follow the rules, as it were."

"Well, isn't that what piracy is all about anyway?" The mage retorted with a wide grin.

Falrevere nodded with a chuckle, "So it is... I'll be keeping an eye on you in the future," he said, reinforcing the statement by tapping below one of his eyes with a finger and pointing at the girl. He then proceeded to turn on his heel and continue walking the other way, towards the bow.

"I'd not necessarily consider that a good thing, lass," Tellanus chuckled softly, "having the attention of your higher ups seldom is." Arrien grimaced a bit, realizing just how true it was.