AUGUST 2OTH, 220

THE MATHILDA: OUTSIDE OLGA’S CABIN

The Castelforte’s patience wears thin. I almost wish I didn’t stop by the Mathilda’s bridge because it is almost always lackluster news. Between the sixteenth and the nineteenth, there have been no reports of Metropolitan movements. I was almost certain that the Metropol would be practically paralyzed for a few days more at least. I learned that Olga’s preemptive strike on the supply fleet turned out to be far more effective than I could’ve possibly imagined. Practically the entire supply fleet was later reported to me on the seventeenth to be thoroughly destroyed.

Even most of the supply fleet’s escorts were seemingly sunk. Though a Taiga survivor that I talked to remarked the Ruthenian elements abandoned their suzerain and retreated further into the Rouen corridor. Olga’s subordinate further stated that if it were not for my distress signal, the Ruthenian squadrons and what remains of the shattered supply division were this close to annihilation. It is an interesting fact that the colonial parties did not either engage or join the fray itself. Had they done so, the Taiga fleet’s momentum and by extension, my warpath would have both been in jeopardy. On the other hand, it is simply a far less redundant waste of life.

But regardless, knowing that the Metropol fleet is seemingly stranded across the Rouen without ample supplies brings me some form of relief. Even if I failed to win the battle here, knowing that they would go this long—and who knows how much longer—without even adequate supplies brings me assurance that I could rally more men and ships for continued resistance. Even at that, I could persuade the Don to open his eyes and negotiate peace with the Metropolitan leadership, as trivially impossible as that may be. Even the maniac I am forced to call father would come to a face-heel realization that further resistance would be futile. The longer either of us resist, the more unjust conditional terms we may face.

And just how unjust would their commands be? Looking down at the tray of hard biscuits and lukewarm coffee, I am left to wonder: even if the Don accepted the notion of negotiating peace, would he utilize me as a scapegoat to save himself…?

“Ah, Madame, it ’s a pleasant morning, isn’t it?” The soothing, ever so relaxing voice of Olga brings me back to focus. The lanky woman stands outside her cabin room, hand on hip as she does some stretches. Lately, she has always been doing this in some form or another. Olga claims she’s fit as she always is despite my objections to resting more. Just last night she was helping out in the canteen, doing what she could in contributing to the welfare of others. Interestingly, even Sergi felt uncomfortable by her renewed rebound.

“Yes, yes, it is,” I reply, opening the door to her cabin and setting the tray down on the end table. Olga follows suit and happily reaches for one of the hard, tanned biscuits. “Olga, I thought I asked you last night to take it easy,” I say as I watch her nonchalantly take a large chomp out of the rocky ‘food’. Olga seems to appreciate it, regardless, however.

“I couldn’t help myself,” Olga says after a mouthful of the hardy cake, “I don’t want to sit around so much until I lose the strength in my legs. I already have one useless limb, I don’t want to have two more,” Olga says as she gets closer. With a gentle touch, Olga caresses the scar running along my cheek; my blemish tinges to her icy touch. I instinctively place a hand over hers, squeezing it tightly. “I couldn’t stand the thought of being a burden to you any longer, Madame.”

“What have I told you about calling me by that distasteful name?” I remark, wincing as Olga runs fingertips alongside my facial scar. Her hand traces down to my chin and she lifts it slightly up. “That side… the biscuit, is it your liking? The Mathilda chefs let me have my way…” I avert my gaze amid Olga’s smile, “but cooking has never been my forte. I did what I could with limited supplies, and yet it came out so bitter. And I know for certain the others who sampled it didn’t appreciate it, but they still remarked that it was good for my sake…” I trail off locking eyes with Olga. She never once ceases smiling.

“For a beginner, I think you did decently. It was a little plain,” my heart sinks a little at the critique, “but just the fact that you went out of your way for me to do a task so mundane makes up for it. Food created by the ones you love speaks volumes for itself, don’t you think?” Olga asks as cheerfully as she could “you could make the most overly sweet food—or spicy or even bitter—and I would still cherish it all the same, Mada… Li,” Olga finishes abruptly, her smile beams. My cheeks flush with embarrassment even as Olga continues to stroke my disfigured cheek.

“I’m… also using it as a learning experience,” Olga nods as I continue “for when the two of us must act more independent of the Mafia. Caring and looking over a cadre of deprived children,” I afford a wince as I smirk “let us hope that they are as acceptable to my cooking as you are.” Though with that said, it would not hurt to enlist the help of the Haru woman. In any case, when I disclosed to Olga of my plans after the Metropol incursion, she was very open to the idea. Even after I asked if Olga if she desired something else—if she had dreams of her own to follow, she declined any and only desired to fulfill mine; whatever it may be, and nothing less. And for that, I’m grateful she is willing to follow me down this path of seclusion.

“It will take a long time, but I’m sure they will come around to appreciating you in many ways,” Olga says as she leans in closer, “just as much as I am fond of you,” the blonde is close enough that her soft breathing brushes off my lower face. She closes her eyes and purses her soft pink lips. I clench Olga’s shirting, and before I know it, my chest pounds remarkably fast. Then, as if on instinct I extend on my tiptoes and mimic Olga’s advance, slowly closing my eyes with Olga imprinted in my imagination.

A slide of the door from behind us, followed by two men conversing. I recognize the voices as belonging to Brutus and captain Frans. Most immediately I peak at the doorway and realize Brutus is leading Frans but not facing us. My heart skips several beats and a flood of memories of rejecting Brutus flashes before me. Knowing that Brutus would be incredibly hurt if he saw us now, and knowing I haven't told Olga of our time together on the Castelforte, I break away from Olga and clear my throat. Olga must’ve realized in time, and embarrassedly turns around to cram another biscuit into her mouth.

Brutus turns to face us, blissfully unaware of what happened before him. Given Brutus’s large physique, Frans must not have seen anything either. “Oh, Olga is up and about? Great!” Brutus remarks stepping out of the way for the captain before continuing, “cap here kept nagging to come and see you two… I tried to let him know, for what it’s worth, not to interrupt you two of all people. It’s practically suicide.” If only Brutus knew what he had walked in on just moments before. If these doors weren’t so loud, I imagine without quick thinking that we’d all be in an embarrassing situation right about now. Turning my attention to Frans, waiting for the man to share his thoughts.

“Well, authority over my ship aside… Olga, dear, how are you faring now?” The bearded captain asks, eyeing her from top to bottom. Olga turns back around after washing down the biscuit with the terrible ersatz coffee. The lanky woman gives a nod and weakish smile, perhaps stomaching the awful substance she just downed. For what it’s worth, Brutus is the one who tried his best to brew it with what he had on hand.

“Better now more than before, cap’n,” Olga says with a low bow, “thank you for hosting me and my beloved crew.”

“Well, it was my pleasure, but…” Frans trails off with a heavy sigh as he returns my gaze, “if you think you made a full recovery, then I believe it would be reasonable to discharge you now. And by that, I do mean all of you getting off my ship,” Frans grimaces before he continues, “that also goes for all the other crew members of the Taiga—those who believe they are fit to return to duty, more or less. Brutus and I already went around and told them to pack what belongings they may have and prepare to leave,” Frans cuts a long sigh “I know it’s rather cruel of me,” Frans extends his arms “but you must understand the situation I am in. I may have miscalculated a fair bit by volunteering to host a wardship, but I realize my mistakes now,” Frans finishes and lets his arms drop to his sides. The captain sweeps his gaze at everyone without another word.

“I understand the situation you are in, and I hold no issue with what you’re doing. As Olga said, I appreciate the hospitality you offered to the Taiga crew,” I look up at Olga who takes notice and returns the gaze with a smile, “I’ll assist Olga by helping her clear out as soon as we can. Do you have anything else to relay to me, captain?” Frans shakes his head. He takes a step back and dismisses himself seeing as he needs to inform the remaining occupants of their eviction.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

With the captain gone, I turn my attention to the oaf. “And what of you, Brutus? Did I not ask you to remain on the Castelforte until my arrival? What was so important that you needed to come out of your way in person?” I crack a grimacing smirk “did you sorely miss my presence that much?” Olga stiffens up briefly, and Brutus blows air. Of course, if Brutus is here, then it likely means that my presence is urgently needed on the Castelforte, and that might entail just one thing.

“Well, you see…” Brutus starts before I jump to cut him off.

“Never mind that,” I turn to face Olga “are you fine with moving to the Castelforte? Do you need a moment to gather any belongings?” Olga thinks for a moment before shaking her head.

“Other than a few sets of clothes, I can leave right away,” Olga states, “everything else was lost when my ship was scuttled, unfortunately.”

“I see… Brutus,” I turn back to face the oaf “if you so may, please gather Olga’s clothes for her and we’ll meet up in the first hangar bay, understood?” When I finish, Brutus looks a little puzzled. Then embarrassed: his cheeks flush red.

“Er…,” Brutus’s eyes dart between Olga and me, “are you, uh… alright with me handling a woman’s clothes?” I glance at Olga, who also seemed abashed at my decision. What’s wrong with these two? It’s merely clothing. It’s nothing to be worked up over. I rub my scarred forehead and heave a sigh.

“If this is as urgent as it seems, then hurry up and put it in a bag or two. If neither of you has qualms with that, then let us carry on. Brutus, we will meet you there,” I state as I head past Brutus out the door. I wait outside for Olga, who joins me not long after in making our way to the hangar bay. Occasionally, I glance over at Olga expecting her to coldly question me about my relationship with Brutus: but she never does. She has a stoic expression, so it is difficult to tell if it is something that bothers her in the first place. Could I be overthinking it, then?

As if on cue, Olga does pay attention to me staring at her. She seems a bit surprised but then smiles. “Is something weighing on your mind, Madame? Perhaps you are imagining I am upset with Brutus?”

“Well… in a way, yes. I kept expecting you to interrogate me about us being close… or something of that nature,” I cock my head to the side “maybe I was expecting… jealousy?” That evokes a laugh from the lanky blonde, which does catch me off-guard. Olga shoots me a beaming smile.

“Jealousy, you say?” She says running her hand through golden bangs “well… when you put it that way. I suppose I sort of am, knowing that someone other than me was by your side. But that… Brutus? He seems like a good man to keep you from acting too irrational. I could perform my tasks as the Taiga captain content with the fact that you have dependable subordinates like him. ”

“Olga…” I start, but Olga reaches out and rustles my hair. She cracks a grin.

“Don’t dwell on it so much, Li… oh,” the two of us stop, the shivering breeze of the overly conditioned Mathilda becomes all the more obvious. “Seems we’ve reached the hangar… and most of my Taiga crew has arrived already,” it is just as Olga says. It would be an understatement to say that many are huddled together in misery, and what a sorry state they are in!

Given the number of shuttles in ratio to the miserable horde present, it’ll take at least a dozen trips to ferry everyone off the Mathilda, and give Frans much deserved breathing space. In the meantime, however, these poor souls are left to languish until it is their time to board for departure. A press on the back catches me off-guard, but I realize it is Olga giving me a few pats. She gestures me forward as if prompting me to try and raise the spirits of her crew: I let out a quiet scoff. “It’s your crew, Olga… wouldn’t it be better for you to act like a captain, for at least a little longer?” I ask warmly.

“I think what they need the most right now is someone with charm and charisma,” Olga replies with that bleak smile of hers. She rubs her arm’s stump before reaching over to mess with my hair again.

“You’re horrible, Olga,” I remark wryly. I take a few steps forward, cutting loose a heavy sigh while rubbing my throat. The Taiga crew-members adjacent to me sheepishly stare up at me, but none say nor do anything. Most keep their heads lowered and tighten their woolly blankets. With another deep breath, I begin to address the crowd.

“Men and women of the Taiga! Please heed my voice for this one time,” I shout and at once the whole lot of eyes take notice of me, “many of you have served under me directly with your comrades in the Castelforte, and countless more came from other ships. But regardless of your origins, all of you have come to accept the Taiga as their one and only home and forge new esprit de corps on the Taiga. The Taiga was your pride—just as it was the pride of the Mafia itself. And for years, many of you have done all you could to defend our rights as pirates—to protect one another from the encroaching Federation… from the days the Castelforte first came to be, to the battlefield of Abassi, and here at the treacherous, unforgiving waves of Rouen.

“But now the Taiga lies in ruins, it is no more! The ship you called your home—where one has enjoyed their moments of happiness and sorrow—times of joy and grief is now nothing more than scrap among the starry seas. The place of memories, of bonds and betrayals, and all the good and bad times you experienced in it, and all the unfortunate souls you have called your brothers and sisters have perished… scattered like stardust. There is nothing left for you to offer to the Mafia—not even a drop of blood or sweat more. Perhaps you may have grown weary—disillusioned with what may come to be in the coming days. But I reassure you all this… I wish to present you all with choices.

“No more will I oblige you to fight for the Mafia. No more, I believe, should any of you throw away your lives, not to ensure each other’s survival, but lay down your lives for a terrible tyrant fueled by paranoia. No more should you suffer and cry as your loved ones die next to you. I offer you all a choice: the freedom to do what you desire. If you wish to wander in search of a new ship to call home: you may do so. If you wish on returning to the Castelforte: you may do so. If you so much desire to run away and flee to havens among the Clusters or planetary settlements… you may do so.

“I would not fault you for whichever choice any of you make. I do not desire to chain you to waste your lives for meaningless purposes. You all have a right to live… and it is only fair to live for those who could not,” after finishing, I take a heavy inhale and cut an equally long sigh. I then scan the room and pound my chest with a balled fist. In a surprising flurry of frenzy, many stand up and pound their chests repeatedly, sounding hurrahs and other outrageous things like ‘long live the Madame!’.

After the ruckus dies down, I look back at Olga, and the two of us make our way to Carla’s shuttle, where the pilot greets us enthusiastically and informs us that the shuttle will take off shortly. While the shuttle begins preparations to take off, Olga and I began to strap into our seats. As we do so, I spot Brutus as he emerges from the crowd of Taiga sailors to join us on the shuttle. He sits down from across us, and after setting the transparent bags down underneath his seat, turns his attention to me.

“I imagine you have some important details for me waiting for me on the Castelforte,” I say wryly. Brutus nods and leans forward to clasp his hands together. He glances outside the shuttle before looking back at me.

“I wish I had good news for you, Madame,” Brutus says after clearing his throat, “I really did.” The longer he beats around the bush, the more unsettled with horror I become. “The Federation… the entire Fed fleet is finally making a move.”