Trosyn sat across from Captain Galli in his quarters. He sipped his tea speculatively as he stared across the small round table at her. Trosyn looked down at the tray she'd brought, trying to summon up the courage to speak.

"About the offer you made me..." Trosyn began.

"Yes?"

"You should know something first," Trosyn clasped her hands together and set them atop the table, finally lifting her gaze to meet his brown eyes. They glittered with interest and he inclined his head for her to continue. "You might be getting more than you bargained for. A child is growing inside of me."

Clink. Down went the Captain's teacup into its matching saucer as he stared at her. His full beard and bushy eyebrows made reading him a struggle. However she could detect a deep crease between his eyebrows. She wished he would say something, and after searching his face for clues her gaze dropped.

"Well... I wasn't looking to add any more children to my life," the Captain said in a grumbling voice. The Captain looked away, tapping his finger on the table. He cleared his throat and scratched his neck, the grating sound of fingernails against weathered skin and stubble pronounced in the silence that hung about them. "But... I respect you for telling me rather than hiding it. Maybe I mistook your age, thinking you were past that."

A few measly syllables of a chuckle escaped Trosyn. "You wouldn't be the first." Trosyn responded. "I never kept a record of my age." Trosyn rubbed her freckled face. "Does this mean you are withdrawing your proposal?"

The Captain looked back at Trosyn, nodding his head. "I am." No apology was issued. No need to cut her deeper with any additional words. He lifted up his teacup and took a sip. Trosyn nodded her head, unsure whether she was relieved or disappointed.

"Shall I go, then?" Trosyn asked.

The Captain finished his tea and set down the cup, pushing the tray away from himself. "Dismissed," the Captain said, his tone distant and professional. Trosyn took the hint. She picked up the tray and left the captain's quarters.

----------------------------------------

The mess had become bustling again. Most of the ill crew had either died and been tossed overboard with a few words, or recovered enough to be back to their duties. Their progress had been slowed due to the sickness and shot hand to man the sails, for fuel was running low and the steam engine could not be relied upon.

Trosyn's work had become harder. What were once friendly jibes and harmless hazing took a mean turn, as she endured scathing glares, lobbed saliva, and jeering remarks. Trosyn had been jostled and tripped a few times. She heard the threats of what would happen to her if they caught her at the harbour once they docked. Trosyn wondered if she had kept quiet about her pregnancy and accepted the Captain's proposal, would the crew dare to treat her in this way?

Trosyn sighed heavily as she cleaned up the table next to the scientists' usual spot, a sticky mess from upset ale and gruel. Volente looked over at her, but at a snap of Baldovo's fingers he redirected his attention to the figures they were going over. Trosyn knelt down, cleaning up a disgusting sludge off the ground that bore no further description. She listened to the trio bicker over their work as Trosyn quietly set about her own.

Eventually some order was invented out of the surrounding chaos and Trosyn sat down at the paper-cluttered table. She leaned forward, placing a hand on her back, rubbing the soreness out of it. Volente looked over at her with some concern, but then looked down at his task.

"Ho, slut! Ye missed a spot!" called one of the sailors as he deliberately dumped his watered-down ale onto the ground. He and two others laughed. Tiredly, Trosyn got up to her feet to go and clean up. Baldovo, meanwhile, was doing everything he could to keep the other two scientists from getting involved. Colto and Baldovo both had learned their lessons. Volente, however, kept popping up his head and checking on her, to be sure she was safe.

"Oh that's it... that's it!" Volente said, standing up as he watched as the continued mistreatment. While Trosyn was down on all fours to clean up a spill, a sailor had placed his filthy feet upon her back, using her as a footrest. Another leaned down and whispered something into her ear, which Volente was glad he couldn't hear. "Now see here!"

"Down you fool!" Baldovo said, grabbing Volente's arm. The sailor's did not even look up. Volente puffed out his chest, which only served to make him more comical, and he tried to strut over to them. Alas, Baldovo had a firm grip on his wrist and yanked the delicate scientist back. Volente jerked then realised what he was about to do with horror. Those were three very burly sailors over there. And Volente, well, he was a slip of a man who wouldn't even know how to throw a proper punch. Volente quickly sat back down at Baldovo's bidding, thankful for the intervention, but still distressed by the circumstances.

"She shouldn't be treated that way. No one should be treated that way," Volente opined in his plaintive, nasal voice.

"True," Colto responded. He'd kept his eyes on the work, but stole a glance over at Trosyn, who was pushing the sailor's feet off so she could stand. He kept putting them back on, seeming to think it was a game. Colto's already monkey-ish nasolabial crease deepened as his nose wrinkled, his deep set eyes bearing down on the display. Colto craned his neck, and a series of cracks could be heard.

"Don't be baited. You got off easy last time," Baldovo cautioned. "But the captain warned us any further fighting between us and his crew would not be tolerated."

Colto cracked his knuckles. "Not going to fight," he said, placing his hands on the table, about to push himself to his feet. Suddenly, a shoe went sailing over their heads, causing Colto to duck. It clattered as it hit the opposite wall, and all eyes went to the direction it came from. Trosyn stood with her hands on her hips, fixing a bewildered sailor with a stern stare. He was missing a shoe.

"Brimstone and fire, woman! That was me best clog!" the sailor seethed, his holy stocking exposed to the world - as was a wretched smell of foot-dwelling fungus. The other two sailors laughed at this odd form of retribution, patting the angered sailor on the shoulder. Trosyn stocked off towards the galley, ignoring the demand from the sailor that she go fetch his shoe.

Colto relaxed, and the other two scientists burst out into laughter once they got over their initial confusion. Muttering curses under his breath, the sailor half walked, half hopped across the mess to retrieve his far flung footwear.

When things quieted down again, Trosyn made her reappearance, taking a cautious glance around before sitting down beside Volente. The three scientists all nodded to her, but avoided saying anything about the incident that had previously transpired; Their impish smiles and nods of approbation communicated just enough. Even Colto gave Trosyn a half smile before lighting up his pipe.

"I do believe you still need to tell us about your clandestine meeting with the natives of the island," Baldovo prompted before even a mote of small talk could begin. The scientists looked around, and that was the signal for them to roll up their parchments and set aside their work.

"Although you also did say you'd explain how you and Benold ended up on opposite sides of the war," Volente reminded.

"And what was that other guy Benold was bitter over, baron something or other," Baldovo chimed in.

"Best stay on the main story. What did the natives want?" Colto suggested, trying to rein in the other two's attempts to spiral the story out into tangents. Trosyn looked at the three of them, all with their own requests.

"Goodness, one doesn't know where to start if you can't all agree," Trosyn teased lightly, looking between them. They had been arguing over interpretation of the data for most of the afternoon. Trosyn heard snippets of it, although she didn't understand most of it, she did understand some of the colourful language Baldovo slung at his peers.

"No, Colto is probably right, we should just get on with it," Volente said with a long-suffering sigh, his tone suggesting he didn't entirely agree but was too tired to argue.

Baldovo was not quite so fatigued. "The story probably isn't having the intended impact if we don't know what all you and Benold have been through."

"Doesn't need impact, just need to know how she got from there to here," Colto asserted as he tapped the side of his pipe.

"You take the fun out of everything, Colto," Baldovo griped, but he relented. Trosyn had been patiently waiting for them to come to an accord, and with the raise of her eyebrows showed a little surprise at the speed of which they did so.

"Well then, I guess I'll continue," Trosyn said.

"Yes. Please."

Benold and I arrived at a grove. He wasn't going to go unprepared, and had brought a revolver, hunting knife, and his rifle. He gave me a knife as well, telling me he'd be wanting it back before we got back home. I kept it in my belt, making no efforts to hide it.

The grove was a spiritual place, I could feel it. But this grove had a very different energy from the one Sintol had taken me to. I detected a hint of sadness and longing around me, and it put me on edge. Sorrow is one of the more unpredictable emotions in my experience. It can quickly go from despondance to anguish, from sedate to aggressive. A person in the depths of despair who believes they have nothing to lose is truly formidable. A spirit, well, that is a nightmare unto itself.

Benold was very quiet as we waited, but I could tell he was growing impatient. He huffed, and crossed and uncrossed his arms several times. I remember this because I was vaguely aware we were being watched, and worried that his body language would be misinterpreted. When we were approached, it was by the two natives I met at the falls. Asion, that was the woman wearing the wolf head, greeted us. Benold looked confused and asked what she said. Again, I could understand her, but Benold could not. I greeted her back, mimicking the gesture she made to me.

Benold demanded they get to the point of the meeting. Asion wasted no time in saying that Commander Slacht had taken one of their women prisoner, and they wanted to negotiate her release. This was the first I'd heard of any prisoners being taken. From Benold's response, or lack of response, I gathered this was not news to him. From the way he coughed under his breath and cast me an uneasy side glance before trying to look firm and unflappable, I even surmised that he may have been involved. And I had a sinking feeling in my gut. I was once again reminded that, as much as Sir Benold conveyed himself as a gentleman, he did the bidding of blackguards.

"She was trespassing. You're lucky we didn't kill her," Benold said, his eyes going cold. I'd seen that look on the battlefield, and it chilled me to the core. This was a side to him I didn't want to see again. I was beginning to rethink my role and attachment to him. A look at my bracelet reminded me that I really had no choice.

Asion looked at us gravely and said, "No. You trespass on OUR sacred places. Creena was paying homage to the spirits, nothing more."

Benold crossed his arms and responded with, "If you can't defend it, then you don't have a right to it." I wanted to melt into the ground. This was not going to go well with that attitude, but I was there as an interpreter.

"Careful," I remember Asion's tone as she said this. She said it slowly and with weight, and it just gave me chills. It didn't have the same effect on Benold who looked bored. "You owe us. We expect to have Creena returned."

I could tell Benold was not pleased by this. He gave me a scathing look, since this was my fault. "I can't just release her. She's not in my custody!"

"Find a way. It is the only way to avoid needless bloodshed." And that was that. Asion did not stick around to discuss matters further.

Benold was left seething, fists clenched. He was silent on our way back, and I finally broke in with an apology. This caught him off guard, and his features softened a little. Instead he just looked tired.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"Although this is your fault, I'm not mad with you," he told me. "It's an impossible situation. Commander Slacht is not going to just give up a prisoner with nothing in return."

"Oh. Well I know a thing or two about impossible situations," I piped in. This gave him pause, and he looked at me, and then at my bracelet. There were times he forgot I was his slave, and then seemed chagrined when he was reminded.

"Well, what would you do?" he asked me dryly.

"Well I would be honest and tell Commander Slacht that my dimwit slave got you into a mess which ended in you owing them a favour, and this was how to clear your debt, and once that is discharged you can continue murdering each other with delight."

I don't think he quite appreciated my glibness. And maybe the wording wasn't exactly that. But it was enough that he stared at me, shook his head in disapproval, and kept walking. After a while he did add, "I don't enjoy murdering anyone. That's uncouth. It is just a necessary evil in a brutal world."

I reflected how I grew up on the streets, which was brutal. I never needed to murder anyone. However, I felt I was treading on thin ice, and kept my remarks to myself. I wish I hadn't. I really wish I had tried harder to convince him to do everything he could to set Creena free. Instead I just thought about my own potential loss if I pushed him too hard at that junction. I said something along the lines of, "do what you think is best," and dropped it.

"Did that decision result in bloodshed?" Baldovo asked, lifting an eyebrow. Colto blew out a puff of smoke as he looked over at Baldovo.

"Much," Trosyn responded with a sigh. Colto nodded his head, as if it confirmed his firmly held conviction that bloodshed was the only logical conclusion.

"Chances are you wouldn't have changed his mind," Volente suggested in an attempt to comfort.

"I didn't even try, that's what I regret the most," Trosyn frowned, her tone drawn out and tired. "But the blood shed was a consequence in the long term. However, I foolishly had focused on the short term consequence if I had chosen to push Benold."

"And that would have been?" Baldovo inquired, playing with a pen. Volente squinted at Baldovo, making a grab for the pen, only for Baldovo to hold it out of his reach.

Trosyn shrugged, thinking back on her various reasons in those days. "Benold might change his mind, and go back on some of our negotiations." Trosyn plucked the pen out of Baldovo's hand while he was distracted at keeping it away from Volente. She gave him a firm reprimand with eyes alone, and then handed the pen back to a grateful Volente before she continued speaking. "My whole reason for doing anything was just trying to find security or stability. And concubine to a Governor sounded like that. Pushing him might have jeopardised everything."

"Like being a Captain's wife?" The question was slid in and Baldovo caught Trosyn's eye, wagging his eyebrows. Volente looked at him uncomfortably then glanced away. Colto snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Ah... yes, like being a captain's wife. But... that is no longer on the table," Trosyn admitted.

"What?" Volente lifted his head, wide eyes blinking in rapid succession.

"Oh ho ho. You told him the truth, didn't you?" Baldovo shook his head and clucked his tongue. "I warned you not to."

"Indeed. I did not take your advice," Trosyn acknowledged. "Sometimes I think no matter what we do, we'll have regrets."

"That's bleak," Colto observed as he emptied his spent pipe. A few flecks of ash found their way onto some of the nearby papers, causing Volente to quickly try to blow them off. This resulted in a flutter of pages.

"Maybe, but it gives me more confidence. If I know I'll regret either choice, then I won't dwell on the regrets and can move forward," Trosyn explained as she helped retrieve some of the sheets that had strayed over to her. Volente gave a brief smile as she passed them back to him. Colto brushed some ash off of his shirt, earning a warning expression from Volente. Colto grunted and turned slightly away from the paper stack as he shook out his loose fitting top.

"So..." Volente said as he neatly lined up all the errant sheets, "...you won't be the captain's wife after all?"

"No. He doesn't want the responsibility of any more children," Trosyn answered. "And that is fine. It was a marriage of convenience on both sides, so neither of us are hurt. Maybe a little disappointed, but that will soon fade."

"Oh. Well. I'm not really sure what to say," Volente squeaked, wringing his handkerchief.

"No need to say anything. Where was I?" Trosyn asked.

"Benold failed to honour his debt," Colto prompted as he looked up from putting his pipe away.

Yes. We got back to the estate and Benold was agitated. He was a man of honour, or so he believed, but felt that what the natives were asking was too steep. The next day when I saw him next he was still pacing and muttering and trying to find his way out of the situation. I suggested that he go see Commander Slacht and at least get an idea as to the prisoner's current state. Perhaps he could not free her, but perhaps he could at least provide them with hope that she was even still alive.

"Are you mad? That would just encourage them to attack. Although I say let them try. They will fail!" Benold said arrogantly.

"I don't think so. Because then they know you have a hostage and an attack would be reason enough to kill her. It's clear that she's important to them, though I was unable to discern why," I said. I recall the way Benold stared at me, it was as if he forgot that I had fought in a war as well, and could provide any meaningful input on the situation.

"Well be that as it may, I don't think the information will do enough. They did... spare my life." Benold then began looking at me as if a thought had occurred to him. "But only because you convinced them to. Why didn't you say anything to them? They may have listened to you."

"Because I am your slave and you care about appearances, and having me speak would have undermined your authority," I reminded him. He snapped his fingers and looked crossly out the window of his study.

"I do not like having this hanging over my head. A man of worth always discharges his debts, but this is a steep one. Off with you, I need to think this through," he said, waving me off. So I left.

I kept close to Benold as much as I could, trying to learn what he might decide to do. When he mentioned going to visit Commander Slacht at the fort, I was bold enough to ask if I could accompany him. He was astonished I would want to go, as I'd been avoiding any and all of his associates as much as possible. He reminded me that Vormind might be there, which nearly made me back out. But after meandering I redoubled my resolve and reissued the request. He reluctantly relented.

So to the fortress we went. It was built in the modern, flankless style having five walls, with thick, low, sloped walls. I could see the barrels of heavy artillery poking out of the embrasures... actually these details aren't so very relevant. Just know that it was impressive, and not made by someone who had peaceful intentions.

My presence did cause a bit of a stir. People who knew Benold looked at me curiously, and Sintol even seemed a bit intrigued by my presence. I kept well behind Benold, quick to anticipate any need he might have to ensure his comfort. Perhaps it was a bit of my pride, wanting to show them that he had not wasted his time or money on me. But I was foolish to think I'd impress anyone. I quickly became part of the background, and Commander Slacht himself, a grim-faced man with a fringe of silvering hair and a scar on his cheek, was indifferent to my existence. I barely even registered.

This was a blessing in disguise. After I was shooed out of the meeting room so the men could discuss private matters, I decided to do a little sneaking. It was risky; I knew if I was caught wandering somewhere I shouldn't be, I could not only put myself in trouble, but Benold as well. But I was determined to discover the fate of Creena.

Fort Slacht wasn't hard to navigate itself. The challenge came in hiding from the guards that walked the halls. Thankfully, I had learned how to be silent. The guards had not. I usually could hear them and identify them by their footsteps, distinguishing them from other staff who worked there. Not that there were a lot of staff there, mind you.

I made it as far as the kitchen without detection. There I ran into a bit of a snag. If you wonder why I went into the kitchen, I had ducked in to avoid guards which were coming from both directions in the corridor I was in. I'm not sure why they had that cook, well, cooking. I was unable to sneak past that gnarly old man despite removing my shoes and tip-toeing past him while he was attending a noisy, sizzling pan over the cast iron stove. Without even looking behind him, he called out to me.

"Mangy slut! I told you to bring me the parsley an hour ago!" On second thought, maybe it wasn't parsley. Ah. Nevermind that. I continued to try and move past him, hoping maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe if he didn't get a response he'd shrug and keep working. No. He turned around, a grabbing a two pronged implement and waved it at me. He froze when he realised I was not one of the staff, and his face went redder. "Who're you? What're you doing in my kitchen! Out! OUT!"

There were guards outside and I feared his ruckus would draw their attention. I tried to placate the man, insisting I was lost, holding out my empty hands to show I was harmless. He saw my slave bracelet and the disdain on his face was clear as day. He marched over to me, seizing me by my ear. "I won't have no Loyalists in my kitchen!"

"The sausage is burning!" I yelped as he began to drag me out. This caused him to let go and quickly rush back to the stove. I ran in the opposite direction, down into the cellar. I don't know why I did that, but I wanted to be away from him, and I wanted to be away from the guards.

There I found a girl, maybe twelve, crouched in a corner sobbing quietly. When she saw me, she was afraid and begged me not to hurt her. By the bruises all over her, someone already had. I crouched down beside her and told her I wasn't there to hurt her. She was wary of me, but I did not blame her. I moved away to give her space, but kept myself at her level. I saw a basket nearby, with spilled herbs, and a smashed bottle of wine. I quietly began cleaning it up, glancing at the girl as she rocked and soothed herself.

She finally spoke to me. "You're new?" she asked. I shook my head.

"Just visiting," I told her.

"Why here?" she asked, puzzled and wary.

"I got lost and then scared by the cook." The girl gave a half-hearted attempt at a smile, but she was quickly frowning again.

"He is scary. If he ain't beating me with whatever he gots in his hand... he's threatening to send me to the bad man. And I'm scared, breaking that bottle, the bad man will get me. He'll cut off me fingernails and hang me by me toes." The girl told me.

"Vormind?"

"Shh! Don't speak his name!" the girl whispered, terrified. If I hadn't already been feeling sorry for the girl, I certainly empathised with her at that point. I would have gathered her up in a hug, but I could tell she would fight me if I did, so I left her be.

"How do you know he'd do those things? Is that what the cook says?" I asked. She had kept her hands tucked in her apron, but I had a feeling she was in full possession of all her nails.

"No. But they make me bring food to the dungeons, and I see the things he done," she told me. I should not have been excited by this, but I was.

Perhaps she could help me, but would it be worth risking getting her in trouble? I had Benold's protection, what little it was worth, and Benold could take care of himself. But this girl probably didn't have anyone to look out for her. Asking her a question wouldn't hurt, though. "Is one of them a native girl named Creena?"

The girl told me she did not know their names, but described one of them as a savage who growled and spoke words she didn't understand. I asked her if she could direct me to the dungeon. She was amazed and a little disturbed that I'd want to know and it took some coaxing to get it from her. I asked her a few other questions about the fort. She was quite obliging, though she didn't always have useful answers.

Finally I stood up and told her to drag me upstairs by the arm and say I broke the wine. I was willing to take the fall for her. I was confident that the worst that would happen would be a few smacks and a report to Benold. And Benold never laid an untoward hand on me.

"Just untoward lips," Baldovo joked. Volente made a strangled noise in his throat, eyes bugging out behind his thick lenses.

Yes, Thank you, Baldovo. The girl thought I was crazy, but she also really didn't want to get in trouble. She executed the plan, then gave the ingredients over to the cook. He scolded her, but kept himself from whacking her with the meat cleaver in his hand. I can't say the same for me, as I got hit with the butt of it. I was told to be returned to whoever my master was. As I was escorted by guards through the corridors, I kept my eyes open, and identified the door that the girl had described to me as the way down to the dungeon. I made note of it for later.

Benold was naturally mortified when I was dragged in by a guard and reported to have been causing trouble in the kitchen. He apologised profusely, saying he did not know what had come over his slave and promised he would discipline me thoroughly once they were done with their meeting. I was yelled at to wait outside and not move a muscle. I did so.

When Benold came out, he looked very grave. I could hear the cackling of Vormind and the oily laughter of Sintol. Benold was about to say something to me when Vormind came up behind him, placing a hand on Benold's shoulder.

"You know, if she were mine, she would never have stepped out of line. I could show you a thing or two..." he said, leering at me. I said nothing. I did not look him in the face and just stared at the opposing wall.

"I know how to keep order, thank you very much! I'd like my slave to be able to do her work, not lie in a broken heap," Benold said, sniffing haughtily.

"Hmph. Clearly you are too soft. Maybe I can't trust you to carry out your part of the mission after all," came the guttural voice of Commander Slacht as he stepped out. This had an immediate impact on Benold. His eyes went wide, and I saw fear in them. He then screwed up his face in one of indignation and he stuck his hand into his pocket, grabbing hold of something. He said a word - a power word - and in a moment my whole body wretched in pain. I stumbled forward, barely keeping myself standing. I wanted to just lie on the floor and curl up as it felt as though thousands of needles had sprung out from my heart, and were being pushed through my body. Benold had never activated the slave bracelet before. Not once. Vormind laughed cruelly and Commander Slacht nodded his head approvingly. I could see Benold lift his chin, smiling until Commander Slacht left, Sintol close on his heel yapping at him. I leaned against the stone wall, doing everything to keep myself upright as the pain slowly subsided.

"Works every time..." Vormind crooned playfully. Benold frowned, and Vormind let go of his shoulder, walking off, humming merrily. Benold finally looked at me. I was breathing heavily, and I did not want to look at him. I felt angry, afraid, and betrayed. All it took was their approbation for him to turn to cruelty. I hated how they always managed to bring out the worst in him.

"Come," Benold said in a clipped voice, although his tone was higher than usual, and strained. As angry as I was, I didn't argue. I silently, and resentfully, followed.

"Any time I start actually liking Benold, he goes and does a thing like that," Baldovo remarks, shaking his head. "That's the trouble with worrying about what other people think."

"I guess you were rethinking becoming his concubine," Volente said quietly.

"I was... yes beginning to dread it a little at that point," Trosyn admitted. Her hand went to her chest, appearing a bit paler than usual, bringing her freckles out in contrast.

"You look tired. Rest," Colto suggested.

"That might be best..." Trosyn said, her hand travelling from her chest to her midriff. The men looked at each other and then nodded their heads, gathering up the figures they had been pouring over.

"Don't push yourself," Volente warned, his eyebrows drawing close together.

"I'll do my best..." Trosyn sighed as she left to seek out her cabin.