Lucius learned of the docking fleet when they brought Captain Thornby in to be treated. He had been debating the merits of strangulation with Sammy–as a means of activating his stigmata to fix his lame leg–when the boy had to be pulled away from the emergency. While most of the crew of the Blue Breeze II had taken care of themselves or simply died, the captain needed surgery. In a fully stocked, proper hospital, the removal of the arrowhead would have been trivial, but the half-developed hospital of the Misty Isles, even after Sammy’s improvements to it over the months, barely qualified as a field hospital. For as much as the boy wanted a deep pair of pliers to reach in, grip it tight, and rip it free, he had nothing of such precision.
“You should have pushed the arrow through the other side,” he said as he waited for the captain to drown himself in liquor and bite down on a bit of leather.
The Vassish captain snarled. “Pirates don’t use broadheads(1),” he said, and bit down on the gag.
Sammy didn’t have time to argue with his patient, the man was losing blood and every moment made it more likely that he would succumb to infection. Compared to other hospitals, the risk had been much mitigated. Help from Kajsa had provided them with purified ethyl alcohol, which they kept in mis-labeled jars so the locals wouldn’t blind themselves drinking it, but within the alcohol were many of his most important instruments. I believe at this time he only somewhat understood the basics of germ theory, he had taken to heart my advice to cleanse and purify his tools, perhaps out of mere deference to my knowledge.
The lingering alcohol made the cut burn a little extra as he slit the puncture wound open. With firm pressure around the upper arm, only a little blood escaped as he reached inside with a pair of wooden sticks and pinched the piece of iron so he could tug it out.
Captain Thornby contained most of his screams to the leather gag.
Lucius did not stick around for the procedure. As soon as he was informed who had arrived in the middle of the night and of their violent circumstances, he grabbed a crutch to hobble out at full speed. The last person he expected to see waited out before the merchant vessel. Not Golden, though he was quick enough to identify the Divine Beast despite his human form. Familiarity with their presence can do that. Aisha stood in the light of a lamppost, twisting some hair around her finger over and over again. She had lost some of her stature and confidence, and only met his gaze for a moment of recognition.
Golden clasped his hands together, singing praises. “Ah, lord governor Solhart! Hero of Giordana and the savior of–”
Lucius shoved the walking theatrics aside and took Aisha by the shoulder. “What are you doing back here?”
“What happened to your foot?” she asked.
“I killed a man with it. What’s wrong?”
“I did something foolish is what,” she said and shook her head. “Look, it’s what you needed. You will have all the manpower, funding and distribution you could need once the islands are secure.”
Still, she seemed hollow and insubstantial. “Then what’s wrong? That sounds like good news.”
“Me,” she said, and pulled out of his grasp. “I need to sleep,” she said and waved Sera over.
The lady knight had stripped much of her armor off, letting her move more easily as she followed behind. “You heard her,” Sera said, and she whispered, “I’ll fill you in, come after.”
For nearly an hour, Lucius was stuck at the dock performing pleasantries and formalities. He met men and shook hands, verbally confirmed reports and contracts, and the whole time struggled to take his mind off of Aisha. When he at last had gotten the full report of the pirate attack, and the subsequent escape of most of their fleet, he ran back to the manor.
Aisha had already gone to bed, while Sera had fallen asleep in one of the drawing rooms. When he nudged her awake, she mumbled for Sammy as she rubbed her eyes open. A half grin vanished when she saw Lucius’ worried scowl. “Ah, Lucius… so I get trouble before fun.”
He sat down across from her. “Think of it as fun without trouble later. What are you doing back here?”
“Normally a man would be happy that his lover came sailing back to him, especially with a fleet, money, and a powerful friend.”
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“You saw how she looked.”
Sera let out her breath and planted her chin in her hand to prop herself up. “She did just weather a naval battle that she was totally completely super useless for.”
“She’s not a fighter. That shouldn’t bother her.”
Sera sighed but she knew that Sammy would be a good deal longer. The boy would be busy double checking stitches and bandages and cleaning injuries and helping train his replacements. “How would you feel if the only things you ever accomplished were because other people helped you?” she asked, and then she told Lucius what had transpired at Rackvidd pertaining to the Shipping Investments Guild, as well as the danger with Raymi and his sister trying to track him down. Sera at this time had no idea why the Solhart girl would be a problem to meet, but accepted it as such without question.
Lucius listened quietly, seeing through the direct events to figure out what I was up to on the mainland, though he could only guess at the broader strokes. While it might seem that I was up to a great deal making sure that the war festered and fostered with the central kingdoms, I must stress that it took utterly no action in the moment. Everything that skewed the flow of civilizations had already been done before ever my pupil donned the name Lucius. Of course, the war could have been averted, if men overcame their propensity to sin and fight, but that has never occurred in all of history so you can hardly blame me for arranging certain low-interest rate loans and various technological advancements. Those involved, who wagered their lives and those of their bannermen took full responsibility for their fates themselves.
After a great deal of deliberation, he demonstrated a fraction of the wisdom I tried to cultivate in him. “I need to give her a proper job.” I did say a fraction. At this time, he wasn’t even nineteen years old, with only a few years of experience to draw on and she was the first true woman of his life, at least that he had known as one. I for one give him a passing grade.
Sera agreed, but had no particular suggestion on what that would be. They speculated a bit about financial management, but came to no conclusion before Sammy arrived and collapsed upon one of the sofas.
Ever polite in this regard, Lucius went to excuse himself but had to make one last request. He only remembered it when he tried to step away and put weight onto his shattered ankle. “Miss Lynnfield,” he said, putting his hands together like he was pleading his case to the king. “I need to request your services once more tonight.”
“My services?” she responded. “You pay me. You don’t need to request of me.”
Lucius glanced at his friend and asked, “I need you to choke me to death.”
Sammy, despite hours of medical intervention, sprang back to his feet to shout, “You are not having my girl choke you to death!”
“I can’t be hobbled for the next week. I have to heal this with my stigmata, and no offense, but I don’t believe you are strong enough to do the job, Sammy.”
“Then hang yourself!”
“I’d still have be taken down if I did that.”
Sera laughed. “Sammy, it’s fine. I don’t mind.”
“No, it’s weird!” the doctor protested.
Lucius groaned. “It’s only weird if you make it weird. I was choked out every day for a year to learn how to use my stigmata.”
Sera arched an eyebrow. “You were choked out three hundred times and it didn’t become weird for you?”
My pupil caught himself before naming Ezra, and instead said, “Nothing routine is special. Look, Sammy, why don’t you give it your best shot? I don’t care one way or the other.”
And so, The young doctor growled and climbed behind Lucius. He made plenty of claims about medical knowledge and how little force it actually takes to block blood flow to the brain. Locking one arm around Lucius’ throat, he did succeed in making my pupil black out, but habit made him let go as soon as he went limp. Naturally, this didn’t actually kill him.
Sera shook her head as soon as Lucius sucked in breath. “For the love of Sapphira,” she grumbled and wasted no more time. She wrapped her fingers around his throat and crushed his windpipe. A few minutes later, the three of them split a bottle of wine and went their ways.
The next morning, while the pew frogs were croaking and Lucius sparred with some of his most well behaved prisoners turned soldiers, a report came in that the guards for the cave system had been all killed. Worse than cut down, they had been strung up like puppets in the woods, their mouths cut into harlequin grins and their entrails spilled on the ground as fertilizer for the ancient trees. The demon Umbra had at last decided that the time for waiting and biding their time was up. A final confrontation was at hand, it was too bad for the demon that Lucius’ saviors of information had arrived at the penultimate hour. They would soon wipe out any doubt he had about what to do to track down and corner the creature.
All this would have led to a moment of held breath, like the dawn before a great storm. For a great many people that’s what it was. Their minds did not reach beyond the tug of battle between Solhart and the demon, between the Vassish colonization and the parasitic malaise of the isles. In the usual history texts, that’s exactly what the battle was. The tides of civilizations often forget the simple moments of character that can twist everything about them.
That was the first morning that Aisha Canta, the lover of Lucius von Solhart, rolled out of bed and gripped her chamberpot to retch as soon as she woke up. The drumming cries of pew frogs were nothing more than backdrop to the moment she realized that she was not fevered, nor hungover and yet she had a sickness of the morning.
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1. He has a bit of a point. A simple arrowhead is a cone of metal sharpened to a point and nearly flush with the shaft. There’s rather little to snag on when it’s pulled back out. Little is not nothing however, and I suspect his decision in the heat of the moment was driven by a desire to protect his coat.