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ask-de-writer · 4 years

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 72 of 83 : World of Sea

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 72 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

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Kurin took the big drum sticks and beat a reply. “This is Kurin. I am not a prisoner. The Grandalor has surrendered to me and the prize is mine alone! The disposal of the prisoners is to be by my sole order!”

“If what you suspect is true, Kurin, that ought to produce a reaction,” said Barad wryly.

The next drum from the Longin was beaten by an obviously different and inexpert hand. “Your rights are fully recognized. Come aboard so that we can discuss matters.”

“Where is Captain Mord? Who are you?” Kurin returned.

The better beat of Degan carried the answer. “Mord Halyn has been ordered to stand down by order of the combined councils of the Longin. He is charged with violations of Great Law. Kotance is Captain now.”

Darkistry’s brow clouded. She addressed Kurin in a voice of barely suppressed rage, “Is that Kotance Warn Grinna?”

“Why yes, he is,” said Kurin surprised by Darkisty’s obvious hate. “He came to the Longin two Gatherings ago. Our old First Officer died of a choking fit at the Gathering and the Council chose him for a replacement. There was some bitterness over their not choosing someone from our own ship.”

“That offspring of a Hag and an Ord is the one who organized my rape! Kurin, remove me from the helm! I’ll send him to Iren, I swear it!”

“No,” Kurin replied with sureness, “you won’t. I am ordering you to run this battle with your head. You are the best that we have and we need you.”

“Battle?” Darkisty said, withdrawing into the problem, “He hasn’t offered any attack.”

“He just did. He knows that as a journeyman, I’m a legal adult. He is trying to take this ship and kill Captain Tanlin and Barad before the Council representatives can arrive.” Kurin thought for a moment and added, “My rights are ‘fully recognized’ means that he will pretend that he does not understand that I’m adult and will ‘hold the ship in trust for me’ until I am. Then something would happen to me, too, leaving him as sole owner and Captain.”

Darkistry found herself in the odd position of defending Kotance. “You seem very sure about that.”

“I am. He steals the choice parts of children’s catches. I’ve seen him do it.”

The next drum call confirmed Kurin’s worst fears. “We are sending a boarding party to secure the ship and take the prisoners. As a minor, Kurin’s property must be held in trust and the Council Orders enforced.”

“There is your declaration of hostility, Darkistry,” said Kurin soberly. “Let them board. We need the hostages. Perhaps we can make it a standoff until the Council arrives.”

Bleakly Tanlin said, “Oi donnae t’ink we can. T’under’ead says t’at t’e Soaring Bird’s at least nine or ten ‘ours away.”

The Longin put three boats full of sailors into the water. The Grandalor awaited them, most sails hanging slack.

One of the first ones to come over the rail was Cron, the lead deck-hand. He seemed genuinely surprised to see Kurin standing in the midst of the Grandalor’s crew, unbound. Deck crew and a few lower officers formed around him as they came on board.

“Kurin!” Cron called out, “Come to us. We’ll get you back safe to the Longin!” He pointed to Tanlin and Barad and shouted to his men, “Get them! They have to be bound and taken to the Longin!”

Kurin called back, “Stop! You removed Mord for violating the Second Great Law! Don’t do it yourself!”

Cron hesitated. “I have to follow the Captain’s order, Kurin!” He seemed torn and added, “He’s promised to make me an officer if I do it!”

“Think, Cron! Kotance doesn’t have the authority to make you an officer. Only the Council can do that! Throw down your arms and give up!” Kurin called back. “We won’t hurt you if you don’t fight.”

Cron seemed stunned that Kurin was in charge of the Grandalor and ordering his capture.

She turned sadly to the Grandalor men and women about her. “Take them. Try not to hurt them. They’re friends of mine.”

The Grandalor’s crew descended on the astonished boarding party. They were disarmed and bound in short order.

Kurin drummed, “We have your boarding party as hostages. Sheer off and stay clear until Sarfin arrives!”

“He’s not coming!” the Longin drummed back. “We sent him away!”

“Dragons take that brat!” Kotance swore. “She’s not only stolen my prize and not come aboard where I can get at her, she’s taken the boarding party prisoner as well.” He settled down and began to think. The boarders are expendable in any case. I couldn’t make them officers if I wanted to. And I don’t. We’ll have to try casting a harpoon line across them and fighting it out hand to hand. They won’t fight very hard in any case. I just have to have this done before the Council people get here on the Soaring Bird or the Dark Dragon. I have to go ahead since I secured the Masters in their shops. All the councils have to have a fait accompli. Then I will be rich. The richest man in the fleet.

It’s a pity that Kurin will have to die along with Barad and that ‘wife’ of his, Tanlin, now that Kurin’s claimed the Grandalor for her own. I wonder how that happened? We can ‘find’ her dead aboard the Grandalor, ‘as we feared she might be.’

“Mister Golin, has the hunting catapult been prepared as I ordered?” Kotance asked.

“Yessir.”

“Prepare it to fire a line across the Grandalor forward of the foremast,” ordered Kotance. The harpooners leaped to obey, knocking out the braces that had kept the catapult from firing up in a fashion dangerous to other ships. They broke cleanly off where they had been cut almost through.

Kotance confidently said, “Mister Golin, prepare the crew to board. Issue knives and flensing tools as weapons. We will need to fight for the Grandalor as soon as we are bound together. Kill the Captain, officers and Masters to finish demoralizing the balance of the crew.”

“Yessir! Captain Kotance, Sir!” said Golin, saluting smartly.

At Kotance’s order, the Longin’s tocsin beat, ‘make all sail.’

The Grandalor was still well upwind, but positioned for a convenient tack approach. As the Longin’s tocsin sounded, the Grandalor came about, the wind catching her sails with a banging and rattling of canvas. From bare steerageway, the Grandalor began to run, not away from the Longin but across the wind. Their path, well out of catapult range, blocked the wind from the Longin’s sails, slowing her even more than the upwind tack.

“They can’t outrun us for long,” said Kotance contemptuously. “Come about to a reach also. We’re faster than they are. We have them.”

As the Longin was turning into her new course, the Grandalor turned, doubling back and tacking upwind at her best angle for speed into the wind.

“What kind of childish trick is that?” said Kotance petulantly. “The most that they can gain on us is a half or three quarters of a mile, then the distance will let us use our best angles to catch them in short order.”

Aboard the Grandalor Kurin asked Darkistry, “Why are we doing this? It won’t let us get away at all.”

Darkistry spared a look of respect and amusement for the Grandalor’s new owner. “As you appear to have guessed from the way that you asked the question, I do know what I’m doing. I don’t want to get away from them. Just upwind. Then I can turn and charge them. Did you see that activity forward? They are readying their hunting catapult.”

She gestured for Kurin, “They will be tacking steeply to port. We will break off and pass to their starboard.” Almost like a change of subject she asked, “What’s the tensile strength of harpoon line?”

“About six tons,” said Kurin absently, as she made ship passing gestures with her hands. She muttered, “The vector sums …” Her eyes grew wide with comprehension, “Oh my!”

Darkistry grinned and said, “I can’t take credit for this one. It’s right out of your friend’s little book.”

Kotance watched the Grandalor turn again, just over three quarters of a mile upwind. “What in Iren’s Halls are they doing? They’re putting on more sail? Turn off into a reach, let’s see what they’re up to.” As the Longin began it’s sluggish turn from the steep slow tack, Kotance watched the small, simple correction that the Grandalor made to keep bearing down on him. He could plainly see the foam on both sides of the bow making a ‘bone in her teeth’ as the Grandalor swept down on him. Finally he realized what the Fauline had found out also.

He ordered, “Beat ‘Brace for collision!’” As the watch drummer beat the warning, the Grandalor broke her charge swinging close to the starboard side of the Longin.

“They turned! They’re afraid! Put the harpoon across!” Kotance yelled jubilantly. The flat slap of the harpoon catapult punctuated his call.

The harpoon, trailing its line shot across the Grandalor’s fore-deck. Men with boat hooks got the line and wrapped it about the Grandalor’s foremast before it drew taut. The Grandalor pulled out the line from the Longin as the Longin tried to snub it tight. Darkistry was turning the Grandalor carefully, using the line and the momentum of the ship to swing the nose of the Longin into the wind, killing her forward speed almost entirely. Darkistry kept the big ship in motion, pulling the Longin further out of line, her bow swung across the wind and then down it. All of the big lateen sails of the Longin jibbed almost at the same moment, slamming out of control across the ship from starboard to port.

“Sever the line!” Darkistry ordered. Men and women standing by with heavy cutting mauls, edged with Wing Ray fang, slammed them down on the line. It parted with a whistling twang as the tension between the ships was released.

Kotance was so busy trying to regain control of his ship that he failed to notice that he was dead in the water and the Grandalor was sweeping out and upwind. He noticed it as the Grandalor completed her upwind turn and began to charge again.

The damage was more embarrassment than real this time, Kotance thought. If I break off, they will probably let me go. I’d stand trial for capital crimes if I do. I have to fight.

He called out, “When they break off this time, aim for their steersman!” The harpooner signaled assent and began to track the Grandalor with a second harpoon in the catapult.

The Grandalor broke to the port side of the Longin. Kurin wondered for only a moment why the plainly loaded catapult had not fired across their bows again. She saw where it was tracking and yelled, “Down!” She dove under Darkistry’s feet knocking the helmswoman down. The twanging slam of the catapult sent its deadly missile across the afterdeck of the Grandalor, passing over Darkistry and Kurin. The watch drummer was not so lucky.

A harpoon meant to pierce an eight ton Strong Skin had blasted through his chest and knocked what was left of him over the rail. “Morga!” Kurin called out in despair. She had just seen someone that she had only met a short while ago, and liked, killed instantly. She took up his fallen drum sticks and looked to Darkistry for orders.

“Secure that line,” Darkistry got out around the pain of loss welling up inside. Kurin beat the order and crewmen swarmed to obey. The instant that the line was secure, Darkistry turned hard across the Longin’s wake while Kurin pounded out the sail handling instructions.

They had pulled out hundreds of feet of line. Kotance was ‘letting them run,’ this time. The Longin was still moving sluggishly across the wind as she tried to get steerageway. The trailing line whipped behind the Longin and pulled suddenly tight as the mass of the Grandalor hit the end of it. The line tightened against the stern and snapped the Longin’s rudder hard over. Kotance watched in amazement as the hard driven tiller bar flipped his steersman overboard. The line pulled the Longin around part way before parting like thread under massive tension.

As the Grandalor heeled smartly about and began her tack back to attack position, Kurin looked at the splash and spatter of blood that was all that was left of someone that she had known.

She bit back tears and turned to Darkistry. “We have to disable them so totally that they can’t do this again. Don’t sink them. I won’t tell you how to do it. You know that better than me.”

Darkistry looked bleakly at the same blood that Kurin saw and said, “He was only fifteen. His parents are on the foremast crew. How do we tell them?”

Kurin’s eyes filled with tears but she said, “That’s my job. Yours is to finish this before anyone else gets killed.”

“Right,” said Darkistry retreating from her feelings and getting back into the problem. Kurin envied her the ability to get away from pain for even a short time. Darkistry came out of her hidden place and ordered, “Ready the big catapult set it to fire to port.” Kurin beat orders and the catapult crew got to work.

“Kurin, you know the Longin better than anyone else here. What can we hit to do the maximum non-fatal damage?”

Kurin thought for a moment and beat instructions to the catapult crew.

Kotance had grown wary. He knew now that the Grandalor was not breaking off from fear. They had played him for the fool twice. There would not be a third time. He had some speed back. It was not as fast as he would have liked but adequate. He had grapnels ready and planned to pull up along side the Grandalor and tie the rails together. Tricky work but it could be done.

When the Grandalor broke to port, he turned across the wind to intercept. The Grandalor pirouetted about onto a matching reach with almost contemptuous ease. The wind across their beams made both ships heel to starboard. The Longin’s rail facing the Grandalor was close to the water and the slant of her deck prevented his throwing grapnels and lines across the Grandalor’s rail in the way that Kotance had planned. The Grandalor’s rail facing him was raised, and the sails had been partly slacked off to lessen the heel of the ship some, sacrificing speed to enable the big war catapult to bear more accurately on the Longin’s rigging.

The twanging slam of the catapult firing was clearly heard on both ships. The missile split into three rapidly spinning parts tied together by heavy cables as it sailed across the gap between the ships. It crashed through the mainsail and its rigging, ripping a great hole in the sail and shattering several of the battens that supported and shaped the canvas. The weights and cables whipped about ropes and lines as the missile went past, ripping them loose or breaking them outright.

The heavy mainsail dropped partway down and swung slack, supported only by ropes that were never meant to carry that huge weight on their own. The Longin began to lose headway from the loss of the sail, which hung perilously. The sail could not even be safely lowered further due to the enormous amount of rigging damage.

Along with canvass, yard, battens and broken tackle, a number of the men and women aloft in the rigging fell too. Some managed to hold on to suddenly slack rope, others were on the parts that fell to the deck. By luck alone, nobody was killed, though several were injured when they hit.

Folk were hurrying to the aid of the fallen both to deal with their injuries and to move them to someplace safe if the damaged rigging should fail entirely and let the sail crash on down.

Kotance looked in stunned awe at the damage and then back to the Grandalor heeling gracefully away on another upwind tack to set up a new strike run. He was furious at how easily he had been outmaneuvered and beaten. And it was clear that his plan had been crushed. The crippled Longin was obviously at the mercy of the Grandalor.

TO BE CONTINUED

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#SEA DRAGON’S GIFT #Part 72 of 83 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

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anony-phangirl · 5 years

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Asphyxiated By You

Chapter 1

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1,342

Warnings (for this chapter): Swearing, Shrek vs Beauty and the Beast debate (if that’s a trigger?)

A/N: A little off sched. Sorry ‘bout that. XD

Art piece companion by @raterina-and-rayla (This is good, I love. ^-^)

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Things did not get any better for Virgil and Roman's relationship.

Truly, it was a good thing that Roman's best friend, another youtuber that Virgil liked- Thomas Sanders, had walked in on the argument and settled things between the two roommates.

And now, two years had passed by, and barely anything had changed- obvious as the two were arguing again.

"You take that back!" Roman exclaimed, clearly outraged by Virgil's statement.

"Well, can't take back the truth Princey." Virgil shrugged. "You just gotta admit that Shrek is a more superior movie."

"It is not!" Roman stated, fuming as he stomped his foot. "Beauty and the Beast is much *much* better than- than that movie!"

"Eh, I'd beg to differ. Especially counting in the fact that, there's just a better story to it than that old Disney film, and counting in the other fact that Shrek is less Stockholm Syndrome-y than that of Beauty and the Beast. Plus! The soundtrack is awesome."

"What?! How dare-"

And then, there goes the screaming, words mashing together as insults and arguments flew in the air.

And once again, Thomas had the absolute perfect timing, of arriving just as a full blown cushion war had began.

"Guys guys stop! You are acting like children, again!!" He called out, loud enough for the two to hear and stop throwing cushions at each other.

"He started it!" They both said, pointing at each other.

Thomas let out a frustrated sigh. "Well, whoever started, and whatever your argument is about, I can assure you that you two can settle this after you cleaned up the mess you made. Wouldn't want Patton and Logan lecturing you two again now would you?"

They both shook their heads.

"Great. Now, go on ahead and clean up your place. I'll take these chips and prepare some popcorn for movie night. Have you chosen your movie?" He asked.

The two glared at each other, which only proved to show that they haven't.

Thomas let out another sigh. "Well, I guess we'll be doing another vote later then."

And with that said in an air of finality, Roman and Virgil set to work, cleaning up the living room while Thomas set out to make snacks.

About thirty minutes later, more of Roman's friends- Joan and Talyn- arrived. They both ended up settling the whole debate on which movie they should watch, with Shrek having won.

Then another thirty minutes pass by before the beloved glasses gays- a nickname that Joan had once used to tease the two lovers that only stuck- finally arrived.

"Patton, Logan, come on in." Thomas greeted by the door with a warm smile.

Patton, Virgil’s quite tall friend, was the first to enter, in his usual outfit of a button up shirt with his cat hoodie tied up over his shoulders and around his neck, hanging behind him like a superhero.

His curly golden brown hair (which Virgil had found the habit of comparing to Daniel Howell’s hair) bounced slightly as he skipped into the place, his baby blue eyes filled with excitement, his freckles more obvious with that adorable smile on his face.

“Virgil! I missed you!” Patton said, giggling as he strided over to him.

And the next thing Virgil knew, he was being engulfed by his six foot one giant friend, while Logan, Patton’s boyfriend and Virgil’s other friend, entered the apartment.

Logan stood at five foot five, his posture was perfect, his dark blue eyes were calculating while he held an air of seriousness around him, his medium side part hairstyle was slicked back, not a single strand out of place, despite lacking the gel.

“Salutations, friends.” Logan greeted, before turning to his boyfriend. “Patton, dear, you just saw him yesterday, let him go before he chokes from lack of air.”

Patton flushed, giggling before he did. “Sorry Virge. And I know, Lo! But you know me.”

“Fortunately so.” Logan replied, a crack of a smile on his face. “Now, what movie have you selected for us to watch?”

“Shrek.” Virgil shrugged, smirking at Roman, who only stuck his tongue out at him.

Logan nodded.

“Well, what are we waiting for then! Let’s get movie night started!” Thomas smiled, before everyone headed to the living room.

-x-x-x-

Somehow soon, everyone found themselves comfy, with Thomas, Talyn, and Joan sat on the floor, and Logan, Patton, Virgil and Roman on the couch- with Patton and Logan cuddling and Thomas being stuck between his two friends who were both cuddled up to him (not that he minded, he loves his friends).

Soon quickly became half past midnight, with the third Shrek movie playing in the background as one by one people began drifting off- Logan falling asleep on his boyfriend, and Thomas and Talyn having drifted off on the floor next to Joan, who continued to watch with sleepy eyes.

Virgil himself began dozing off, snorting awake every now and then as he tried his best to avoid leaning against Roman. He'd really rather not fall asleep on the guy that he argues with on a daily basis.

But then, it's not as if he could stop himself, seeing as during the teachable moment with Merlin, the calm atmosphere of the movie slowly eased him to slumber, and the next thing he knew- It was morning, and he was in his bedroom.

"Wha..?" He groaned to himself, before groggily sitting up and blinking.

What had happened? Did Roman carry him to his room? The last thing he remembers from the night prior was dozing off…

Nevertheless, he let out a sigh before getting out of bed, letting out a yawn as he stood up, before stretching out his arms. He was still tired, but when is he ever not?

He let out a sigh before walking over to his bathroom, brushing the morning breath off his mouth before washing the sleep off his partly freckled face. He sighed as he looked at the mirror.

He still looked like a mess, but it wasn't like he was leaving the apartment.

And with a final sigh, he turned and left the bathroom, before leaving his own room. He headed to the kitchen, planning on eating some cereal, as he passed by the living room, the two nerds, still cuddled up together, lay asleep on the couch and the other three friends sleeping on a big comfy duvet on the rugged on the floor.

He let out another small yawn, smiling at the sight of his friends, before carrying on his way to the kitchen.

As he got there, he found Roman, already up and making breakfast.

"You're up early, Gavin." Roman grumbled as the sound of bacon being fried filled the air.

Virgil shrugged, giving Roman a tired morning glare. "Just hungry, Nines." He grumbled.

Ah the nicknames, sincerely adapted from that one interactive choice-based game, Detroit: Become Human. It was a game that they both found themselves agreeing on was actually good and something they enjoyed playing together as a sort of choosing.

Though Roman had mentioned how Virgil had acted like the one asshole, Gavin, in the game, not to mention the last name familiarity. Hence how the man began calling him Gavin, and Virgil ended up calling him Nines, as a reference to RK900, just for the heck of it.

"Well, I'm already cookin' up some bacon and eggs, so don't bother making your cereal." Roman waved.

He narrowed his eyes at him, before he grabbed his cereal box… It was unusually lighter than before.

"Did you steal some of my cereal again?"

"What? No! That's ridiculous!" Roman denied, almost immediately. "Now shoo! I might end up accidentally burning these if you keep distracting me!"

"I'll burn you for stealing my fuckin' cereal, you fuckin' asshole…" He grumbled, as he walked off to the dining room.

The day then continued on from there as usual, with their friends having left at noon- the normal arguments, to the very odd and unusual ones, it all just went on from there.

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If I missed anyone, please feel free to shout at me… or message me. XD

Also, if you wanna be removed or added to the general list (which means I tag you in all my stories, or most) then just ask via ask, reblog or dm

#ts-storytime #ts-storytime submission #ts-storytime 2019 submission #fanders big bang #fanders big bang 2019 #anony writes #prinxiety #logicality #roman crest #virgil reed #thomas sanders #joan #talyn #logan picani #patton cloud #logan and emile are brothers here #btw #XD #sanders sides

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knittastically · 6 years

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A Lioness Amongst the Wolves Pt 12

Apologies for the delay in posting this chapter but sometimes real life pokes it’s head above the parapet. I will also whisper that it has been strangely difficult to write. As always thank you for reading, I love to read your comments and if you could reblog that would be fantastic.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Part 11

My hair is piled on the top of my head and covered tightly with square of linen, the skirts of my gown are hitched up and tucked into my girdle and I make my way out into the courtyard looking like any other housemaid. The heat is rising as I make my way to the gates, only the wicket is open and as I draw near a young guard calls down from the hoarding above. “Mornin’ Mam’selle Pelletier. You off out agin?

I shield my eyes and as I look up a boy salutes me, I had hoped that my simple clothes would be enough of a disguise, but he knows exactly who I am.

“Indeed I am”

“Ooooh so where you runnin’ off too then?” Before I can answer the Sergent cuts in.

“Shut up boy, Good mornin’ Mam’selle you’re abroad early can I ‘elp ye?”

“No thank you Sergent I am just on my way to speak with Barnabé Laurent, the Mason”

“Ahhhh reyt” he nods his head as if it is the most normal thing in the world “You know where ta go?”

“My thanks yes I do”

“So what’ you wantin’ ‘im for then?” the young lad pipes up.

“I said quiet boy” the Sargent snaps at him. I smile, here is a young soldier who hasn’t yet learned not to ask questions and God forbid he should ever ask Raymond to explain himself, he’d roast his arse. Then as I knew he would, the young lad dug himself into an even deeper hole.

“You given’ up burnin’ beds Mam’selle, you taken to wreckin’ the Chateau now?”

I am smiling, which unfortunately only encourages him the more and he lets loose with his next remark.

“Mind you I, should imagine between the two on yer on yer Weddin’ night you’ll damn near break the bloody place anyhow, I’ve seen the way....”

He doesn’t get out another word, the Sergent wallops him around the back of the head with the short stick he carries as a mark of his office.

“Guard room now! You’ve just earned yersel night duties fer the next month my lad. Maybe you’ll larn to keep yer mouth shut in future.”

“Sergent”, I shout up. “Please don’t be too harsh on him”

“Beggin, yer pardon Mam’selle but he shouldn’t a spoken outta turn he’ll larn all the faster this way but if it pleases you I’ll make it two weeks”

I looked up giving him my best smile “I thought perhaps two or three days”

The old soldier thought hard and laughed down at me. “Mother of God I must be turnin’ soft ‘arted but very well, Sevn nights Mam’selle I can’t make it no less than that

“Ah well, whatever you decide Sergent” I nod up at him and the young lad mouths something at me which looks like “Thank you” before I pass through the wicket and on over the moat bridge to make my way into the outer ward. No one lies late abed in Summer, every daylight hour is put to good use and as I make my way along I am enveloped in the sounds and smells of all those services which are the beating heart of the Chateau. The workshops, barns and granaries, brew house, bake house and servants’ quarters.

Suddenly I stop dead and in spite of the warmth of the morning, a shiver runs through me as I look up at the solid, curtain wall soaring above. It is as if a weight presses on my heart, a sense of unease wraps its cold arms around me.

“What in Hells name are you doing Isabé? Go back to the Manor, live quietly there, leave Raymond to Eleanor, this is no place for you girl, how can you dare to think you can be Chatelaine here?”

For the first time I feel a rising panic the at becoming Chatelaine and I feel my courage sliding away.

Jehanne and Ghislane gather their troops in the Hall. An army of women volunteers, dressed in workaday clothes mills around, not just housemaids but women of status too. All chattering and eager to help in showing the Chateau at its best for the wedding day of Raymond and his young bride.

“Oh he is so he is so handsome even with that scar, a bit of a miserable Bastard though” One housemaid laughs.

“And she is far too young for him, I’ll bet she’ll lead him a merry dance, knows her own mind that’s for sure.” adds another.

“Ahhh” One of the older ladies sighs “But have you seen how he looks at her, with his eyes full of passion and heat, I wish someone would look at me like that, she’ll keep him young.”

“And tired,” the woman standing next to Ghislane giggles. “They’ll not waste time climbing over each other just to get out of bed, don’t expect we’ll see much of ‘em for a while after the weddin’.”

“Aye it’ll be leave the food outside the door, knock and bugger off I’ll bet.”

Ghislane claps her hands and everyone quietens.

“Ladies there is much to do, but we have the advantage of a little more time, since Sieur Raymond has departed for Paris and,” she grins “has neglected to set a definite date.”

“All unoccupied chambers will be needed and we will begin with those, once cleaned they will be locked and left in readiness. The exception of course will be Sieur Raymond’s quarters.”

The two young housemaids who were involved in that episode giggle and snort then clap hands over their mouths as Ghislane looks sharply at them, but even she begins to smile.

“Then, we will turn our attentions to those rooms that are occupied”

“But why Madame Bérenger?”

“It’s an important day, the list of guests is growing and there will be Nobles attending, we cannot have the great and the good bedding down in the stables can we? So Quarters with more than one chamber will be furnished with extra beds. I want us to have made a start by the time Isabé returns, now off and gather up what you need.”

“You two” she points to the two young girls who had been giggling, then hands them a key drawn from the pouch hanging from her girdle, “Go and fetch fresh bed linens and coverlets and mind you come straight back”

“Yes Madame” they curtsey and scuttle away.

“Right” Jehanne steps towards Ghislane “Shall we continue with our own matter?” and she holds up her hand and waggling her fingers to show a gold ring set with a large brilliant blue stone on her middle finger. “I will wager this and enough of the finest linen to make you a gown, against...” she considers carefully “Against a barrel of your own best ale, a large barrel mind and a good cheese,”

“Of Course consider it done” Ghislane smiles her sweetest old lady smile “But don’t forget Jehanne my dear, all parts of the bet must be won” she holds up a bony finger to stress the terms. “Else the whole of it is void”

“Parts, I don’t recall you mentioning that” Jehanne is taken aback and looks a little wary.

“Oh forgive me did I not say, well it is of no matter. The wager is this, Eleanor must humble herself enough to help us clean the Chateau, and Raymond” Ghislane shoots Jehanne a lewd toothy grin and winks “Raymond must bed Isabé before the wedding”

Jehanne’s eyes pop wide open and her brows fly upwards, she actually looks a little scandalised, and snorts. “Ghislane, behave yourself, what are you saying?” she starts to ease the ring from her finger. “I may as well give you this now for there is little chance of Eleanor helping us and even less that Isabé will surrender to Raymond until after she stands before the priest.”

Ghislane leans closer to her.

"If that idiot man does not get her into his bed sooner rather than later, they will be walking around like two cats on hot bricks. Which might not be good for any of us knowing the tempers they both have. Besides he can barely keep his hands off her, you saw them on the walkway, Dear Lord I thought he was going to take her there and then."

"I thought she was about to let him" Jehanne presses her lips into a tight line and holds in a laugh, then follows Ghislane's gaze across to the far end of the hall where Eleanor has entered. She is dressed in an elegant watchet coloured gown and fashionably long girdle, from it hangs a red leather purse. As she draws near to them Jehanne notices that her shoes are of the same soft red leather, these are no workaday clothes. Trotting alongside her mother, Nicolette sings a song of her own making and her braids bob up and down in time to its rhythm.

“Good day to you Madame Forrestier, are you come to offer us your assistance?” It is impossible to miss the sarcasm that drips from Ghislane’s lips. A smug smile hovers over Eleanor’s mouth and she takes a moment before answering “No Madame Bérenger, I have other things to do” she waves an elegant, well-manicured hand at nothing in particular. “Also I have promised Nicolette that she may ride this morning.”

Jehanne snaps at her “I am sure Mam’selle Isabé made it clear that everyone should be available to help”

“That may be so, but Mam’selle Isabé is not here, I am not a housemaid and nor do I take instructions from them.” With her eyes narrowed and ignoring Jehannes furious expression she sweeps her up and down with an imperious look. “If you will excuse me ladies” She turns away and seems to glide to the main door.

“Bitch” Jehanne spits out. “If Isabé were, here there would be sparks flying”

“If Isabé were here, Eleanor would be wearing that damned smile on the other side of her face. Don’t fret Jehanne all will come right. So let’s forget that trollop and get back to the business in hand, our wager.” She grins and Jehanne asks.

“So all or nothing is that fair, what happens if only half the wager comes off?”

Ghislane thinks for a moment, “Alright then we shall split the difference, I will settle for the cloth”

“Then I will settle for the ale.”

Ghislane seals the bargain in an unladylike fashion by spitting on her palm and offering her hand to Jehanne who grasps it without hesitation. The urge to hitch my skirts higher and run away from the Chateau is growing by the second. It would not take long to make my way back to the Manor though it would be a useless undertaking, Henri and Blanche would have me back here double quick.

“You’re an idiot Isabé, what choice do you have?”No other man has offered for you it seems Raymond is the only one brave enough or stupid enough to take you on”

I laugh to myself, it is true, most of the young men I know are wary around me, I’m known as a feisty baggage, a firebrand and Raymond is certainly not stupid, so that only leaves brave or perhaps reckless.

I raise a fist to the curtain wall “Damn you Raymond, Damn you to hell with your handsome face and wicked mouth. “The young lad walking past stares at me as if I am a madwoman.

He has said he loves me, yet has not courted me except in his own fashion. Neither does he know me but has simply decided I am the right woman for him. An old soldier set in his ways and drawing us into a May and December marriage. I fear we shall end up despising one another, and a handsome face will be of no recompense.

Sitting down heavily on the grass I draw my knees to my chest. But my mind plays games, I see his darkly handsome face, remember his arms about me, the look, and the gentle softness in his eyes when he whispered he loved me and I smile.

“Make the best of it girl, there are no escape routes.”

Scrambling to my feet I brush the dust and dried grass from my gown, paste a smile on my lips and set off to the Mason’s in the hope that I look as joyful as a young bride to be is meant to

Eleanor Forrestier has slipped away from the exercise yard for a few moments, she stands beside the pigeonnair gently cradling a bird in her hands.

“Fly straight, Fly swift” she drops a kiss to its head then releases it into the air. Tied to its leg a small wooden cylinder holding a message that only one man will understand. “Beware G+G.”

The Mason's yard is much larger than I'd imagined and full of the rhythmic sounds of men splitting, dressing and working stone, on the far side large blocks are being winched onto a cart.

"Mind yerself Mam'selle"

I step quickly out of the way as a young lad leads two draught horses past me, pulling a cart that groans and creaks under the weight of blocks of unworked stone. Without slowing he guides it deftly through the gateway with inches to spare.

Every man and boy is fully employed, they barely glance at me as I walk farther into the yard. Already the heat is building and it bounces off the huge lumps of pale stone.

"May I be of assistance Mam'selle?"

Spinning round I almost collide with a gangly but quite handsome young man with a shock of auburn curls and bright hazel eyes.

"Thank you, I am looking for Master Laurént, is he here this morning?"

"Yes Mam'selle he has not yet left for the Cathedral, I am his son Giles and may I ask your name?" He smiles broadly showing two rather large and slightly prominent front teeth.

"Isabé."

He waits for more but I do not give it.

"Then this way please, we will find him at the tracing room." I follow him across the dusty, noisy yard to a small wooden building, the door is wide open and the wooden boards have been taken down from all the windows. Behind it, is what must be the family home, neat and tidy with a newly thatched roof.

"Father, you have visitor," Giles stands aside and lets me step into the cool of the small building.

“I am Barnabé Laurent Madame, how may I help you?"

A little taller and broader than Giles, he sports the same hazel eyes the same auburn hair as his son, although there is a little grey at the temples. Thrusting out one huge paw to me, I clasp it and my own hand almost completely disappears.

"Good Morning, I am Isabé and it is Mam'selle, at least for a little while longer."

The same toothy smile as his son, spreads across his face and he nods "I have come to ask your help Master Laurent."

"Then ask Mam'selle, I shall help you if I can, Giles go ask your Mother to fetch wine and water" From beneath the work bench he pulls out a stool for me and as I sit I cast my eyes around the neat and well-ordered work room.

“So how can I help?”

I make my request and explain my need for scaffolding, Bérnard narrows his eyes and screws his mouth to one side as he considers what I have said.

“I am truly sorry Mam’selle but I really cannot see my way to helping you. It takes experienced men to put scaffolding up correctly and all mine are stretched to their limit, we are working every hour the Good Lord sends in this dry weather” His smile is rueful, his voice full of regret.

Madame Laurént waddles into the room carrying the tray almost at arm’s length, she is petite, attractive and heavily pregnant, three young children hover at the doorway. As I stand to give up my seat and take the tray, her eyes pop wide, she almost looks as if she is about curtsey and I shake my head.

Sipping at the wine that she has brought across, I try to hide my disappointment, though I am sure I am not hiding it well.

“Truly Mam’selle if I could find a way to help you, I would.

I hold out my hand to him “I understand and I’m sure that whatever we do the hall will still look better than it does now and doubtless the menfolk will notice little and care less if there is some dust and a few cobwebs.”

Madame Laurént snorted in agreement.

“Thank you Madame, the wine was most welcome”

“I will bid you good day Master Laurént and thank you for listening.” I flash him the best smile I can manage and he escorts me to the door watching as I cross the yard.

“Bérnard, how could you refuse her?” His wife struggles to her feet. “Do you not realise who that is, it’s Mam’selle Pelletier, soon to be Madame de Merville” “Oh of course I do you silly woman, I knew as soon as she set foot in here.” He slips an arm around her and drops a kiss to the top of her head. “You need not fret, I am sure I can arrange something and I will speak with her tomorrow, that young woman has much to recommend her not least the fact that she did not dangle her rank and status under my nose to try and impress me or force me into helping her.”

He slaps his wife gently on her arse, “Now leave the tray and go and rest” she smiles at him presses her hand against her lower back and waddles her way back to the cottage.

As I race into the courtyard I catch sight of Eleanor Forrestier and run across to her.

“Why are you not in hall helping the others?” I demand keeping my voice low not wanting Nicolette to hear too much.

“Because I had other things to do” she glares at me “Also I promised Nicolette she could practice her riding, she wants to show her Father how well she is doing.”

“Then if you have finished, I should be obliged if you would help us”

I turn away but she grabs my arm and pulls me back, as I glare at her I see the expression on her face and it chills me. Cold, calculating and under it all a little fear.

“Isabé you and I must speak, there are things you need to know about Raymond and you need to know them now.”

I yank my arm away and snap at her. “I will learn what I need from Raymond himself, I do not need his whore to tell me”

Moving closer to me she leans in, her voice is low but commanding “You will listen Isabé, we will go to your rooms where we can be quiet.”

My heart seems to falter in my chest and my stomach clenches, as a wave of unease washes over me.

“Very well” I sweep up the steps into the hall and Jehanne sees me and rushes over.

“I have business to discuss with Madame Forrestier we will join you later” I turn to Eleanor, “I think it best to leave Nicolette in the care of these ladies.” She nods in agreement, crouches down to speak to her daughter and then as if she is the Chatelaine herself, makes her way to my chamber leaving me to follow.

“Isabé, child you look ill, what is wrong?” Ghislane takes my hand “What has that bitch been saying”

“I think it is more likely that what she is going to say will disturb me, I must go.”

And I race up the stairs behind Eleanor.

We sit across from one another “Isabé, please, you will likely need this” she hands me a cup of wine and as I drink she begins to speak.

“Raymond is in danger, someone in this household has been spying on him and sending information back to a contact in Paris.”

“Do you know who is a danger to him?”

“Yes, but he does not wish me to tell you”

“That is ridiculous and stupid, why would they do that and how would you know?” I slap my hand on the table.

“Because he is a powerful man, with the ear of the King, he is his watchdog, spymaster, diplomat and assassin. To dispose of him would leave the way clear for someone else to take his place, someone who might not have the interest of King and country at heart.” Eleanor narrows her eyes and watches me closely before continuing. “I have known Raymond for much longer than the 5 years everyone suspects, I understand how he works and I know his enemies or at least most of them, I was once in the same profession and now I suppose you could say I am in his employ.”

“Eleanor I know what you are trying to do and you are a fool if you think to scare me away from Raymond with this pathetic fucking story, you will never have him back so you may as well stop this now.” My voice is cold and calm, a sure sign that my temper is rising. “To say you were in the same profession, spying, killing, you must think I am addlebrained.”

“Oh there are many of us Isabé, let me persuade you that it is true” her voice is calm but she smiles and sighs clasping her hands together.

“My husband died in a tavern brawl, a drunken argument over a dice game, it was all a charade, a play. He was a danger to Raymond, It was an easy death, as quiet and swift as I could make it”

It takes me a moment to realise what she has said.

“You” I gasped, “you killed your husband?” my voice croaks out and the wine cup shakes in my hand.

“Women make excellent assassins Isabé. A tall, lean young man in plain clothing, riding a non-descript horse is barely noticed and soon forgotten. Even my own husband did not recognise me.”

Before I can speak, the point of a slim bladed knife is embedded into the table, it quivers with the force of the thrust and I stare open mouthed. I did not even see where it came from.

“It was him or Raymond, my instructions were to protect Raymond at any cost” her tone is calm and business-like.

My heart pounds so hard that I can hear it in my ears, I have no words but I have so many questions. Eleanor reaches across the table and takes hold of my hands.

“Raymond will never tell you everything about his life, there are secrets he must keep. But he has permitted me to tell you a little, I have never questioned his orders and I never will. I know this is hard for you to understand Isabé.”

When I look the knife is no longer there, I did not see her take it and I have no idea where she has hidden it.

Eleanor gets up to take her leave but halts in the doorway for a moment.

“Isabé believe me when I say Raymond is danger.I have sent a message to him, you had best pray to God and pray damned hard that my warning reaches him in time. Now I shall go and change my clothes and meet you in hall”

“How do you know where to reach him?”

She shakes her head. “It is my profession Isabé, amongst others” and a brief smile flickers on her lips. It seems that for good or ill, Eleanor Forrestier will forever be part of our lives.

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wordsablaze · 7 years

Text

#3: Four Years Before - Phil

Match of Magic What if destiny chose soulmates through literal aesthetic matches? What if education fused with impossibility and reality faded away? Dan and Phil must unite, work together and help each other live the best of all the worlds they can…

(Phil POV)

“Oh, thank god it’s over.” George mumbles, starting to pack up. I grin at him and fold up the homework sheet, taking an extra one for Laia because she’s definitely going to lose her own.

George shakes his head at me, “You’re impossible.”

“Sorry.” I grin, all of us heading to the last lesson of the day, which happens to be art. We stay mostly silent as we drag ourselves through the crowded corridors to our classroom. Settling into a corner table, the three of us carry on catching up about the parts of our holidays we weren’t together.

Mr Frelon gives us a smug glance as he announces we have a seating plan. I exchange a look with Laia and George, all of us groaning with the rest of the class as we move. I end up next to Seb and honestly die a little inside, grudgingly sliding into the chair next to him. Since we’re at the back, he’s able to constantly ruin my genuine attempts at the task, the other two on my table either oblivious or uncaring. I internally scowl at myself; it’s probably because they don’t want to challenge Seb either.

An entire lesson of minimal results later, George rushes to catch up with me as we leave the room. Together, we wait for Laia, who appears with paint splattered over her uniform, which somehow doesn’t look that bad.

“Sorry. I tripped and spilled paint on Seb, accidentally on purpose of course.” She admits.

I smile at her fearless retaliation, “Thanks.”

“Uh, you don’t happen to have a spare h-”

“Homework sheet? Of course he does, fireball.” George grins.

Laia nudges him as we leave the new books in our lockers and head to the bus, where there’s a massive queue. It takes shoving, ignored ‘excuse me’s and sheer determination to claim three seats next to each other. Laia gets off first, saluting us as she leaves with her usual air of 'fight me’ and her bag slung over her shoulder. George and I listen to his recently discovered band until his stop arrives, after which he somewhat slinks off the bus and I watch an anime episode for the remainder of the journey.

Mark lazily greets me as I get home, throwing a freshly baked brownie at me. I yelp and just manage to catch it after a few moments of senseless juggling, my thanks understandably muffled as I smuggle it into my mouth. As promised near the end of last year, there’s already homework, even on the first day back. Despite Jack’s merciless teasing, I manage to finish my extra character studies essay and refine the website I haven’t updated for a while before watching Dylan’s live show as he does it in the other room.

Hearing Dylan’s voice, I shut my laptop and head to his room, tripping over his latest discarded item. He laughs as he pulls me into the frame, both of us creating his end-screen and gesticulating wildly to end the show. He laughs as I tumble off his bed, losing my balance as soon as the video cuts out. Thankfully, nobody saw that one.

“Want a hand?” he grins, then pulls me up.

I stick my tongue out, “Thanks.”

“Meet you downstairs.” He grins, disappearing to the bathroom. I quickly take a picture of his messy room and back it up so I can use it for leverage later. After I’ve made sure he’ll find it when he’ll laugh at it, I head downstairs and walk into the kitchen, grabbing an apple from the bowl.

I open my mouth to ask Matthew what time the show comes on but he glares at me and gestures to the door, signalling that I should leave, pretty much asking why I’ve not left yet. I shrug and curse under my breath, trying to make sure he doesn’t hear. He doesn’t, not exactly, but he seems to guess that I’ve said something.

“Shut up!” Matthew yells at me, shoving past me angrily.

I frown, “What have I done?”

My dad smiles, “You did nothing wrong son, he’s only having a day.”

“Okay.” I nod, then watch as Matthew storms out; he’s a walking nightmare. He has been for all the time I’ve known him, and everyone says he’s always been like that. Some people are just naturally grumpy, I suppose.

Dylan, Henry and Mark grin at me as I walk into the gaming room, Jack ruffling my hair as per usual, “You always make me hungry. Why do you have to have chocolate hair, man?”

“Sorry.” I mumble, and see Dylan frowns,

“Did you catch Matthew again?”

“Phil?” Mark asks softly.

“He was having a day. He is having a day.” I correct.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. He’s just jealous of your phone.” Henry smiles, definitely joking and inviting me over. I grin and join them, “You’re being absolutely truthful?”

“Absolutely.” Dylan nods, winking, “And that’s coming from a true 20-year-old adult!”

Immediately, we start arguing about the insignificance of that fact, that Henry is also an adult at 18, and that Jack and Mark are fifteen-year-old twins who’ve not only beat us all in Mario kart, but have both matched, to another set of twins at that - as if they wanted to be the rarest match ever. Which they probably are…

“Alright, okay!” Dylan concedes, “Shut it, the lot of you!”

“Mario Kart?” I ask, smiling,

“I can’t, I have to go meet with Jake.” Jack shrugs apologetically.

“Have fun then.” Mark winks.

“Take it slow, dude.” Henry counters.

“See if he survives Portal!” Dylan suggests.

“Don’t forget to come back.” I say quietly, and Jack smiles at me, promising never to forget my ocean eyes and chocolate hair, then slapping my shoulder affectionately, “Catch y'all later.”

He leaves as we start a game of Mario Kart, the four of us battling it out with grins on our faces. I may be only twelve years old but that doesn’t mean I can’t put up a fight on the Xbox. I can’t help but think about matches and what will happen if mine ever works.

I wonder how I’ll meet mine, if ever.

like/reblog but don’t repost, thanks!

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