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Chapter 132: A Promise In Scarlet
🕑 Added 2023-08-02 01:58:58 +0000 UTCChief Officer Reman Tinsley whistled as he strolled along the beach.
An unusual feeling. He rarely enjoyed the sand beneath his feet. There were few reasons to. As the second most senior officer on the Golden Pearl, he’d transcended the need to personally haul barrels across a beach … or nondescript boxes, as was the case now.
Then again, he’d never experienced that particular joy in the first place.
Reman was, after all, a terrible sailor.
The various rites of passage that every worthy soul from the Principalities had broken their bodies upon was never a torment he’d known.
He’d never lugged supplies on his back while trudging up a narrow ramp. He’d never burned the skin of his palms tugging at miles of roughly braided rope. He’d never rigged a sail through storm or fair weather.
Why, he didn’t even know what half the things on his own vessel were called, let alone what they did.
Which was fine. Since everyone else did.
Anything he didn’t know, he could wave away with a scoff, a sharp order or simple silence. And over the past weeks, there were few faces he couldn’t subject his mastery of authority to.
The Golden Prince, naturally, had been one of them.
But so was the girl currently lying on a beach chair, beneath a flowery parasol and beside a table laden with cocktails.
Treating the dead of night as though it were the height of afternoon, her legs were leisurely crossed as she peered through a small telescope with her ruby eye–or was it her golden one?
Chief Officer Tinsley smiled.
How rare it was to be the one to come across her! She delighted in her games of hide and seek. An enigma in a box, still unsolved despite her release from the shadows. And now he knew what this girl did when she was to be found first.
Admiring the horizon.
In the distance, a ship with golden sails was sailing away into the moonlight.
Granted, it was missing at least one. And several holes now replaced a few of the cannon hatches in its hull. But it was a beautiful sight nonetheless. A war galleon commissioned as the flagship of Weinstadt’s small, but relatively effective navy.
The Golden Pearl.
Tinsley had no doubt the name wouldn’t last. It was under new management. And even he’d never been fond of the name. Too egregiously unoriginal.
He stepped by the Dealer’s side, then offered a bow.
She didn’t so much as glance away from her telescope.
“Dare I ask if you’re enjoying the view, my lady?” asked Reman.
“I was,” she replied, her scarlet lips gleaming in the pale moonlight. “Now the finale has passed, the evil-doer dispatched, and only the spirit of camaraderie remains to be shared by the victors. Just the worst of the evening’s show remains to me. In other words, I’m bored.”
“If boredom is an issue, then might I suggest beginning the next play anew?”
“That suggests the curtains ever close. It does not.”
“If the finale has passed, then reason dictates an ending must be near.”
“A treasonous thought. We are more than the audience. We are the stagehands and the critics working tirelessly throughout the night. We do not get breaks. Just like we do not get paid.”
“With words like those, I’m wondering how I ever agreed to this role.”
“Because life is dull. And you so enjoy seeing my efforts to spare your blushes. A needless consideration on my part. The Golden Prince is now a golden pineapple, and his eyes are unlikely to see through the mask you wear over his own puffy face.”
Reman chuckled, feeling that same mask cracking from the unfitting bout of mirth.
“A shame. It was a magnificent cameo. A sudden appearance in his own cabin. A few words without meaning. An allusion to dangers unknown. A display of vanishing mystery … why, it was a wonderful method to pry attention from me.”
“No better distraction for a rat than a viper.”
Reman smiled.
He would never consider this girl to be a viper. She lacked a key characteristic. There were people out there, strange as they were, who enjoyed the company of serpents. No such warmth could be found for the Grand Duchess’s favourite hound.
“As you say, my lady.”
The Dealer paused as she continued peering through her telescope.
“Your face is slipping. The embarrassment if you were caught. I would have had to torch the entire ship and you along with it. Neither my conscience nor my hatred for paperwork would have forgiven your ghost afterwards.”
Another chuckle met her reply, and then the mask truly began to break.
And underneath–the face of a man more forgotten than those he borrowed from was revealed in the moonlight.
On purpose, of course.
Ah, but what a fine balancing act this was. To make these monsters know his worth and his weakness. Enough to be used yet not discarded … until the day he left on his own accord, as he knew he was fated to do.
A joyous tightrope. But one he revelled in. No matter which face he chose to take.
“I’m afraid I’m not used to working on a schedule,” said the Dancing Rat. “Employment is a new prospect for me, even one without remuneration or benefits as this one.”
“Which is why I forgive you, so long as the contents of the box you hold contains each and every woefully difficult object you were tasked to retrieve.”
The Dancing Rat smiled.
Then, he was gone again. And a man who had never stepped foot outside of the Kingdom of Tirea bowed, never once commenting that the girl lying in the beach chair could have easily done what had taken him weeks to achieve–itself at a staggering pace.
Instead, he made his offering, revealing a trove beyond the worth of any podium which could have held them, much less a parchment box.
“A snow-white dress,” said Lord Oliver Lepre. “Embellished with a neckline of young garnets. Heeled boots with a ribbon of undying red roses. A luminous pearl ring. And a tiara of polished silver, with no distinguishing gems or emblems. Each found in a more unlikely place than the last.”
An unknown baroness. An opportunistic merchant. A well. And the ground.
These were not garments and jewellery to turn the eyes of a noble gathering. But even so, each item was a gift worthy of royalty, unwittingly gathered by a faux prince who had never known how beholden he was to the whims of others.
Because each of these had been worn by the greatest Sword Maiden of old, and still retained the magic which came with such a tale.
The Dealer glanced at the neatly folded pile.
“A kingdom of few riches,” she mused. “And yet those it has, you mysteriously seem to possess. Had you reported your findings, I would have waited somewhere nicer.”
Oliver very much doubted if anywhere nicer could have accommodated this girl.
As far as he was aware, she only went to where the scheming was thickest. And that usually entailed a lack of beaches.
“My apologies. I didn’t wish to present a gift to the Grand Duchess until the set was complete. A prospect which only truly became reality with the 1st Princess’s arrival.”
“A gift in itself. Almost as unexpected as her ability to land a punch between the eyes. Were you able to witness her right hook yourself?”
“I was, yes. Although her greatest strength was her ability to leave the Golden Prince smitten despite it. The search was hastened considerably.”
Many times aboard the Golden Pearl, he’d wished to thank her.
The surprisingly ungentle Princess Florella had been a note of fresh air in a hunt that had begun long before Oliver had taken his place upon this stage.
She was highly useful in pushing him for speed. Convincing the young man that digging up half the kingdom for a wedding gift instead of mere crowns was as amusing as it was efficient.
Alas that the young prince’s feelings went unreciprocated.
A pirate king and queen would have made an act for the ages.
“Pitiful, wasn’t he?” said the Dealer lightly, her eyes locked especially on the tiara. “No man with such shiny armour should be reduced to an errand boy.”
“The most he deserved, my lady. He was prone to lackadaisicalness. And to complete the insult against you, the Kingdom of Tirea now has strength at sea.”
“So scuppering my super secret plans for the future, yes.”
The Dealer easily returned to her telescope.
In her sights was the ship carrying a passenger whose strength was far more terrifying than even the punches Princess Florella could bring to bear. As violent as she was, she was no more than a D-rank pugilist at most.
A champion of bar room brawls, even if that by itself was an eyebrow raising achievement for a princess.
No … it would take more than 20 minions to bring down her younger sister.
“Juliette Contzen,” spoke the Dealer, her voice amused, almost whimsical. “The 3rd Princess of an irrelevant kingdom. I almost regret confirming it’s her. I feel spoiled. A princess who’s an adventurer is far too interesting.”
Oliver nodded … albeit slowly.
To call her simply interesting was a disservice.
She was strong. Beautifully so. A thorned rose which bent the wind.
Her image still remained vividly in his mind. A gale sweeping aside her foes as well as she did the misadventures of a minor lord of Reitzlake. A virtuoso display of dancing prowess and swordsmanship.
And now she was here again.
“She sent the Golden Prince through the hull of the ship,” he said. “I witnessed her in the act. Why, she’d barely drawn her sword before sending him flying to the nether. Quite the display. I measured approximately 30 inches of lumber board and framing she’d hurled him through when I examined the hole.”
“An even more impressive feat, given the Golden Prince’s background.”
“Quite so. Irrelevant though he was, he hails from a place where sailors taste the iron of blood before they taste the salt of the sea.”
The Principalities. A rotten den of scoundrels, filled with more sewers than streets. A drawn blade was always expected. Yet even he’d failed to react.
She was swift as flowing water.
A thought shared by the Dealer, given her brightening smile. Caught at such an angle, it could almost be called childish.
“A sword princess … just like the fairytales.”
“Beautiful, no?”
“Quite. I happened to see a glimpse of her skills.”
“Merely a glimpse? I had the impression you were watching keenly.”
“It was all my eyes were afforded. The Golden Prince was wreathed in magefire, enough to burn the sights of any foe. Mine are more used to the darkness. A drawback to being a shameless caricature of mystery. You know how it is.”
“Of course, my lady.”
A moment’s pause. The Dealer hummed as she gathered her thoughts.
“And still he was eclipsed. The speed of the girl’s swordsmanship was more dazzling than any blinding light. A wondrous display. At least until the older one started pummelling with her fists. You spoke truly. This adventurer is a marvel well beyond her rank.”
“I’m overjoyed that my assessment is agreed.”
“Many would, provided they could see her.”
“And what did you see, my lady?”
“The Golden Prince seeming to be nothing but a boisterous man, his footing and his hold over his own armour lost as he crashed to the floor. In that briefest of moments, I confess I struggled to track her form.”
Oliver smiled, doubting for even a moment that the girl lying in the beach chair had any such struggle.
Then, he fell into silence as she considered the young princess.
Her public appearances were few and far between. Those accounts which existed of her were universal in their characterisation of a princess whose expression was distant and aloof … almost bored.
And now he knew why.
Her duties were not to mingle in the court of petty intrigue. But to defend her kingdom in the realm of clashing steel and unwavering hearts.
How many years had she trained within the valley of some distant hinterlands, under unseen leaves and lost waterfalls to achieve her level of skill?
Her lack of fame spoke widely to her dedication. Not only to her craft. But also to her discipline. To have rejected the wealth and comforts of her class to instead hone her blade in some faraway peak was as inspiring as it was unbelievable.
Yet that wasn’t what impressed him the most … what terrified him the most.
No.
More than the length of her blade … it was her sharpness of mind he feared.
“There is something you should know,” said Oliver, his voice growing quiet. “The 3rd Princess … she queried if I was from Reitzlake.”
“Oh?”
Oliver nodded.
The Dealer, undoubtedly, understood the ramifications of this.
“There can be little doubt. She knew of my identity. This and the last. Perhaps even more. She did not shy away from directly confronting me. It was … disconcerting.”
Even now, he recalled how he’d used every fibre of his being to stop his mask from shattering on the spot.
Well within reach of her enchanted sword, this terrifying princess had asked if he was from the royal capital.
The insinuation could not be lost even on a fool.
And oh … how he’d felt like one at that very moment!
Somehow, through schemes woven in the same darkness he trod, the princess had gleaned who he was. And he in turn could offer no response.
Indeed, he doubted if she’d desired one.
Had she willed it, she could have cut him down on the spot.
Instead … she chose to deliver a warning, appearing at that very moment to deliver a masterstroke of daring. One which had even the shadows receding to her will.
“To call me out so brazenly … it can be nothing short of a challenge, my lady. The 3rd Princess knows of your, ah, I apologise, our operations in the kingdom. She’s undoubtedly aware of Lotus House’s movements. Of me. And likely of you. I fear I was only permitted to escape the Golden Prince’s fate to provide this stark warning.”
The Dealer fell silent.
For once, Oliver could guess that it was not just her playing coy. The princess was worthy of her pause. Of her consideration.
Then, the girl lowered her telescope.
The mismatched colours of her eyes looked ahead into the distance, where the golden sails of a twice commandeered ship now dipped past the horizon.
Her smile had never seemed so satisfied.
“Juliette Contzen … my, you truly do make a habit of being audacious, don’t you?”
Oliver nodded.
“It takes more than skill to wield a blade as keen as hers. Her intelligence cannot be underestimated. She has guessed your intent at every opportunity.”
“Mmh. She burned my dear Marina out from her hole, ruined the Tolent woman’s dress with her own vomit, had the fae spill their fury in the wise duke’s direction, and now comes like a storm to rescue her own sister in her time of need.”
“The intuition of an adventurer and the acumen of a princess. Perhaps some scheme was revealed before you had intended, or betrayed by one in your trust.”
“True. You, perhaps?”
“Please do not jest, my lady.”
“Of course. I do not trust you in the slightest. Nor do you trust me.”
“A hurtful statement. I have sworn my services to our fellowship of knavery. And as such, I will speak the truth. I cannot understand how she came to know all that she has. Even regarding her sister, the knights tasked with the 1st Princess’s protection are so desperate not to lose their heads, they have committed themselves to a scrambled, but impressively silent search …”
Oliver paused, then dared to offer his actual true thoughts.
“... It is also possible that she predicted some of your actions. A lack of creativity on your part, perhaps?”
He awaited the reprisal.
Instead, he witnessed as the Dealer shuddered.
Not with ire.
But joy.
There was a genuine satisfaction in the way this girl, captivating in the eyes of many, suddenly placed a finger upon her smiling lips.
A promise was there, written upon the scarlet.
“... Yes, she truly is interesting,” said the Dealer, solely to herself. “A sword princess of old, whose will is a light to cast away the shadows.”
Oliver was suddenly terrified, witnessing this girl’s bewitching smile.
Not for himself.
But for the princess, whom the Dealer had now observed in her ruby and golden eyes, both of which now became clouded with an unreadable haze.
He coughed, bringing the Dealer back from her momentary stupor.
“Ahem … should we order the captains to intercept, my lady? The Howling Gale and the Sea Titan are standing by.”
The Dealer paused.
“Unnecessary. We have what we came for. The princess is beyond our remit.”
“... Even so, given our current assessment, are you certain you do not wish to intervene? My sense for drama states that the thorns on the girl will only continue to grow. The Grand Duchess may be inconvenienced.”
The Dealer finally endeavoured to look at Oliver.
He immediately wished she’d maintained her focus on the horizon. Especially as the warmth of her smile lessened considerably.
“The Grand Duchess is wise and merciful,” she said, viewing him like an insect which hadn’t yet exited through the window. “And so she may forgive the notion that you can perceive what is considered an inconvenience for her. I, however, will not.”
Then, the Dealer stood up and stretched, basking for a moment in the moonlight seeping between the clouds.
“Do remember that, or you may find yourself falling from a height which even the most nimble of rats cannot escape.”
Oliver smiled and bowed.
“I shall endeavour to do so, my lady. I apologise for the unintended impertinence.”
The Dealer gave no indication she was even listening, her gaze having returned to the last of the Golden Pearl’s mast fading over the horizon.
And for once, he knew what her mind consisted of.
Fascination with the princess of a small kingdom, whose daring had drawn the attention of those who had long cast a shadow over the board they all played.
Oliver could only wonder at what thoughts were occurring in the mind of that astute girl at this moment, whose brilliance ensured that her foes were left clawing blindly in her wake.
Why … it had to be something profound.
Comments
phantom
Ehh I would have thought her sister C rank. from the sounds D rank while way ahead of normal is not that uncommon. unless adventurers are just determined to not head to bars. Though that guy who first challenge Julliete long ago was C rank and had a fancy technique. explains why Julliete has climbed slowly.
The Magician
Hard Scene Cut back to Coppelia and Juliette, heads completely empty, golf clapping in adoration of the 1st Princess's Royal Fist of Authority. I just need an internal monologue from them both of Juliette marveling at her big sister's ability to touch peasants and swine without being sullied and Coppelia thinking about how she should ask her to teach her how to do that jumping spinning back kick combo.
Alexey Gladkich
Profound thoughts... I guess ranting about terribly made breakfast and complaining about salty air, is now considered profound.
