"Sit down, Colto! Leave it!" Baldovo tugged at the brown waistcoat of his much larger associate. Dogged and disapproving, Colto's intense gaze remained upon an oblivious pair of sailors who were nudging each other and laughing. Trosyn walked away, seeming completely unaffected by smack to the rump she'd received in passing. The laconic scientist was not quite so unaffected by the display.

Reluctantly, Colto sat back down, but he continued to keep a wary eye on the men as they quaffed their grog. As Colto backed down, so did a sigh of relief escape Volente. Volente had been holding his breath since Colto slammed down his pewter mug and rose to his feet sharply. But no challenges were issued, and a potential brawl was averted. "Dear me, we needn't be, if you excuse the term, rocking the boat." Volente received a frightful stare from Colto for his quip, and he quickly brought his handkerchief up to his mouth, looking away.

"They're red-blooded men, don't begrudge them a little fun. I'm sure Red can handle herself. If she looks distressed, then we can try to civilise the brutes," Baldovo remarked, waving his hand in the air in his carefree manner.

"They've been tame until recently. I think the Captain may have said a few words to the crew," Volente suggested as he lowered the cologne soaked cloth from under his nose. "I'm sure if she has any troubles, she can bring it to Captain Galli's attention. He's a respectable sort, I think. A man of character."

"If it's not the Captain taking liberties himself and marking his territory," Baldovo mused out loud. Colto gave him a baleful look, while Volente looked positively scandalised. "What? Look, even if the Captain is a virtuous fellow, if she snitches to him and he comes down, they'll only be harder on her. Best not to make a deal of it, for her sake. There's no protection for a woman in her situation."

"Which is why we should protect her," Colto's even tone carried with it a plodding but immovable weight. He picked up his mug of ale and took a sip, shifting his glare back to the untowards sailors.

"Don't pretend we're any better. We're only listening to her story for our own gain, and she knows it. She's a smart lass who understands quid quo pro," Baldovo remarked before taking a bite of hardtack, then quickly washed the dry biscuit down with a hearty mouthful of ale.

"She deserves some respect," Volente suggested, eyeing Trosyn as she returned with an empty tray to clean up after some other men. One of the other sailors belched and staggered to his feet, nearly falling down again. Trosyn quickly set down her tray, and helped him to his feet. They watched as she gently guided him out.

"I agree," Baldovo remarked as he observed Trosyn. Colto lifted a thick eyebrow at his fellow scientist, and Volente peered at him with eager hope for the man seeing the error of his ways. "...And to show her respect, we should let her handle herself."

"There, that's the last of the cleaning. Don't you three have better things to do than wait for me to finish my chores?" Trosyn asked, slinging them a spirited smile. It transformed her face, which was usually so carefully guarded.

"I'm sure we could be organising our notes, but I think better in the mornings," Baldovo responded. Colto stood and pulled out a chair for her, gesturing with his large brown hand for her to sit. Trosyn arched an eyebrow, smiled, and took her seat.

"You said you'd tell us more, and we're here to listen," Volente said softly as Colto returned to his own seat.

"Alright, where was I when I last spoke?"

"Working in the fields, after the harvest. You indicated you did not get along too well with the other workers," Volente reminded helpfully.

"Ah... right," Trosyn sighed as she took a moment to reorder her thoughts. She played with a loose lock of her wavy red hair, eyes going distant as she conjured the image of events long past.

"If it's difficult, you can skip past this part," Volente reassured. She laughed and shook her head.

"I'm fine, but thank you for considering my feelings... Volente is it?"

"Yes," Volente said, visibly brightening. Baldovo snorted back a snicker and Colto just clasped his hands and placed them heavily upon the table, waiting for Trosyn to resume.

I won't deny that the overseer liked to take a switch to my backside to hurry up my work. However, there were others he cracked down on as well, even though they were paid farmhands. Paid paltry sums, I should add. But paid, and when the frost came, they could go home to their families. Some of the men purposely worked too close, brushing up against me. Some avoided me and would make a point of leaving when I was near. Most of them found some way of verbally demeaning me. And words can leave their mark, and some of the remarks stung. Some filled me with fear that they would escalate past words. But I had learned by that point not to show it. It's not like when I was much younger and first found myself homeless.

"Homeless?" Colto parroted.

"Sssh. Don't derail her," Volente waved a hand at Colto.

"It's fine. I'll keep it brief. I was an orphan, and the orphanage I grew up in was rapidly losing funds while more orphans were pouring in. We could either starve while being abused by the overwhelmed staff at the orphanage, or try our luck on the streets," Trosyn explained.

"If fertility was as low as you said, what was causing the surplus population? It's not like ignorance and accidents could happen," Baldovo asked, a clever glint in his eye as he readily pounced upon a contradiction. Trosyn caught that expression and smiled sweetly.

"Low fertility is why the orphanage was unprepared. A pox had ravaged the slum I was born into. It passed through children quickly and savagely, but oddly more children survived and made rapid recoveries. It hit the adults slower, and weakened them so that other sicknesses would take root and finish them off." Trosyn interlocked her fingers and set them on the table, tilting her head to Baldovo. He looked her over a moment or two, before murmuring something inaudible to himself.

"Continue," Colto prompted.

I had despaired that Benold had forgotten me. So when I saw him speaking with my overseer, I let my curiosity get the better of me, and placed myself as close as possible to catch his eye. We had been close once, certainly he couldn't be indifferent to me. I could handle his hatred more than his apathy. Eventually he did look my way, and quickly away again. But it was enough. He gestured to me as he spoke, and I began weeding even closer.

Master Benold asked the overseer if I was working well. I heard a pile of words, like wench, slut, and useless. I'd lost my pride long before this, so I was not angry or crushed by the report I knew to be false. It was more that I worried about the consequences. Benold was a proud man, and would not want to look foolish by buying a 'useless' slave. I worried he would blame the overseer for not utilising me correctly, and then the overseer, berated, would take it out on me even more. I could handle pain and discomfort, but I had my limits. And I did not wish to meet them.

I am sure you can imagine I was very anxious to know what Benold would do with that information. But he remained calm and detached, thanked the overseer for the report, and moved on to other matters. While I was stewing over my own fate, I noticed something wasn't quite right in the tree line. Quickly, my attention went to shifts and shadows. Something was lurking.

I wish to explain that while I cannot see spirits, I can sense them in other ways. I was attuned to magic, although I could not use it myself. And something in those woods was creating an illusion to cover their movements. And then I sensed a heat. I did not want to expose myself to whatever happened next. I dove behind one of the water troughs we were using to irrigate the land. Soon after a volley of flaming arrows descended, assisted by unnatural winds. Benold took cover, and pulled out his revolver, returning fire, yelling for someone to fetch his rifle. Benold was an excellent marksman, and once he set his eyes on a quarry, there were few who could escape. The trouble is, he could not see anything.

I could. I saw the shapes in the forest. People wearing animal skins and leaf cover cloaks. As more of Benold's men rushed to the scene and began firing back, it became chaos. I worked to put out the fires closest to me. It'd be hard to say the order in which things happened. Needless to say, the attack was repelled, but not before doing some damage to his fields. I knew this meant we'd be driven even harder to work to make up for the losses. I was bereft about this, but I was alive. Some of the others weren't so lucky.

As I was getting ready to head inside and wash up, I was shocked when Benold came up behind me, putting a hand on my shoulder. He spun me around, and studied me, looking very grim. He said he saw me duck before they attacked, and asked me how I knew they were coming. He sounded suspicious. It occurred to me he might believe I had a hand in the attack somehow. I did not know how to defend myself, since I did not even know who they were.

I don't remember what I told him. He kept asking me questions, and I tried to be honest, but didn't want to explain my talents. All the years I'd known him, I kept them hidden. People like me were hated or exploited, so it was always a secret I bore. Eventually, though, I had to explain that I sensed the danger before it occurred. I didn't think he would believe me, but this got a sort of smile from him. It wasn't a kind smile. It was more self satisfaction, as if I were confirming something he already believed. It was smug. But I'd prefer a smug master over an angry one.

To my relief, he told me my talents were wasted in the fields. I agreed, although I wouldn't say as much. I could do the work, but I felt that I could do so much more. However, my heart sank when he told me he wanted to accompany his sentries on patrols. There were hostile forces encroaching, and this was the first time they had the gall to strike at his estate. His sentries were all ex-military, which I had fought on the opposite side of. I wanted to bring this to his attention, but I didn't have the confidence to speak to him plainly yet. If I thought the field hands were bad, I could only imagine it would get worse among veterans.

"Well, clearly you survived," Baldovo said cheerfully. Colto and Volente each gave him measured stares.

"I did," Trosyn responded, giving a small shrug.

"I must say, Red, miss, you seem to be telling this story as if it all happened to someone else," Volente observed. "You say what you felt, but you don't seem to really feel it anymore."

"It's all in the past. I've shut that door," Trosyn said, her tone sounding tired. Colto leaned back and lit his pipe, nodding to Trosyn to continue.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

I was anxious my first day tagging along with the patrol. It went better than I thought. The guard I was assigned to seemed annoyed by my presence, but he was very professional. He told me at the start if I stepped out of line he wouldn't hesitate to shoot me. I felt that was fair, and did not step out of line, therefore we were able to coexist in mutual indifference. I only did a patrol in the morning and in the evening. In the meantime, I was told to do whatever Mrs. Gray asked of me. Which meant scullery work. I was worked to exhaustion, but it was better to fall asleep the moment I got back to my room than to spend the time thinking about my situation.

Not much occurred. There was only one incident where my senses were of any merit, and that was driving off a small scouting group. I gathered from hearing people talk that people from Ayokonia had begun to colonise the bay. They ran into resistance with native people who had rejected technology and tried to live in harmony with the spirits. It surprised me as I had always been taught the islands were uninhabitable. But here they were, claiming the island as an ancestral home, and at odds with Benold and his connections.

Benold was the civil Governor of the nascent colony. However, he was still subordinate to Commander Slacht, the military power on the island. I despised Commander Slacht and everything he stood for. Knowing that Benold was still under his thumb meant that I was in a delicate situation. Ah, sorry, I went off on a tangent. Anyway, I was doing patrols. Incidents were rare on my watch. Of course I was never armed. And I was always under the watchful eye of the guards. I was also, in the evenings, under the watchful eye of Benold. I'd see him on his private balcony, observing me.

A few times he had spoken to me briefly, but he still kept his distance. It was like he was waiting for something. He must have become impatient, because one evening I was told to report to his private wing. I won't deny I was curious. I would even say intrigued. I'd been wondering what his plans were, and how I fit into them since I'd arrived.

I remember this event so clearly in my mind. How he sat there on a clear night, the forests in the distance beyond his manicured estate property. The clear stars. The balmy coastal air. The way candlelight reflected off of the glass flute he drank wine out of. His eyes on me. I still had that sense of anticipation from him. It started innocent enough. He asked me more about my senses and what I could detect. I did my best to explain them. Then he told me for an hour or two each night: that he wanted me there, watching from his balcony. His wish was my command. I asked him if he'd be out there during my watch duties.

This is where things began getting personal. I remember the exchange, almost word for word. It all started with a remark like, "It's been a long time since we sat together peacefully, like this." There he was, swirling his wine, staring off in the distance. I told him it was too long. Again, he mentioned how things were different. It was a recurring theme in our previous interactions. "Things are different now."

Benold said to me, "I suppose you must hate the Kayonn*." That was a very uncomfortable thing for him to bring up. What was I to say, as having fought on the losing side against them? As being enslaved by them? Despite most of them being from the very slums I grew up in, while he, privileged as he was, was the very person the Kayonn fought against? It was all so backwards how we fought on the opposite sides of our origins.

"Hate is a strong word," I cautiously answered. "I do fear them."

He said he understood that. It's when he said next that made me anxious. Or maybe it was the way he asked it. His wine glass stopped swirling, he dipped his chin, and he looked at me directly. "Including me?"

Again, what was I to say? If I didn't fear him, it would seem like disrespect. If I did fear him, it may be a slap in the face to a time when we were close. "You haven't given me reason to be afraid. But I do know the power you have over me." It was the most honest answer I could give.

He did not seem to like this response, as he took a big gulp of wine. That was one of his tells, whether he took a dainty sip and fully savoured the flavour, or took a large mouthful. "Wise." He said after a pause. "I could do anything to you." As you can imagine, this remark did not reassure me. I was doing everything not to panic. "Surely you've heard the stories of what happens to slaves."

It's my default to keep talking as if nothing is wrong. So that is what I did. I looked out at the stars to hide my expression and said, as casually as possible, "I have not heard the stories, but I have an imagination." This may have been fine. But I think the comment I tacked on is what perturbed Benold and sent the conversation spiralling downwards. "Power corrupts."

Affronted he looked at me sternly. "Not here!" he insisted. Thrusting his finger down at his estate, he added with emphasis, "I'm civilised again!"

I should have shown better judgement. But instead, I played coy. "Are you saying you weren't civilised before?"

This riled him up and he sputtered, finishing off his wine and immediately pouring more into his glass. "Of course I was, but war can bring out the savage in anyone!"

I knew I needed to quickly assuage his ego. But in those days I hadn't learned to not speak in layers. On the outside, a compliment, but underneath, toxic. "This is a nice civilised corner in an otherwise savage world." I turned away again. "And they can only benefit from your good example, like how I did once."

This did turn Benold thoughtful, but it also calmed him somewhat, at least on the surface. But I suspected there was still tension and strife churning underneath. "I am a good example! I am a pillar of good society," he exclaimed. It took everything for me to not shake my head. He was better than the worst, but he was not the paragon that he deluded himself into believing he was. And there it came again, his wistful sigh and remarking, "That was a long time ago." There was nothing I was going to say. I turned as if watching the tree line for something. But when I didn't respond, or report anything of value, he continued. "You joined the Ayokonia army. You... rejected me."

This brought up a lot of difficult memories. I am sure you are eager to know what the baggage between Benold and I was, that made this conversation so pivotal. But all in due time. All in due time. First, just let me get to the end, and I can answer the questions I see in your eyes.

"I never rejected you. I just went in a different direction. My joining the Ayokonia Royalists had nothing to do with you," I explained. He looked dubious of my explanation as he drank more of his wine. "It all had to do with needing the access to save someone's life."

"Would that life have been the life of Baron Blaire?" Benold asked with thinly veiled contempt. Truly, the veil was nearly transparent. But I wasn't about to start lying. With a power word, he could send me into a world of pain.

"Yes," was all I said. I did not elaborate. But I could tell he wanted more as he tapped the side of his glass, staring hard at me. Ah, I see those looks. To give some quick context, Baron Blaire was a heated rival of Benold's. And again, the story of Baron Blaire and I can be saved for another time.

"Is it true you two were lovers?" Benold asked me. I did not appreciate him prying into my personal affairs, but I was the one with the bracelet. I must have rubbed it or touched it, because he suddenly looked at it, scowled, and poured himself more wine.

"We were friends," I told him firmly. He did not look convinced.

"Friends? He kidnapped you!" Now, now, I see that look Volente. I will explain, just let me get to the end of this, as it's all pressing on my mind. "He kidnapped you! Yet everyone said he was your hero. Your HERO! Yes... saving you from the villainy of... of me." By this time my patience was as empty as his wine bottle.

Now let me say, I am not proud of what I said next. "And now you've saved me from the villainy of the Royalists. Is that it? I should be grateful. And because I fall for my captors, it's only a matter of time..." He was shocked, horrified. I should have stopped. I knew I should have stopped. There was a voice in my head screaming at me to stop. But I was physically exhausted, and I was still reeling from losses I hadn't had time to process. "You have done well for yourself! You got everything you lost, but you're still not happy, are you? Not until you have someone to keep you warm at night. Is that the real reason I'm here?"

Baldovo broke out in raucous laughter. Colto was less than amused as he shook out the ashes from his pipe. Volente was dabbing some cologne into a handkerchief. Slamming the table, Baldovo looked up with a wide grin on his round face, "Calling it like you see it, hey, Red?"

Trosyn was silent. Baldovo continued to laugh until he noticed that Trosyn was not smiling with him. Volente rubbed the bridge of his nose and Colto placed a hand on Trosyn's shoulder. Aware that his his mirth was ill timed, Baldovo ceased his laughter but offered no apology.

"So. How mortified was Benold by this? I imagine he was speechless."

"At first," Trosyn reflected. Although she had delivered her story like an impartial narrator, her half lidded eyes and tightly clasped hands were starting to show another story. Colto gave her shoulder a squeeze and retracted his hand, going back to polishing his pipe.

"Was it... very bad? His reaction? Did he... hurt you? You don't have to go on," Volente asked, lowering his hand timidly, as if afraid to know how this story turned out for Red.

"I'll be fine. I've brought the story this far, and it wasn't very bad, no," Trosyn reassured Volente. Still he waited, wide-eyed.

"Go on, we're ready," Baldovo said. Colto nodded in agreement.

Benold was shocked, as Baldovo predicted. He made a gasping, wheezing sound that had me worrying he'd be clutching at his chest next. What would I do if I'd killed my master with words? Surely, they'd accuse me of poisoning his wine. He then began stuttering, and it took a while for me to make sense of the partial words he formed. He then managed to collect his wits and he stood up, in full imperious glow. "Is that what you think? I would never sink that low. I know what SOME people might think, but I am not..." He trailed off, his emotions getting the better of him. He was angry, and I had rarely seen him this furious. Then he fell into stuttering again, losing his cool. "I thought maybe you'd..." He began, then cut himself off, narrowing his eyes. I remember how that look cut me to the core. "Is that what you want? For me to force you? To make myself the villain?" He threw his wine glass to the ground, and as it shattered I'm sure I felt something in me shatter as well. I was truly terrified. "Get out. I WOULDN'T WANT YOU ANYWAY! GET OUT!"

Too dumbstruck to listen I knelt down instead to pick up the shattered glass. He then grabbed his bottle, raising it and told me again to leave. I ran. Men came barreling to the hall, and I kept running. There were confused murmurs, but I heard my master telling them to let me go. I was in a panic, and I felt a great deal of remorse for pushing him. But more than that... I knew the reason he was angry, it was because I hit too close to the truth. He wanted me. This titan who had always loomed over me, always high on a pedestal, but directing my life. How was I supposed to feel? I got to my room and I cried, afraid of his feelings, and of my own.

"You're right, that wasn't very bad," Baldovo said, sounding almost disappointed. Volente nodded, not quite catching the nuance in Baldovo's voice, but Colto leaned forward, squinting his already squinty eyes at Baldovo.

"We don't need these details," Colto said as he rose to his feet. Trosyn looked up at him, and immediately dropped her gaze.

"I'm sorry, I made you uncomfortable," Trosyn said. Colto walked away, but Volente and Baldovo remained.

"Don't worry about him. A little discomfort won't do him any harm. He's just a very private person, and projects that onto others," Baldovo said as he stretched his arms and stood up.

"If it helps you to talk about these things, I don't mind listening. But you did worry me you might share... too much indelicate information," Volente said quietly to Trosyn. She nodded her head.

"No, I won't go into those sorts of details. But I do need to purge my feelings, then I'll be able to truly leave it all behind. And eventually, you will learn how I got to your seas," Trosyn reassured.

"Perfect. Don't worry, I understand letting you get this off your chest is just tit for tat," Baldovo said as he picked up his waistcoat which had been hanging over the back of his chair. "As long as you keep up your end of the bargain, I'll listen to anything you wish to say."

Trosyn regarded the two remaining men for a moment, as if reconsidering whether they were the right people to tell her story too. But a sweeping glance around the ship's nearly empty mess told her enough. There weren't many other candidates, and she didn't know what would happen when she reached Lomany.

"Thank you for understanding."

"Well, have a good night. I hope you can put these feelings to rest, Red," Volente said with a gentle smile.

As the two men walked, rocking with the sway of the ship, they looked at each other. "Volente, don't go getting sweet on her," Baldovo warned. Volente looked over at Baldovo, aghast.

"What? No, I'm not! Am I?"

"Are you?"

"I... just thought I was being kind," Volente said, straightening his cravat.

"Just be careful, Volente. I know her type. They only bring heartbreak. Even if it isn't their intention, they can't help themselves. Besides, she will probably disappear the moment we reach port. Just be on your guard," Baldovo warned. He continued walking, but Volente stopped, dumbstruck. He then hurried to catch up to Baldovo, as the two men went to their stateroom in thoughtful silence.