Here Come the Barons

[Djakara]

As the Mazzra vessel Da'Ramy left the port of Corone, Djakara remained on the port bough. He watched with a bit of happiness as he left Corone, pleased that the ship was getting out with its supplies and mercenaries in a timely fashion. The boy had come with special orders from Schynius, and only a basic skeleton of his crew had been given to him in Alerar. That was the way that Schynius had wanted it. Djakara’s job was to create a special keep of arms at a secret location in Istraloth, to make sure that Schynius had all the arms he would need in case of a coup against him.

At first, Djakara had been confused as to why he had been required to recruit Coronian mercenaries and why the majority of the crew that he had taken on at Etheria Port had been either Salvarian or displaced Haidian demons. However, it had begun to make sense. If the weapons cache was going to be a secret, Djakara knew that only a few people in Alerar could know about it. That he had been requested to oversee the mission was a good sign, it meant that Schynius trusted him.

However, that didn’t make the job any easier for Djakara. Every member of his Coronian crew had to be recruited personally. For the most part, finding mercenaries to board a ship wasn’t difficult, but finding even remotely efficient seamen was. More than any of those, one recruit, who had come on board only a few minutes ago, was particularly difficult. As Djakara looked longingly at her blonde hair, he was glad he had been able to get her on board.

-x-

Fifteen minutes before the ship was about to set sail, Geneva looked at Djakara with a brow that showed incredible skepticism. “So, you’re an Alerian noble now, or something like that, a graph or whatever… Wow, you really are weird.”

Djakara didn’t know how to reply to that. In fact, there may have been no plausible explanation as to why he had suddenly appeared in the Corone harbor on board a Mazzra vessel. Everything that had happened recently seemed like a complete and utter blur when he looked back on what had happened. Just a few weeks ago, he had left Concordia because he had been forced to, only to end up on an airship bound for Alerar and then eventually wind up winning the favor of the Alerar’s new HighGraf, Schynius. He had left a few details out of the story for Geneva, figuring that the waitress didn’t need to know everything.

“It’s hard to explain,” Djakara began, grasping at straws as he tried to defend himself. “If you were there, you’d understand…”

With a skeptical grin that didn’t fully belie her amusement at the situation, Geneva shook her head. “I don’t think I’d ever understand you,” she said. “First you tell me that Corone needs to prepare for this war against these aliens from your planet, and now you’re telling me that you’ve gone and become an advisor an Alerar! What were you thinking?”

“I just wanted to get weapons,” Djakara replied. “My people in the Republic have technology, and they’d use it. Alerar only has flintlocks and stuff like that, but its better than the swords you have here…”

Geneva’s eyebrow rose. “No swords are better than the ones forged in Corone,” she insisted. “And none of us even know what flintlocks are, let alone how to use them…”

Djakara heaved a sigh. “They do in Alerar, and they do in the Republic,” Djakara replied. “And I’m going to get them here if everything goes well. I’ve figured out how everything works. This planet isn’t all that connected. If Corone’s about to explode in a civil war like you’re saying, the Republic is going to wait until that’s over. However, in the meantime, I have to make sure the winning side has weapons…”

As if he was now speaking a completely strange language, Geneva just sighed. “And the whole crux of this is you want me to come with you on the ship?”

Djakara nodded. With bated breath, he watched as Geneva took a long drink from her canteen as if she was stalling for time. There was only one decision that would have made sense in the situation. He knew now in the aftermath of Kedx Fieldeth’s rampage that the Peaceful Promenade had not seen nearly as much business from the townsfolk. Geneva was now without a job. He knew she had no other family. She either came with him or she didn’t, and that was a testament to how much she cared.

However, now it seemed as if the girl was stalling for too much time. Unable to contain his apprehensiveness any longer, Djakara blurted out the question again. “Come on!” he pleaded, most likely sounding much more desperate than he intended. “I need you with me!”

Geneva just laughed. “You’re weird,” she said.

Djakara sighed. “Does that mean no?” he asked, already feeling disappointed.

Geneva smiled. “No,” she replied. “It means yes.”

-x-

Now, Djakara was beaming with pride. He could have cared less at what his crew thought of him spending so much time on a woman that wouldn’t contribute anything to their mission, the fact was he had one of his own that he was keeping a secret. While everyone else was preoccupied with the weapon’s cache for Alerar, Djakara had already emptied out the hull of the Da’Ramy. The weapons it once contained were now being sold in the Radasanth bazaar, and Djakara had been paid twice what they would have cost had he bought them in Alerar. In their stead, Djakara had purchased local weaponry that would have seemed much more exotic to an Alerian crew. Since he and a Salvarian named Ashiakin were the only ones who knew the exact content of the load, Djakara knew all he would need to do was bribe the pale ice elemental. However, no matter how much it took, Djakara had more than enough money now.

With every bit of his plan thought through perfectly, Djakara smiled. The mission hadn’t really started, and yet it was already a success for him. He looked towards Geneva with a great deal of pride in his eyes. He had only experienced a taste of it, and yet it was already quixotic.

closed to the barons of war (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=4030)

[Ashiakin]

The Da’Ramy lumbered into the estuary with the sprawling Coronian port district fading in its wake. Although he did not show it, Ashiakin couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy. He had been personally recruited by High Graf Schynius of Alerar to be a ranking member in this quietly created arms syndicate. Ashiakin knew Schynius. Around the assassination of Queen Valsharess, he had worked with the general on a clandestine venture. Schynius and Ashiakin admired each other, but were leery of each other because of the secrets they shared. To refuse him would have been unwise.

It had been easy enough for Ashiakin to convince his employer, King Iorlan Rathaxea of Salvar, that his membership in an international arms cartel would be a good thing. After all, Salvar having one agent in the upper echelon of the group would be better than having no representative at all. He had told Iorlan that the cartel would have been too hard to simply crush, knowing it wasn’t true. Ashiakin felt he could have easily destroyed the ship and its crew while it left the harbor. It would have been the cover up and the explanation of why he was the only survivor that would be hard to explain to Schynius, who, in the end, could always recruit more people.

So Ashiakin found himself on board the deck of the Da’Ramy as it left a Coronian port for the distant shores of tropical Istraloth. He was accompanied only by three bodyguards and his squire. Vissal was a plain woman in her early thirties with long brown hair. She was a skilled battle-mage and the captain of Ashiakin’s personal guard. Under her command were a scarred hulk of a man armed with a grim battle-axe and an aging woman dressed in the ecclesiastical robes of Salvar’s state church, likely an aeromancer. Ashiakin’s squire, Edwin Windry, was a pimpled boy of sixteen.

They made for an odd group but Ashiakin did not care. The fewer advisors he brought, the fewer bodyguards he would need, so he had brought no advisors. Not on something like this. Advisors had agendas—he knew this, being one himself. Bodyguards had no agendas as long as you paid them well and didn’t ask too much of them.

Ashiakin murmured something to his companions and walked toward the expedition’s leader, wind tussling his white hair and silken clothes as he strode across the deck. “Djakara,” he called out, voice calm and cool as he approached. “Thirrenkov says she’ll do everything she can to keep the weather agreeable. She’s quite good, I think.” He gestured to the fifty year old woman who wore the robes of a Salvic church official.

“I wouldn’t want anything to happen to our shipment,” he said with a wry smile and a knowing glance. “But I don’t think I have anything to worry about here. I’m sure this is all going to work out fine.”

Ashiakin’s blue eyes looked away from Djakara, out to the open sea. Somewhere around the ship, underneath the waves, rode several Salvic dragonfish elementalists—mages who rode fanged sea creatures and kept alive by creating air bubbles with their magic, surfacing only when it was safe. No one knew about them except Ashiakin. All they knew was they were to make sure nothing went wrong on the ship. They were a safeguard. A last resort, in case something went wrong. Let’s hope I don’t have to call on them, he thought. And let’s hope they’re wise enough to stay underwater.

[Raelyse]

Of all the ships that the prince of Myrusia had ever graced with his presence, many had bore names which garnered awe and instant admiration from all who even glanced at it. Their names were perfectly chosen and fit the vessel to the planks of wood that made it up. One particular pet peeve that Raelyse always had was that the name had to be written in a fancy font, which would juxtapose so beautifully with the hull of the ship and make it look simply grand.

In the case of the Da'Ramy, Raelyse had found it lacking. Perhaps it was the high standards that he was used to but when his guide had first pointed it out, docked in Corone's harbor, the prince had remembered his heart sinking. This was an invitation and already, his first impressions were tempting him to turn the carriage around and drive him back home.

However, something spurred it on. Perhaps it was the sucking up that the invitation had done to him, the fact that this group had made him feel wanted. It had always been a desire of Raelyse's to be wanted or to be admired, or just simply to be known. That this group obviously wanted, maybe even needed him, was the only thing that put him onto the deck of the Da'Ramy.

It wasn't long before the prince cherished his decision. He had never been an advocate or even a believer in the theory that beauty was only skin deep, but in the case of this grand ship, he knew it to be true. Raelyse's knuckles had whitened as he had tightened the grip on the handle of his cane in excitement the moment he had placed an eloquent leather heel on the wooden planks. It was the atmosphere in the area, a subtle sense of excitement that pervaded the vicinity that was more than infectious towards the prince. Raelyse had even silently cursed himself when the ship left port for not bringing one of his companions. Colthor would have fit this occasion like a glove and would only enhance his reputation with these folk. Everyone seemed to have their own entourage but the prince kept to himself, carefully leaning over and glancing at the peaceful ocean waves.

He contemplated leaving, perhaps even introducing himself. He nixed that thought quickly though, not wanting to seem too desperate or lonely. Then his mind suggested that maybe he investigate the lower regions of the ship, but that too was dismissed when his pride kicked in and reminded him that he was a prince and he does not socialize with the working class sailors that made the ship think.

Thus, it was a lonely figure that Raelyse Salidan cut as he glanced off into the horizon, waiting for land to appear, subtly excited about what lay ahead.

[Djakara]

Djakara’s thoughts were interrupted by the Lord Ashiakin. The boy wasn’t sure what to think of the ice demon. “He seems mostly alright,” Djakara thought. “But he comes across like he knows too much about things, like he’s someone that has a plan beyond what he’s telling me about” The fact was, Djakara wasn’t sure if that meant that Ashiakin was likely to be a friend or a foe. The princely demon seemed perceptive enough to know of the fate of the cargo already, and that made Djakara nervous.

Thus, the boy only offered the ice demon a small nervous smile. He stumbled around a bit before he could come up with some effective words, and eventually found himself mentioning something about how it would be a complete shame if something would happen to them on such an important mission. In truth, Djakara envied Ashiakin. The boy couldn’t help but feel that they were kindred spirits to an extent, in the fact that it seemed that both of them were manipulators of their destinies.

However, Djakara was prescient enough to know that the combination of himself and Ashiakin might not be safe for either of them. People who schemed always had ambition, and people who had ambition rarely got along. Despite the fact he was out in the open air, Djakara began to feel a bit stuffy. True, he was a newly appointed Freigraf, but even then, Ashiakin carried himself with the kind of air that only a higher official would. Djakara knew absolutely nothing about the ice demon’s past, but already, Djakara could tell that he was going to need to make Ashiakin an ally if he wanted to survive.

The boy hoped that Geneva saw none of this when she looked into his eyes. Djakara wanted her only to see his determination. He had been so disappointed in the way she had acted when he had told her about his position as an Alerian noble. Instead of falling into his arms in a swoon of pride and admiration, she had suppressed a guffaw as if she found the idea of anyone appointing him to a position of nobility as laughable. Now, viewing her through prism of a potential rivalry with Ashiakin, Djakara wondered if he had been wise in asking her to come along.

Immediately, Djakara rejected that line of thoughts. It had gotten to the point of paranoid lunacy. Ashiakin had seemed nothing but friendly, ambition aside. The boy figured that they could be friends, or at least allies united in a common interest. At that moment, Djakara figured that it would be best that he act proactively, just to make sure that the situation between himself and the demon didn’t end up in a battle like the boy’s misadventure in the fields of Khufien.

The fact was, Djakara had a bit too much of his past in his system. He had come from a planet that was almost in complete and utter anarchy, and as a result, survival had come as naturally to him as breathing did to others. The problem was it meant that he was always conditioned to think the worst. It might meant that he would survive in the short run, but in a situation like this, more delicacy would be required.

Thus, Djakara was going to make his first real attempt at diplomacy from a position of weakness. He hated the idea, but he had no other options. Unlike some the other power brokers on board Da’Ramy the entirety of Djakara’s power was contained on the ship. Outside of Geneva, there were two people on the ship that Djakara thought were going to be particularly important for his success. One, of course, was Ashiakin. The second was a nobleman who carried himself with an unbridled arrogance. Djakara knew of the man only by his reputation in Alerar.

Not exactly sure how much of his intentions he wanted to reveal, Djakara turned to Ashiakin. “Lord Ashiakin, we need to discuss a few things,” he said. “Please come with me to the away room. We have business to discuss. With your weather mage here we can spend a bit of time off the deck. I’ll make sure that someone goes to fetch our third esteemed colleague, Raelyse Salidan.”

Djakara nudged to one of the deck hands that they deliver the message to Raelyse and then made his way off towards the only secluded area on the top deck.

(Adam, feel free to bunny and have us sit down)

[Ashiakin]

Ashiakin was not sure how he felt about Djakara yet. The boy was often quiet, but he couldn’t tell if it was because he was shy and sullen or because he was savvy enough to watch other people. Given his age and station, it could certainly be a combination of the two. I’ll see how he measures up soon enough, he thought. There’s still time to end this before it becomes embarrassing. But I don’t need to worry now.

It occurred to Ashiakin how absurdly appropriate the scene would look to an observer. Two nobles—a Salvaran and an Aleran—unsure of each other, yet standing on the deck of a ship that was sailing from port off on some glorious new adventure, indicative of the recent alliance between their two nations. Easily, it could have been a propaganda painting—one of the drab, synthetic things that clergy-artists produced en masse in workshops in the bowels of St. Denebriel’s Cathedral so they could hang them about the gardens above, idiotic scenes of heroism amongst the flowers and statues.

This whole thing was a lot like that. Forced here by political circumstance, he had to smile and play the agreeable diplomat until he knew whether he should be bored or worried or malicious. He hoped it didn’t come to the latter. Djakara was a noble, after all, and Alerar might grow suspicious if he was lost at sea under questionable circumstances. But Ashiakin knew a title meant little unless the man behind owned it acted like he should. In his mind, that had little to do with popular romanticisms. It had more to do with staying alive and winning at whatever you attempted.

Ashiakin nodded at the dark elf as he finished speaking. “Of course, Lord Djakara,” he said, employing just a hint of sarcasm to convey how he felt about titles. Authority was less about what you had been given and more about what you could take.

He flashed a hand signal to Vissal, part a minimal sign-language that they had invented to cover security concerns, indicating that she and the others should stay on deck. She frowned disapproval, but went back to talking with Thirrenkov and Edwin (the large bodyguard Kyrgorod was ill-suited for conversation, having had his vocal cords mangled by a Kahh'jami saber a year prior.) He took her lack of a sign back as churlish assent and followed Djakara into the chamber without his companions in tow.

A quick glance revealed the only other door that would lead out of the room. Ashiakin took a seat around the room’s central table that gave him a clear path to both exits and a view of the entire chamber. He did not wait for Djakara to ask him to sit or ask himself if that would be appropriate beforehand. It was a small slight, perhaps, but Ashiakin wanted to see how Djakara would react to it. Or if he reacted at all. Observance of formalities said a lot about a person, inconsequential as they were in the end.

“You say we’re waiting for Raelyse Saladin?” he asked with a carefully feigned interest. “I know the name, of course. I may have met him at some function or another. I’m afraid I can’t recall.” He remained tactfully silent on the subject of the cargo. In order to learn anything about Djakara, he was going to have to let him handle this.

[Raelyse]

The gentle movements of the waves below, as they moved up and down never ceased to amaze Raelyse. Despite his status and the luxury he was normally afforded on ships grander than this, the prince seldom stayed cooped up in it, at least when the deck was empty. He never wanted the others, especially the commoners like the deck hands and serving boys, to see him astounded by the same things that entertained them. The event was rare that the prince of Myrusia showed his appreciation for anything, he liked to think of himself as a being above those that served him. But waves and the vast ocean was something he had admired the first time he had seen it.

A dark shape appeared in Raelyse's line of sight as he admired the waves and for a moment he was startled by what he saw, that was until he dismissed the notion as silly. It was probably a shark or some other fish that was swimming below, because in a moment it was gone, absorbed back into the vast blue water. The prince's thoughts were interrupted though, by a sound of two small feet bearing a pair of shoes sprinting on the deck towards him. Raelyse turned to see a ginger haired deck hand dressed in little more than rags approach him, out of breath. His face was drenched in sweat and for a moment, he bent over and breathed in, trying to compose himself. It was such a juxtaposition that anyone that would have glanced from across the ship would have thought that Raelyse and the boy were complete opposites.

The eternally suave Raelyse strode forward, tapping his cane with a thud inches away from the boy's foot. He glanced up, moving his hair from his face to glance up at the statuesque prince.

"Tell me boy," he said with more swagger in one word than the boy had used in his entire life. "There's a nice shark swimming near us and I've entertained the notion of throwing him a little snack. I've never ever seen an ocean soaked red or judging by your skin, soaked in dirt."

The prince bent down and picked the boy up by the collar, easily lifting him off the ground. He felt the boy squirm and thrash, though it was to no avail because the prince was much too strong. Raelyse turned around and held him over the open sea, above the crashing waves. The dark shadow was nowhere to be seen but the prince had an inkling that it was circling.

"That shark will be flossing for a month," Raelyse said with a smirk, watching as fear entered the boy's eyes, though he squirmed no less. "No one will miss you, will they? You look like the cliché stowaway without any parents, a street rat orphan who the captain took out of the kindness of his heart, only to sell at the first opportunity. How long do you think you'll last, boy?"

Raelyse saw the boy weaken as the life almost seemed to drain out of him. The prince was enjoying this and glancing around, he saw none of the crew objecting, though whether it was out of fear or agreement, he could not tell.

"Now," the prince said. "You learn not to bother the prince of Myrusia when he is busy. Do I look patient to you?"

"Sir.." the boy stammered, his hands now around Raelyse's wrist, holding on as he glanced down at the sea below. "Lord Djakara sent me..."

"Who might that be?" the prince said ignorantly.

"The captain of this vessel, your highness," he managed to get out when he wasn't shivering from the wind or terrified of the water below. "Or the leader or something... please let me live... I need to give you the message..."

Raelyse laughed out loud, so loud in fact that he was sure that this 'Djakara' would surely have heard him. With a smile, he twisted and turned to bring the boy over the deck of the ship, but still a full three feet above it.

"Five seconds. Go."

"Hewantsyoutomeethimontheupperdeck," the boy said so quickly that the prince could only smile.

"Oh really?" he said, barely able to keep the chuckle from escaping his mouth. "Let's go... together."

Raelyse didn't even give the boy a chance to relax, he simply moved off towards the stairs, holding the boy by his now sweaty collar the rest of the way until he opened the door to the room where Djakara and Ashiakin were. With a smile, he pushed it open and threw the boy into the room, watching as he landed just in front of the new partners.

"Nice 'help' you have here, Djakara," the prince said with a snide look on his face. "Caught him trying to steal one of my rings. What's the punishment for that again? I forget. Removal of hands or are we back to noses?"