Word of the need for seizure came from the palace almost as soon as the dockmaster had cleared the Gryphon’s Wings, Captain Erminea Galatea Kleinhoff’s pride, joy, and her home, for a dock space in the grand port of the Rhiadan city of Ghlow.
When the messenger ran up the gangplank, Erm had been about to order the brash young woman thrown overboard for daring to board her ship without permission. But then she saw the arms on the tabard the young woman was wearing.
And there it is, she thought to herself, the baton tucked into the right side of her belt. Pretty little knob of wood, paint, and ribbons. That’s a pass to anywhere in the kingdom. Even into the royal courts of some other kingdoms. I wonder how much they might miss it, if I happened to just take that one…?
With the red ribboned baton on her belt, the Royal Messenger had the right to run onto Erm’s ship day or night and request the Captain’s ear. And she had spat a plea from the king’s chief counselor, that creepy colorless man, directly to Captain Erminea as quickly as she could, before she bowed and ran back down to the dock and along it to the next ship, a fast looking frigate labeled as The Charger, which sported three large arbalests on its deck. Two to the fore, and one aft.
She noted the prettily carved horse masthead of the Charger before turning back to her own deck and crew.
The message she had related to the Captain was simple: The Parthiqueen barque, Nuages D'argent, fled from the harbor this morning. Bring it back, or bring back as many of its officers as you can.
She looked to her left where, at the helm of the Wings, stood her first officer. A squat faced human man with a square jaw that would surely turn to jowls as he aged. Chalit Gern was as solid an officer as she had ever served with. He blandly returned her questioning look.
She then looked up to the rigging. Several crew members were aloft, mostly tying up excess canvas now that they had tied the Gryphon up to the dock. Harpy stood on the main deck, her tall slender form looming over three young Merrow crew members who had apparently improperly tended to the ropes and tenons they had been assigned while the dockmaster’s sloop had escorted the Gryphon’s Wings into port.
“A Parthiqueen …? Sure, Captain. We can run that lolly-bobbing scow down.” He said in his calm and measured voice. Just loud enough on the slightly raised aft deck where the wheel stood. “Two days.”
Erm raised a fine black eyebrow at the First Mate.
“It would take them a solid month to make it all the way back to Parthique.” He looked along the graceful length of her ship. “We can have her in sight before nightfall. The Queen’s Puffy Clouds, or whatever the fuck she calls herself, is probably just over the horizon now. We can be back here before nightfall tomorrow, I’d bet you my wages this month on it, Captain. Daybreak, two days on, at most.”
Erm looked at her First Mate skeptically.
“Hire a Parthiqueen if you want to dye fabric or make rum. Not to run a fast ship, Captain. That’s just common sense.”
She suppressed a chuckle, “There it is.”
“Do we get the ship if we take it, Captain?”
Captain Erminea Galatea Keinhoff smiled a broad and toothy grin up at her Second in Command. “That is part of our current charter, Gern. So…yes.”
And the man smiled the first smile she had seen on his face since the last time she had witnessed him wading across the tilted deck of a foundering ship with the broad headed spear he favored in his hands.
He then turned to the main deck, and shouted like the voice of the very Gods themselves, “BELAY DOCKING! BELAY, BELAY, BELAY! Ladies and Gentlemen of the Gryphon’s Wings, the Nuages D'argent, out of Parthique is out there and needs a new Captain and Crew! CAST OFF! CAST OFF! CAST OFF!! ALL HANDS! MOVE!!”
Through her glass, just at the edge of visibility in the coming dusk, Erminea could see the chubby lines of the Nuages D'argent sailing serenely along, as if they lacked any notion of a care in the world. Brunson, her navigator, had plotted a straight course to Parthique, playing the odds that a Parthiqueen ship fleeing Rhiada would travel as fast as she could home. It had been a fair bet, and it had paid off. THe Gryphon’s Wing’s had spotted the Nuages D'argent’s sails on the horizon near sundown.
The ship was more of a brig than it was a proper barque, no matter how she rigged her sails, but labeling such things it wasn’t Erm’s business. She didn’t care what one called any other ship than the Gryphon’s Wings, and looked at every ship not a part of her father’s fleet as a possible target. The details of hull shape, rigging of the sails, the number of crew, and placement of defenses were her real concerns.
It was a fat bodied brig, sporting three masts, and a full set of spinnakers fore and a gaff sail set to not-quite lateen to aft. It was an ugly set of sails, and whoever had been in charge of rigging the beast had tried to squeeze as much wind from the sea as there were gulls in the sky. What they had achieved, however, had been akin to some kind of demented spider weaving all of the lines into a frenetic mass of sheet and cordage. She knew, watching how the ship yawed wildly to port, that a moderate storm would tear the otherwise well built masts from the deck of what she was starting to think of as “the pokey little vessel.”
No wonder they named her ‘silver clouds’ or whatever… she drifts more than she sails... Erminea thought.
As they had been ordered to do, her crew had gone silent, and not only were there no lights on the decks of the Gryphon’s Wings, but any of the cabins that had lamps lit had also covered their windows with the storm shutters. The two ships were still too far apart for the vessels to begin any kind of engagement, and as far as the captain of the Gryphon’s Wings could tell, Nuages D'argent had yet to spot the larger craft who was now quickly closing that distance.
All sails were up, out, with all available canvas full and pulling full. She had ordered the extra two masts which extended up and out from the hull near where it joined the main deck, on their clever winch-driven rotating arms. Even with her blackened sails, all now fully set and pulling for all the Gryphon was worth, Erminea always thought the Greater Double Barque looked like the gryphon for which it had been named; “wings” spread and in flight over the night blackened waters of the Lavera Sea.
The largest moon, Arluan, would be full once it rose and Erminea was hoping to be within bow-shot of the Nuages D'argent before that came about. The two minor moons, Kast and Phawne, were already high in the winter sky, but neither shed much light out here in the wide open. The two small orbs tended to look like larger, but much dimmer stars; Phawne a pale yellow, and Kast a sickly white, and neither as pretty, nor as large as Arluan in his silvery-blue light.
With the speed of the Gryphon, there was no possible way the smaller ship would be able to slip away now that they had been found.
A bell had passed midnight when the Gryphon’s Wings slipped silently alongside the wallowing, directionless hulk of the Nuages D'argent, its brilliantly painted silver and blue hull resplendent in the moonlight. For the last hour as they approached their prey, Erminea and her crew had worked in silence, expecting that at any moment they would be spotted by a sharp-eyed sailor of the Parthaqueen crew.
They had reefed the sails, and retracted the “Wing” masts, when they had come within a shortbow shot of the smaller ship , the crew moving with a silent economy of motion that had made Erminea proud. When they had been almost abreast of the Nuages D'argent and there had still been neither hue nor cry from the bridge of the vessel. Using her glass, she could see there was not a single soul up in the rigging, nor even in the top mast’s nest acting as a spotter.
“Is there nobody on duty on this brig…?” she had asked to the air and any of the gods of the night and sea that might be listening.
It had been Mate Ahd Kroner, the ship’s Galley Master and Provisioner who cared to answer, however. “Oh, no. This wallowing beast is a galea, Cap.” The barrel shaped man said quietly in his raspy, wheezy voice from her side. The older man wiped his bald head with the end of the blue scarf he always wore over his uniform jacket. Blowing out the long, white ends of his mustache, he continued. “The is a warship that was made somewhere over in Port Socar, or Makab.” He pointed to the mounting brackets on the fo'castle. “See those? Bloody huge arbalests used to be rigged on her, you mark me Captain. This had been built as a defensive monster by someone over in Selmet. For whatever reasons, the Parthiqueen Crown owns it now, and they rerigged it to me their ‘unarmed’ messenger. Idiots.”
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The broad shouldered man spat to the side, over the rail and into the sea, not wanting to risk the bad luck of fouling his own deck. “This ship was made to slowly glide along a close coastal course, and keep raiders out of ports, not to be a pleasure yacht for diplomats. Even if it were…”
Captain Erminea, following her officer’s thoughts, finished for him. “Who would send their emissaries abroad unarmed and unprotected? It might be a nice message to send to the folks in Ghlow, but it’s a foolish face to put on for the trip from Parthique to Rhiada.”
Kroner nodded. “Silly buggers who want to catch arrows in their backs.”
“Brace.” came the command from the Mate who was running the crew who were tethering the two ships with thrown lines as they two ships were now in range of grapnels. A second line of five members of the crew stepped forward with poles to drop boarding planks from the rails of the Gryphon to the rails of the Silver Clouds.
She, Gern, Harpy, and Kroner now stood armed and ready with the boarding party while the planks were secured, the curved hooks at the far end of the planks digging into wood of the rails at their far end, while rounded clamps on the Gryphon held the planks tight, but with a flip of a lever, be released.
Fifteen of her crew, officers, and herself, made their way across to the Nuages D'argent.
And there wasn’t a soul to be seen above the decks that didn’t come with Erminea from the Gryphon. It was as confusing to the crew as it was to Erm herself.
Gern, two short handled axes on his belt and the broadspear he loved in hand strode toward the raised stern deck and its wheel, three equally armed crewmen following him up the narrow stairs. Harpy took her compliment in the same direction, but went to the door that led to the cabins beneath that aft deck.
Kroner and his three headed to the forward deck to the fo’castle. Once they had cleared that area, they would proceed to the various forward cabins and compartments within the ship’s hold that they could access from the forequarters of the little ship.
Erm and the two remaining armed sailors stood ready. Awaiting reports, or cries to arms. Erm knew which she would prefer.
Sadly, a sailor from Gern’s contingent came trotting back to her with word that they had found ten people asleep in what was probably the galley. Though, from the twist of the man’s lip, he didn’t approve of what he found in the galley. It was then that the Captain noted that the man was Piotr, one of her crew’s dedicated cooks, and Kroner’s favorite ensign. She briefly wondered why he was with Gern’s contingent and not Kroner’s, until she noticed the modified axes the young man wore at his belt.
They were Gern’s favorite way to engage in close-in fighting, using the little axes as a kind of bladed cestus. He didn’t punch so much as he “chopped” at his opponents. Erm knew a few fighters who liked that kind of wet work, but few as good at it as Gern. And the man was good at training close fighters. Adrienne “Harpy” Harper was the Gryphon’s Weapons Master, but Gern, who had been a former arena fighter in his youth, would train the crew in how to fight up close and personal.
Entering the galley, Erminea knew what had set the hackles of the Galley mate. The room smelled of regularly burned food, and piles of unwashed dishes. Whatever mate had been this ship’s galley master would be set ashore at the next port had this been Erminea Kleinhoff’s ship.
But, as it looked like that was now the case, she might avail herself of the honor. “This cabin is an atrocious mess.”
She looked to Gern, who was checking on the health of the crew where they had slumped limply at the long table running along the length of the room.
“Piotr, you’re now in charge of this galley. Make it shine.” She looked to the man who stood calmly accepting her sentencing him to what might be his own personal Hell. “And dump all the stores. All the food. All the wine. Any liquor. Dump it. We don’t need any of our sailors getting poisoned like these monkeys have been.”
“Captain.” the young man said in a clipped voice.
“Grab stores for three days, at a crew load of twenty from the Gryphon.” She ordered.
“Captain.” He said again. This time with a slight tightening around his eyes that showed he wasn’t quite sure as to why he was being given this post.
“Smile, Galley Master. This is now your kingdom. Kroner will be your Captain until you get back to Ghlow, but this room, the stores, and the duties are now yours. Ask Kroner for whoever you want as your second. Oh, and Piotr…” she said, regaining his attention from whatever dreams of advancement his mind might have started to wander along, “Choose wisely. If this works out for us, this will be YOUR Galley.”
“Ca…captain. Aye, captain.” He had started to sweat now, the reality of being a freshly minted Officer in the Kleinhoff “Merrow Fleet” beginning to sink in.
Gern and the other two members of his party had already hauled half of the sleeping crew from the messy galley and up onto the main deck to be secured when she had turned to address him. It was good to have those people who not only loved their jobs, but were good at it. She appreciated that about her officers.
Some days more than others.
Back on the main deck, Erm watched her people come and go from the hold, and after a time, there were twenty five drugged and slumbering people tied and trussed to various masts and railings. Until they had a more coherent idea of what had happened here, she thought it was for the best that the foreign crew were unable to make things MORE complicated.
“Harper,” she called. “Any sign of the captain among this lot?”
The tall, lanky human woman swayed like a flowing tide in three long steps across the deck towards her captain and shook her head as she surveyed the various prisoners arrayed before them. “No idea, Captain. We searched each sailor as best we could before we secured them. Took several belt knives, some other random tools, and lots of full purses. They’ve all been paid quite well for this trip, or they're all equally very good with money, don't gamble, and have no vices. But, we both know that’s bilge. So, they made port in Ghlow in the morning, their passengers left, and then they fled port, paying the crew well to forestall a mutiny over not allowing them any leave in the port.” The woman’s expression looked troubled.
Erminea didn’t blame her, as she was feeling quite troubled by these events as well.
There was a cry from the forward deck, and a splash of something large hitting the water. Erminea was in motion, running toward the sounds of anger and fighting before she had quite processed what was happening.
She arrived at the starboard railing of the ship’s prow, and along with Kroner and four others watched as a person, an older man with short gray-white hair, flailed about in the midnight black waters.
“Mister Kroner, who is that fool trying to swim back to Parthique?” She asked to the night air, certain that Kroner stood nearby.
“Captain, my guess is that man may be the former captain of this here giant toy boat.” Kroner’s voice sounded off to her left. the man may have been suppressing laughter.
“Hrrrm. I see. And where did he come from?” She calmly asked, ignoring the sounds of labored attempts at swimming.
“I believe he was hiding in one of the empty water barrels they had tied up near the stem, Captain. When we started bringing out his crew and tying them up, I guess he might have begun feeling a little bit nervous.” His wheezy voice sounded almost like bird calls on the wide open sea in the night.
“Nervous?” She asked.
“Well, Cap’n. We’re such a bloodthirsty and scary bunch, and what with him being all by his lonesome. He might have thought he had reason to be concerned.” Several crew members chuckled.
“Is Talley with us, or back on the Gryphon?”
A young voice called out of the gloom. “I’m here, Captain!”
“Mister Talley, Once you fish that man out of the sea, please see he is tied up, and delivered to me on the Gryphon’s Wings. We will be back to port in Ghlow as soon as possible.”
She turned to face Kroner. “You have the helm here, Acting Captain Kroner. Keep these people secure, and alive if possible. And see them back to Ghlow as fast as this ‘giant toy boat.’ It will be added to the fleet if we don't sell her, so find a good rigging for this beast to get her to dance on the waves and not wallow like a sow. Sail her as fast as she will go. Piotr is your Galley Master for this leg, and I have him transferring stores now.”
The man looked ready to cry. Possibly in frustration, rather than in joy, but turned to the sailors that all stood on the fo’castle and started giving them orders. Three men started to climb the shrouds to rework the poorly hung sails.
Erminea, Gern, and Harpy made their way back to the Gryphon’s Wings, and helped organize the new duty schedule and rosters for the two ships.
They parted ways an hour later, with the Gryphon gracefully turning in the night breeze, and tacking into the winds back toward the port of Ghlow.
Maybe she would finally get to meet this king everybody was so impressed with. She felt like she kept missing her chances to see the man. But, now! She had captured a ship for him, and that ship was now making its way to his capital city. She would present its captain, a particularly foulmouthed Parthiqueen Count, and accept the accolades she deserved, and strengthen the reputation of her father’s privateer fleet.
Just before dawn on the third day since the Gryphon’s Wings had heft port chasing the Silver Clouds, she stood on the deck and watched as the port came into sight. She was happy, and feeling like her life was going as well as anyone in the wide world could hope for.
Something looked wrong in the city. Something was off. The silhouette of the palace and surrounding city looked wrong in predawn gloom. The pre-crepuscular halflight had to be playing tricks on Erm’s eyes as her beloved ship neared the welcoming berth near the end of the Royal Dock.
With her victory over the Parthiqueen ship, and returning with its captain in chains, Erm felt confident in the warmth of their upcoming reception both at the docks and at the palace. But, now she was worried about what it was that made the fine scales behind her delicate ears bristle and grate in irritation.
Pulling out her glass, she focused on the port, and while the harbor looked like there were more military troops than she would expect to usually see. More than had been there yesterday morning, certainly.
As she moved the focus of her glass about the docks, she finally spotted what was wrong.
Smoke.
There was a wide plume of smoke coming from the palace.
And there was a pile of rubble where she thought there was usually a tower on the eastern wing of the palace.
An open wound now made up the eastern wing where a tower of thousands of stone slabs and mortar had been rent from its very foundations and thrown to the ground as if by a petulant child with a set of wooden blocks.