To Kill a King

[Torin Reahkari]

So… What now?

"Now, I go back."

Back to what? Borna's dead. The Armada, most likely fallen to nothing. You have nothing to go back to.

"There's always home. I can go back home."

You have responsibilities. The Shadow need a leader.

"I put in my time. I bear my scars. I've buried one wife, lost another, for the sake of your damn symbiotes. I'm not going back to that."

You'd rather have another rise and come after you again?

"This has been my problem, my friends' problems, for far too long. I'm moving forward."

What is forward like to someone who controls Time?

Silence was the only answer I could give.
________________________________

"If yer gonna ride along, ye could at least help us load 'er up!"

Torins mind snapped back to reality. He was standing in the harbor of Radansath, at the end of a dock. His eyes scanned the moonlit horizon once more, the ever-familiar ocean stretching endlessly in front of him. He exhaled, turning to face whoever had shouted at him. A large, fat man, with a fiery orange beard stood in front of him. Based on the clothes he was wearing, Torin had to assume he was catching a ride on a fishing vessel.

"Isn't my gold enough?" Torin mumbled, looking over at the pile of crates. Salted meat, barrels of fresh water, and rice, not a single weapon or cannonball to be loaded.

"Aye, enough to get ye on the Fair Lady, but ye must earn yer keep on the trip, an' that starts now." the man chuckled, pointing to the barrels.

"Fine." Torin replied, ensuring to reflect his annoyance in his voice. He walked from the end of the dock to the pile in front of him, hoisting a barrel up onto his left shoulder. His shoulder buckled slightly, adjusting to the weight, as he brought it to a rest against his neck.

"Are these all going below?" He asked the man, looking over at the walkway to the small vessel where the man stood.

"Y'know, if there's one thing I've learnt here in Radansath, it's that nothin' should surprise ye anymore, but goodness boy, that barrels got to be over two 'undred pounds, and yer just tossing it 'round like it's a ball!"

"You don't get much news when you're out to sea, but I assure you the fact that I can lift this is miniscule in comparison to some of the things I've seen people barely short of gods do." Torin smiled, making his way up the walkway.

"My name's Torin. I'll do what I can to help make the journey easier, as long as you ensure to get me to Etheria, in Alerar." he calmly stated, making his way up the walkway.

"Aye. Ye can call me Gregor, boy. I'll get ye to where ye want to go. Been a long time since I've been to Etheria. 'ell, from what I've heard, been a long time since anyone’s been there." the man responded, extending a hand out towards Torin as approached the deck.

"It's a pleasure, Gregor," Torin responded, reaching out to shake his hand. "I'm aware Etheria's been off the trade list for a while now. Hopefully that will change soon." he finished, lowering the barrel onto the deck.

"Aye, and my ship'll turn into a dragon!" Gregor guffawed, laughing heartily.

"Stranger things happen every day around Althanas. I do have to say though, for a fishing vessel, she's quite nice. How many will be on this trip?" Torin queried. Boats like this were usually left untouched by pirates, as the loot wasn't worth the time. Still though…

“Aye that they do, that they do. Thank ya, sir. She's not much, but I love 'er all the same," Gregor replied airily, making his way up the walkway with another crate. "Twelve, includin' yerself. Why Etheria, anyways?" he asked, squinting towards Torin as he passed him.

Torin smirked, closing his eyes and leaning back against the railing, resting his forearms against it. So familiar. "Let's just say, it used to be a home away from home for me." he replied nonchalantly.

"Aye, well, ye best be careful when we reach port. I've 'eard some stories about pirates and thieves an' the like robbin' just about anyone tha' goes through there. Part of the reason we've stopped sellin' there, I reckon." the captain replied, opening his eyes wide. "I've even 'eard there's some crazy Elf calling himself the King o' the Pirates there. Guts jus' about anyone 'e sees fit to. Course, that's just what ye hear. With 'ow harsh the government is 'round here, I'd be surprised they'd let a fellow like that jus' run around." Gregor mumbled, passing by the pirate once again. Torin opened one eye and stared at the man in front of him.

"King of Pirates? Hm, that is interesting." Torin trailed. He turned around, leaning over the railing and looking down the dock. A group of guards walked along the docks, stopping to speak to each group in front of the many vessels littering the harbor.

'Not good.' a voice in Torins head suddenly rasped. "No, not at all." Torin thought, mostly to himself. The voice belonged to Serigae, the symbiote inside of him. 'So what are you going to do?' the voice replied, an edge of curiosity in his voice.

"Look, Gregor. We both know that leisurely travel is… Frowned upon here, at best. I'll double the gold if we leave tonight." The boy called, strutting across the deck of the small vessel. The Fair Lady wasn't much, maybe 40 feet from bow to stern, but she looked like she could get some speed if needed.

"Aye, boy. If ye want to keep throwin' yer gold at me to get ye out of here quietly, I won't say no." the large man replied, his beard twitching in a way that Torin could only assume was a smile.

"Good." Torin replied, making his way below deck. He removed Tanzalis from its sheath, burying it under a pile of riggings and rope. He stripped off his jacket and sheath as well, burying them in the pile.

'You still don't look like a fisherman.' Serigae mused lazily. "I'm aware, but it wasn't like this when I got here. A giant sword isn't exactly going to throw suspicions off." Torin snapped back, heading back topside. At least he looked like a normal person. Maybe he could play off that he was hired for protection.

"Aye, finish loading the crates, boys! We're castin' off in ten minutes!" Gregor bellowed. Torin looked past the walkway, seeing a group of men picking up crates and hurriedly bringing them onto the deck.

"So what's the story when they inevitably make it to this pier?" Torin asked, walking up next to Gregor. The giant man looked down to Torin.

"Hm. Well, ye can be my cartographer, y'see. I don't have a Mate here, so we can say I hired ye, aye?" Gregor replied, slapping a giant hand down on Torins shoulder. He winced slightly, staring over the railing at the piers. Torchlight and lanterns lit the area as people hurried home from journeys and jobs alike.

"That works for me. Although, I can't map routes for shit." Torin chuckled.

"Aye, leave that to me, lad." Gregor winked, his beard twitching again. "We'll deal with these guards when they arrive, then we'll 'ead off.” he continued, following Torins gaze down the dock.

"Pirate King." Torin thought to himself. Well, it would be fairly poetic for the Prince to overthrow the King, no?

[Reine]

Faelynn's heart leapt into her throat. She struggled to swallow around the lump as it fought to choke her. Somehow she forced the wayward organ back into her chest where it belonged. As she did, her eyes darted to the CAF guards as she strode by them. One of the three glanced briefly at her, just from the side, before dismissing her entirely from his mind. She continued to walk without showing the sigh of relief she wanted to, without calling all three of them a bunch of single minded, government pawns and sticking her tongue out at them in defiance. They even looked the same.

All three of them wore that tight fitting blue, wool jacket and grey pants. There were swords strapped to their belts and one had a crossbow slung over one shoulder. Their boots would have been polished earlier, but they were stained and grimy from walking around the port of Radasanth. Mud, sea salt, fish guts and several other things she assumed they'd have oh so much fun cleaning off later, covered the brown leather.

She still didn't completely relax until a shipment of crates passed between her and them, obscuring her backward glances. Even her hand instinctively rested along the strap of her rucksack. It bounced every time she took a step, smacking into her slim figure and twisting up the brown jacket she currently had on, but she didn't care. She looked like almost every other person in the port that day, almost.

A cap covered her head, helping to keep the sun from her eyes and much taller figures from glancing at her face. Her long brown hair, normally intricately braided was twisted and hidden underneath, to help obscure her gender. The fact that she didn't have much in the breast department and her hips and ass had not bothered to ever really fill in, in her youth helped that much more. A couple tight tension bandages to hold things in place, a few more layers of brown and green than necessary and some dirt rubbed on her cheeks, Faelynn was good to go. And good to pretend to be a young boy looking for passage to Alerar.

It almost made her sad how easily she could pass off for a boy. Well, a somewhat small, skinny and soft featured boy, but a boy nonetheless.

Dodging a rather large puddle of water and skirting around a group of men unloading barrels of spices and ales and wonders from all across the land of Althanas, Fae slipped deeper into the port. She walked by the bigger docks and the hulking shadows of trading vessels. She barely paid any attention to the medium sized passenger ships bound for such lovely destinations as Fallien and Scara Brae. Instead she nimbly slipped through the crowds of sweaty sailors, dock inspectors and trading merchants with all their hired men to get to the quieter section of the port. Well, perhaps not quieter. It was still loud as the bell tolls from the churches in Salvar, but had a different ambiance. Here, small vessels parked themselves along short docks, getting ready to sail out for a few weeks of fishing.

These ships were not normally inspected or even bothered by the CAF. They were manned by smaller crews, which could be good or bad. But for a young woman who had as many connections as she did, it was good. Real good.

Oh yeah, it paid to be awesome.

Or have a lot of people owe you a lot of favours. One or the other.

Taking a glance at each one of the ships, Faelynn spotted her quarry. The Fair Lady lay docked between two others of a similar size. She glinted in the light of the moon as it hung lazy over the churling sea. People already bustled along the dock and a few of the crew members moved like dark shadows from one side of the vessel to the other, preparing for an early morning voyage.

Stepping up alongside the ship, Faelynn dodged one of the crew as he hauled in a crate that must have easily weighed twice as much as she did. The moment she stepped aboard, the sway of the ocean filled her equilibrium causing her body to sway slightly with each swell.

"You 'tere!"

She turned towards the deep, booming voice that seemed to cut across the deck.

Turning to her right, she saw a rather large, middle aged man barrelling towards her. His face was lit up by a shockingly bright orange beard, the same of which capped off his head under his hat.

"Wha' in the 'ell are ye doin' on 'ere?" He bellowed.

She held her ground, even though he towered above her.

"You must be Gregor." She said with a small smile.

This made him pause, his eyes giving her a look from the top of her head right down to the toes of her boots.

"Ye must'a be Faelynn Thiadore." Her name sounded weird on his accented voice.

"That would be me." She held out her hand to him and he took it, enveloping hers in his quite large paw. She could feel the scars and calluses along the skin from a lifetime of work. She had some of her own, though most of hers were from weapons training and falling out of second story windows.

"Welcome aboard 'hen. I 'sum yer bro'her explained everything to you?"

She nodded. "I understand I'll be expected to pull my own weight."

"Good." He glanced back at the men as they contained to load the last of the crates on board. "Ta boys are jus' finishin' up. Ye can break their fast."

"Of course."

Even as the words left her lips, he had already turned away to finish preparing to leave. Finding the portal below, Faelynn made her way tot he kitchens to start preparing a breakfast.

[Torin Reahkari]

As Torin continued to carry crates up the walkway, he noticed an effeminate boy make his way past him onto the deck and speak to Gregor. He stopped halfway up the walkway, placing the crate down and wiping the sweat from his forehead, staring at the child next to the large stomached captain, his beard twitching away. They shook hands quickly, and with a few more twitches, Gregor turned.

"..Ye can break their fast." he caught, as the captain walked away. The boy quickly made his way to the lower decks, disappearing from Torins view.

"Hm." he thought to himself. Something wasn't right about that meeting. What other secrets did The Fair Lady hold? Torin stared off at the wheel of the ship again, watching Gregor talk amongst his crew.

"Not my place." Torin mumbled, picking up the crate and taking it below deck. The time had passed, and the sun had begun to crack the sky above the docks.

"A'right, we're loaded. Release the cleats, lads, and let's set sail!" Gregor bellowed across the deck. Torin lazily sat on a few tacked down crates near the mast, knocking his heels against the side of the crate, and watched as a few men made their way off the ship, releasing the last remaining ties this ship had to Radansath. They pulled back the walkway and Gregor spun the wheel to the right, the small ship slowly turning away from the docks. The shouts and noises of the people bustling around the port immediately began to fade from Torins ears, as if he was already miles away. A smile crossed his face as he stared out into the sea, the familiar combination of wood and salt water filling his every breath. A light wind blew against his shoulder.

"North Western winds. That should shave a few days off our trip if we stay with it." Torin called out, hopping down from the crates and walking over to Gregor at the wheel. The man looked over at him, pulling his hat off his head and revealing his hair to be just as fiery as his beard.

"Aye. Release the second sails lads, we're far enough out." Gregor shouted. Again, immediately, a few men stopped their talking and began working on the riggings.

"Y'sure know a lot about sailin' an' ships for a mainlander, boy," Gregor quipped, his eyes crinkling up with another assumed smile.

"What makes you say that? It just seems logical, the wind is going in our general direction." Torin replied, glaring at Gregor suspiciously.

"Aye, aye. But y'knew your way 'round the riggings and deck before I'd even shown ye the ship, I'd say yer pretty familiar with the sea and her secrets, if I had ta guess." The man responded, lazily shifting the wheel back and forth. He looked over at Torin, eyeing him up from head to toe. Torin continued his stare, not even pausing to blink. He could feel his heart beating faster and faster, a lump beginning to form in his throat, starting to rise.

"I didn't know my background needed to be given to buy my way onto a ship." he retorted, leaning back against the railing again.

"It isn't boy, jus' remember, I'm takin' a risk even having ye aboard. This bein' my only vessel, I wanna keep her safe, and if yer a pirate or somethin', it'd be infermation I'd like ta have. Bu' I'm just an ol' fisherman, wha’ do I know?" Gregor smoothly responded, staring back out towards the water, the smile gone from his eyes. They were beginning to pick up a little speed, and Torin could hear the water sloshing against the hull every few seconds. He grabbed onto the rigging and followed Gregors gaze ahead, staring out over the deck.

"Fine. I was a pirate. I am still a pirate, and will continue to be when I get back to Alerar. Etheria is my home, and you've obviously heard of the Black Sails Armada, that's why I'm going back. Malachi has taken the Armada and twisted it into something wrong. It stood for adventure, riches, and the fairytale pirate life. It wasn't some hired goon squad used to intimidate the people of Etheria and murder for no reason." Torin replied quietly, through gritted teeth.

"I'm going to go back, I'm going to kill him, and I'm going to make the Armada right again." he continued, his words filled with anger, his eyes filled with fire.

"Aye, I knew I recognized yer name. Torin isn' that common of a name, 'specially round here, Yer Torin Reahkari, leader of the Black Sails Armada, captain of The Snowbourne, aye?" Gregor calmly replied, glancing back and forth between Torin and the ocean in front of him.

"Yes. That ship was a gift, an investment, and a promise. It bears just as many scars as I do, and I'm going to take it back from that thieving, murdering sack of shit." the mage spat. His grip tightened on the rope as he continued his stare, his breaths getting faster and his faster. His stomach felt like it was doing somersaults, and his hands were tingling. Was this what bloodlust was like? Torin had killed out of necessity, not out of revenge. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, the salty scent of the ocean filling him once again.

"Hm. Well, y'do what ye gotta do, boy. I'm not gonna sit here an' tell you what ta do. But I'd be careful 'round that elf, see. Ye keep hearin' stories 'round the docks of that ship, yer ship, makin' its rounds on smaller vessels and killin' anyone that looks at 'im the wrong way." Gregor responded, sighing deeply. Torin felt as though he'd somehow already disappointed the captain, and turned over to him.

"I'm not killing unjustly to get my ship back, Gregor. That thing is a menace. If he had simply robbed ships, I'd have no issue sparing him. But what he's done in the name of the Armada, with my ship, calling himself Pirate King, he doesn't deserve to live." Torin replied, his eyes going wide at what he'd just said. Was this what he was going to be? An executioner to anyone that he decided wasn't worthy?

'You need to think about this. You've got a long few weeks before we reach Etheria, maybe there's another way.' Serigae piped up, his deep voice soothing Torin.

"I'm sorry. This isn't exactly the best discussion to have our first few minutes out to sea. I appreciate you taking the chance having me aboard, and even more that you didn't just toss me overboard when I told you I was a pirate." Torin bowed slightly, lowering his head to Gregor.

"Relax, boy. I figured ye were one an' the same when ye firs' told me yer name and where ye wanted t'go. How could I decline the Dark Rogue passage on my ship? Not every day ye meet a livin' legend." Gregor replied with a twitchy smile and a wink. Torin breathed a sigh of relief and raised his head.

"Well, whatever I can do to make the journey easier, let me know. Again, thank you." Torin replied, making his way across the deck, the ship rocking on the waves. He looked out at the screw preparing nets, fixing the riggings, and a smirk crossed his face as he made his way below deck to get his coat and Tanzalis. Once he had properly re-sheathed his sword, he made his way towards the bunks to get some sleep.

A few crewmembers sat around a small circular table eating bowls of what Torin hoped was porridge and playing cards.

'You should eat. It’s been a few days.' Serigae reminded Torin as his stomach grumbled loudly.

"You're probably right." Torin sighed, breaking his stride towards his bed and turning into the doorway of the kitchen.

"What's on the menu?" He shouted in, his mind wandering to the boy he'd seen earlier.

[Reine]

Faelynn had never cooked for the crew of a ship before. She'd been on plenty of ships, mind you, but as a passenger. This was the first time she'd ever bartered for passage with labour instead of gold. As long as the heavy lifting was confined to pots of water and a few overfilled sacks of potatoes, she had no problems fulfilling her duties. Agility and speed she had in abundance, but raw, physical strength was something she seriously lacked in. Still, the crew wasn't huge, the duties minimal and not overly taxing. Fae doubted she'd have much of an issue over the next few weeks as long as she kept an eye on the pantry and properly portioned out the meals. Nothing could go to waste when the voyage could take anywhere from three to five weeks, or perhaps even longer if they hit bad weather.

Adding another small piece of wood to the glowing embers in the cast iron stove, Fae stirred the porridge and then popped three more eggs out of the boiling pot of water next to it. She placed them in a bowl of cool water on the scarred wooden counter, so they'd cool. Then she turned her back on the stove and walked to the other side of the kitchen, the whole five feet it took her to get there, and began taking inventory.

A large pantry filled this side of the room. Shelves were lined from floor to ceiling and bursting with a mountain of ingredients, some of which weren't even native to Corone. Potatoes and apples nearly filled one shelf alone, their brown sacks bulging at the seams and threatening to burst their contents all over the floor. Flour and sugar and various over baking necessities filled another shelf. She'd already found a room packed with ice, wood shavings and cold produce in a small alcove. That she knew would have to be eaten first, as well as the majority of the fresh fruits and veggies, leaving the hard, crusty breads, cheeses and pickled and salted preserves for the last leg of the journey.

The fishing vessel had a decent sized crew and thus needed a lot of food to feed them. With parchment and charcoal in hand, Faelynn began doing a tally of everything in there and what needed to be eaten first, on top of breaking it down into a rough plan for daily meals so she could ration out the quantities she'd need. Gregor would, of course, look over these with her. She was no professional cook.

She was halfway through her count, and down on her hands and knees underneath the bottom shelf, when a loud voice filled the room.

Startled, Fae let out a not so very manly squeak, and then promptly tried to stand and turn around at the same time. Her head and shoulders slammed into the bottom of the rather sturdy piece of wood above her, hard enough to leave her sprawled on the floor in a tangle of limbs and bags of produce.

"Ow..." She whimpered.

If she opened her eyes, she swore she'd see stars. Instead, she kept them firmly closed as her fingers quested underneath her hat and felt around at the now tender area of flesh. It would be a big bump, she just knew it.

Pushing a rather heavy bag of potatoes off her leg, Faelynn slowly extricated herself from the floor. It was a tedious process that involved moving her now throbbing skull and opening her eyes.

"You know," she grumbled a bit testily, "knocking would be appropriate, instead of just barging in and yelling like some street beggar demanding attention. By Suravani that hurt..."

As she finished her statement, Fae crawled out from under the shelf and stood to find a rather odd looking fisherman standing across the kitchen from her with a bemused look upon his face.

"I'm assuming you came barging in here for breakfast." She said as she dusted her hands off on her dust covered clothes. Realizing that wasn't going to help, she walked over to a barrel filled with soapy water and dunked them in, then dried them on a rag.

Grabbing a bowl from the cupboard above her, she moved to the stove and filled it with porridge, plucked two eggs out of the water bath, quickly peeled them, cut them in half and added them to the bowl as well, then finished it off with an apple on the side.

"There, breakfast!" She held the bowl out to him, giving him another quick look over as he took it. "You know, you don't look like a fisherman."