The Stormy Skies (Discontinued as of 19/08. See last post for details.)

[Iron Aquilifer]

Moar ships! Means more booty, which means more chapters!

[Lortano]

Shorter chapter than usual, more talky talk talk. Violence will come.

Chapter 5

Grant sighed as he headed back up to Crowl’s office. It had been two days since Carson’s escape and Grant had spent most of yesterday explaining to the Kraulaw officials that the damage to Acution House 1 wasn’t actually the Navy’s fault and thus they wouldn’t pay a single credit towards fixing it. As he reached Crowl’s door, he pushed it open. As he did, Crowl turned to face him, standing near the window opposite the door. He held his finger up to his lips and pointed towards the corner of the room. Jeremy, Crowl’s secretary, was lying asleep on a bundle of rags, his brow furrowed, as if he was suffering from some sort of nightmare. Crowl headed towards Grant and passed him, closing the door as the two headed down the corridor. “I assume you have an explanation for why a young man is lying asleep in your office that cannot possibly be misconstrued?” Grant began. Crowl rolled his eyes in response. "He was sorting out my organisational system.” "But it looked like nothing had changed there! There were still enormous piles of paper that look like five years’ worth of work!” “Well, let’s just say he hasn’t slept for a day or two.” And it still looked like that? Poor Jeremy. Crowl cleared his throat as they reached a balcony that overlooked the whole of the city. “I hear Carson ambushed the auction. You don’t have the best luck, do you Cal? Most men have one meeting, you get two.” “Well, I did have one stroke of luck.” “Oh?” “Melissa was there.” Crowl’s face brightened as her name was mentioned. “Excellent, I was afraid that my jokes about the two of you would never again be dusted down and used! Now, let’s see if I can remember one…” “I spoke to her a little afterwards. She’s spoken to all three of the Birds recently.” “And she left me out…I’m saddened.” His smile suddenly faded as he realised what Grant had just said. “W-wait. ALL of the Birds? She’s um…she’s spoken to Loran?” Grant nodded. He could see the panic on Crowl’s face from here. About eight years ago, there had been an incident that had left some unresolved issues between the two admirals. Grant remembered it well, and Melissa’s reaction suggested Loran remembered it too. “She spoke to him alright. She mentioned you in front of him and apparently he stood there and gripped his cane slightly harder.” “Oh good. I was NOT looking forward to the 25th anniversary if he was still upset.” “Well…he said that he couldn’t wait to crush you at the 25th anniversary like, in his words ‘An insect, having its legs torn off one by one by a boy with a pair of tweezers.’ Then he slammed his cane into a nearby wall.” Crowl gulped and let out a heavy breath. “A-anyway. How are Gus and Sera, or should I say the happy couple?” “They meet as often as their duties allow. They were quite disappointed that you and I couldn’t make it to the ceremony.” “Well, at the time we were busy fighting burly pirates to the death with our bare hands. I think they could forgive us for that.” Grant remembered alright. When Crowl first became an admiral, he liked to go out on missions. One such mission had led to a fistfight with a pirate captain and his entire crew. It was quite the adventure, to say the least. “Don’t you worry. You’ll get to meet them soon enough. Maybe even you’ll see the brighter side of married life if it comes from the Birds.” “Speaking of the 25th anniversary.” Crowl said. “I’ve been instructed to take my two best minions with me as guests.” Minions? I do hope this power hasn’t got to his head. “So you’re going to invite me?” “You and the Overseer of the 68th. But you especially, because the whole gang will be there, it’ll be just like old times.” “Crowl, I know your memory isn’t great, but remember the last time ‘the gang’ got together?” “Oh yeah, the party eight years ago, before us Birds got sent to the Northwest and Melissa got sent to Central. That was great!” “Gus concussed you with a bar stool.” Grant reminded him. “Like I said, great fun!” “And then that incident the morning afterwards. It’s pretty bad when my abiding memory is you being chased down into the street by Loran after being thrown out of a window.” “THAT was your abiding memory. Surely you and Melissa were busy making some all night?” Grant glared at him. He was listening outside our door, wasn’t he… “P-perish the thought, we mostly spoke about how much we’d miss each other.” He said indignantly. “Yeah, I’m sure you showed how much you’d miss her as well.” Crowl said, laughing as he slapped Grant on the back. “You know, I might just decide to drive a boot into your crippled body once Loran is finished with you.” Before the argument could go further, there was a cough behind them. Jeremy was there, rubbing his spectacles on his shirt. His eyes had huge bags underneath them. “Sorry for oversleeping, admiral. It must be…what, noon?” “Three in the afternoon. Still, after sorting through this oaf’s papers for days on end, I’m surprised you haven’t found somewhere else to work.” Grant pointed out “Don’t worry sir, I haven’t got to the biggest piles of paper yet. Oh, and there was a message for you, Admiral.” “From who?” Jeremy didn’t respond, just handed him the letter. Crowl turned it over and froze when he saw the seal. He showed it to Grant, a heart pierced with an arrow in red ink. Loran’s symbol? “Maybe he’s sent a message to say he’s forgiven you? Open it.” “No way Cal. You know Loran, he’s probably put some sort of Ground Dweller poison in it, or the letter is written on explosive paper!” “There’s no such thing as explosive paper, admiral.” Jeremy helpfully pointed out. “Just open the damn thing. I doubt he’d bother killing you in a way that he couldn’t witness.” Crowl sighed and pulled off the seal, ripping the letter open. He pulled out the contents, and unfolded it. He stared for a moment and slowly turned it so Grant could see it. Written in red, in huge writing, was the message. “Prepare yourself, Crowl.” Underneath was a smaller section of writing. “P.S: Check the envelope.” Crowl looked in the envelope and blanched. Grant grabbed it and took a look for himself. Inside was a severed finger, and it definitely didn’t belong to Loran, it was huge and hairy. He suddenly had a bad feeling about what Loran had used for ink. Crowl screwed up the letter and shoved it into his pocket, breathing faster than usual. “Yeah, he definitely sounds like he’s forgiven me. How long do you think the poor sod the finger belonged to suffered?” “Not nearly as long as you will, old friend. Anyway, thanks for the invite to the anniversary, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Now, I must be going back to the Sickle, I have to tell Stephens about this.” With that, grant gave a cheery wave and headed towards the door. As he passed Jeremy, he passed him the letter that the Grand Admiral had given him. He whispered to him, “Give this to Crowl when he looks less likely to be sick. It’s from the Grand Admiral.” Jeremy nodded and slipped the letter into his pocket. Crowl was still busy staring into the envelope at the severed finger. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he left. It’s been a while, Loran. It’ll certainly be quite the reunion. I for one, cannot wait to see what misery you’ve prepared for Crowl.

[Merchant of Venice]

I like the idea of them all having been in a sort of gang and past grudges coming back. I can't wait until this 25th anniversary, with the stuff with Loran and Carson likely to pay a visit, it's going to be one hell of a party.

[Lortano]

Pff, Carson? I assure you, a half crazy pirate armed with cannon on a flying ship will be the least of the problems I have planned.

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

Yeah this 25^th anniversary is set to be one interesting affair. Can't wait!

Loran sounds like a gruesome sort of fella', looking forward to learning more about him... and maybe we'll see a Carson vs. Loran face off?

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

Loran sounds like a gruesome sort of fella',

I'd have to agree with that. Was that just a random person's finger?

Add me to the list of people looking forward to reading about the upcoming anniversary!

[Lortano]

Chapter 6

Two months later. Grant gazed through his telescope at the looming sky city of Central. The capital of the Free Nation, it stood as a beacon for what they hoped to build in their own little corner of the world, far from the tyrants they had run from. Ahead of him went Crowl’s ship, the Stormcloud, a two decked frigate, waving the Free Nation’s flag on its rigging. Beside the Sickle flew the 68th’s regional commander, in his frigate Elenchi. As he gazed through the telescope, Grant saw the vibrant city, in full buzz for the coming 25th anniversary. People scurried this way and that, the mighty sky docks were filled with row upon row of dry docks for the ships. A green flare shot out of the Stormcloud and it moved in to dock. The Sickle and the Elenchi did the same, flying through the early morning mist. Slowly, they dropped down onto the dry docks, inch by inch. Then, they came to a rest, grant felt a small sigh of relief escape as the engines powered down. Always a nervous moment. He hurried down the ladder, meeting with Crowl as he reached the bottom. “Well, here we are.” He said, looking around at the multiple rows of cannon that guarded the docks. “Indeed. I need to report to the Grand Admiral. In the meantime, go find Melissa, she’ll know where the Birds are.” He put his hands in his pockets and began to walk away. Then he stopped and turned. “Ah. If you see Loran, I’ve broken my leg and couldn’t come. Let him know that. Especially him.” Then he gave a wave and turned to go again. Grant shook his head and grinned as Stephens slid down the ladder as well and stared at Crowl’s retreating back. “Is he still running scared of Admiral Loran?” “Of course.” “Why did Loran wait so long to beat the uniform off of Crowl? The two served together for three years after the incident and nothing happened.” “Well, nothing official. Crowl swears that Loran tried to ram him three times.” “Well, this is what you get when you pay a male prostitute to lie naked next to a man passed out on a bed.” “I heard you laughing when Crowl burst in the next morning to deliberately wake poor Loran up. No use you chastising him now.” “It was funny, up to the point Loran went bright red in fury and threw Crowl out of his window. While not wearing any clothes. It occurs to me that we may not have made the best choice in friends.” “Nonsense. If we hadn’t, then I wouldn’t get to see Crowl being violently beaten.” “What’s this about Crowl getting violently beaten?” came a familiar voice from behind him. He turned and there was Melissa, smiling from ear to ear. Stephens gave a mocking bow. “Miss Melissa. Here to tempt the Captain again?” “Tempting implies resistance.” She said, giving Grant a wink. He rolled his eyes. Even when they insult each other, it always comes back to me… “Well, I’ll leave you two to your jobs. I’ll deal with the crew and get the ship cleared up.” He climbed up the ladder with surprising speed. As he vanished over the railings, Melissa took Grant by the arm and led him off the skydock, onto the streets of Central. “I’d heard Crowl was coming, so I figured I’d come and meet you two. Where is he?” “Reporting to the Grand Admiral. Also, making sure that Loran doesn’t find him.” “Typical. Anyway, I’ll take you to the barracks where the admirals and their guests will be staying. Gus and Sera are already there.” “Good, it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other. Any news from Loran?” As he spoke, a shadow passed overhead. He gazed up, to find a huge ship flying overhead. A skymaster class, same as the Grand Admiral’s ship. On its side was painted the name Daven’s Heart in black, and it's sails had a pierced heart Loran’s ship… “I’m sorry I asked.” He sighed, as the great ship hung over Central like a storm cloud, presumably waiting for docking clearance. Melissa tugged him down another street, leading to a huge white building. The doors were huge things, with glass panelling in them, the frames of strong oak. Melissa pushed them open and headed through waving at a nearby attendant. She went down a corridor, and finally pushed open a small door, leading to a lounge. Grant headed through and was greeted by the sight of Sara and Gus, the final two Birds of Prey, sitting next to each other on one of the benches. Sera glanced up as Melissa walked in, and as she saw Grant she leapt up and threw her arms around him, catching him off guard. Gus, his bald head glinting in the morning light pouring in through the windows, also stood, headed over and took Grant’s hand, giving it a firm shake. “Cal! It’s been so long!” Sera said, before peering round at the hair near his ears. She sniggered slightly and tapped Gus on the shoulder. “Cal’s going grey.” She whispered and the two laughed together. Bloody youngsters. Wait, now I do sound old… As Melissa shut the door, leaving it slightly open, Grant chuckled along and said, “Well, that I won’t deny. Working with Crowl for the past five years does that to a man.” “One advantage of being me Cal. No grey hair.” Gus said with a grin, stroking his head. The four took a seat, Melissa next to Grant and the two Birds sitting next to each other. There was some tea on the table between them, so Grant poured himself some and took a sip. Tastes expensive. “So” he said as he put the cup back down. “I hear the two of you got married a few years ago.” “We did. Happiest day of my life by far.” “I got to be the bridesmaid.” Melissa said, her eyes filling with mist as she seemed to cast herself back. “Loran was the best man by default.” Gus said. Grant sniggered, Loran hated speech making, or any public event which didn’t involve violence. “That must have been fun.” “It was actually. He gave a good effort, but then gave up, brought out a portrait of Crowl he’d commissioned and smashed it to pieces with his cane. It went down well.” Please let Crowl run into Loran. Please. “It was perfect, truly. Only you and Crowl were missing.” Sera said, glaring at Grant. He took another relaxed sip, before shaking his head. “Sorry about that. Crowl got us in trouble with pirates, so we couldn’t make it, unless you wanted your wedding reception crashed by half a dozen ships filled with angry pirates.” Gus laughed. “Wish I could have been there! Would have taken me back to our time in the North West. Three years of violence, constant danger, near execution and several nasty duels with Carson. Best damned years of my life.” “He actually proposed to me in the middle of a battle with that bastard Carson.” Sera said, squeezing Gus’ hand harder. “It was actually fortunate for me, because as I went down on one knee a bullet flew over my head and just missed. “I put two bullets into that pirate for ruining the moment.” Sera said, the smile never leaving her face. Grant felt himself tense slightly, few would guess that Sera could cut it with the best fighters, or that annoying her could be fatal. “Even Carson seemed surprised, which gave Loran the time to punch him square in the jaw.” Gus continued. “A good day for all involved.” Grant said, chuckling again. Loran and Carson’s duels were legendary, especially the North Western ones, tales of lightning filling the sky as the two fought to a standstill. Suddenly, he heard shouting coming from the corridor. He turned as there was the sound of a scuffle and more shouting. Then a loud thump and a yelp. “It was eight years ago, you bloody nutter! Forgive and forget, won’t you!?” Crowl’s voice cried out. Another crunching noise followed and then another voice, a rather angry one at that, spoke. “Three years I served with you, and didn’t try to get revenge. Much like a fine wine, it’s best to leave it to ferment quietly, then bring it all out at a big event. Now, prepare yourself, I’m going to make that fall from the window seem like a small bruise.” There were multiple thumping noises, and then the door was flung open as Crowl came flying through it, landing with a crunch on his back. He groaned as a shadow appeared in the doorway and entered, illuminating the silhouette. In his hand he held a cane, a vicious looking three foot lump of wood, inlaid with silver. His eyes were deep green, glaring with resentment at Crowl. As Crowl tried to scramble up, he drove a boot into his side and then placed a foot on his chest. He seemed to realise where he was and gave a wry smile as he noticed the four of them. He swept his hat from his head and gave a bow, never letting his boot leave Crowl. His shoulder length blonde hair flowed as he placed the hat back on his head. Really? He’s over 50 and he hasn’t gone grey? God does pick favourites after all. “Morning all. Just like old times, eh?” he said, raising his boot and slamming it down on the beaten and bruised Crowl, who didn’t even bother with a retort.

Look forward to a fight next time!

[Lortano]

An actual fight. YAY!

Chapter 7

Loran stepped off the downed Crowl and stood over the group. “Calrich, old friend! How’s it been working under this sorry sack of maggot food?” he said, pointing with his cane at Crowl. “Same as usual really. Honestly I was surprised it took you so long to beat him to a pulp.” “That? That wasn’t even the introduction to the pain he’ll be feeling.” As he gave a laugh, Crowl got to his feet slowly. He wiped his face, before drawing his sword and rushing at Loran. As he brought the sword down, Loran turned, raised his cane and blocked the blow. Crowl’s face filled with shock. “How did you-“ “You are getting old and slow, my friend.” “You’re older than I am!” “Says a lot, doesn’t it.” He forced Crowl backwards with a great heave, before stepping back himself as Crowl glared at him, sword still drawn. “Oh, you just asked for a serious beating.” Crowl growled. He roared and charged at Loran who parried the blow again with his cane. Then he went on the offensive, sweeping forward with multiple swings, forcing Crowl to block. Corwl then leapt onto a table and jumped off, Loran dodged the aerial blow as he landed, sidestepping before bringing the cane down on Crowl’s back. Crowl cried out in pain and spun round quickly, his sword missing Loran’s face by inches. “Damn you! Stop with this nonsense and take out a real weapon!” “I’m holding a glorified stick and you’ve failed to land a blow. If I brought out a real weapon you’d be dead.” Crowl swung his blade again and the two clashed. Grant sipped his tea as the fight raged around the room. Gus and Sera were busy laughing at the two and Melissa seemed bored by the whole fight. “This is tame, you two! Ramp it up a notch!” she yelled at them. They seemed to listen, Crowl’s attacks became more frenzied and Loran’s parries became more and more desperate. At last, Crowl landed his blow, a punch to the gut after a feint from the sword. Loran stumbled backwards, clutching his midriff. “Well played Crowl. I haven’t had this much fun in years!” he said, laughing in the face of the furious admiral. Crowl roared again and charged at him. Loran dived through the door out into the hallway and Crowl followed. Grant rolled his eyes and stood up. “We should probably stop them from killing each other.” “You want to watch them, don’t you?” Melissa asked, also standing. “Obviously.” Grant replied, Gus and Sera also standing as they exited the room. The devastation was clear to see. A vase had been smashed on the floor, the walls were covered in marks from sword and cane blows. There was shouting and smashing noises ahead and the four rushed ahead. Two attendants were staring in shock as Crowl kicked Loran through the front door, sending him sprawling into the square. The four rushed to the door as Crowl walked out, twirling his sword as he went. Loran got to his feet, grunting as he raised his cane once more into a battle pose. Crowl laughed as a crowd of people began to gather. The muttering reached Grant’s ears. “Is that Admiral Loran?” “What is Crowl doing? Does he want to die?” “Is Loran losing his touch? That can’t be the same man we heard so much about.” Loran began to chuckle, then louder, bursting into a roaring laugh that silenced the entire crowd. “Crowl…do you really think I’d wait so long to beat the hell out of you and not be prepared for you resisting? Granted, I didn’t expect you to have become so competent over the years…I suppose this will require more force to salvage my honour.” He grabbed his cane in his left hand, grabbed the top of it with his right and twisted. There was a small click and he pulled. The cane came apart in his hand, revealing a rapier. There was a gasp from the crowd as he threw the cane’s outer shell on the ground and flicked the sword, the air hissing as he did so. Crowl remained expressionless, but he gripped his sword tighter. Loran rushed forward, jabbing at Crowl. Crowl jumped back, before knocking aside Loran’s blade and going for a jab of his own. Loran sidestepped and the two circled each other, each waiting for a moment of hesitation. Crowl lost patience first, took a step forward and swung his blade. Loran blocked it again, but Crowl followed with more and more swings. Loran dodged a few but the rest he had to block, Crowl was obviously trying to sap Loran’s strength. The crowd began to cheer as the two went back and forth, Crowl knocking Loran to the floor and Loran taking his legs from under him with a sweeping kick as he fell. They scrambled up again and rushed towards each other, their swords clashing as they pushed close to each other, staring into each other’s eyes. Both of them had grins on their faces. They’re enjoying this… He suddenly felt a presence behind him. He turned and gasped as the Grand Admiral walked up beside him. He looked annoyed and gave a small ‘tsk’ as he watched the two fighting. “Bloody fools.” He said. “Grand Admiral.” Gus and Sera said, standing up a little straighter. “How long have they been going at it?” “Five minutes now.” Gus responded. “Are you going to crush them?” “It’s cheap entertainment for the masses I suppose. I’ll let them fight it out. Plus, it’ll be a chance for Loran to prove himself as a potential successor. Grant didn’t want to think about what would happen when the Grand Admiral died. He wasn’t even as old as Loran, but if he were to die in an untimely fashion, then it would lead to problems. Loran was the most likely to succeed, he was the oldest and controlled the North Western quadrant, filled with men hardened in battle against Ground Dweller rebels and pirates. The Skymaster also helped, it was one of two within the Free Nation, the other being the Tyrannous. As he pushed such unpleasant thoughts from his mind, there came a rumbling from overhead. Schooner engines? Sure enough, a schooner passed overhead. Grant gazed up at it as hundreds of objects were suddenly thrown from the ship. They fluttered down, little blue flags, blown on the stiff breeze that always swept through the sky cities. Even Crowl and Loran stopped fighting and stared up in confusion. What is that schooner? They normally don’t fly so lo- He squinted and then noticed the sail on it. In particular, the banner. His eyes widened and he turned to the Grand Admiral, whose face had turned the colour of stone. “Grand Admiral, that banner-“ he began. “A black wolf upon ablue background.” The Grand Admiral said quietly, snatching one of the flags from the sky. Indeed, there was that very symbol and grant felt a lump in his throat. Gus grabbed one too and tore it in half, before saluting the Grand Admiral. “Isim has found us. Orders, Grand Admiral?” “Send out scout ships to track those schooners. I want a report on their location and numbers.” The Grand Admiral said, beginning to walk forward, past Loran and Crowl and out into the streets. The crowd, mostly made up of naval crewman, dispersed in silence. There was a fearful silence as they did so, even Loran and Crowl put away their blades and headed away. Gus and Sera hugged one another, before heading out to join Crowl and Loran, the four walked side by side down the streets, following the Grand Admiral’s footsteps. Grant and Melissa were left alone, staring at the sky, which now seemed more hostile than it had just a few minutes ago. He felt her move closer to him and asked, “Did you expect them to find us?” “Of course not. I never wanted to think about them again.” He couldn’t blame her, honestly. The brutality, the sudden rampages from the King…who’d want to remember such things? “I only like to remember one thing.” He responded. “The Exodus. The night we met.” She gave a sad smile as several schooners began to rise above the city, heading off into the distance. “Yes. That was a nice night. You looked ever so dashing in my 15 year old mind, captaining your own ship.” “And 25 years later, I still command the same ship.” “But not nearly as dashing I’m afraid.” Grant chuckled, before placing his hand in hers. “I do hope your fighting skills have improved along with that silver tongue of yours. We’ll need it soon enough.” “Aye, no doubt.” She said and they lapsed into silence, Grant contemplating the war that would undoubtedly come if Isim truly had found them.

[Merchant of Venice]

Oooh yes war I do love war. Great last two chapters, really great dialogue and the fight between Crowl and Loran was both entertaining and humorous. Marrisa and Grant's past seems as mysterious as ever though hope we get to find out eventually.

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

Caught up on the latest chapters, great work - the reunion was very entertaining.

Looking forward to how they deal with this new threat.

[Lortano]

Chapter 8

Meanwhile, 50 miles from Central. The cabin was dark, lit only by a few candles as the people inside huddled around a table. Patricia Davenheart was one of them. Dressed in the Isim Expeditionary Forces’ uniform, she stood opposite the Supreme Commander Sykil. They were poring over a map, with many other important people surrounding them. “Davenheart. Your report on what the scouts discovered?” Sykil said, gazing up from the map. “Having pinpointed the location of the capital, I sent a schooner to drop our banners on top of it to announce our arrival. No doubt the traitors will send scouts to find us.” Sykil grunted and stared down at a map of the Free Nation. In the week since they’d reached the territory, they’d managed to obtain a map from some of the so called ‘Ground Dwellers’. The Free Nation, as the traitors called it, appeared to be a huge circle, about 300 miles across, split into four quadrants. “Are all the ships prepared for war?” he asked. There was a murmur of agreement. As the murmurs died down, the cabin door opened and a young man walked in. His clothes were pristine and expensive looking, though that was hardly surprising, he was the heir to the Kingdom of Isim after all. As he entered and closed the door behind him, the whole group fell to one knee. “My Prince.” Sykil said. “Apologies for being late. I’m still not quite used to air travel yet.” “It’s no bother, my prince.” Sykil replied and the whole group stood again. Patricia had always found the Prince curious. He was not much like his father, he was definitely less reckless. Yet he was loyal to his father and that was why he’d come with the Expeditionary Force, to rule as Viceroy of any new land they found belonging to the traitors. Sadly, it seemed air travel was his main weakness, in the first few weeks he’d sent a great deal of vomit over the side of the flagship. Sykil continued, pointing at the map. “We’ll naturally ask for their surrender, but should they refuse it will be necessary to fight a war for it.” He pointed at Patricia. “Miss Davenheart, you are hereby assigned the frigate Gale, and the right flank. The fighting will be focused around the North Eastern quadrant. Your objective is to take the sky city there.” At last! A command worthy of the Davenheart name! She concealed her excitement and nodded in response. He turned to another man, an old gentleman wearing a white coat. “Jenkins. You’ll take the left flank and focus on the South Eastern Quadrant, your objective is the same as Miss Davenheart, to take the sky city in that quadrant.” There was another murmur of agreement, and the prince looked on with a small smile. Perhaps he was thinking about what he would do with his little realm once they’d won the war. Perhaps he was smiling at all of his talented subordinates. Once the murmurs died down, Sykil beckoned for them all to follow and headed for the door. As they exited and began walking through the massive cabin complex that made up the back of the Fidelis, he began to speak. “My comrades, today begins a new chapter in the history of Isim. 25 years ago, Tarkon and Carson humiliated the Kingdom, executing our best researchers and stealing pretty much all of our ships. Such brazen audacity is an affront to the glory of the Kingdom and I swore revenge, for my king and for myself.” He pushed open the doors that led to the deck. Light poured in and Patricia squinted as they exited. As the light became bearable, she saw the ships that made up the expeditionary Force, 2000 ships in total, with the main ships hovering next to the Fidelis. But even they were dwarfed by the Fidelis, it was a Skymaster, the only one that existed in Isim and a fine ship indeed. As they headed to the prow, Sykil continued. “There are those among you who would wish to fight this enemy as you would an honourable opponent in battle. Let me make myself clear, these traitors are no longer human. Merely letting the prince look at them would stain his honour beyond repair! Man or woman, armed or unarmed, they are all traitors. They must die. And I know there are some of you who hate the idea of murdering unarmed civilians, but these same unarmed civilians stepped over the bodies of innocent crewmen during their escape. They are just as guilty!” There was a silence, apart from the dull rumblings of the engines. He continued, “And there are those among you who wonder about me. You wonder how someone like me could ever hand over Tarkon and Carson to His Majesty, after all… they are, nay, were my brothers. I call such people weak. My brothers betrayed the King, murdered comrades in their beds during their escape and even dared to threaten the life of His Majesty. They could be my sons and I’d still have them gutted like the traitors they are. My one regret is that I won’t get to drive the sword through their hearts personally.” More silence. Some of the captains looked like they couldn’t quite believe the Supreme Commander was serious. He swept his arm out and gave his orders. “Dismissed. The fleet will move immediately.” The captains nodded and headed for the sides, the ships were docked together in a long line, so they could simply hop over to their own ships. Once they had done so, Sykil and Patricia headed to the poop deck, followed by the Prince. “My prince. Do I have your permission to move the fleet?” “As if I have real power here…. permission granted.” The Prince responded. “Cynical as always.” Sykil sighed, before drawing his sword. “In the name of his Majesty, Prince Isilim and his noble father, King Nosorum the Second, hear my words! These lands are to be subjugated. Forward, mighty fleet! Forward for the King!” And he swept the sword down, the engines roared as the Fidelis began to move, leading the entire fleet forward in an impressive looking formation. As he sheathed the sword, she heard him mutter, “Glory to the Loyal.” She recognised the Kingdom’s motto instantly and muttered it as well. The Prince stared ahead silently, his eyes vacant. Sykil nodded at the two of them and headed down to the cabin doors, pushing the doors open and walking inside. As he left, Patricia turned to Isilim. “You should probably get inside, My Prince. We wouldn’t want you catching your death out here.” “Nonsense. A King must be seen as strong, not weak.” “But your condition, it’s-“ Isilim’s condition was a well-kept secret, but Sykil had confided in Patricia about it. An illness could devastate the Prince, while normal men could simply shrug it off. Not even the best physicians could do much for him, and it was clear that having such a weakness hurt him deeply. “My condition does not change who I am.” He said, his face hardened into a blank expression. She thought about being honest, but she doubted it would change much. He was stubborn to a fault, that much was certain. Patricia bowed in response. “Very well. Stay up here if you wish. But if you feel unwell, don’t hesitate to call for help.” “Don’t worry. I’ve gotten good at calling for help over the years.” He replied. She headed off, leaving him staring at the sky.

[Lortano]

I've taken the liberty of adding all the ships that have come up. I'm sure Shankbot will be pleased.

[Merchant of Venice]

Ahhh it seems Grant and his fellow comrades are in a bit of trouble now. I can't wait for war.

And does the Prince's illness seems curious. HIV/Aids is it?

[Lortano]

Actually, I've gone for him being born with a weak immune system, Primary Immune Deficiency. I got my inspiration from Henry VII actually. He had some 'ahem' problems conceiving male children. Rumor had it that his second wife gave birth to a stillborn and deformed child and his wives and a really high number of miscarriages involving male children.

Now, he had two living sons. Henry Fitzroy, who died at a rather young age and Edward VI. He was kept in a sterile room which was cleaned every day because henry was terrified of losing him. And, having read about him, he was the closest thing to Joffrey that England ever came to. He once killed a Falcon, tore out it's feathers and ripped it into four pieces and threatened his teachers with the same fate.

But enough of the history lesson, Edward is who Isilim is based on, but I don't intend for him to become that psychotic.

[Lortano]

Chapter 9

Around an hour later, a call came from above. “Ships sighted! They bear enemy colours!” Patricia ran to the front of the ship as Sykil and the Prince came rushing out from the cabin. She opened her telescope and stared through the afternoon mist. “What do you see, Lieutenant Davenheart?” Sykil asked as he stopped at her side. She squinted through the telescope. “I see…two schooners, a frigate and…” she choked on her words as she saw the final two ships approaching. “T-two skymasters.” She finished, not wanting to believe what she was seeing as the two hulking ships came ploughing towards them. “Call an all stop!” Sykil roared to the crew. “Then bring the Fidelis closer to them. They clearly want to treat with us.” The order was obeyed, and the fleet stopped as the Fidelis headed onwards. Closer and closer it came, until Patricia could make out a figure standing on the prow of the leading skymaster. Both sides ground to a halt and there was a moment of silence. Patricia couldn’t believe her eyes as she gazed at the two skymasters in front of her. As far as she knew, only three had ever existed, so this was truly a clash of the very best. Then came a shout from the leading skymaster. “This is Free Nation territory, invaders. Turn back; else I’ll have my Tyrannous turn you to dust.” It was a stern voice and filled with contempt. Sykil laughed as he heard the voice. “So, you still have this old rust bucket, Tarkon? Clinging to old sentiments, even if it means your demise?” There was a pause, but then another shout returned. “Sykil. So the King’s dog has been sent to crush us. Has the old scumbag come as well, to gloat over us in chains?” “As if he would dirty himself with scum like you. I bring the King’s son to act as Viceroy, while you will be screaming in the dungeons at His Majesty’s pleasure.” “Do you honestly think I’m going to surrender?” “I was hoping you wouldn’t. I’m not allowed to kill you, but I’ll enjoy breaking your legs before the King gets his torturers working on breaking your spirit.” “I knew parley would be useless. But I brought these four with me for a reason. They are my best, my Birds of Prey. I dare you to send any ships at them, they will cast them to the ground in ruin.” “My champions? I have 2000 ships! Is that enough to defeat your Birds? It’s certainly enough to defeat you, damned traitor.” “So…you harden your heart to your family. So be it.” Tarkon swept his arm towards the other four ships. “Go back to Central and organise the defence. Sykil is mine.” Sykil laughed, slamming his hands onto the railings. “If that’s the way you want it, brother! Order all ships to stay back. He’s mine to crush.” “Commander, the prince is on-board, you risk his life-“ Patricia protested but he raised a hand and interrupted her. “Take the prince to the cabin and place two guards on the door. Give him a pistol if you want. We’re capturing Tarkon right here, right now.” Two guards grabbed the Prince by the soldiers and dragged him inside, as Patricia saw all the gun ports on the Tyrannous open. Soldiers rushed up to the deck of the Fidelis, and she heard the sound of its gun ports opening. Sykil headed up to the ships wheel, jammed a rifle into the helmsman’s hands, and took control as the engines fired up. He had a dangerous glint in his eye as he clutched the wheel. He’s mad! Utterly mad! Patricia dived behind the railings, holding her pistol, as the two ships headed towards each other, about to give each other a broadside of rifle fire. “Steady men!” Sykil roared, pulling out his own pistol and steering with one hand. There was a moment of eerie silence as the two ships flew past each other. Then- “FIRE!” came the cry and Patricia pulled herself up and fired blindly, before ducking again. The air was rent by bullets and smoke. The man next to her was struck in the head and fell backwards, his rifle falling next to her. She grabbed it, stowing her pistol away. There were dead men everywhere, and the shots were not stopping. So this is what happens when skymasters fight. She pulled herself up again and fired two quick rifle rounds. She didn’t know if she hit anyone, nor could hear if she had through all the noises. The screams of the wounded filled her ears, but through it all she saw Sykil standing at the wheel, firing his pistol at Tarkon, who stood at his own wheel firing back. The ships began to circle shots still being exchanged between them. One bounced off the railings right by Patricia’s head and she flinched. War was definitely not all it was cracked up to be. For one, the heroic stories of the kingdom’s glorious wars of conquest against heathens did not mention how much dead men bled. Or the smell of gunpowder, or the knot in one’s stomach that was difficult to describe. They went round and round, like a merry-go-round of slaughter, each circumnavigation leaving more men lying dead upon the ground. It seemed as though both ships were equal though, both admirals still stood at their wheels, firing pistol shots at each other. Suddenly there was a scream and Patricia looked up, seeing one man plunge from the rigging, slam onto the railings beside her and tumble over the edge, into the empty void below. And then she heard a dull thud. It was like a gunshot, but its pitch was deeper, like the rumbling of thunder. Some of the other men heard it to and turned to each other, confused. As she scanned the surroundings to see where the boom had come from, she saw them, a dozen little black shapes flying towards the Fidelis from the starboard side. “Cannonballs!” she screamed and dived to the ground as they smashed into the deck, two landing directly onto the upper deck, the rest smashing into the lower decks. Splinters flew everywhere, one slicing Patricia’s uniform and burying itself in the chest of the man next to her. He fell without a cry, but the same could not be said of the living. There were screams, one man stared in morbid fascination at his own arm, that lay several feet away from him. God, the damage below must be… The shots from the Tyrannous stopped coming as both ships seemed to stare into the distance. Though the Fidelis had taken all of the cannonballs, none wanted to guess where the next volley would go. Patricia stumbled up to the poop deck, she could see the brutal devastation of the top deck from there. Sykil seemed stunned, his eyes wide at the destruction wrought upon his ship. “Davenheart. Spot for enemies!” he shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. She pulled out her thankfully unbroken spyglass and stared through the smoke. And then she saw it, a tiny silhouette on the starboard side. “Sir! Schooner spotted. But surely that couldn’t have-“ She gazed through it again and gasped as the schooner sped towards them. It’s not seriously going to attack? She began to make out more details of the ship, it’s gun ports seemed to be fitted with cannon, but despite this it was moving faster than expected, faster than a normal schooner. Is this the Free Nation’s technology? No, it can’t be, the other schooners didn’t have this! “Ship identified sir, schooner class ship, name is-“ “Dominus.” Sykil finished, letting go of the wheel and handing it to the helmsman, who had somehow survived the carnage. “How did-“ she began, but he cut he off. “Dominus. I’d recognise such idiotic tactics anywhere. It’s Carson’s ship.” She drew in a sharp breath, before turning back. The Dominus approached, halting at last between the two ships. There was a moment of silence before a man appeared at the bow of the schooner. He laughed and laughed, throwing his head back in a long cackle, before wiping his mouth and shouting out, “So! Sykil, Tarkon and Carson, together at last! I’ve been to some mad family reunions in the past few years…but this will certainly be the bloodiest.” And through the smoke and screams, Patricia saw Carson draw his sword, and felt sick to the very pit of her stomach. If even half the stories about the night of the Exodus were true, then a lot of people were about to die.

Also known as the chapter where shizzle gets fo reals.

[Merchant of Venice]

Oh the shizzle got quite real indeed. Wayyyyy too many family problems! God, I don't like my own brother very much, but these guys seem to take it to another level.

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

The military commanders of every faction so far are brothers? Merchant's right - that's quite a feud.

I'm intrigued to know how the brothers ended up where they all are! And will we get to hear about this "night of the Exodus"?

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

Warning, link contains prohibited words: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uvqJ1mTkEuY

(my reaction after that last chapter )

Great couple of chapters, and yeah serious family problems.

[Lortano]

Violence ensues.

Chapter 10

Tarkon and Sykil came to the bows of their ships, swords also drawn. “Carson! So, the two traitors come to fight for their freedom! I see you’ve got rid of your old uniforms!” “I burned it, along with all ties to Isim.” Tarkon shouted back. “If it makes you feel better Sykil, I started to burn mine, but then had second thoughts, so I pissed on it to put the fire out. Then I changed my mind again and burned it.” Carson added. The three stood there in silence, as Patricia frantically wrapped a bandage tight over a fellow soldier’s leg wound. He seemed remarkably calm, considering she’d just ripped a huge chunk of wood out of the wound, but all that made hearing the conversation between the three brothers easier. Carson shouted again. “So, the main question is this. Which one of you wants to fight me? Even I can’t take two skymasters at once, so who will challenge the wayward brother?” In response, Tarkon turned to the helmsman. “Take the ship back to Central!” In response, the skymaster began to turn and head away, its hull covered in marks where bullets had struck the hull. Sykil glared at the retreating Skymaster, before turning back to Carson. “So, you turned on Tarkon did you? I’m not surprised; you always were a slippery one.” “Now now, let’s not get into name calling in front of the children.” Carson responded, a grin etched onto his face. Patricia had only heard stories about Carson back in Isim. Some said he was a hero, one of the three Grand Admirals of the Royal Fleet. Others cursed him as a traitor, especially because of the Exodus. She’d only been a few days old at the time, but supposedly Carson had tried to murder the King before being stopped by Sykil. A man appeared besides Carson, with grey stubble and a headband. “Cannons reloaded, Captain.” “Excellent work Lauf. Take her round the back of the skymaster! I want holes in the cabin, drive out any important people!” The prince! The Dominus darted to the side, flying round the starboard side of the Fidelis. Patricia rushed to the side, and saw the gun ports open, cannon barrels sticking out of them. It passed the cabin, stopping even as the helmsman tried to bring the Fidelis round, and fired. At close range, it’s shots seemed to explode out with a huge explosion. Patricia flinched under the impact, eyes wide as she watched the cabin get punched full of holes. We’ll all be for it if he’s dead!” The Dominus sped off again, sweeping up to the port side. It stopped, level with the deck, and Carson plus several crew members leapt aboard. The Fidelis’ crew rushed up to them with swords and pistols, some hid behind the masts and on the poop deck and rained shots on the pirates. Patricia rushed up to the bow, where Sykil slashed down one pirate. “Sir! Where are all the crew?” “Stunned by the cannonfire, more than likely.” He replied. As if to confirm, the Dominus sped off again, looping on itself as it fired a volley from it’s other side, smashing parts of the port decks to smithereens. So that was his plan. Board us and use the cannons to stun any reinforcements. Still, as long as he doesn’t have the prince. She stepped forward as Carson carved a bloody streak through the Fidelis. Patricia watched his pistol closely, the perfect time to kill a man was when he was out of ammo. One man stepped up from the poop deck and aimed, Carson put a hole in his heart. One. Another two crew rushed at him, Carson parried the first strike and struck down one of them, before casually shooting the second in the head. Two The man called Lauf fought with another Isim crewman, and before Patricia could help he thrust his blade clean through, pinning the crewman to the mast. She stepped forward, drawing her own sword. The old man saw her and charged. He moves fast for an old bastard. She parried his attacks, while trying to keep an eye on Carson. He shot another man who aimed at him, then a wounded crewman reached for his pistol and received a gunshot for his troubles. Four bullets. She forced Lauf back, shoving him against the railings. He laughed and pushed her backwards. “So, this kingdom has decent fighters too eh? For us ground dwellers, such power is prized in a woman. Will you be my wife, dear? Give old Lauf something to cheer him up in his old age.” Trying to put me off eh? “Why not? I’ve brought my families dowry with me!” she said, thrusting her sword at Lauf. He parried it aside, shrugging his shoulders as she pulled away. “Worth a try.” She turned again to see Sykil marching through the carnage towards Carson, who turned and fired two more shots. They missed, striking the deck around Sykil’s feet. All out of bullets, traitor. As she was about to clash swords with Lauf again, the cabin doors opened and out stumbled Prince Isilim, coughing and spluttering. Thank goodness he’s- The Prince stumbled out, directly into Carson’s arms. The pirate scooped him up like a loving father, before spinning him around and placing his pistol the boy’s temple. The battlefield froze, Lauf laughing as he swaggered over, standing directly behind Carson. The fighting ceased, as Carson shouted out, “Put aside the weapons, Isim scum. It wouldn’t do well to have someone shoot someone so important looking through the head.” The fighting stopped entirely, the pirates gathering near Carson, as the Dominus continued to fly, presumably reloading. He cleared his throat. “Now. Who exactly is this fine specimen of a young man? I want answers, or he’ll be a dead specimen of a young man.” Sykil spoke calmly, as if trying to calm a wild animal. “He is Prince Isilim, heir to the throne.” Carson raised an eyebrow, before glancing down at the prince. He seemed calm, but his eyebrow was starting to twitch. He’d done quite well not to burst into tears. “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Really? Tell me princey, do you mind if I call you that, how on earth did you happen to be created? Was your mother paid or did the threat of torture convince her that entertaining your father was a better alternative?” “Take that back, scum!” Sykil shouted out, the prince for his part clenched his fist in rage. He stepped forward, Carson trained the gun on the Prince’s head again. “Now now, no need to be angry. Just having a little joke is all. Now, brother…how does it feel to be powerless?” Sykil stood motionless, his expression hard as stone. “Powerless, as the thing you must protect above all else lies in the power of another. In an instant I could end this boy’s life, make his father suffer merely a fraction of the pain felt by those he wronged.” “No you couldn’t.” Patricia shouted back. Sykil shot her a glare. Carson gave a soft chuckle. “Oh? And who might you be, dear?” he turned to Sykil. “Brother, you got married? Why wasn’t I invited?” “Captain Patricia Davenheart.” She replied, ignoring his joke. “Oh, a Davenheart eh? Guess the old dogs still follow at the heel of the king. So, tell me, why can I not harm a hair on this child’s head?” “You fired six bullets. You’ve got nothing left in that gun.” Carson stared at her, his eyes scanning her. “Hmph. I see. A good head on your shoulders.” He stared again. “Ample bosom as well. Yes, I fear I shall make the world a more miserable place when I kill you, my dear.” “You can’t kill anyone with an empty gun.” She replied, smiling at him. And he smiled back a glint in his eye. Why is he- “Shall I tell you a little secret about how I do my gambling amongst my crew? When I gamble, I make sure I have at least three tricks up one sleeve and a shiv in the other in case I get caught. The first trick is the cannon on the Dominus. One man made this possible, through his plans and designs that I took from his cold dead hands. But, I also found another interesting plan in the pile. A modification to a pistol that could add an extra shot, my second trick!” You’ve got to be- “A seven shot pistol? You’re bluffing!” “I have a unique ship, capable of firing cannon. Would it surprise you if I had such a weapon?” “It’s not possible. You are bluffing.” Carson paused for a moment, gripping the prince tighter. Then he let out another chuckle and threw the prince to the ground. He lowered his gun as he spat at the Prince’s shaking body. “Well played, Miss Davenheart. You do your family proud.” As he spoke, a crewman ran towards him, sword raised, a blood curdling cry on his lips. Carson raised the pistol and fired, the crewman twisting as he fell screaming to the ground, blood pooling from his body. The pirate lowered the pistol and turned to Patricia, and winked. “But sadly, you aren’t dealing with someone normal. You deal with Carson, scourge of the Thin Sea.” He-He wasn’t bluffing? Patricia bit her lip as Sykil raised his sword in Carson’s direction and called up to the rigging. “Fire off flares! Send the fleet forward. I’m done playing games with Carson.” “Oh. How interesting, I was getting bored. Still, even I couldn’t take down a fleet that big.” His crew rushed to the side of the ship, with Carson just behind. “Now it’s time for my third trick, a very fast getaway ship.” He laughed as the Dominus pulled up alongside, his crew leaping aboard. He sheathed his sword and stepped onto the deck of the schooner. He turned, his cloak sweeping in the wind as he pointed directly at Sykil. “Have your war with Tarkon, dearest brother. Tear at each other like lions, fighting for pride and territory. Fight like the brothers I know, no holding back. But, know that I will NEVER forgive you or Tarkon for what you did 25 years ago. And like a vulture, watching those two lions fight, I’ll descend on you and feast on your bloated corpses. You have been warned.” And with that the Dominus began to sail away, as the Prince got to his feet, seeming rather unsteady. As Patricia felt herself relax, she heard one final shout from Carson. “Oh, one more volley for luck then!” She threw herself to the ground as the cannonballs ripped into the Fidelis once more. Sykil stood, holding his arm up to protect himself as the balls hit. She looked up as she lay there and froze. Time seemed to slow as she watched cannonball plough into the hull, just below the railings, and send splinters flying, directly towards the Prince. She yelled at him to duck, but it was too late, the splinters slammed into his face and sent him stumbling backwards, screaming in agony as he clawed at his bleeding face. As the Dominus disappeared into the mist, Patricia rushed over to the Prince. She pulled aside his hands that covered his face and gagged. A huge splinter was lodged in his right eye, blood pouring from the wound. “Get the prince inside, NOW! And find a physician!” she shouted out, as soldiers began to drag him inside, still screaming in pain. If that wound gets infected… Sykil shook his head and headed towards the bow, as the fleet began to line up alongside the Fidelis. Patricia followed, sheathing her sword. “Sir. Your orders?” “Get men examining the damage and repairing. Then, I want you to take 800 ships to the North East with the Gale. Take the sky city and cast their ships from the sky.” “Of course sir.” “Don’t worry about the Prince. I’ll keep him alive.” Sykil placed a hand on her shoulder. She nodded as he walked away, heading towards the cabins.

[Lortano]

After a fun and deadly couple of chapters, I decided to make things a little quieter for this chapter.

Chapter 11

This nightmare again… He found himself in a field, in the dead of night. The night air was cut by the sounds of gunshots and the screams of the dying. He covered his ears, but the noise simply got louder to compensate. Slowly, he looked upwards, towards the night sky. Hanging in the sky were hundreds of ships, their sails like clouds, blocking out the stars as they began to sail. Further away from them, in the far distance, was the far distant outline of a huge castle, with six mighty towers and the banners of Isim flying from all of them. He knew where he was, after all, he’d had the nightmare before. Urbpolis, the capital of the Kingdom of Isim. He clenched his fist as he saw the banners fluttering in the wind and closed his eyes. When he opened them, a series of images flashed by him. A mighty skymaster, wreathed in flame as it plunged into the ground. An old man on his deathbed, pressing a crown into the hands of his son. A man in Isim military uniform, holding a smoking pistol, mouth and eyes wide in horror. A woman, dropping from a skydock with a bullet wound in her throat. He placed his hands on his head and squeezed, as if trying to crush the thoughts from his mind. It didn’t do any good. He opened his eyes again, he now stood in a huge room. He felt something sticky at his bare feet, looking down he saw blood illuminated in the moon shining in from above. In front of him were a set of steps, with rivers of blood running down them. He trembled as he looked up, his eyes stinging with bitter tears. At the top sat a figure on a throne. His face was masked in shadow, and across his lap was the body of a woman, her throat torn apart by a bullet wound. He tried to step out of the pool, but he was stuck fast, the blood keeping his feet planted on the floor. He turned to his right, there was Sykil with a pistol in hand, standing over the same woman’s body. Rivers ran from her corpse as well. He turned right and Tarkon was there, a pistol in hand, standing over the same woman’s body. There came a childlike laugh from behind him. His feet moved on their own, rotating on the spot to face what it was. A small child, in noble clothing, stood with the same woman unconscious in his arms. A mad grin was plastered onto his face, as he placed a pistol on her neck. “Let her go.” He asked the child, trying to sound remotely threatening. The response was another laugh and a mocking stare. “Look at you. It’s been a while since you had this nightmare, isn’t it?” “Leave me alone. I’m-I’m not afraid of you, of any of this.” “You shake, you shiver. Your body betrays you, the same way you betrayed her.” “Shut up. I did no such thing.” The man said, raising his fist in the child’s direction. “Maybe you didn’t pull the trigger, but you might as well have done.” The boy fired once, the woman juddered under the impact and fell to the ground, more bloody rivers ran to form the pool at his feet. The child threw the pistol behind him and the smile left his face, replaced by a terrifying snarl and a glare that could curdle fresh milk. “Why do you continue to run, older me? Remember the stories we heard, of wronged men wreaking terrible vengeance? Where was yours? She needs blood to honour her memory.” The man blinked and found himself holding a pistol. This is…new. Normally I’d wake up screaming before now. He looked up again and gasped as the woman rose to her feet, blood still pouring from her wounds. He turned his head to the side and saw the other versions began to rise from the ground. They stepped in closer, creating a small circle around him. And they began to chant, over and over, “You know my face, you know my name So tell me brother, who’s to blame?” He stared at the pistol, before looking up again as the child laughed again. The women were gone, as was the blood pool. He carefully raised a foot. It seemed that he could move. “Now, make your choice, older me.” “Choice?” “Who’s to blame? Who do you blame for what happened? Will you kill your own kin in revenge? Will you commit regicide for your kin? Or…would you rather turn the gun on yourself?” The child ripped his shirt open, baring his heart. “Go on. You know who’s really to blame here. Put a bullet through me, then throw yourself off your ship when you wake up. Do it, you damned coward. DO IT!” Spittle flew from the boy’s mouth, his face twisted in rage, tears pouring from his eyes. The man stood there for a moment, before placing the barrel under his own chin. The boy started and began to shout again. “What are you doing? How can you carry on like this, knowing what you’ve done? DO IT! Put a hole in my head, make your choice to end your miserable excuse for a life!” The man gave a soft smile and pulled the trigger, the world fading to white as he fell backwards. He never even felt hitting the ground. Carson shot awake, falling from his hammock as he did so. He landed with a thud and a groan, rolling onto his back. How long has it been, damned nightmares. He rose, stumbling over to a nearby drawer. Pulling it open to reveal a bottle of brandy, he pulled the cork and took a swig. It had gone off about a year ago and burned his throat to the point that it really hurt. A perfect choice to compliment his evening. He stared up at the mirror over the drawer, illuminated by the candles that were fastened to prevent them falling over. He was pale and sweating, his long hair tangled round his face. He shuddered and noticed the tears starting to well up in the corner of his eyes. He raised a shaking right hand, revealing a ring upon the ring finger, a simple gold band with a small jewel attached. Carson let out a long drawn out laugh as he looked at it, his face reflected in the gold. He kissed it and whispered, “Don’t worry sister. I’ve not lost my wits just yet. Just a little more time and we can be together once more. Be patient. I’ll have Sykil and Tarkon begging for mercy. I’ll have Nosorum at my feet, screaming as I draw out his small intestine with a fruit knife. Maybe that will be enough to stop these nightmares. Maybe it’ll be enough to stop you from hating me. Please, just a little more time.” His hand fell to his side and he fell to his knees. He rolled over, propped up against the dresser, and wept once more.