Malen's hand relaxed on her shoulder, instead giving her a gentle pat on the top of her head. "Yes, thankfully I kept my composure rather well. And if all goes nicely, the Admiral implied a Military Governor position. Just think! No more sailing on a ship with the unwashed masses for weeks and months on end. No more having to worry with satisfying the petty desires of silly seamen. Just a port to rule over, and a pretty pet to play with. Speaking of which..."
Now that the immediate danger was over, Malen felt himself excited over both the dangerous game he was playing and the proximity of the beautiful woman. He reached for his belt, pulling it off as he asked, "You have plenty of healing ready, yes?" He would get to delivering their plans to the officers of the ship soon, but first to relieve some stress and anxiety.
Quite some time after the pair had entered the cabin, Malen walked out with a wide smile on his face, sweat having soaked his blonde hair to a light brown color. He strolled across the deck to find his first mate, Gerrol. He found the man inspecting some rigging, making sure the vessel was seaworthy for their long voyage. He was as good a mate as could be expected...competent, loyal, and utterly lacking in ambition. Malen waited as the man stood at attention, giving a quick salute before relaxing once again.
"We set sail for the Shackles soon, Gerrol. Morrigyn has made the requisitions we need for supplies, but any suggestions you might have would be considered as well. More importantly, an underwizard on the Admiral's own ship will be joining us on our journey. I want to be informed immediately when she arrives, so that I may show her to her quarters. I expect the crew to show her deference, though any insubordinate talk is of course to be relayed to me as early as can be allowed."
Soon after, he came upon his third, Elisha. A gritty woman of roughly thirty years, what looks she once might have possessed had been steadily ground away in the salty sea air. "Elisha...you once served in the infantry, yes? Not only will we possibly be fighting the ships of these pirates, but we will also be storming their ports, likely. Some marines will be joining us on our voyage. I would like you to take command of them, or if there is a marine officer with them offer your assistance. We'll also be getting some new cannons...please see to their placement and the dismantling of the old ones."
Stefan smiled as his left hand snaked up and grasped Morrigyn's wrist a bare inch from his neck. "Putting on a show in a Shackles dive is one thing," and his smile grew wider as memory touched his eyes. "Or on shipboard. But, you know, I don't think I've heard anything of the Count-Admiral's taste in entertainment."
His fingers trace softly along the soft skin of the underarm as he lets go. "Pity we'll be on separate ships. I managed to snag Massio as my coxswain, so he'll be away from your influence for a while. I am looking forward to another of his hornpipe demonstrations." He smiles up at her, eyes hot. "Did you and Malen manage to keep any of our old crew for this command? You rewarded them well; I'd think some would want to serve again under you ... and him." His hand comes down, maybe brushing her waist for a fraction of a second, and his gaze is still inviting.
Elrox noticed the marines about the port, his looming gaze jumping between them. "They seem to be able, and certainly have the experience on the sea to deal with pirates." He murmured to himself. There were a few that looked far too individualistic. That would need to be stamped out; the rest would fall in line after the threat of punishment.
That would have to wait, however. It would do no good to simply go down there now and order them. It was better to let them do as they wished for some time, let them think they have some security, before showing them who was truly in charge.
Good lord, I'm sounding like Mathur...
Morrigyn's smile turned rather sly as she countered saying, "Remember 3rd Lieutenant Elisha Danigan? She's now a 2nd Lieutenant and still with us." She gave the man a rather impish grin as she asked, "Did she ever come back to you after she was given her reward?" She gave the man an arch look knowing the answer was no. Ever since that night she had Elisha fawning over her and the woman hadn't touched a man since, except for one night with her and Malen anyway.
I was lucky, Stefan thought; the buzz of a passing fly had lifted his gaze just enough to catch a reflection of Morrigyn's approach in the polished darkwood table.
"You're usually better than this at sneaking," he acknowledged affably, "but I'd rather not discover we were wrong about his tastes the night before we sailed. Investigations can be such a . . . tedious process. Much worse than a bad hornpipe, or a bout of seasickness, or jungle fever. But let us not speak of such unpleasantnesses. What are you here to bargain with the Quartermaster of the whole Navy for? It seems to me that Admiral Teip has already stocked our ships pretty completely, but there are always a few small things that slip through the cracks. I've been writing to various people most of the afternoon." He gestures at the writing board on his lap, with a dozen folded scraps of paper on it, and another half-complete. "My clerk had to run out and get more sealing wax. Would you believe that the Admiralty sent me eight midshipmen, five of whom still don't need to shave, but no schoolmaster for them?"
He smiles slyly back to Morrigyn, letting his gaze roam freely, and recalling memories of warm flesh. "Lieutenant Danigan got what she bargained for. No less, and certainly not more. She might have bargained better, but it went well, and she told me much." He shrugged casually. "I might be interested to hear from her again, about her new berth. Perhaps I should write . . . would you convey a letter?"
Morrigyn gave a sigh as Stefan pointed out the proprieties of the situation and muttered, "Spoilsport." As the topic moved onto what they came here for she said, "Oh, a bit of this and a bit of that. Some extra supplies in case of damage, a few replacements for the crew's kit where things are worn out, and making sure I have enough of the medicinal supplies for treating the injuries that magic isn't needed for."
Morrigyn considered Stefan's request, she had a bit of a soft spot for him after all, and nodded her acquiescence. Yeah, it's not a problem. Just get it to me as soon as you can."
"I should have the letter for Lieutenant Danigan to you before we sail," Stefan said, "which the dockmaster tells me is tomorrow. Evidently Admiral Teip is not wasting time, and I think all his ships are fast sailors. I am very much looking forward to this briefing." He glances around at the elaborate office. Much of the artwork is well beyond either of their appreciation, not to mention budgets.
A side door slips open quietly and a servant girl, dressed in a uniform almost that of a Marine, but artfully cut to suggest at everything and hint at vices yet undiscovered, while admitting nothing and revealing only a little more, comes in with a silver tray and a steaming cup. Stefan smiles up at her. "Thank you for your service, and could you bring another cup of coffee for the Sera here?" Once the girl departs, Stefan lets his eyes track back to Morrigyn. "Some captains dress all their boat crew alike, in private livery - I think the Admiral was one of them. Is Malen doing that? Seems like the sort of gesture he might be interested in."
After waiting for Morrigyn's response, he goes on "What medicines do you think we will need most of? I've ordered a double supply of everything the Regulations prescribe, for a ship with half the normal crew, because I don't know what the marines on board will be supplied with yet. I remember you did a pretty good job keeping our crew healthy on our last voyage, but there are so many things that can go wrong down in the Shackles." .
After a while, if Count Admiral Napaciza hasn't arrived, Stefan ssks "So, what do you think of our new comrades? I met Casarus briefly a few years ago, and he's a good officer with a head for details. The others I only met last night, but you have a well-honed eye for the qualities of men."
Outside of the tavern, Elrox ran up to the leaving Mathur. "Wait up, sir."
Giving a moment to gain Mathur's attention. Elrox spoke again. "I did not have much time to speak with you in the tavern, so I wished to speak with you again here. I have not heard much of your exploits, though if you meant to keep them well hidden, then by all means, continue. If you would not mind me asking, I would want to converse on your purpose here. What do you wish to get on this journey? I feel a man of your stature could get equally well off far from the Navy."
The officer in red and black turns back to look at Elrox, then slows his pace, and gestures the other to walk beside him. They pace down the dimly lit street, past a lantern or two flickering at windows, and one of the city fireglobes shedding a little more on its corner pole. Stefan’s insignia are nearly invisible in the shadows, but his eyes reflect the orange flame.
”A dark night, but at least not a stormy one,” he says obliquely. ”Walk with me a little, and I’ll tell you a tale.” They pass another tavern, a clear female voice drifting through the windows in a song as chaste as it was comprehensible – that is, neither of those at all. Stefan waits until they pass the tavern and reach the alley beside a large warehouse, its doors closed and locked for the night, brick walls stained with streaks of tar and paint and bird droppings.
”My great-great-grandparents,” Stefan says after a minute, ”lost everything after Aroden’s death.” He does not say, when Cheliax collapsed in civil war. ”I’m not even sure where they came from, before they arrived in Westcrown. Perhaps they thought it better not to say. Their children had a hard life. Grandfather learned his letters, and apprenticed to a cloth merchant, and came to rise high in the world. So did his son – my father – in turn. But we remember the chaos. Great-grandmother had scars till her dying day, from the mobs – she showed me some of them. My mother’s mother fell afoul of an Andoran corsair, somewhere in the Inner Sea; they refused to ransom Grandmother, and Mother in turn had a hard life, till she snared my father.” He looks out across the harbor, where a few lights flickerd as ships ride at anchor, or wait by the dockside. Some, farther down, are being unloaded by torchlight. ”Their wealth travels on these ships. So do half the things this city makes or buys or sells. I was seven when Father lost a rich cargo from Thuvia to Rahadoumi pirates. He had to take a large loan from the Church of Asmodeus to cover his debts. My entry into the seminary was part of the arrangement.”
He pauses for a minute. Overhead, the moon is riding towards setting, and the midnight stars glitter above the harbor. Somewhere in the alley a rat chitters, and Stefan bends down to the ground. A red-and-black form, black-and-black in the light, slithers down his arm and into the darkness. He looks back up as Elrox’s face twitches.
Stefan looks into the alley after Sestandantilus, as if sharing sensations in some odd way, still crouched, and then gazes up, meeting Elrox’s eyes, almost in the position of a supplicant for understanding. ” I took many things from my time there – Sesty was not the least of them. You don’t like her, I could see back in the tavern. Few folk do – but from your repute, I know you know that weakness invites attack, and only strength succeeds. Seminary was harsh; binding to Sesty very harsh – but there is power in surviving such things, power for those with the strength to take, and the subtlety to keep. Chaos threatens us on every border, and only strength protects.” He stands up, and there’s a faint squeak from the alley.
”And why am I in the Navy, when I could be elsewhere? Well, I noticed things in seminary. Many novices intrigued to be sent to court, or the high palaces of the Church, or the diplomatic services. I realized that not so many of them were ever heard from again.” He paces a few steps forward into the alley, then back out, facing the harbor. ”’Power is where you find it/Seek it, serve it, bind it’ – it’s in the Asmodean Book of Nursery Rhymes, did you ever read that as a child? -- There's power in many places, not just the glittering ones. Not so many novices went to sea. . . and I loved ships; I’d been on a short voyage or two with my father as a boy, and I handled storms well. One other thing I discovered -- there are very few chaplain-officers. Quite a few chaplains in the Navy – the Regulations are explicit that every ship must have one – but not so many servants of Our Dread Lord with an officer’s epaulets as well as a chaplain’s sash. There’s room here for a capable man to rise, and build a power base. The Church helps me rise in the Navy, using me as a lever to influence them. . . but a lever works both ways. As I rise in the Navy, I have more influence of my own to exert, more rewards to offer, to other servants of Our Dread Lord.”
He bends down and picks up Sestandantilus, as the snake slithers out of alley, a round bulge in her middle. ”Which brings me to you … what do you desire, and what do you want from the Navy? Everyone wants something…”
Morrigyn paid the woman bringing the serving tray little heed as she waited for Stefan to continue and considered Stefan's question about livery and shrugged, "Not that he's told me about. I'll ask him, he probably would like the idea, and he might even reward me for it."
As their conversation turned more towards medicine Morrigyn found herself drawn into the discussion more. "I would consider plenty of anti-toxins and anything to help resist or counter diseases. Plenty of thread for stitching and some very strong bottles of alcohol to use for antiseptic and pain killing. Mostly the usual stuff I guess."
Morrigyn considered Stefan's question carefully. She wasn't sure what to make of them really and finally said, "I'm afraid I didn't learn much as it wasn't too long before Malen arrived." She looked at him in both amusement and annoyance at the thought, "and you know how I get when that happens." In point of fact he'd seen it far too many times. Morrigyn had a tendency to become fixated on Malen anytime he was near unless instructed to perform a particular task by him. It didn't make her oblivious, but it did tend to make her miss things if they weren't important at the time.
"How about preventing disease?" Stefan asked. "Long voyoage ahead of us, not many chances to bring new sailors aboard, and we'd like to reach our goal with as full a crew as possible -- the undead have many enviable features but they're not nearly as flexible as the living. Oh, there's a bunch of stuff in the Regulations about windscoops for fresh air, and cleanliness, and making sure the rations are purified -- thank the Dread Lord that the ship's chaplain can do that and I won't have to spend every meal chanting a blessing over the ingredients -- but how to prevent a crew from getting shipboard fevers in the first place, or jungle fever once we reach our destination? You have more training than I."
"Men are important, dear Morrigyn, and not just in the cabin -- it's important to know which of them might be plotting agaisnt you. Which ones are best for which duties -- who is brave, who is careful, who inspires the sailors... who is trouble, or might be trouble? You've a keen eye for Malen's little quirks. Try and turn that on the others as well. You might save him -- and yourself -- a good deal of trouble." He seems obscurely disappointed.
The moon had sunk toward the water, and the brighter stars were still visible about it, though the brick walls of the warehouse blocked the northern stars. Stefan turned back towards Elrox, tucking a sated viper into his sleeve.
"You asked about my exploits. Well, I don't have so many of them. My first voyage, I ended up the only officer alive and in his right mind, and I captured a Rahadoumi corsair. That one caused rather a stir, I think, particularly my court-martial afterwards. After that, a couple of years learning the ins and outs of the Victualling Office, where I managed to find a few people abusing the Regulations for personal gain. I managed to get to sea after that, though, a long voyage down the Garundi coast on piracy patrol. My captain died on the return trip -- jungle fever, Morrigyn and I diagnosed; she and Malen were my shipmates then. And a few things after that." He glancees sideways at Elrox, as if expecting comment.
"Yes, it's not a thick record, though I admit many a lieutenant has little more after a few years. So why am I getting a ship command? The Church of Asmodeus has a lot of influence, and you'd be right to suspect that we like getting one of ours in position, but it's not the only reason I'm here. I think part of it is that Admiral Teip wanted officers with experience in the southern seas, and there aren't too many of us -- the First Fleet took a lot of them with it. Maybe more importantly, I am a servant of Our Dread Lord, and He empowers me to do various things, some of which are useful to the Navy. Imagine how much easier it is to load a ship for a long voyage when half your sailors don't need to eat or drink, and can work around the clock without ever growing tired... Frankly, it's a project some vanished necromancer sold the Navy, and I get to try and make it work. So if it fails, obviously the original concept was flawed and I get credit for trying my best and following orders, while if it succeeds I get the credit for taking a bad idea and making a brilliant success of it. I could die in the process, but then every sailor runs that risk on every voyage, just like every soldier in every battle." He smiles grimly. "'To a bloody war and a sickly season', that's the toast, and I think the survivors will have promotions, prize money, and perks galore. Want to be one of them with me?"
Elrox gave a dismissive wave. "Whether I live or die means nothing to me. While I consider it my obligation to continue to exist in order to pursue justice, I would undoubtedly give up my own life if it were to be necessary. Of course, if that was an order, rather than a suggestion, then consider it done. I don't care much for rank nor status, but you certainly desire it. Someone has to be at the bottom, and even you must admit that you would rather have it be someone who will follow you. But know I don't follow you, but Cheliax. It is the greatest honor to serve this great collective, and don't think even a persuasive individual such as yourself can pierce my resolve."
"If you wish to know why I am in the Navy, it is nothing more than coincidence." He glanced off into the distance. "Nay, more of a sabotage. I could serve anywhere, it does not matter. I used to help train squires - those that showed any aptitude to becoming real warriors. My methods were effective. Such noble poppycocks, seeing their weak sons come back with not even permanent wounds, threw their influence around. My superiors decided to be rid of me - it was certainly an easy method. But, above all else, I showed some usefulness. So, rather than being thrown back to the peasantry, I was moved to the Navy." Elrox breathed a deep sigh. "It wasn't a bad change, but certainly not a good one. I see too many men like you who would like to see their leaders die to simply fill their positions. But at least you have tact, and would never admit it. Much like Our Dread Lord to which we serve."
Stefan considers Elrox for rather a long time. "We all serve Cheliax," he says at last, "nor do I have any desire to 'pierce your resolve', as you put it. You want justice; so do I. You want to train effective warriors; so do I. You want to serve our country; so do I. I think we can help each other toward those goals."
He waves one hand toward the harbor. "We serve where we are placed. Our Dread Lord has guided me here, and perhaps brought you here as well. Or if not, He can give us the strength to serve well and the will to do our duty, no matter how hard that is." Stefan meets Elrox's eyes. "It seems in your case He has already hardened you. So if you have no desires beyond these, then there is only the duty to be successful. You shape warriors. Sailors are sometimes harder, because so much depends on leading them rather than driving them. One man with a torch can burn a ship; one man with a knife can cut a vital rope; one man failing to pull his hardest at the right moment can make any order fail. You could punish them after the deed, no doubt very bloodily and messily and with a great deal of pain. I could call up one of Our Dread Lord's lesser servitors to feast on tender parts of their bodies -- but the damage would already be done, the mission already failed. Fear and pain are tools, and you can probably use them better than I."
"But they are not my only tools. I consider the material of which men are made -- some lack the inner steel to be warriors, some lack the flexibility to be sailors. Half my duty is finding the right spot to put someone... sometimes openly, sometimes subtly. 'Subtle is the way of our Dread Lord.'"
"Thank you for your frankness; it's rather refreshing after some of my contract negotiations with, ah, merchant-suppliers... I think we'll get along just fine." Stefan smiles. "I noticed you were drinking a bit back in the tavern, and seemed rather uncomfortable there. Do you prefer a, hmm, more private place for your vices? Or is casual drinking not your thing? I could introduce you to a few establishments that cater to varying tastes."
Elsewhere in the building, clerks continued to write in ledgers and shuffle paper; somewhere in the basement an interrogation proceeded, masked in spells of silence and aversion; on the roof gulls squabbled for nesting sites.
But in the extravagant office of the Imperial Quartermaster, all was silent. Cups sat empty on a sideboard; no pictures moved on the wall; the quiet conversation between the two waiting officers had died down.
"I think," Stefan said at last, "that our esteemed host must be busy with another emergency". Perhaps involving some of those serving girls in Marine uniforms. I hope he gets to us while there is still time to issue orders to the warehouses. "Anyway, we have the medical supplies for the fleet listed. Anything you can think of that we should have on a long voyage? Things that would be hard for us to replace or rebuild from shipboard resources or a convenient forested island? Maybe anchors, or long spars? Certainly kegs of nails and spikes, beyond the normal complement. Extra tools, too, I think."
The words were purely businesslike; the tone was ... more suggestive. Four eyes, however, continued voyaging, up, down, and around.
Morrigyn followed Stefan's thoughts fairly closely as he looked at the serving girls and a sly smile crossed her face. "I think that most of what we might need has been accounted for. Extras are always wise, taht's why I made sure we have extras of those things on our lists." Her tone was a bit snobby as she had thought of something that Stefan hadn't and she laughed in amusement as she said, "Of course getting nailed is always good to have on a list as well."
"Indeed it is, unless the Inquisition is expected." Stefan chuckled. "Which it never is, so... always great?"
Morrigyn gave her companion an amused smile, "Then it depends on just what one means by getting nailed." Her look was arch and suggestive as she glanced at one of the clerks briefly and then the door where the Quartermaster likely was and snorted as she started to giggle.
"Well, there's enough wood in this office for plenty of nailing", Stefan offered with a chuckle. "Very fine workmanship, though -- the nails are well-concealed and no cracks are visible." He stretched luxuriously, then froze.
Then he pulled out his notecase and started scribbling again. "Almost forgot! We need to requisition a few dozen iron cages and quite a few dozen manacles. They can ride as ballast in the holds until we need them, but between keeping some extra undead assault troops around, and holding pirate prisoners after we take them, and maybe picking up some slaves to bring back on our return voyage -- it is the Shackles after all, and we might end up in Sargava, I think we'll get plenty of use for them. When is Filippo going to get back here with that sealing wax I sent him for!?"
Morrigyn leaned forward and placed her forearms on the counter making her backside stick out and slightly up. It was an enticing pose and one meant to attract the eye of anyone with an interest in the female form. "Maybe he had to run into town for it. You know Filippo isn't in very good shape. She wriggled her rear slightly, [b]"He has no stamina."
Stefan let his appreciative eyes accept the invitation, and his mouth twisted in a wry grin. "He may not have much endurance, but he's useful anyway. There are more ways than the flesh to power and pleasure and privilege, my friend. Filippo is quite an interesting collection of them -- there's the dry wood that snaps in your hands with pressure, and the dry wood that's harder than iron and lasts forever. His mind is like that with Navy regulations, and he has such an interesting collection of, shall we say, secrets one can work with. I don't think he would notice your finer qualities, or Malen's, if he tripped over them -- but I noticed his when I tripped over them. More tools in the toolbox, I always say, more ways to get things done." Stefan keeps writing, adding another sheet full of shorthand to the pile beside him. "I was going to leave him here in the Admiralty, but now I think maybe I should bring him along -- some exposure to the other side of our job might do him good. But do you think I should? Would he survive a tropical voyage?" He raises one eyebrow at Morrigyn. "Professional opinion, not amusement opinion, if you please. I know he's not amusing. As far as I can tell, his only unprofessional vice is architectural snobbery. He can't abide anything not in the Egorian style -- visiting warehouses gives him the hives."