> Lassel’s 1st Expedition
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> (Supplemented)
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> SETC ships involved
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> Lassel
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> (Imperial war Galleass)
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> Captain Lanthdor
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> Crew 150 (Zilan and Humans)
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> Marine complement (at least 90, the 9th Imperial Marine Unit)
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> Gonodir (Leader. KIA in 3401 near Worm Isle)
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> Pathon (1st Squad leader. Acting leader of the 9th)
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> Henion (1st Squad leader)
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> Feredir (2nd Squad. KIA in 3401 near Worm Isle)
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> Tirior (KIA in 3401 on Grilix Isle)
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> Glavon (KIA? In 3401 north of Worm Isle)
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> Salamir (Acting leader for the 2nd)
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> Acharon (Engineer, left at Safe Sojourn to oversee construction of the port)
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> Peldir (Medic. KIA 3401 near Grilix Isle)
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> Fat Libby
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> (Lesia heavy Barque. Captured from Queen Elsanne and ‘gifted’ to King Garth.)
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> Captain Archibald ‘Birdseye’ Tidus
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> Crew around 200 (mostly humans)
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> Devon (First Mate)
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> Manfred (Helmsman)
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> Chino (Carpenter)
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> Nery (KIA 3401 near Grilix Isle)
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> Shamil Al-Bagi
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> Taranir (Director of BGOR)
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> -
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> Support vessels and other ships involved
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> Petulant (SETC Schooner 1)
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> Captain Pheles (Lai Zel-Ka)
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> Crew around 50 (mostly Cofols)
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> Express (SETC Schooner 2)
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> (Sunk with all hands near Worm Isle in 3401)
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> Crew around 50 (Mixed. Cofols and humans. All lost with the ship?)
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> Captain Zuberi (KIA 3401 near Grilix Isle)
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> ‘Lame’ Zaine (Infamous Pirate. Real name ‘Trickster’ Horace Burton)
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> Ab (Pirate. Real name Abrix)
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> Raccoon
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> (A Brigantine. Pirate ship out of Far Cove –Shark Isles.)
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> ‘Crocked’ Larsa Der Linde (Pirate Captain. Presumably died on the Express)
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> ‘Pike’ Hartford (Pirate. 1st Mate of the brigantine Raccoon. KIA 3401?)
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> Terku ‘Mau-Mau’ (Pirate. Raccoon. KIA 3401?)
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> White Deceit
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> (Brig usually operating in the South Seas)
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> ‘Sneaky’ Zaine Wit (Pirate. Captain of White Deceit – Horace Burton’s old ship)
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> Prohibition
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> (SETC renovated Brig out of Ani Ta-Ne, or the large Sloop Celeste under a fake name.)
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> Rigger Vance. (Infamous pirate Captain. Rumored that he moved from Eplas to Jelin)
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> ‘Nasty’ Tack (Pirate.)
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> ‘Damned’ Safford (Pirate.)
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-
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Taranir o’ Aurelien
Master Naug
‘Bloke from Central’
SETC | the Harpy of Hissing Corrals Cay
Part I
-The wreck of Mori Korka-
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image [https://i.postimg.cc/7xsZRcmh/Trade-routes.jpg]
30th of month Sextus (1st month of summer), 3401 IC
Coin Route 2nd Leg, approaching Abrakas Gullet
Expedition Day 27
Aboard the SETC Galleass Lassel
“Peldir?” Lanthdor asked after almost everyone had found a chair to sit on. Lassel was a big ship with crammed quarters and even the captain’s own weren’t that impressive. She did though provide Lanthdor with a modest office to hold a meeting. Pathon, Captain Tidus, Captain Pheles and the heavily bandaged Shamil were present, with the teenager the only one not sitting at the conference table. The open window providing some much-needed air in the quarterdeck’s tower.
“Zuberi, Peldir and several others were killed on the eve of the 28th,” Taranir replied puffing smoke out of his mouth.
“Nery?” Tidus asked with a scowl.
“Very probable.”
“Gods damn it,” Tidus cursed. “Who were they?”
“At least two pirate crews were involved, perhaps three,” Taranir replied working the cigar’s cap and head in his mouth. “The Raccoon and the Prohibition, maybe even the White Deceit.”
“Which you have us escorting,” Lanthdor grunted.
“Um.”
“No survivors?” Pathon asked. The marine had been elevated to leader of the 9th unit, as he was about to find out. “Gonodir?” Pathon inquired.
“Went down with the Express,” Taranir elucidated. “All of them.”
“You cleared us to fire on the ship Taranir!” Lanthdor growled narrowing his eyes. “Good grief, we killed our own!”
“The Express was lost.”
“Why are we not pursuing them?” Pathon asked in turn.
“Cir Tenya mister Pathon,” Taranir replied sternly and the marine stood back with a grimace.
“Right,” Pathon grunted hoarsely and crossed his arms over the chest.
“We’ve a schedule to maintain,” Taranir expounded. “Next stop is the Hissing Corrals Cay. We must be there in about two weeks, if we do your jobs well sailors. You’ll do your jobs well,” he added and drew a large mouthful of smoke from his half-burned cigar.
“What about the guy we have locked up?” Lanthdor queried waving a hand before his face to clear some of the smoke away.
“Zaine was an alias. His name is Horace, goes by the moniker ‘Trickster’ and he is also a pirate. So is the real Zaine and I guess the majority of White Deceit’s crew? Yeah. Mister Tidus? You wish to add something?” Taranir probed seeing the expression on the human captain’s face.
“Trickster Burton is a well-known name.” Tidus said and glanced at Captain Pheles of the Petulant. “He’s… wanted in Fu De-Gar and Shao Na-Lan, is he not?”
“Yep,” the Cofol captain Pheles agreed. “Khan had pardoned a number of pirates, but he wasn’t on that list due to the high volume of criminality and rumored character officially. Unofficially there’s talk in the taverns of Far Cove that ‘Trickster’s name made the list but was removed by a Horselord official, who happened to recognize it. Horace Burton had sold his daughter into slavery and the man had to buy her back from the Sopat slightly used.”
“Isn’t Burton Queen Elsanne’s moniker?” Taranir noted.
“It is. Anne Burton. But that’s ‘Bald’ Burton, Horace’s brother from another mother. He’s pretty close to Kaltha’s Queen, the brother. Late Chevalier Burton’s bastards,” Tidus informed them.
“A pirate family?”
“A pirate clan,” Pheles grunted.
“I see. Horace claimed Hardir O’ Fardor is aware of White Deceit. They apparently helped some of his Cofol friends make it out of Greenwhale Peninsula.” Taranir said and extinguished his cigar in the large bronze ashtray.
“When was that?” Lanthdor asked.
“During the Three Sisters rebellion,” Taranir replied.
“Horace is a criminal,” Tidus insisted and Pheles agreed with a nod.
“Keep him locked up mister Pathon, until further notice,” Taranir said indifferently. “The Gish as well.”
“Well, we better get back to our ships Pheles,” Tidus decided after a couple of more reports were exchanged, Taranir didn’t participate. “Come along lad,” Tidus told the half-asleep on his feet Shamil.
“Sam stays,” Taranir intervened.
“Why?” Tidus asked narrowing his eyes.
“He’s working for me now. Office of Reacquisitions. Lost and found. Regulatory matters. I need a new assistant to handle the mundane.”
“Like spying,” Lanthdor said in a mocking manner.
“Sam can’t do that,” Taranir retorted all serious.
Yet.
“What happened to the previous one?” Tidus asked.
“They didn’t make it.”
“The lad is illiterate and can’t handle paperwork.” Tidus grunted. “I reckon a bit slow in the head to get involved in the scrap in the first fucking place. Look at him!”
“Sam got injured fighting the pirates,” Taranir replied frostily. “What he lacks in education, he’ll learn from me, but you can’t teach bravery, guts and spirit, mister Tidus.”
The Captain of the Fat Libby stood back with a grimace. “You’ll have him killed.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” Taranir agreed ending the conversation and with a frustrated look at the numb Shamil, Tidus grabbed Pheles’ shoulder and they both walked outside the office.
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Everyone at the table listened to the sounds of the big ship for a while. The sailors and crew opening the mainsails, the calls of the open ocean. Lanthdor smacked his lips after the moment dragged and stood up with Pathon doing the same soon after.
Hmm.
“The Prohibition had company papers,” Taranir said evenly and both Zilan paused to stare his way.
“There’s a brig being restored to SETC specs in Ani Ta-Ne. We outsourced the contract to Viceroy Metu’s people,” Lanthdor finally replied. “What’s going on Taranir? Why are you back with the company?”
“I was there in 3194 IC again,” Taranir replied. “Never officially left that time. You just missed me Lanthdor.”
“Right.”
“This Prohibition is a Sloop under a fake, but legitimate name. Nice touch,” Taranir continued.
“Uhm. It makes sense, but then it doesn’t,” Lanthdor noted.
“Some soldiers of the 2nd Marine squad were involved,” Taranir revealed. “Information from within headquarters allowed the pirates to flood the Express with their own crew and this explains why the Captains only spotted the White Deceit following them from Goras. The other two ships came straight for the Sinking Isles via another route.”
“Information from within… headquarters?” Lanthdor repeated sounding incredulous.
“You’ll accuse…” Pathon added pursing his mouth. “Soldiers that fought and died against the pirates as traitors?”
“I didn’t say that,” Taranir replied to the Marine Leader and then stared at Lanthdor. “They were expecting someone else other than me. I have no idea what the plan was, but the pirates were after the Express and its cargo. The latter probably Gish prisoners and loot secured after a raid. They would have used the Prohibition to sneak by authorities and then unload the cargo directly to buyers, or other persons of interest in exotic species."
“What manner of interest?” Pathon grunted.
“Sexual and culinary.”
“Good grief,” Lanthdor crooked his mouth. “Who was involved?”
“Glavon for certain.” Taranir replied. “Mayhap Tirior, or Feredir even. This was coordinated but also clumsy, so I’m not sure what happened. The pirates attempted to stir the marines against the Gish, a favorite practice within the fleet in the old days. It could have started as a raid, or plunder for gold and gems, but then Tirior met the young twins. Got too greedy, too fast and the situation turned. Without that incident to put us on alert and off the ship, no one would have survived and the pirates would have disappeared by the time you reacted to us missing.”
“Would they return and attack Safe Sojourn?” Lanthdor asked in alarm.
“They lost at least forty with the Express and I don’t believe they are interested in fighting with the company.” Taranir replied. “Not when they can work around, or with it to enrich themselves. This is the old ratline attempting to open up business again.”
“With the help of headquarters?” Lanthdor grunted angry.
“This is yet to be determined. The Monarch’s stance on slavery and plundering distant peoples for their flesh and loot is undetermined.”
“He doesn’t appear against it,” Pathon argued and Taranir stared his way soberly. “There’s talk in the ranks, he isn’t another Baltoris. He pardoned a lot of exiles.” The marine expounded.
“Could it be he’s just undecided?” Taranir probed and the Marine shrugged his shoulders. “The Celeste, the real name of the fake Prohibition is a vessel owned, or working for a Zilan named Hulanor. Who is he?”
“Never heard of him,” Lanthdor admitted.
“Glavon mentioned that a couple of the girls working the pleasure house belonged to a Hulanor. Invited him to some semi-legitimate games,” Pathon replied. “Apparently he runs rat races under one of his hostels.”
“Semi-legitimate?”
“The Monarch’s stance on games of wager is undecided,” Pathon retorted smartly. “His favorite Gish enjoys the games very much is the rumor.”
“How could Hulanor know what’s going on?” Lanthdor asked.
“The brothel belongs to Folen.” Pathon replied. “They might have business together.”
“Folen isn’t privy to the Bank’s affairs,” Taranir noted. “I can’t recall the name. What did he do afore the Fall?”
“Heard he was a bard. Adventurer? Lord Suraer wanted him imprisoned some way back,” Pathon expounded. “He was close with a couple of human looters that visited Wetull after the empire collapsed. A hundred and something years ago.”
“What did he do?” Taranir asked a little amused.
“Seduced his daughter? Might have stolen Mithril from him?”
“The Master of Silence is a crook?” Taranir asked turning serious.
“The Monarch’s stance on crooks is undecided,” Pathon retorted mockingly.
Taranir nodded. “See to your crew Lanthdor. Keep the White Deceit in view and leave the marines aboard to alleviate any thoughts of foul play.” He ordered and then dismissed them both.
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“I don’t want to work for you mister Taranir,” Sam said, when they were left alone in Lanthdor’s office.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Ah. Now, you be kind with the kid Taranir. He has potential and you’re choosing from a limited pool. Most are set in their ways by the time they join the navy’s ranks. You have to remember that. Sam isn’t. Just like a blank canvass needs to be shaped properly, with loving care and without selfishness by its artist, so does a young mind.
“No more washing the floors for you,” Taranir replied and signed for the injured teenager to approach. “Much better pay.”
“I saw… you didn’t tell them the truth,” Sam said walking to an empty chair to sit down.
“Be accurate. I told them the truth, but didn’t give all the details for a reason,” Taranir advised and got his thin cigars leather packet out. Untied the cord to open the cover and got a fresh one out. If he wanted to indulge in his habit for the duration of the journey, Taranir knew he had to pace himself, lest he would run out of tobacco.
Build new habits, to set aside the old ones.
Hmm.
“You didn’t have to kill Glavon,” Sam argued.
“He wouldn’t talk to me, but Glavon could warn his collaborators in the fleet,” Taranir started slotting the cigar at the corner of his mouth. “Had I allowed him to make it out of that boat, we wouldn’t have survived the night.”
“You think there are more?”
“Of course,” Taranir replied. “Probably from the same squad, but you can’t know for sure,” he added and got up from the chair. He walked to a stand and replaced the old isles map on it with an empty canvass. Looking about the stand, he found a box with coal sticks and took one out using thumb and index finger.
“What was their plan?” Sam asked.
“A test run,” Taranir murmured thoughtfully. “Luvon worked fast to reopen the bank. Reached to old colleagues and friends to do the job. Habits are difficult to break. Um. Word got out probably almost immediately. About a year and half that is. Barely enough time to setup a network, or revive an old one.” He made an egg-shaped shape on the map, then cracked it in three pieces. Placed one after the other different shapes around it to create a crude depiction of the Sinking Isles.
“I don’t understand,” Sam was heard behind him.
“Not enough time,” Taranir rustled. “Unless you already have the pieces in place. A tunnel, the rats move through already.”
“What are you doing?” The teenage asked curious. Taranir had left a space west of the Isles and had started drawing the old empire’s lands anew. The crooked Crabs Talons and the two little isles across Oyster Anchorage. Ilithar and Lyari, the two lovers of mythology. The Fingers after the Talons, always heading west. His stained hand working the piece of coal expertly, creating the nooks and crannies of the terrain from memory. The depression at Chimera’s Mouth and Chimera’s Leg, where South Watch was. Barmont Isle crowning Lorsan Gulf and the exit of Serpent’s Canal. Wetull’s South Coast as seen from atop Nuala’s Quiver Peak, the latter on Lyrael –her sister’s- island. Lord Suraer’s fabled wives. The Blasted Lands that was Elauthin and then Nureria, just before the turn at Kallister’s Tower.
“This is old Wetull,” Taranir said raspingly standing half-a-step back. “Part of it.”
Cydonia Cazan was missing.
The Six Peaks Isles.
“You made a map out of memory? Whoa.”
“You just have to remember shapes, North Goras looks like a wyvern’s head ending at the Pale Mountains and here, you see that? Shaped like a knife on one side and crooked like a goat’s leg at the other. The first part is Witch’s Dagger, the other…”
“Goat’s Leg,” Sam murmured.
“Aye.”
“That’s amazing. I wish I could draw like that.”
“You can learn. It helped that the other map was there,” Taranir said with the hint of a smile. He stooped next to draw a thin dotted line around the Talons and all the way to the Sinking Isles. The skillful Zilan did the same, thus creating another line, starting at Hardir’s Port and following the course they had taken with the fleet.
“What is that?”
“Direction lines. Had this been to scale, we could use a measuring tool and simple math to tell the distance in nautical miles,” Taranir replied but calculated the distance just the same using his fingers and the coal stick. “This is us. How we moved. These are the pirate ships.”
“The Deceit?”
“No. The White Deceit was following the two support ships. Larsa’s buddies,” Taranir replied looking at the crude map he’d drawn and adding details here and there. “They had to travel longer to reach the Sinking Isles. Not by much, but Sinya Goras’ port is further away and they couldn’t have used Mussel with all the company assets present there, or Hardir’s Port. I spent an hour in the port looking about afore we departed.”
“I can’t… why is this important?”
“You need half a day to inform their captains that we have departed, supposing they were stationed in Sinya Goras’ port. The ships must be moored in order to communicate with whomever is working with them at headquarters. If someone is. If this was a leak through a lesser party, then the time increases,” Taranir explained. “They couldn’t have reached the Isles before us, or Zaine’s ship. Arriving late they wouldn’t have noticed the Express making the small journey to Grilix Isle. So they didn’t. They came straight for the Isles but even then, they had to wait prior to leaving to make certain the Fleet would depart on schedule. Delays happen all the time and there was one this time. But the two pirate ships, assuming Zaine is telling the truth and Larsa sort of confirmed it before the scrap, were very close already to make it in time. If not from Sinya Goras, where did they depart from?”
“Somewhere closer than our fleet?” Sam chanced.
There you go lad.
“Yes,” Taranir agreed and started drawing Calamer’s Isle, named after the austere Elderblood palace official and Baltoris’ justicar. “They could have made it faster then. Um. Waited west of the Tits for us to pop out of the straits. Yes,” Taranir pursed his mouth and stood back, noticed Shamil’s confused expression and smiled broadly. “What do you think Sam?”
Shamil grimaced and rubbed at his bandaged arm in silence.
“I have a special remedy for that. It will make it better,” Taranir told him.
“I’m not eating flesh mister Taranir. That was disturbing. Poor Abrix got sick and is now sleeping under the bed. Even Horace seemed pretty freaked out from what you did.”
Taranir smacked his lips annoyed for having to deal with this trifle matter.
“I was talking about a healing potion,” he told the teenager gruffly. “Know though that flesh is no worse than meat. Taste-wise is better and more easily absorbed, while it strengthens magic and fortifies the body from illness, or injuries,” seeing Shamil turning green in the face, he paused with a disappointed grimace. “Many Zilan practice the habit lad.”
“Cannibalism?”
“Words. Your King has a big wyvern that eats folk right and left. They just call it punishment. And that’s the cases we know about.”
“The wyvern is a beast.”
“And so are people. Moderation is vital, but it is also healthy for one to break a habit and adapt to the times. I have done that. Found different tastes to replace old cravings. For example, raw beef with orange sauce and honey is close enough in flavor.”
“I rather not find out mister Taranir,” Sam grunted. “I’ve a weak stomach.”
“Hmm. Anyways, Glavon was no saint, what with him being an old fuck that had served with the company afore and the people I’m looking for are even worse than that. The important thing to remember is that we follow the rules. These people follow no rule, other whatever suits their needs.”
“What am I supposed to do for you?”
“Be my eyes and ears in the fleet.” Taranir explained.
“Isn’t that like spying? You denied it earlier.”
“Sure. And I did,” Taranir agreed leaving it at that. “Now head to my satchel and find the vials box. The reddish liquid is the healing potion. Take it out and bring it here,” he ordered the frowning teenager.
“I didn’t agree to work for you mister Taranir,” Shamil protested and Taranir nodded in agreement.
“Do you want to be like the Gish and hide under your bed Sam? Or do you wish to see the realm and hunt down evil motherfuckers, whilst making coin?”
“Serve the King.” Sam added with a grin and stood taller.
“That too,” Taranir again yielded and pointed at his satchel. “Get that vial lad.”
-
2nd month of summer 3401 IC
Otsea Asta (Seventh Moon/Month in Imperial Zilan language) or Cermie Asta (seventh moon in Cydonia Cazan’s dialect)
7th of Septimus 195 NC
Approaching Hissing Corrals Cay
Abrakas Gullet
Expedition day 35
“How’s the arm?” Taranir asked the puking over the rails Shamil. The retching teenager had nothing to expel after several attempts, but took a moment afore he could reply to the Zilan.
“It hurts still!”
Shamil yelled to be heard over the sound of the waves breaking on the bow of the Lassel. The heavy warship sailing towards the rising sun. The red disk appearing huge in the horizon, over the flat expanse of the water. Nothing but the latter on every direction, the wind blowing over the Lassel rather cool due to the humidity and the vastness of the terrain. Very different as these southeastern waters were the border between the Scalding Sea and the East Unknown Ocean.
“You’ve vomited most of the potion,” Taranir reminded him and gave Shamil a linen handkerchief to wipe his mouth.
“It tasted foul?”
Eh. It was way past its expiration date, but Taranir never threw them away, as they could help still despite diminishing returns.
“A palate needs training in order to learn to savor certain things Sam.”
“Would training have made it taste any better?”
“Not really,” Taranir admitted and narrowed his eyes seeing the red hue create a familiar shape beyond Lassel’s bow and the color of the water changing as the depth decreased rapidly.
“LAND AHOY!” The lookout warned the bridge and Captain Lanthdor ordered the bells to ring, while sailors rushed to climb up the masts. They needed to work on the sails and cut speed soon, or risk running aground.
“There are unseen reefs under the waters,” Taranir explained over the commotion all about them. “Unseen, but lethal.”
“How big are the atolls?” Shamil asked trying to discern the approaching land.
“Not big at all,” Taranir replied and turned to look beyond the aft tower of the galleass at the following them Fat Libby. The Barque had all its sails open as it crashed through the waves. Further to its right, the nimble White Deceit navigated the sea with grace, as it approached the slowing Lassel under the watchful eyes of the engineers and the artillery crews aboard. Everyone relaxing when they spotted the armed marines still on its deck. Captain Zaine waved an arm at the Lassel and Lanthdor ordered to use the flags to communicate with the other ships.
“Where does all this water go?” Shamil asked, still pale in the face and looking sick.
“Some say the realm is a bowl, or a very big lake,” Taranir replied keeping his eyes on the flat atolls that started appearing and the rocky reefs surrounding them.
“What do you think?”
“I think we need to get back to our work,” Taranir said. “See to catch any rumors now and practice your Imperial,” he added.
“The Zilan don’t trust me,” Shamil griped.
“Lay low and they’ll forget about you,” Taranir murmured, thinking on the elusive thread keeping the smugglers connected. Maybe there isn’t one, he thought. After all this time it’s just pride that makes me see patterns and suspect something greater than what’s really here.
A wicked man, in his wicked ways, be doing wicked things.
“We could have brought Acharon along,” Pathon said coming to stand next to him at the Lassel’s port side.
“Safe Sojourn needs a lot of work,” Taranir noted.
“Using Gish might have solved the problem,” Pathon argued. “Now we have to bring more working crews in.”
“The Gish won’t work for free, or work at all,” Taranir replied. “The other way isn’t sanctioned soldier. What isn’t sanctioned I consider illegal and shall be punished, until a different set of orders arrive.”
“Wetull doesn’t have the manpower to do this. The Empire—”
“This is Garth’s rule,” Taranir cut him off. “But you are not wrong. Who else is thinking along those lines?”
Pathon cast a side glance at the unemotional face of Taranir. “You expect me to rat out my men?”
“Yes,” Taranir replied calmly. “You’ll get to lead the 9th Marine. It is a good trade, all other sensitivities aside.”
“Flardryn would want to put someone closer to him in charge,” Pathon noted sourly.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“I called his daughter an idiot?” Pathon cracked a tensed smile. “She was very young then.”
“The girl was killed yes?” Taranir asked.
Pathon nodded and crooked his mouth. “That’s what we heard. Under Lefyr’s watch no less. The Monarch made him military governor of Rain Minas.”
“Lefyr is a pretty experienced officer and mayhap the Monarch had personal knowledge on the culprit and it had nothing to do with Lefyr at all? Was the killer caught?”
“A Varg, the rumor is,” Pathon murmured looking about him. “You can’t catch them.”
Hmm. “It has happened in the past.”
Pathon stared at him unsure. “That’s bullshit sir, with all respect.”
“Hey. You may be right,” Taranir agreed although he didn’t think so. “Tell Lanthdor to head for the middle island in the chain, straight north. It’s the biggest atoll.”
“Any local fauna on it?” Pathon asked.
“Birds and palms.” Taranir replied evenly. “Wild chicken brought by the company, but mayhap they are gone now.”
“Right,” Pathon said and turned around to head for the stairs leading to the quarterdeck and the aft tower.
“Marine,” Taranir said to his back. “Was Salamir, Gonodir’s pick for the 2nd squad?”
“That would be late Feredir, then Henion from my squad.” Pathon replied, halting and turning around, easily swaying back and forth with the large ship, despite the slippery deck. “Seniority comes from the whole unit, but follows skill, Taranir.”
“What about Glavon?”
“Third. Then Tirior. Feredir was first marine after Gonodir. Then it’s me. Since I run the whole unit now, Henion stepped in for me and leads the 1st squad now. Salamir is old enough to know what he’s doing and nobody objected to him.”
“Was he friends with Glavon?”
“Him and Tirior were pretty close, Cyran Isle boys,” Pathon replied with a grin.
“I see,” Taranir said. “Is the 2nd with the White Deceit?”
“No, these are soldiers of the First’s with Henion, sir.”
“How many?”
“Twenty?” Pathon frowned. “Why?”
“Precaution. Inform Lanthdor to change course Pathon. The middle atoll,” Taranir said thoughtfully. “And look to draw shifts from both squads on the Lassel.”
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The ring-shaped middle coral islet suffered from a lack of elevation, which allowed even the slightest of breezes to sweep over its flat surface, but still the local copse of palm trees created enough of a barrier around the tiny lagoon at its center for some bird species to find shelter from the elements.
Seagulls, Gannets and Cormorants those with the greatest numbers. The noisy, bad-tempered inhabitants of the atoll raising a ruckus at the first Zilan and humans stepping on the sandy beach surrounding the tiny natural harbor, cut in the coral reefs. Some of the docks constructed by the Company centuries ago still visible, but everything else appeared swept away at first glance.
“Get that fat chicken marine!” Henion barked, jaw clenched and eyes burning with passion, giving the signal for a great chase to erupt over the sands. The company men threw themselves at the activity with such fanaticism, it was almost comical.
“Hah,” Pathon chuckled, wiping the wet sand from his drenched face. “There’s a dive for sure sir!” He added pointing an arm at one marine plunging for the ground, but narrowly failing to snatch the nimble local chicken. The chicken zig-zagged, half-hopping half-running with its wings spread out and squawking loudly with ogling eyes. Its indignant cries carried by the wind across the atoll.
Bawk! Bawk!
“Get some soldiers to the lagoon,” Taranir replied stiffly and looked to find his assistant. He spotted Shamil heading the group of soldiers hunting the chickens towards the treeline. Another three had appeared, or failed to fly away like the dozens of seabirds when the first soldiers had approached.
Never mind.
“Watery shit is dropping from above! Piss in the bloomin’ soup!” Tidus bellowed when his boat moored a couple of minutes later. “Where’s that base mister Taranir?” He asked trying to wipe with a wet towel the worst of the discharge raining on them from the angry circling birds. “Fuck’s sake, this is getting ridiculous.”
“They don’t like new visitors’ mister Tidus,” Taranir replied following the faded road leaving the remnants of the old docks towards the overrun by vegetation warehouse buildings. “Fancy a walk?”
“I rather stay near the sea and the boat,” Tidus replied. “Never liked the jungles.”
“It’s less than a kilometer of undergrowth and the palms seem heavy with fruit. That’s more a garden than a jungle,” Taranir argued. He’d reached the first of the buildings and stopped before it upon realizing that the Captain hadn’t followed him.
“I’ll stand by me position,” Tidus retorted adamantly and that was that.
----------------------------------------
Taranir cleared out some of the brushwood, a nest of seagulls –keeping the eggs- around the largest building. The roof had collapsed at some point, followed by most of the walls and the outline remained now, with the east corner still standing as high as three meters. Taranir riffled through the debris looking for anything useful, found nothing of the sort, but for an old army boot, and then moved on to the next visible structure of the naval base, right behind the first one.
This building had been assaulted by the trees, with a couple of big palms sprouting out of the tiles, but surprisingly had remained intact but for parts of the roof that had suffered the same fate as the previous one. A closed door crumbled to his touch, rotted completely and the Zilan entered a large office belonging to the commander stationed there centuries ago.
Taranir pursed his mouth, a breeze blasting dust through a cracked window that missed its glass but had still the shutters closed. The light playing with the destroyed furniture and the rotting, spider net covered, and ancient lockers. No sign left behind from the last moments of those serving the company there before the catastrophe. Tidal waves had ravaged the shores of Regia but Taranir wasn’t certain whether they had reached Hissing Corals Cay, or not.
If he had to guess then the waves had hit the atolls pretty hard.
“Mister Taranir?” Shamil said entering the semi-dark ancient office.
“What did they find?” Taranir asked working the brittle binding on a leather envelope he’d discovered inside a cupboard in order to open it. “Have they reached the lagoon?”
“They have sir. There was nothing there,” Sam replied and coughed to clear his throat from the raised dust. “But Henion’s men discovered a shipwreck on the west shores of the atoll. It’s pretty close really. Less than three kilometers away. This is the smallest island I’ve ever seen.”
“The atoll north from here…” Taranir said getting up and taking the leather envelope with him. “…is half the size of this one Sam.”
“Yes sir.”
“How’s the arm?”
“Better. Now that I’m on dry land,” Sam replied.
Taranir nodded. “Good. You need to learn to keep your food down when onboard a ship though lad. Else you’ll never get any weight on,” he added in jest, but Sam frowned not really getting it, so the Zilan sighed and walked outside, intent on seeing with his own eyes what the Imperial Marines had discovered.
7th of Septimus 195 NC
Late afternoon
Middle Atoll
The imperial galleon –a very heavy transport- had been dragged ashore by the waves at some point. Winds and water had pushed her hard over the white pebbles, smashing palm trees and carving the beach for almost a hundred meters in land, penetrating the woods. Half the ship wasn’t visible and the parts that were showed signs of disrepair. The masts had snapped and collapsed, the sails gone and trees had started growing through the large ship’s carcass. Part of its hull –the starboard side- had been cracked open…
“That’s cut with a tool,” Taranir noticed standing in front of the cavernous dark opening that led inside the guts of the galleon. The latter had come to rest on her port side.
“We found cranes and ladders discarded amidst the bushes,” Pathon reported and Henion nodded sitting on a half-destroyed container –one of many littering the terrain around the galleon- and drinking water from a flask. Salamir appeared on the slippery deck of the ancient ship and looked down on them.
“Everything is stripped clean above,” the officer reported. “Tree roots and branches have broken out of the deckboards, kept the ship from moving sir.”
“Any bodies?” Taranir asked.
“We found bones amidst the trees and in the sands, but nothing whole, or a skull… yet,” Salamir replied and spat down. “It stinks of rot up here Taranir.”
“Strong odors are expected,” Taranir replied and examined the cuts on the blackened timber. The whole ship was painted black, although some parts of it had eroded away to a dull brown with time. “Can you reach the bow, or the tower there?”
“I’ll need a good axe and at least four more pairs of arms.” Salamir retorted. “What do you want to find out?”
“The ship’s name.”
“It’s the Mori Korka,” Salamir replied. “The name is written on pieces of broken barrels.”
The night crow.
“See to reach the bow just the same,” Taranir ordered Pathon and the marine crooked his mouth but nodded in agreement. “Sam, I heard you like exploring stuff on land, and visiting old ships,” Taranir told the frowned teenager, glancing over his shoulder.
“Eh, I didn’t say that exactly sir. Matter of fact, I said nothing of the kind,” Shamil Al-Bagi replied in mild protest and Taranir nodded in agreement. Then he signed for the teenager to approach and follow after him.
“Mister Taranir,” the discomforted Shamil grunted, “I know next to nothing about exploring, or old Zilan ships.”
“Um, great,” Taranir told the grimacing young Cofol BGOR recruit that shuffled his feet stalling as much as he could. “This is then, as good an opportunity to train on the matter, as any Sam. You caught a break lad.”
-
> 3rd Era*
>
> 21st of Imperial Minge moon 3412
>
> (The 11th month of 206 NC)
>
> Bank of Goras HQ building in Hardir’s Port (New Goras District)
>
> 2nd floor, the Director’s private quarters
>
>
>
> *Arguen Garth’s ascension to the throne, while it disrupted Ninthalor’s royal Zilan line, was on track with traditional –ancient- Zilan practices, well before the Imperial system had been agreed upon. The change in bloodline, forced a change in Eras with Arguen Garth’s heritors taking precedence if they could maintain their ‘Aniculo Rokae’ status. Without a wyvern, or a Dragorider, no one could rule Wetull’s lands. With one at their disposal, several Aniculo Rokae had risen in the distant past, giving their names to their Eras, or prominent landmarks. So the 3rd Imperial Era would also be referred to by the older Zilan as ‘the times of Hardir O’ Fardor’, both in writing and in conversation. It is helpful to note here that according to the strict Imperial Zilan and Elderblood ethos and decorum, an Imperial era couldn’t change by the heritors, until its founder was deceased for certain.
>
> A new Aniculo Rokae though could ascend.
>
>
>
> “Unknown pirates attacked the Express, the Schooner captained by the Cofol Zuberi,” Riston read from the manuscript, bringing the pages near the desk’s light. His eyes haven’t recovered from an infection the previous year and centuries of abuse over similar reports. The incident almost forgotten after all those years. “They killed the Captain, while 9th Imperial Marines leader Gonodir, Dottore Peldir and several Marines and crew went down, when the ship sunk due to weather?”
>
> “That’s right,” the young Cofol company man replied stiffly.
>
> “The Queen asked for a detailed summary of South Eplas Trading Company’s dealings and history,” Riston noted clearing his throat a couple of times. “We keep much more detailed logs for every operation, do we not?”
>
> “We do sir,” the man replied. “This is a summary of Captain Tidus’ ship’s logs.”
>
> Riston sucked at his teeth, assuming a skeptical expression. “I tend to recall some more stuff left out dear colleague. You do realize I’m here for much longer than you right? And where’s Taranir?”
>
> “Master Naug has taken some time off. Personal matters. He was due for a leave of absence sir.”
>
> “Am I supposed to give these two pages to her majesty?” Riston grunted very annoyed. “Pretend nothing happened?”
>
> “It’s paramount for the Company to safeguard its own people and holdings during times of change,” the young man preached setting his jaw. “Then the Bank itself, if it’s possible.”
>
> “You’ll quote Helven to me? Brazen little brat! The bank is the company!” Riston growled irate and tossed the papers on the large desk in front of him. “I can have you fired right this moment.”
>
> “We both know you won’t sir. I’m acting director of reacquisitions in the books, holding signature power in both the bank and the South Eplas Trading Company. You’ll have to call for a shareholders vote for that and the Queen will be informed since she has the most shares. Given how curious she is in her nature, she might take a bigger interest on your true motivations and ask for my take. I would then be forced to give up someone of sufficiently high position, in order to preserve the Institution’s integrity as is the practice historically. I believe that would be you Director.”
>
> “You’ll dare blackmail me,” a red-faced Riston hissed through his teeth, not believing the gargantuan audacity of this self-taught human. “In my own fucking office?”
>
> “Yes sir. I would.”
>
> Riston blinked, the start of a migraine assaulting the top of his skull and spreading downwards, numbing his mouth. Fucking Taranir’s acolytes! Uncompromising, rules-loving monkeys! “Fine. I’ll see to embellish it where I can,” he relented hoarsely breathing out. “I appreciate your loyal hard work all those years and for keeping the convoys working mister Al-Bagi,” Riston added diplomatically.
>
> “Cir Tenya sir,” the man replied all serious.
>
> “Cir Tenya,” Riston agreed repeating S.E.T.C’s dictum ‘the ships shall arrive’. He watched in silence as the wiry human reached the door of his office and then reached for the doorknob to crack it open. Eh, fuck it. “Was there a Harpy on Hissing Corrals Cay? Near the wreck? I might have read something in the same vein,” Riston asked, as he’d in fact read a supposed accurate 'copy' of Captain Tidus’ and Taranir’s reports from the company’s first expedition.
>
> BGOR had classified everything, which was standard practice under Taranir.
>
> “I can’t answer sir,” Sam replied evenly. “Those in the know would have put it in the report you claim to have read, only if it was needed, and this is just a brief summary for the Queen’s eyes.”