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Claude shook Lucien's hand from his shoulder. "I don't need your apology. I need your cooperation. There's no other way for this to work."
Lucien let his hand fall to his side, but he clenched his fist nonetheless. "But it was one of my men that did this. If the officers here knew, then there would surely be trouble--"
"The other members can't know. They're all suspects. We searched all the paintings in the building, but we couldn't find any trace of where the materials for the assassination attempt were kept. We have to assume that everyone is a suspect. I'd even suspect you, were you not my brother." Claude crossed his arms across his tunic. His rapier swayed at his side as he did so.
Lucien watched it sway on his belt. He remembered it well. The obsidian-black blade was unforgettable. Before Claude took his place as Guildmaster, the former Guildmaster had had it forged by the greatest smiths in Yellowdale. He had paid quite a pretty penny for the weapon. It was something of a coronation gift for when Claude rose to power.
Claude was never separated from it. He slept with it at his bedside, and he carried it with him everywhere when he was awake. The blade was of the utmost importance to him. It was a symbol of his past, his present, and his future as Guildmaster. He had promised that he would wield the blade until the day that he died.
Claude noticed Lucien's staring and placed his hand on the hilt of the sword. "Brings back memories, doesn't it? The old man never once gave me a lesson for it, though. He taught me every other weapon. I suppose he wanted me to gain experience with the rapier by myself."
"He always did have a knack for that kind of sentimentality," Lucien remarked, reminiscing. "But that doesn't matter now. You're right, we have to assume that everyone is a suspect. We must act now, before word gets out."
"You're awfully eager. There should be a ship on its way to Port Rap as we speak. It will arrive within the hour. My companions and I should set out before it arrives. Otherwise, we might not return in time for us all to act as bait." Claude glanced out the window. The horizon was beginning to glow with the light of the sun.
"I'll provide you with the Empire's fastest horses, then." Lucien stepped towards Claude at the window and clasped his shoulders. "Try not to act too rashly, Claude. Remember, every move you make could be your last."
"You're more sentimental than the old man. Sheesh, don't worry, I'll be fine. It'll take a lot more than just one assassin to take me down." Claude crossed his arms and turned away from the window and from Lucien. He began to step towards the door of Lucien's office.
Lucien stepped out from behind the desk at the window and called after Claude, "I'll be sure that the shipments logs are changed to match your shipment. All of the crew will be informed as well. We'll use one of the messenger birds."
Claude waved his hand as he opened and stepped out of the door, leaving it open behind him. "Thanks for the help, Lucy."
Lucien frowned at the nickname, but held himself together. He stepped back to his desk and looked out the window once more. The city was finally quieting down, he could see. This was normally about the time that the drunks and the homeless finally began to settle down and find a place to sleep.
Normally, Lucien himself would have slept by now. In fact, he would have slept hours ago. But, even now, he could not sleep. He sat at the desk and picked up his quill. Dipping it in the black ink beside him, he pulled out a parchment and began to write.
Claude and Victor saddled the horses at the stables by the plaza with the fountain. Claude's was a bright white steed, almost completely bare, save the saddlebags. Normally, this steed would be covered in armor for battle. That was what it was trained for, after all. But, now, for the sake of speedy travel, the Lelantos guards kept him bare.
Victor's horse was in the same state, but his steed was a great brown horse. Victor had gladly accepted the horse, understanding that there were not many warhorses that were built to carry the weight of a full-plate armored soldier.
The other Council guards that had accompanied them to the city would stay behind and would wait until they were well-rested before they could return. Housing was provided for them in inns throughout the town, and they were to be fed in the guild hall on the Palace grounds.
Claude climbed up onto his steed and looked to Victor, who was already mounted. "We've got a long road ahead of us. Would you like to be the last of the officers to take their turn at the Port? It will give you time to rest, if you need it."
Victor laughed heartily, placing his helmet on his head, topping off his short, golden hair. "It takes much more than just sleep to get me energized. But it also takes much more than lack of sleep to make me tired."
Claude smiled, turning back to the road ahead of him. "Then, at least keep up on the way back, alright?" he teased, patting the steed's neck.
Victor picked up the reigns and urged his horse to trot out of the stables, turning him to face Claude once more. "If you want me to keep up, then you'll have to put me behind you, first!" Holding the reigns, he led the horse down the path towards the western gate, where they had entered. The horse sped off, its hooves clacking on the stone path.
Claude's smile only grew wider. "I'll even give you a head start." He trotted his horse out into the plaza and waited for a bit. Then, with a kick of his heels into the horse's sides, he urged the horse to follow after Victor. To his dismay, the beast did not move. He tried and tried again and again, but failed to urge the creature to move.
One of the city guards noticed his plight and, stifling a giggle, informed Claude that, as a warhorse, it was trained to only move after hearing a passphrase of sorts. "What kind of horse has a password!?" he yelled. His smile turned into a frown as he leaned down to the horse's ear and whispered the phrase. The horse's ears flicked as it heard the words, and when Claude kicked his sides once more, the horse reared and began to speed off, down the street. Claude had to hold tight to the reigns so as not to fall off.
Waves crashed against the ship as it sped through the water. The sails were billowing to and fro in the wind. The masts creaked as the sails slammed into them. Despite the heavy wind, the sky was clear and the sun was steadily mounting in the horizon. The stars were beginning to fade, and the moons' surfaces began to take shape in the light.
The bird spotted the ship nearly a mile away. It was a falcon, and the fastest of its kind, as well. Its wings rarely flapped as it soared through the air, hovering on wind currents to reach its destination. Its eyes picked out the masts and the hull, the bow and the stern.
The figurehead crashed into waves and split them as the ship cut like a knife through the bay. The falcon spotted its desired perch, and as it grew closer to the ship, began to adjust its angle to slow its decent. The shoulder on which the falcon landed belonged to an older man, clad in armor from the Lelantos Empire. He turned his head to the falcon and asked in a gruff voice, "Well, what did you bring me, friend?"
He reached to the falcon's breast, where a messenger pod had been strapped around his body. He opened the cork bottle and shook out the parchment that was inside. Unrolling it and reading it over, his face wrinkled into a smile. "Looks like we're going to have some company when we get to Port Rap."
Turning away from the sea, he faced the mast and began to climb down it from the crow's nest. When he reached the bottom, he climbed up on a crate and faced the crew. Since he was a guard that had been assigned to the ship from the port-city of Keygate in Lelantos, he was one of the few aboard the ship that actually needed armor.
He began to announce the contents of the parchment and set the crew to work. They had roughly half an hour before the ship docked at Port Rap, and they had to change ship logs, crate labels, and any other hints at what the shipment contained.
When he finished with that, he jumped down from the crate and went to the captain's quarters. Knocking on the door, he waited for an answer.
"Enter," he heard. With that, he opened the door and stepped inside. "You might have to find a place to hide. I just received this," he said, tossing the note on the captain's desk. The falcon on his shoulder flapped its wings and jumped over to the captain's shoulder. "Looks like even the falcons of Lelantos won't forget your face."
Looking up from his work, the bearded captain picked up the parchment and read it quickly. "Do you want to take my place for the time being? If I'm found here, it might actually cause an issue. Especially if Claude will be on the ship." His voice was rough when he spoke. He reached up to the falcon and pet its wings. "There, there. Long time no see, Ode."
"Ardid, you know that it might cause troubles if I'm seen, as well." He crossed his arms and watched as Ode preened his feathers. "After all, I'm the one who's got the scars."
Ardid stood up from his desk and walked the guard out the door. The two walked side-by-side as they watched the crew bustle about. "Arvur, you may have the scars, but I am the actual image. Do you think that Claude and the others would remember the scars or the actual image?"
Arvur placed removed his helmet and his gauntlets. He held his hands out to Ardid, who looked them over. They were covered in burn scars that ran up his arm, into his armor. He grimaced at the thought of the pain that Arvur must have gone through for his sake.
Arvur dropped his hands to his sides. "You're probably right. I was disguised at the time, after all. Perhaps they will not recognize me if I can keep my scars covered."
Ardid smiled at him and placed his hands on his shoulders. "I already owe you my life, Arvur. I'll owe you a second one, if we can pull this off."
Arvur laughed and shook his head, his long grey hair shaking in the wind. "You don't owe me anything. What are brothers for, if not for saving each other's skins, eh?"
The captain let his hands run through his speckled black hair. He rubbed his beard and his wrinkled face began to shudder as he tried to hold back his laughter. "Oh, Arvur, how did I wind up aging so much better than you?"
His brother laughed at the jest as well, running his hands through his grey hair. It reached down to about his shoulders, whereas his brother's black hair stretched down his back. "You always criticized Claude for the long hair, yet, here you are. What a hypocrite!"
Ardid turned away from Arvur and began to step back towards his quarters. "Well, that can't change just yet. After all, if I'm seen, I need to be unrecognizable." His brown eyes burned with determination of years past. "I guess I'll be a cook, or something," he said as he went into his quarters to change clothes.
Arvur turned away from his brothers quarters and began to step towards the stairs that led down into the ship. He knew that the risk of being recognized by Claude was low, but the threat was still there. However, for his brother, Ardid, he would push his worries away and face his mission with dignity.
After all, this was not just for his brother. Ardid and Arvur's secret must not be known by Claude or any of the other officers in the guild. However, what worried him more than that was the reasoning behind this operation. "Why would Claude be visiting this ship, and wanting the shipments changed, at that?" he mumbled to himself.
Ardid sat at his desk and enjoyed his last few minutes as captain. He had been wondering the same thing as Arvur, but he had come to his conclusion already. "This clearly has something to do with Port 4-C. That little buggar sure has some intuition." He stood up and looked out the stern's window. He could see the waves lapping at the ship as they cut through the water.
Crossing his arms and frowning, he groaned. "I guess I better get ready. By the embers of Alnia, I'm so tired of being a target."
 Ty-Harukii · Wed Jul 05, 2017 @ 09:00pm · 0 Comments |
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