Incurred Wrath

[Dan]

The air in the ports of Cawick hung with freshly sprayed salt water, rough waves rocked against the piers. Ships rocked with the ocean, tied to sturdy poles as they moored in the ports, with sailors going to and fro; unloading shipments a week late from its due arrival date. Shouting and the bustle of people moving about the piers of Cawick never slowed to a grinding stop, not even when the very coastal empire of Lyvir treads on a precariously thin line.

However, business must continue as its clients beckon the call for its wares. One ship had yet to return from the five seas: the Weeping Lady. The Merciless Company, a shipment company responsible for various types of exports and imports of goods—and illegal goods—to Lyvir, employed the crew of the Weeping Lady, its crew, and most importantly, the captain, Grine.

Braving the harshest storm yet, the Weeping Lady defended herself against the onslaught of the roaring waves; threatening to engulf the entire ship and its occupants at a blink of an eye. Somehow, some way, Captain Grine commanded the ship with such spite and bravery against storms that made them quite reputable in all of Lyvir. Whether by sheer dumb luck or experience of ten years on the high seas, Captain Grine went from a freshly washed seaweed to a domineering liege of the five seas.

As for the people of Cawick, business as usual until they saw the Weeping Lady in the distance. Some stopped in their actions, others continued without a care, but many took a second glance before continuing on. The unmistakable figurehead of a weeping lady at the very bow - and its insignia on the black flags - of the ship coming up and down through the rough terrain. Almost like guiding a crew of sled dogs through an everlasting winter shrouded in a large, white cloak.

Captain Grine steered the ship, shouts ripped from their throat with a domineering tone. Black hair stuck to their sun-kissed skin, drenched from head to toe in the roaring sea’s ice-cold water. The Port of Cawick greeted the Weeping Lady with open arms; welcoming not only more imports, but solid land for once. Serving weeks at sea, its crew were almost crying at the sight of home. Like cogs in a well-oiled machine, the crew worked together to dock the ship. Once the plank hit the pier’s boards, a ‘hurrah’ rang out from the Weeping Lady’s crew. While moored, the crew worked together with the workers of The Merciless Company to get goods off the ship and into the hands of its owners.

As for Captain Grine, they were checking out the damage to the hull and the Weeping Lady. The Merciless Company would foot the bill later to fix her up again - it was part of the contract Grine signed with Madame Noir a decade ago. Satisfied with looking over the ship, Grine left the hands of their baby to the first mate, Caerne. They patted the small lad on the shoulder before earning a glare from him.

“Make sure she doesn’t grow legs now.” Grine chuckles before walking away.

The clicking of their boots barely heard over the sound of the downpour. Grine kept their right hand glued to their hat as they barely fought against the rain. A good bath in the public bathhouse sounded good about now, but it would have to wait for later. Business with Madame Noir still awaited. You could say Grine had her waiting for more than a month now with unfinished business. It’s not like it was their fault. Madame Noir was the one who urged the captain to head back to Norithiml—one of the largest cities settled at the end of Todazur’s coastal side—after striking a contract with the Assassin’s Guild.

Apparently, Lyvir appeared more destitute than the last time Grine returned to the coastal empire. As for Cawick, this ol’ port town always looked run-down. It’s part of the charm that drew Grine here in the first place. Bouncing from city to city after the fall of Asmia’s kingdom, Grine ‘settled’ here, well… not really. Grine headed down back alleys, dodging anyone who might recognise them in the somewhat darkness.

A large building made of fine pine, lanterns swaying in the wind the on porch of the welcoming; “The Scarlet Rose.” A tavern and inn that was the largest in all of Cawick. Grine smirked upon seeing the red neon light powered by the ol’ magick. Tucking a wet strand of hair behind their ear, Grine headed up the steps. This place was also owned and run by Madame Noir. Business awaited them on the other side.

 

[BookKnight]

Dove sat in the back corner of the Scarlet Rose tavern, sipping her weekly allowance of alcohol: one small glass. Not even a full pint. Her business mader her enough money to eat food made by someone else while sitting down at a table that was going to be cleaned by someone else once a week, and she always made the most of it when she could. It was a lot better than the cheap takeaway stuff eaten either while walking or in the drafty apartment she rented a few blocks away. It did its job of keeping her dry and sheltered from whatever the elements had to throw at her, and the front room worked perfectly as her shop, but it was not exactly homey. This place, for all its grime and less than compelling company, was more homey than home had ever been. Her soup and bread arrived with an unceremonious clomp, and she sighed in pleasure as she wrapped her hands around the warm bowl. Perfect for a chilly night!

Then they arrived. She looked up as the person with long, black hair and a crooked nose that had clearly seen more than one fist walked through. Man? Woman? Her eyes narrowed as she studied the body. Her first instinct was woman, but there was enough doubt to keep her guessing. Ah! That was it. One of those that did not define as either. Those type played havoc in her line of business as they destroyed certain lines of assumptions during cold readings. Of course, only a complete amateur relied on gender stereotypes, but even the pros, or especially the pros, liked to take things easy once in a while. Oh, well, in any case, this one did not look like an easy target. Far from it, this one looked like they might punch her in the nose if she approached them for a business transaction. She rather liked the nose she had. It was not particularly a show-stopper, but it was a pleasantly defining feature.

She turned her attention back to her soup. The other did look familiar, that person. Where had she seen them before? It would come to her if she didn't force it. For now, she had soup to eat while it was hot and strange looks to ignore as they were cast her way.

 

[Dan]

Upon entering the establishment, the warmth of the hearth crackling not far from them had greeted them in a warm hug. Tables and chairs littered about the place, private booths hid away into the corners of the tavern. On the far side was another door that led to the ‘inn’ part of the building which Madame Noir operated by herself, leaving the tavern to be operated by her right hand.

Their eyes scanned the curious faces of the Scarlet Rose’s customers. Earning a nod from the bartender at the bar to the grins of other sailors to earning glares from other ship’s captains in the private booths. However, among the rabble, they found a new face looking in their general direction. A pretty face, they thought before shooting a grin their way.

Grine moved from the entrance toward Madame Noir’s inn. Passing by the woman who appeared to be nursing a drink. The Captain couldn’t fathom working less than what they were working for now. They took their hat off as if to keep their manners about them as they moved past the woman. Fully aware that they smelled like the sea and haven’t had a good bathing in months. A smirk made its way onto their lips as they went past the beads in the doorway, letting the sound of shells twinkle together as they ducked beneath the door’s frame.

“Well, well, I knew you missed my handsome face.” Grine’s foreign accent slipped through in a playful, teasing tone.

“b’üü to d’oob’ü do” Madame Noir retorts, earning a snicker from Grine as their boots drift farther away from the tavern and towards the private quarters of Madame Noir.

 

[BookKnight]

Was it just her, or was that an arrogant little smirk on that captain's face? Dove narrowed her eyes, hidden mostly behind the shadow of her low-pulled hat, and watched them disappear into the back room. She must have imagined it. She dismissed the thought for now and returned to her soup. She kept an eye on the curtain, curious, but not curious enough to risk going to listen in. She was still certain she'd seen that captain before somewhere, but she couldn't think of where she'd seen them.

She finished off her soup and sat back, savoring her drink for a few minutes longer in a warm, pleasant atmosphere before returning to her drafty home. Besides, people watching was both a hobby and a professional interest.

 

[Dan]

Grine sat across from Madame Noir on the plush loveseat. They poured themselves a glass of ale, the cheap stuff she kept out in the open for when she had guests coming over. It was from the tavern’s own coffers, down in the cellar. The warmth of the fireplace did little to dry their soaked clothes. Which is why Madame Noir directed the captain to sitting on the wobbly, wooden chair she refused to get rid of in favor of better seating - Grine knew she could afford it, but she was cheap.

Taking a sip of the ale, Captain Grine coughed at the pungent taste of alcohol, scarcely a taste of anything else. It was no wonder her tavern was so popular, one could easily get drunk off such a vice and for a cheap price, too. They placed it on the table next to them, clasped their hands together, and leaned forward in the chair that groaned under their weight.

“So, what do I owe the pleasure of doin’ buisness wit’ ya?” Grine smiles, a few golden teeth showing under the glowing light of the fireplace.

“The Assassin’s Guild.” is all Madame Noir says before Grine’s face is screwed up in a serious, disgusted look.

Her emerald eyes look up at Grine, she places a manicured hand covered in jewels on top of a book in front of her. She pushes the brown tome closer towards the edge of the colorful crystal table.

Grine’s beady blue eyes look down at it then back at Madame Noir. They arch a brow, intrigued by whatever mysterious book she hopes to bestow in their hands next.

“You’ve heard of the Black Sacrament, yes?” Madame Noir inquires, only to be met with confusion. “Well, it is very, very important to the Assassin’s Guild in New Caldonia.”

“...and this has to do with me…?” Grine says, confusingly.

“It doesn’t. Only that I need you to return to New Caldonia and swipe it for the Regent’s Crown.”

A mention of the regent’s crown has Grine’s interest, “Of this kingdom or another one?”

“Lyvir’s crown… has been missing, let’s say, for a few years now, give or take.” She continues, “And I finally found it.”

“Okay, but what does this have to do with Lyvir?” Grine questions.

“You’ve noticed the empty markets on the way here, yes? The beggars multiplied on your way here, no?” Madame Noir says.

“So..? Cawick has always been a poor town.” They retort.

“Cawick is not just a poor town. She’s always had beggars, thieves, and homelessness, but never this bad.” Madame Noir chides Grine and sighs as she continues, “What I’m saying is… Lyvir is on the brink of a collapse. The markets have been closed for some weeks now, after your departure, things got more… rusty around here. They say the spirits haven’t chose a new liege yet, so things have halted for months now.”

“Lyvir has always had a wavy ruler, who cares?”

“I care.” She interrupts in a serious tone. “If the economy collapse, you can say poof to your wages.”

“Fine, fine. Give me your book and I’ll be on my way.” Grine caves.

Madame Noir smiles, “See? Easy like butter on bread. You’ve to see the head of the assassins of Lyvir in the capital. She has more work for you. I vouched for you and your hard head.” She ushers Grine to grab the book.

Wrapping it up in leather and tying it, Madame Noir gets up and places it into their hands. Almost as they entered, Grine was already kicked out of her quarters.

‘Great. More work for the ‘assassins’.’ Grine mocks in their mind. They slip the tome into their side pack and put their damp hat back on. They opt for a room at the inn and head up to the third floor. More work and no play.

 

[BookKnight]

She could drag things out for only so long. Finally, she had to admit that both her bowl and her mug were empty. It was time to head home. She heaved a sigh, checked her mug one last time, and stood to leave. If she could fall asleep fast enough, she wouldn't have to dwell on the fact that she was stuck in a small, dank room behind a small, dank business. It wasn't much, but it was what she had, and it was hers. It could be worse. Had been worse. She stood, put on her floppy, brown, felt hat with its small rim, and brushed her hair lightly with her fingers as it fell over her shoulders and down to where her knees were hidden behind the duster-like dress she wore. It gave her a nice, mysterious appearance without looking like something that had just emerged from the sewers. She preferred to think of herself more like a dust spirit, not a grungy monster.

She'd only taken two steps when a wave of dizziness and a faint bit of nausea washed over her like a gentle but persistent wave. Oh great. She backed up to her chair and sat back down just in time to close her eyes.

Waves. A ship. A flag she recognized. Tall and majestic, yet filled with darkness and a jester at the helm. Swords on the ship. Six swords and three barrels on the deck.

The vision passed, leaving Dove with a faint headache. She rubbed her forehead with a grimace. Stupid visions! She sighed and rose from her chair once more, feeling slightly wobbly in the knees. She walked out the door of the tavern but turned once she reached the shadows and waited. Maybe, just maybe, the person this vision was meant for would pay her for her troubles. It was worth a shot.