image [https://i.imgur.com/9JnFmXw.jpg]
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Mirabelle readied The Rogue Wave for their departure to Loverlock, five days after Rick, Fig, and Dorian first arrived in Saltcrust.
The plan was to sail north up the coast, to the mouth of the Allura River. Mirabelle told them that when they reached the river the Festival entourage would disembark and take riverboats upstream all the way to the foothills of the Twirling Ridge Mountains, where the resort town of Loverlock nestled between the southern border of the vast Berabrick Forest and the shores of Lake Allura. Barring unexpected delays, it was set to be a week’s journey, getting them to Loverlock with two days to spare before the Lovers’ Festival officially began.
Rick found himself unable to just sit quietly below deck and pass the time. He could hardly contain his excitement to see the Festival after so many years. Anticipation made him restless, and he wandered around the ship, mostly just getting in the way until an officer told him in stern tones to stand clear of the sailors while they worked.
He found an opportune spot where he could lean against the railing on the starboard side of the main deck, keeping him out from under the busy sailors’ feet while he observed the rush of activity and final preparations that preceded their departure.
The crew called instructions back and forth as they used a dock mounted loading arm to lift a heavy crate, twice as long as Rick was tall, up onto deck where it was secured on an odd raised platform that had been constructed for it on the forecastle.
There was no outward clue as to what was in the mysterious crate. Once the crew had secured it firmly in place with ropes, and covered it over with waterproof canvas, they left it alone and got back to the business of readying The Rogue Wave for its journey.
‘What do you think that is?’ Rick asked Fig, who’d recently joined him at his perch. She sat on a box nearby with her feet propped up, chomping her way through an apple.
Fig followed his gaze to the crate, then tapped the side of her nose conspiratorially.
‘I’m not one-hundred percent sure, and the crew were being pretty cagy about it when I asked,’ Fig said, wiping juice from her chin with a sleeve, ‘But yesterday Mirabelle told me she’d received some new secret toys from her friends in Garrel. My best guess is that the crate is holding one of them.’
‘From Garrel, huh. Colour me curious…’ Rick said, looking around, ‘Have you seen Dorian lately?’
‘No, he’s still sulking below deck,’ Fig said.
‘How come?’ Rick asked.
‘You missed it. Mirabelle made him remove all mentions of her and The Rogue Wave from his most recent article. She wouldn’t let it get transmitted to his editors until he agreed to the changes,’ Fig said, chuckling, ‘I wish you’d seen it. He had a proper tantrum when he realised he was going to have to rewrite the whole thing; went on a whole tangent about journalistic integrity and everything, but he caved and made the edits in the end. It takes a much more intimidating figure than Dorian to make Mirabelle change her mind.’
‘I still can’t believe he stopped that Dynasty bombing plot,’ Rick said, looking uphill at the blackened shell of the burnt out playhouse. What remained of the ruined building was just visible over the lower rooftops around it, and the damage the explosion caused to the surrounding streets was already being repaired.
They’d heard the whole story the morning after the explosion, after the pirate militia had extinguished the fire and Dorian was summoned back to The Rogue Wave to explain himself and the convoluted events leading up to the bomb blast.
‘Like I said the other night, bad things happen when he’s around,’ Fig shrugged, ‘Although I’m not sure it’s just him. Luck has been pretty messed up for all of us lately. It’s like our fates are swinging back and forth between insanely good fortune, and absolute disaster. Did I tell you about how I found my old cutlass and your walking stick right next to each other, just in time to kill the Ragon’ta Leader and help me walk back to the Chest?’
‘You did, twice,’ Rick said, ‘But at least these coincidences are working in our favour more often than against us. If you hadn’t found that cutlass, I don’t think I could have teleported us to Saltcrust in a single attempt.’
Fig wrinkled her nose at that, ‘I don’t know if I’m as convinced as you are that whatever’s happening is working in our favour, especially after all the shit we went through in that temple. I’m half expecting this ship to sink on the way to Loverlock.’
‘Please don’t say that out loud,’ Rick responded, looking nervously out at the choppy waves, ‘I’d rather not tempt fate by giving it nasty ideas.’
‘Suit yourself, I just want to be mentally prepared for when everything goes wrong again,’ Fig finished the apple and tossed the core overboard, then rolled her previously broken arm and shook it out, flexing the fingers and testing her grip.
‘I’m going to stretch my legs. Talk to you later?’ Fig said.
‘Sure,’ Rick replied.
He watched her stand and limber up, before strolling off around the deck, deftly avoiding the working sailors. Fig seemed a lot more comfortable aboard the ship than Rick was, and he was glad to say that she was looking a lot better after two more days of healing sessions. Colour had returned to her cheeks, bringing them back to her natural amber tan. Her bones were completely set, and she was steady enough to walk around without support.
She’d immediately taken advantage of her new mobility and freedom, to disappear into the city for a few hours yesterday and go on a shopping spree. Later that evening she returned with new boots, a full set of travelling packs and equipment to replace what she’d lost in the jungle, and even a magical repair job on her previously ruined riding coat. The coat had been cleaned of its gruesome bloodstains, and the ragged holes from where she’d been bitten and stabbed were neatly patched; it looked almost as good as new.
Rick, Fig, and Dorian had split the hefty coin-purse they’d accumulated from their looting in Vishrac-Uramis, and it came out to just under three-hundred gold-suns each, which was no small sum to have weighing down your pocket.
Rick had used his share of the money to purchase a proper new set of dark travellers clothes, complete with extra sewn in pockets and a voluminous cloak to cover up his burnt appearance. He wanted to avoid people staring at him when they got to Loverlock; Saltcrust had turned out to be a pretty open and accepting place, but he still felt very self conscious of all the odd looks he’d been getting as he walked around the town.
He also stocked up on writing supplies and a fine new leather pouch for the Book. Its strap slung around his shoulder so that the pouch hung just beneath his arm, making the Book accessible at any moment while mostly leaving his hands free. After a month of making do with whatever rags he’d been able to steal off dead bodies or from clothes lines, having his own fresh clothes again felt like an unbelievable luxury.
After the shopping trip, he still had over half his money left over. He didn’t quite know what to spend it on in Saltcrust, so he decided to save it for when they arrived in Loverlock. The resort town would give him access to more niche shops, and maybe even magical supplies at the local office of the Independent Guild of Arcanists.
Other than the large crate at the prow, and some provisions for the trip which had been loaded into the deep hold, there was no other cargo, making this a very light voyage for a ship already built for speed and manoeuvrability.
As a young boy, fascinated with pirate stories, Rick had read a little about the various classes of vessels that sailed the trade routes of the wine sea, and of the wild oceans beyond Sedalia’s shores.
The Rogue Wave was a modern three-mast frigate, full-rigged, with a hull length of fifty metres. It was narrow for its length, only ten metres across from rail to rail, and held a crew of roughly one-hundred and fifty sailors across two lower decks.
Mirabelle stood at the helm and oversaw their final preparations to leave port, checking in with her officers, who relayed orders to the various teams of crewmen, each with their own rotation of tasks to complete. People ran to and fro, shouting back reports and hashing out details, as every aspect of the ship underwent final inspection. The entire operation spoke of a level of efficiency he hadn’t expected to find outside the militaristic organisations of the Radiant Dynasty.
Rick wrapped his new cloak around himself to ward off the sea breeze, as the sailors raised the gangplank that connected The Rogue Wave to the harbour.
At last they were ready to leave.
The Rogue Wave’s movements were smooth, and precise as the crew finally cast off from the jetty with long poles, and rowed out to deeper water to catch the wind. Crowds of children gathered on the rocks as they passed the nearby headland on their way around the island. The children waved and shouted at the ship, the older ones leading the youngest by their hands, or hoisting them on shoulders to see off the infamous vessel as it set out for its latest voyage.
Some of the sailors waved back as they worked, laughing at the kids who took turns jumping off rocks and into the ocean, competing to do the most extravagant dives, until the ship passed the next set of cliffs and the port of Saltcrust disappeared from sight.
Squares of canvas unfurled from the yard beams to catch the favourable wind, and within minutes the crew had the ship under full sail, ploughing through the surf around the island. After an hour or two, they reached the north side of the landmass and set out across open ocean.
Satisfied with their heading, Mirabelle spoke a word to Grisson, her quartermaster, and one of the few crew members whose names Rick had managed to learn during his short stay on The Rogue Wave.
Grisson took over the helm as Mirabelle descended to the main deck and came to rest quietly against the ship's railing near to Rick.
They watched the island growing smaller behind the ship for a few minutes, as Mirabelle took a leather pouch, containing a small brush and a set of metal implements from her breast pocket, and used them to start cleaning her pipe, flicking refuse into the wind.
‘Here concludes your first visit to Saltcrust, Master Crichét. What did you think of my port?’ she eventually asked, turning her head to regard him.
Stolen novel; please report.
Rick wasn’t sure quite how he should respond to the Pirate Queen. Other than the first frantic recounting of his and Fig’s experiences in Vishrac-Uramis, back when he’d first arrived aboard The Rogue Wave, he’d barely spoken to Mirabelle the Black.
‘Saltcrust is… very different to what I expected. It’s not like the Heartland, but also not quite what I thought an island of pirates would be like,’ Rick admitted, ‘I thought it would be… I don’t know…’
‘What? That it would be full of peg legged old sailors, singing sea shanties and stabbing each other over barrels of rum?’ Mirabelle grinned, ‘Perhaps you also thought we killed babies for sport?’
Rick coughed with embarrassment, ‘I probably wouldn’t have put it like that, but… yes. Unfortunately that's kind of what I'd been led to expect... Sorry.’
Mirabelle laughed, ‘Don’t worry, you’re not going to offend me. I know what they say about us where you come from. I’m just interested in how it actually measured up to your expectations.’
‘It’s been pretty confusing, actually,’ Rick said, Mirabelle’s tone of informality put him slightly at ease as he continued, ‘I was curious to come here, and see Saltcrust for myself. I guess you could call it morbid fascination because based on what I'd always been told, I half expected people to be killing each other in the streets, worshipping pagan gods, torturing captured Heartland travellers, every bad thing I can think of.’
He shook his head and looked down, ‘It’s embarrassing to admit all that, now I’ve walked the streets and found out… It's just a town. A very pleasant town actually. The people were friendly. You have a vibrant society, full of businesses and families, and people just living their lives without bothering anybody. I don’t know what I thought, but somehow the image in my mind didn't involve any of those day to day things. I’ll concede that everyone wears a lot more weapons in Saltcrust than they do back home, and It’s definitely a lot rowdier, but it still… It’s so different from how everyone told me it would be, and that took me by surprise.’
He felt like he wasn’t expressing himself very well, but Mirabelle nodded knowingly and looked out at the waves as Rick gathered his thoughts.
‘I don’t understand why people in the Dynasty think Saltcrust is a monstrous pirate den’ Rick said finally, ‘The way they talk about it, you’d think it was only cutthroats and murderers.What do they gain from telling people that, when it’s just a town, like any of the ports on the Wine Sea, and that’s obvious as soon as you see it for yourself?’
‘That’s a good question, Rickard. What do you think the answer might be?’ Mirabelle softly asked, turning the question back on him.
Rick stood for a moment, just listening to the wind and waves as he struggled to answer.
‘I don’t know,’ he finally said, ‘I’ve never really understood why people always say so much awful stuff about places outside the Heartland. I always just assumed these towns on the border of the Dynasty must be pretty chaotic and terrible places to live, without the benefits of our law and administration.’
‘But now you’re seeing it firsthand and it's not lining up with what you were told?’ Mirabelle asked.
‘Yeah,’ Rick responded, ‘It’s a little jarring.’
‘Of course it is. You’ve had your first small glimpse behind the veil of the Dynasty’s propaganda machine,’ Mirabelle said.
She indicated where Fig was standing on the far side of the ship, talking to some of the sailors, ‘Fig was the same when she first got to the Outerlands. It took her a while to unlearn all the false narratives and prejudices she’d absorbed just by growing up in the Heartland. The more you see the world yourself, the more you’ll come to realise the ideas about Outerland societies and groups that get promoted within the Dynasty are often distorted, and those false narratives always serve a purpose, especially when they talk about places like Saltcrust.’
Rick furrowed his brow as she spoke, not quite following, ‘What purpose?’
Mirabelle fixed him with a steady look, ‘It’s power, Rickard. It’s always about maintaining power over people, what they know, what they believe, all so the people who know better can act with impunity. The Heartland elites call us pirates, and they make up stories about our evil island of depravity, stories that get spread in the press so that when the time comes for the Dynasty to send a military campaign out here to burn our homes and kill our children, people in the Heartland will accept the war, welcome it even, because they’ll believe it’s necessary, and that the Dynasty is just doing what it needs to do to defend its citizens.’
‘But your pirates are raiding Heartland trade ships.’ Rick said, ‘Isn’t that true? Aren’t people right to be upset?’
‘Of course they are,’ Mirabelle said, nodding, ‘We sink ships and take their goods. We kill people who resist, those people have families in the Heartland who will never see them again. I won’t pretend that doesn’t happen, but there’s a reason for it, and a depth of history to our present situation that most people don’t know.’
‘Well I’m completely lost, so can you help me understand?’ Rick asked.
Mirabelle finished cleaning her pipe and turned her full attention to Rick.
‘It’s a long story,’ she warned him.
‘I have time,’ he said, indicating the open ocean around them.
‘Fair enough,’ Mirabelle nodded, 'But I want to have a smoke so let’s do this inside.'
She turned and beckoned him to follow her to the Captain’s quarters, situated under the poop-deck.
Rick was grateful to be out of the wind, which had grown colder as The Rogue Wave left shore.
Mirabelle’s rooms smelled heavily of tobacco. They were simply furnished, less grand than he might have expected, and well organised. Nautical charts displayed the coastline of Sedalia, and lands beyond, comprising the archipelago of the Gravalt Free States and even a distant eastern continent, the name of which he did not know.
Mirabelle invited him to sit opposite her in a pair of armchairs. She lit up her pipe and blew clouds of smoke that drifted in the air as she dove into the history of Saltcrust and the Radiant Dynasty.
‘After the Forgotten War, the Radiant Dynasty massively expanded its borders and tried to install local governors to control its new territories, what we now call the Outerlands,’ Mirabelle said..
‘My tutors covered that period, the Radiant Expansion,’ Rick said, settling into his chair.
‘Right,’ Mirabelle responded, ‘Dynasty historians like to frame it as a very peaceful process, as if the Dynasty were welcomed into every corner of the Outerlands to take the reins and bring stability to a chaotic frontier. That’s the official version of events; it's what the Magisterium promotes, and it’s what young nobles like you and Fig get taught by you tutors, who are almost always Magisterium academics anyway.’
‘You’re saying that’s not what happened,’ Rick asked.
‘I’m not the only one saying it. All of the people the Dynasty steamrolled, murdered, and subjugated have been saying it for hundreds of years,’ Mirabelle explained, ‘But you never hear their side of things in the Heartland, most people from your part of the world have very little idea about the real history of places like Brod, or Dualspire, or Saltcrust. ’
‘Which is?’ Rick asked, feeling a little defensive and still not quite sure how any of this related to anti-Saltcrust propaganda.
‘That those places never wanted to be under Dynasty control,’ Mirabelle explained, ‘A lot of ex-military, from the kingdoms the Dynasty attacked and subjugated after the Forgotten War, all ended up gathering in Saltcrust. Our island became a haven for refugees fleeing the Radiant Expansion in the southern Outerlands, especially after Cthalvaliss fell under Dynasty occupation and became Dualspire.
‘The new armies of Saltcrust fought back against the Dynasty appointed governor of the region in Demerris, and they won, just the same way Garrel did in the north.
‘The Dynasty at that time was obsessed with consolidation of power and stamping out every remnant of the cultures that opposed their faction in the Forgotten War. So, of course, the Dynasty called the new people of Saltcrust dangerous rebels, religious heretics, pirates, everything they could to justify an aggressive military policy. They completely blockaded our island for forty years, and even after their resources ran thin and they withdrew the blockade, they still penalised anyone who tried to trade with us.
Rick tapped his foot nervously as he listened to Mirabelle talk. He hadn’t heard of half the events she was talking about.
‘The only reason the Dynasty hasn't crushed us in four-hundred years is because Saltcrust is dug in,’ Mirabelle continued, ‘We’re the descendents of the same warriors who held off the Dynasty all those centuries ago, and we’re still a heavily militarised society. You saw, almost everyone carries weapons, and they know how to use them too. The last proper skirmish between Saltcrust and Dynasty, back when I was a girl, went terribly for the Imperial Navy; we sank nearly twenty of their warships,’ she smiled at that, pride open in her tone.
‘The irony is, for all the fuss we cause the Heartland with our piracy, there’s almost nothing on our island that’s worth sacrificing the sheer amount of military resources the Dynasty would need to overwhelm our defences. It’s a bad investment for them.’
‘Why have I never been taught about any of this?’ Rick asked.
‘Because the Dynasty hates talking about its failures!’ Mirabelle said, ‘The whole point is to sweep them under the rug, and conjure a narrative that paints your leadership as the only force of light and stability on the continent. That’s why almost nobody outside of academics who study very select fields of military or political history even knows the real context for the Dynasty’s current relationship with Saltcrust.
‘That way, when the noble families who own the newspapers print stories to tell people that pirates from Saltcrust are murdering innocent travellers, or they claim we’re all savage, lawless crooks who deserve to be burnt out of our homes, your people don’t know any better than to believe them. You say we’re pirates, but anyone in Saltcrust would argue that we’re just defending ourselves from hostile invasion by any means necessary, and we could be doing a lot worse in retaliation than we are.
‘And there’s still a near total trade embargo for any vessels without approved Heartland shipping papers, which blocks Saltcrust from trading with any ports in the Dynasty. We can’t import or export any goods legitimately from even our closest neighbours, and that is death for a port city. It’s a policy that is designed to starve us out, to shrink our capacity to fend for ourselves and make us collapse into chaos. You see Rickard, my people were forced to become smugglers and pirates in order to supply the island with essential goods and feed our families, but of course that gives the Heartland more reason to vilify us.
‘So coming back to your initial question, that’s what I mean when I say there’s a lot more history to our piracy than most people realise.’
Mirabelle sat back and puffed on her pipe as Rick absorbed the bombardment of new information.
He sat back, rubbing his temples, ‘I feel like I just sat through a history lesson.’
‘Sorry. I know it’s a lot. If it’s any consolation you weathered it with more grace than Fig did when I first explained all this to her a couple of years ago,’ Mirabelle said, smiling, ‘as I recall, she pretended to fall asleep and start snoring.’
‘That sounds like Fig,’ Rick nodded.
He wasn’t sure how much of Mirabelle’s speech to take at face value. She was the Pirate Queen of course, and naturally she’d be inclined to paint herself and her people in a favourable light, but certain aspects of the story rang true, and lined up with questions Rick had been asking himself about the Dynasty for a long time.
‘Listen, Rickard. I’m not asking you to believe that we pirates are perfect saints,’ Mirabelle said, ‘We’re as ruthless and cruel as the world requires us to be. But anytime someone in power tells you ugly stories about a whole group of people, you should consider the motivations behind that rhetoric, and that includes me. Just be wary of manipulation.’
‘So don’t trust anyone, is that what you’re telling me?’ Rick asked.
‘Not at all. Trust can be earned, and I hope you find people who will earn yours, but don’t believe what anyone tells you without thinking it through yourself,’ she said.
Rick was quiet for a moment before he responded.
‘Mirabelle, did you know I used to be part of the Knights of The Enduring Dawn?’ Rick asked, ‘In hindsight I think it would be fair to call them a dogmatic religious sect, and the kind of critical thinking you're talking about was strongly discouraged. Even my family didn't listen to me and or what I wanted to do with my life. I think you might be one of the first people in a position of power to actually encourage me to think for myself.’
Mirabelle looked at him in surprise for a second, then she laughed, ‘Well I'm glad to be the first. You know, that does explain some things.’
Rick joined in, chuckling hoarsely.
‘Like what?’ he asked.
‘Just your overall manner. You’re an odd young man. I don't mean that as a negative necessarily; you seem very smart, powerful too, if you really did manage to teleport three people to Saltcrust from the Southern Jungle Strip, but you're still surprisingly naive to the ways of the world,’ Mirabelle said, ‘But I think you’ll do fine here in the Outerlands once you get your bearings, and Fig is the best protector you're likely to find. That's why I hired her to be my bodyguard for the Festival.’
'Let's hope you're right,' Rick said, 'I feel like I still have so much learn.'
[End of Chapter 15]