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Leona ‘Foxy’ Vale
Forty tons of gold
Part II
-A bad day for sailing-
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[https://i.postimg.cc/kMk5259C/Forty-tons-of-gold.jpg]
Lord’s Burrow
Tavern ‘The Purser’
Princess Heiress dinner
“Damn it Roy,” a tired Adele complained hearing the ‘musicians’ fiddling with their organs. “Couldn’t ye played something like this earlier while she was here? It’s a good one,” she gave the dirty plates to the young boy helping her to take to the kitchen, the rest of the captains and pirates relaxing after ‘Jade Eyes’ departure along her sober Jelin escort.
“Not playin’ it Miss Adele,” Roy replied stopping his abuse of the lute. “Tis called tuning.”
“Wasn’t that what I just said mister Atterton?” Adele complained looking for support and the leader of the pirate port looked at the small band austerely.
“Now young man, give us a tune to finish the night and Adele’s long lost rum,” he advised and seeing the older woman’s angry stare added. “For which we’re eternally grateful. I shall strive to visit yer venue more often me dear.”
Wow, Leona thought. Drunk Atterton fancies my aunt. Not that is a disturbing thought.
She polished off her drink, the rum stale, or from a cracked bottle and burped. Leona blinked with a quiet yelp, everything going hazy for a moment and the table dancing before her.
That be enough grog for the evening, she thought surprising herself. Need to be sailing as soon as this is over.
PLINK
TOING
PLONK
Roy started, the Issir kid clearing his throat and the timpanist drooling on the leather membrane of his drum half-unconscious, convulsing and waking up to join in. His contribution to the simple rhythm coming a bit out of order.
Free styling, Roy had called it when someone did that, but no one knew what he meant. The Sovya musician had washed up on the reefs half a decade ago half-drown and never left. He had helped start a local musical scene in Lord’s Burrow that had been exported to Eikenport. Again, whatever the allhells that meant.
“Ol’ ‘Bald’ Burton was a dangerous man to cross!” The Issir bard hummed in his croaky voice and as all pirate tunes go he assumed a know-it-all expression much to everyone’s enthusiasm.
TA DUM
“Leona stay,” Van Fleet asked her and Leona realized she had gotten up to leave while everyone was distracted or singing at the top of their lungs. The whole tavern vibrating.
FOR HE WON THE ALL CAPTAINS COIN TOSS! The room roared.
“Have a ship to prepare,” she told the older captains. “You all as well. Tis time we bid our farewells gents, for the hour is late and the sea beckons!”
“It isn’t,” Dawson replied, ever the difficult turd to amuse. “Ther’ is the matter of the share.”
“Worth considerin’ is his meaning,” Van Fleet added. Another old turd with a gravedigger’s personality.
Abrakas briny nutmegs!
Leona pushed a wayward curl behind her ringed ear, the gold loop on it prominent and glared at their wrinkled faces.
“The matter has been settled,” she hissed.
“Grim is taking half the loot,” Dawson reminded her. “There are no seas in dis realm or any other, wher’ dis is considered settled.”
“Ayup,” Atterton agreed. “Old Yellow is in the right lass.”
Kiss me arse ‘Red’. I’m having words wit Adele about yer horny, wrinkled n' drunken mug!
But it was with Dawson that she was mad with the most.
“You gone 'n told... them?” Leona snapped angry at the gloomy pirate, but paused mid-sentence, glanced at the others singing and dancing close by and lowered her voice to finish her query.
It was pretty impressive.
SERVED YE RUM MIXED WIT SEAWATER!
“Anne has a war to win and a throne to take. Yer employer might have switched to this Goras dude and still be sounding shady,” Dawson retorted pushing back on his chair. “We can appreciate all that, but not an informant getting half ‘o it!”
“Isn’t the coin to help Eikenport ‘Honest’ Fleet?” Leona grumbled.
“This isn’t an argument against Anne’s plans,” Van Fleet told her with a crook of his mouth. “But for her really. She needs more help and while we stand to gain as things are right now, we be gaining more with her on the throne.”
Leona stood back and placed her hands on her hips. “Jade Eyes will never rule Kaltha, not the way ye make it sound.”
“Let’s not pretend we know the future,” Atterton argued. “Nobody’s talking of Kaltha here lass. But we need a lot more than a claim to hold the ports, else our children will die on this rock,” the latter he added emotionally.
“Did ye ask Anne about her opinion?” Leona retorted.
“She’ll come around,” Dawson said. “The Princess is very practical at heart. You’ve no idea where she started her journey and where she is now.”
“You like her enough to give her your share?” Leona taunted him. “Cause that dude in Goras and Grim sure won’t. I can guarantee ye that knowing them both.”
“Grim can’t have half the loot,” Dawson repeated. “He’ll get a cut and that’s it, or else.”
“Who’s going to tell him that?” Leona asked raising her brow.
“You should. Seeing as yer the one that made the deal,” Van Fleet hissed warningly with Atterton cutting in.
“I don’t think he needs to know.”
AN’ CALLED THE PIRATE QUEEN HIS DAUGHTER!
Leona licked her lips, tasted her aunt’s rum on them and roasted trout.
“Leona,” Dawson warned her. “We called for a vote.”
“I didn’t vote,” she croaked bitterly. “Grim is here. He’ll come after me.”
“We can solve this problem,” Dawson told her, but she breathed out.
“I’ve a feeling it might be a big one,” she sighed again. “Grim is in the Thieves Guild.”
“The Brotherhood deals with matters of the sea,” Atterton said after the initial awkward silence that had followed her words. ‘Silence’ used loosely here as Adele’s tavern was louder than Rin An-Pur’s big market in the summer.
“That be a difficult topic to raise wit him,” Leona replied with a grimace. “Matter of fact, it be best not to raise the matter at all.”
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Leona fixed the large hat on her head, after covering her hair under the red headscarf and stared apprehensively at the cloudy dark sky. ‘Weasel’ came out of the tavern heavily inebriated next and paused unsure seeing her standing near the rails of the platform. ‘Grisly’ Weiss and ‘Blunder’ Hook coming out right after him still humming Roy & the Scallywags greatest hits.
“Is that ye Captain? Leona?” Clark asked.
“In the flesh mister Clark,” the pirate captain told her aging quartermaster twirling on her heels. “Salted, but soon watered down I fear.”
“Ye be beholdin’ the weath’r Leona?” Clark asked with a burp, small nose as red as a ripe tomato.
“There’s wet and then there’s drenched to the bone,” she retorted with a droll. “Is Kidd and the Joneses aboard the Marquette?”
“Aye, they arr ma’am,” Hook replied instead of him and used his ring finger to clean the scarred area around his missing left ear. The ring finger because he was missing the pinky as well. The ear he’d lost to a taut line, the pinky in a scrap. “Ye be joinin’ us soon?”
Leona nodded and then beamed to usher them along. “Get her ready… me loyal mates. We sail in an hour!”
She had spotted the figure of Grim standing at the corner of the Dagger’s Sheath, which despite its misleading label wasn’t a weaponsmith’s shop.
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Leona walked toward the thin wiry silhouette, Nigel Grim’s black cloak was draped around him tight, the large leather hood covering half his dark Issir face, but for part of his chin. He greeted her without turning her way, back resting on the wall of the noisy brothel to protect himself from the thin rain. It had started soon after her crew had left for the lit up docks.
“Captain Vale,” Grim rustled, his voice always kept low. “I assume you’re leaving tonight? You’re cutting it close.”
“Yer assuming correctly,” Leona retorted and came to stand next to him under the lip of the bungalow’s rooftop. Seeing them this close one could have mistaken the thief and the pirate for a couple.
“Any last minute developments?” Grim asked casually glancing at the open front of her leather coat and the disheveled shirt under her vest.
“Nothing comes to mind,” Leona replied raising a penciled brow. “Fancy a tit grope mister Grim?” she chanced with a leer.
“The peril,” the thief said all serious. “Outweighs the inclination captain.”
“If the predisposition is present, then perhaps we could work on minimizing the risks?” Leona probed, not really fancying Nigel, although the thief was far from a donkey, but wanting to see if she could have him on her side of the boat. Famous courtesans had climbed many a ladders riding on their skills of trade, she mused. Granted Leona was a pirate captain, but she had also dabbled as a bar hostess of sorts for years, so the trade was far from unknown to her.
This wasn’t a dish to any bar hostesses, which Leona valued greatly, but a reality for the wenches working a pirate port.
Or any port really.
Grim appeared to consider it for a moment.
“Perhaps,” he yielded, changing the subject with his next sentence. “I couldn’t help but notice, there are more ships getting ready than yours and ‘Yellow’ Dawson’s.”
“One can’t see the docks from here Mister Grim,” Leona teased nervously.
“One can't indeed, but I trust my sources,” he replied sternly.
Umm.
“Your latest news forced me to ask for assistance,” Leona admitted, seeing no reason to attempt to conceal it. “A heavy warship might be a difficult nut to crack.”
“You can’t harm the ship,” Grim hissed. “Else we might lose the cargo Vale!”
“Call me Leo,” Leona retorted and stooped near his face. “Trust me to know what I’m doing, savvy?”
“It’s your share,” Grim warned her. “See you don’t get betrayed out there.”
“Your concern warms me poor heart,” Leona taunted and snatched his right hand out of her coat.
“I was merely attempting to fix the mess,” came Nigel Grim’s retort and she let go of his wrist. “Had I wanted to steal from you Leo, I could have done it,” the thief teased, left corner of his mouth angling upwards. “Without you knowing it. I’ve a notoriously light touch.”
Leona licked her lips suggestively. “I find meself intrigued by your subtle flirting mister Grim.”
“I find myself intrigued by the amount of risks you’re taking,” Grim replied and pulled back. “Get us that gold Leo and then we can all rejoice in a bed of roses.”
“That sounds painful, but get me drunk enough and I’ll try everything,” Leona griped with a smile and took a step back as well.
“Naught but an expression dear,” Grim said with a sigh. “Have a good day hunting.”
Leona nodded touching the rim of her hat.
A good day for hunting it may be, she thought, but it’s shaping to be a bad day for sailing.
The weather was turning for the worse.
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Leona danced on the deck an hour later, boots slipping in the brines, but managing her balance without trouble and yelled at Kidd manning the wheel.
“Turn it to port, soon as the topsail opens Mister Kidd! Wind beam reaching!”
“AYE CAPTAIN!” The muscular sailor replied.
The rain falling harder now amidst the roar of thunders and the lightshow above them. The waves splashing on the deck of the Marquette, froth forming under the men’s feet and the ship rocking back forth heading away from the reefs.
“Dawson be signaling to spread out captain!” Hook yelled, excitement in his voice, mixed with fear.
“Keep him in view Mister Hook!” Leona retorted hoarsely and climbed the stairs to the quarterdeck to find ‘Weasel Clark’. Troy Jones greeting her from the main mast, waving with both arms whilst keeping steady with his thighs.
“Ye should rope him on it Leona,” a pale faced Clark warned. “Else I see him divin’ for Abrakas gullet. Gods helping without bouncin’ off the deck first!”
Leona nodded with a snarl and grabbed a line to keep herself standing, the vastness all about rising to swallow them and the frothy waves ever bigger the further they ventured into the ocean.
“Will they brave a turn away from Scaldingport to catch the wind running towards the Straits Clark?” She asked through her teeth, eyes ogling at the angry seas and body rocking back and forth. Corsair’s Gold was dancing above the waves far to their port side, Van Fleet’s ‘Pillager’ and Atterton’s ‘Bouquet’ night lights barely visible to their starboard.
Clark scrunched his face, the aging quartermaster keeping his eyes on Kidd fighting with the wheel to keep the rudder steady. Half the sails open, but even so the ship creaking at the strain of the blowing scalding winds.
“If they want to make it out of the straits in a day aye,” Clark replied. “But these winds are weird lass. I fear we might don’t see ‘em funneling.”
“You fear of waterspouts?” Leona yelled to be heard over the blasting winds.
“Tastes like it captain,” the veteran quartermaster replied and wiped his drenched face with a hand. “We’re right at the border for ‘em and the season’s ripe.”
Eh, Leona mused unhappy.
“Keep the heading east,” she told Clark. “Don’t lose sight of that magnetic needle Clark!”
In the guidance box was her meaning. The Duke’s ship had one installed near the wheel like most warships built in Kaltha’s naval yards, but it wasn’t always accurate, nor did they know how to work it. It showed you the North and that was it, but at nights like these it helped more than looking for distant shores, or releasing the birds.
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Hours later she went for the narrow staircase again, her hands grabbing at the slippery rails for purchase. Leona’s fine-leather boots hit the deck and she navigated the soaked floorboards going from stern to bow for the fifth, or sixth time already. The captain had kept constantly on the move to check on the condition of the ship. The weather had calmed down a bit the deeper they went, but it was a deceptive calmness this, as a huge wave could come out of nowhere and take you under in seconds. Plus everyone understood there was bad weather all around them and the night, while nearing its end, still dark as Oras Pits.
“It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack, but we get to look for the smaller needle,” Hook complained. “Dawson and Atterton have the most chance to spot her sailing at the edges.”
“I lost the draw,” Leona griped breathing heavy. She felt her garbs heavy and drenched, hat drooping over her eyes, the latter mostly washed up from makeup. “Dawson is unbeatable at the odds.”
“Same wit cards,” Hook retorted with a grimace. “So it comes as no surprise lass.”
Leona looked at him a little embarrassed. “I’ve dragged you into uncertainty Bristol,” she rustled. “What would my father have done in me shoes?”
Hook chuckled at her gloomy face and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder.
“Erlad would have gone for the treasure captain with ‘em blinders on,” he assured her. “Killed every man under him to get to it,” Hook sighed, glanced at the vapors forming around the ship and added hoarsely. “And himself I reckon.”
Leona nodded, very moved and made to touch his face but soon as she did the vapors dissolved with a strong gush of wind and the red light of dawn broke through the clouds above the Marquette. It thinned the darkness, outright defeating it in the east, red skies contrasting the still angry seas, allowing them at last to have a real glimpse of the way they were heading.
“SHIPS AHOY!” Wil Jones, Troy’s brother, yelled at the top of his young lungs from the foremast’s lookout.
Hah, Leona mused all negative thoughts forgotten.
No pirate worth his salt will write down everything, her father’s papers had told the fiercely grinning woman. No instructions shall drop a treasure safely in yer lap. One has to see the journey in his mind. Brave its perils, overcome Luthos’ hurdles and when his hand is on the reward, never let go.
Come hell, or high water.
In my lap ye drop just the same, she thought, her emerald half-breed’s eyes gleaming.
Not even twenty minutes after that, the enemy ships still a way’s away, the first range-finding catapult shot disabusing that notion out of her.
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