Cleopatra sits behind her oaken desk. Quill in hand, she reads a requisition request from Darude for the reconstruction of a Sanctum of Hermes. Normally, she restricts the creation of temples to the gods, but she does make exceptions. Hermes is a known neutral god accepted in most cities for his role as a messenger. He is one of the gods for whom she has such an exception, especially since the gods champion is a Named and loyal vassal of her empire.
She sighs and looks up at Darude. “Why, again,” she asks, “did you not stop her from destroying the Sanctum? I know I told you to respect Quasi’s companions, but that doesn't mean you should allow her to destroy Luxor's property.”
Darude blushes when he remembers yesterday. He’d fallen to his knees from the pain and stayed there from fear. He’d never seen such angry and violent eyes. The toothy maw of a hungry imperial vermis would make a more welcome sight then her wielding those glowing whips.
“She scares me,” he admits. “I took her to the Sanctum and immediately left. By the time I heard the violence and returned, the building was in ruins.”
The [Empress] pinches the bridge of her nose, annoyed and surprised, but mostly annoyed. Shaking her head, she moves the quil and signs the document. She hands him the paper and Darude bows.
“Thank you, [Empress].”
“It's fine. Just leave the door open before my lover breaks it.”
Darude frowns, but accepts the paper. He turns and walks past several [Servents] to the exit. He opens the door and finds Quasi, standing with one leg cocked.
“Oh, Darude, wassup? How’ve you been, kid? Mind, uh, closing that door for a second?”
“Quasi, get in here!” Cleopatra yells.
Quasi clicks his tongue. “Damn.” He swaggers inside the office and allows Darude to exit.
“Your timing is perfect,” Cleopatra starts, “I’ve needed to meet with you.”
Quasi looks around the office, noting the dozen [Servants] running around with literal bucket loads of scrolls and papers; so much paper!
He walks up to the desk and sits down on a chair opposite the [Empress]. “Same here. I wanted to ask for some info and possibly help.”
He glances past her, through the window, at the crystal vermis sitting next to Luxor.
“By the way, are you really just going to leave that parked there?”
Cleopatra glances back and smiles at the sight of her empire's greatest weapon.
She nods. “Yes. I see no reason to hide Muspelheim from the world or my less somnolent people. Let them know of my empire's strength and fear it. Besides, the people just waking up in there are also my people.” She clasps her hands, “But you don't truly care about that. You came here for something, so speak and I will listen. We are lovers, afterall.”
“Right, lovers. If you can avoid saying that around Jessica, I’d appreciate it.”
She perks up. “Ahh, the [Abbess]. Darude informed me that she tried to kill you?”
“I wouldn’t use the word kill,” he wiggles his hand, “but more like punish and torture in the most violent and aggressive way possible. Anyways, she’s just dealing with jealousy over my sex life.”
“Sounds like she carries feelings for you.”
Quasi shrugs “She does, but she’s taken a vow of celibacy, so she refuses to act on them.”
Cleopatra shakes her head. She can imagine what the poor woman is feeling, pining for a lover with love requited, but never allowed to touch.
“Hm. That sounds like a personal problem. I want nothing to do with it. Now, what information do you need?”
Quasi clears his throat. “Well, as you know, I'm a [Hero], and [Heroes] get quests. Hermes has tasked me with returning the child Augusta to his mother. He didn't get a chance to elaborate before Jess got violent, so now I’m trying to figure out what exactly I’m supposed to do.”
Cleopatra leans back into her seat. “I do know an Augusta estranged from his mother. He’s the son of [Pirate Archqueen] Teuta and currently hostage to [Grand Admiral] Aegir Asevani. Aeger is a loyal servant of Odin and is using the child as leverage to keep her as a loyal privateer.”
“Ooh,” Quasi exclaims in surprise, “so my job is to save a [Pirate]’s brat from an [Admiral]. Sounds fun, though I’m going to need some help.”
“My empire will assist in whatever way we can.”
Quasi raises an eyebrow. “And what will that cost me?”
She smiles. “Nothing. The blockade by Teuta is restricting a great deal of trade and profits my empire could be making. If you can end the blockade, then that will be payment enough.”
He nods, “Nice. Let’s see, I’m going to need a ship, a [Captain], as much information on this [Grand Admiral] as you can give me…,” a chirp comes from inside his tophat, “Oh, and a fancy hat.”
“That can be arranged,” she smiles, “and I’ve got the perfect [Captain] and ship in mind. I’ll have a letter of marque and the ship ready for you in a couple days,” she flicks her hand towards a [Servant] who understands what she wants. In less than a minute, the [Servant] retrieves a document and hands it to her, she quickly writes something, signs it, and returns it to the [Servant]. The [Servant] runs off.
“Damn,” Quasi says as he watches the servant run out, “That’s some impressive organization.”
She nods at the compliment. The [Empress] refolds one hand over the other. “Now, was that everything you wished to talk about?” she asks.
“Yeah, that's about it,” he answers.
“Perfect,” Cleopatra raises a finger to her [Servants]. “Bring me documents for the alliance,” she orders.
Quasi sits, mouth slowly going agape as [Servents] bring literal stacks of papers to the [Empress’] desk. Reams upon reams of paper appear with hundreds of bookmarks. When the final stack is placed, the desk seems to sag in the center.
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“These are the particulars of our alliance. I’ve had them organized by topic in alphabetical order. Here,” she lays a hand on a formidable stack of paper, “is the index. Do you wish to go through it now? I’m willing to make some amendments before the documents go into effect next month.”
______________________________________________________________
In the city of Luxor, laws are strict and enforced to the letter. The complex, meticulously detailed, and rigorously enforced legal system ensures that everybody, [Slave] or [Sultan], [Judge] or [Jacque], is treated fairly before the law. Only the [Empress] herself is exempt from the law, yet even she thinks twice before bypassing its tenants.
Well, not bypassing per say, but more along the lines of having her name written into the laws as an exception. She can, quite legally, walk outside of her palace and murder her citizens.
She doesn't, but the threat is always there if you read the fine print.
There is, however, one place in Luxor spared the full rigor of the Byzantine Ptolemaic legal code. In Luxor’s port, a simpler set of rules governs what is acceptable behavior to thereby reduce the number of foreign sailors and merchants executed.
Still, even with much simpler and looser laws, people still find a way to break them. Hence, the jailhouse.
The guardroom’s front door squeaks open. The screech, clearly due to a lack of oiling, alerts the [Jailors]. The [Jailors], unamused at the interruption of their card game, frown at the well-dressed man who has thusly entered their domain. The [Lawyer], finely dressed and carrying a neat portfolio, strolls up and raps a neat tattoo on the counter.
One of the [Jailors] sighs. He puts his cards face-down and looks at his buddies. “I’ll be back real quick. Don’t fucking touch my cards,” he warns his fellows. He stands up and walks to the counter. He leans on it with an expression that clearly doesn't want to be dealing with anything but the card game right now.
“You’re a [Lawyer], right? What poor sap are you here for?” he asks, guessing the man’s purpose.
The man frowns at the [Jailors] attitude and lack of decorum. “I am Anton Aforus, [Attorney General] under the guidance of the [Empress],” with a flourish of his hand, he places his glowing badge of office on the counter.
“A- uh. My sincerest apologies,” the [Jailor] quickly bows when he notices the badge. “I am [Jailer] Dax,” he quickly raises a palm to his compatriots currently looking at his cards, “and those are [Jailor] Gideon, and [Jailor] Frond.”
The two [Jailors] freeze and look up when their names are called. They both instantly notice the slight panic in Dax’s voice. They put their cards away and quickly rush to the counter.
Aforus looks at the [Jailors], and frowns at their sloppy and unprofessional attitudes. As the [Empress’] [Attorney General], he could with a word have the three slackers in front of him replaced. He could do it, and considering the mastery of the Law he understands, do it very, very quickly.
But, Aforus isn’t here to ruin the lives of incompetent [Jailors]. Nay, he is here to do that to someone else.
“I am informed that Jenah Jones is currently in custody here. I have business with her.”
Dax nods quickly. He looks to one of the other [Jailors]. “Gideon, please take [Attorney] Aforus to cell 32.”
Gideon quickly nods. He walks around the counter, grabs his key ring at his side, and opens the main door to the jail rooms. “Err, this way.”
Aforus frowns at Gideon's panicky expression, but follows nonetheless.
As he traverses the corridor of cells, he can't help but notice the rather deplorable conditions every prisoner is currently held in. Granted, most of the prisoners are hardened men that are probably [Pirates] or [Sailors], so they probably don't mind it. He passes them by, many of them notice and start hollering. One even tries to spit through the bars, only for the enchantments to activate and electrocute him inside.
The cells may be dirty, but they aren't cheap. The [Empress] made sure that prisoners have very little possibility of escape. Granted, they won't hold someone beyond a certain level, but they don't need to. Powerful individuals would be held at the Palace dungeon instead.
“We’re here,” Gideon stops at a cell. The number on top reads 32.
Aforus looks inside the cell, past the cell bars. A tanned, spiky haired woman in a tank-top glances up, revealing sharp eyes. Her arms reveal several scars seemingly interwoven with the dark tattoos throughout her body. Tattoos of sea-creatures, swords, ships, and various other things. Her skin is a tapestry of blues, reds, and black. He can only imagine that the rest of her body is also covered in tattoos.
“Miss Jenah Jones, I presume.”
“The fuck you want?”
Aforus frowns at her choice of words but doesn't react otherwise. “I am [Attorney] Anton Aforus. I’ve come to offer you a plea deal. In exchange for an admission of guilt and the completion of a contract, I’m authorized to offer you a letter of marque and an early release.”
Jenah snorts. “What contract? Cargo? Trading? You want me to hit someone?”
Aforus opens his portfolio, reaches inside and retrieves a golden, glowing scroll. Both Jenah and Gideon perk up at the clearly magical and binding nature of the paper. He unfurls the scroll and raises it so that she can see.
“[Empress] Cleopatra is willing to forgive any and all crimes that you have committed and drop all grievances against you in exchange for a year's service by yourself and your ship to a man by the name of Quasi Eludo.”
“A year!” she sneers, “I’m going to be released in three weeks with a hefty fine that I will be able to fully pay. Fuck your contract.”
Aforus rolls the scroll and places it back in his case. He retrieves a different one and opens it.
“I think you are misunderstanding something,” he begins. “You are imprisoned and fined for possession of over two tons of illegal narcotics into Luxor. Carrying such substances is illegal, and punished by a heavy fine and a short period of incarceration for the offending [Captain].”
He unfurls more of the scroll. “Unfortunately, some of the narcotics did get delivered to the residents of Luxor. One resident by the name of [Blacksmith] Tim found himself in possession of your illicitly peddled substances. He consumed said substances and attempted to work his trade. As of this moment, Tim is responsible for producing thirty tons of normal quality weapons for the [Empress] over five years, but will not be currently able to produce said items due to a shattered hand and burned arm.”
He unfurls some more and allows a slight grin to grace his lips. ”Though [Blacksmith] Tim is at fault for obtaining and consuming the drugs, tort may also be claimed against the dealers and suppliers of said narcotics. In addition to the criminal penalties already sentenced, the [Empress] plans to file a civil suit against you for the full value of any losses incurred by [Blacksmith] Tim’s inevitable breach of contract. The first delivery of weapons is due in two weeks and if that, or any, delivery is incomplete, then, per article five, the entire contract is void and all advances or renumeration must be returned to the purchasing party within thirty days. As a party responsible, and thus liable, for said purported breach of contract, Tim’s debt may become, either in full or in part, your responsibility.”
Jenah rolls her eyes. “Oh no, woe is me. I’m getting an extra fine. How will I ever pay for such a thing?” she asks sarcastically.
It takes Aforus a great deal of effort to keep his maniacal laugh on the inside. This is what he lives for. This is what he enjoys most!
“Indeed, Miss Jones,” he relishes the words. “You could be responsible for repaying the [Empress] one hundred and eighty-three thousand, four hundred and nine silver drachme. Rest assured, the [Empress] will extend reasonable terms for the repayment of this debt. At 15% APR, you can repay your debt with 240 easy, monthly payments of two thousand, four hundred, fifteen silver drachme. Of course, to extend that interest rate, we will require the Deadheart as collateral.”
“WHAT!? You can't take my ship! How the hell am I going to make money without a boat?”
Aforus shrugs. “Aiding you in payments of your debt is not required of me by the law, Miss Jones. It is truly fortunate then, that in her great wisdom and mercy, [Empress] Cleopatra has offered you an alternative option,” he retrieves the first magic scroll and holds it before her.
She glares at it, and then at him. You can practically hear the grinding of her teeth as she suppresses her rage.
“Fine!” she shouts and snatches the scroll through the bars. “Get me something to sign with.”