Private Tales A Name From The Past

[Lorelei Darke]

"Nothing," she replied simply, giving the man a sharp glance, "yet."

Zeviir arrived with a few more rolled parchments and idly sifted through them until he found the right one. Unwinding the tie, he flattened that out overtop of the island map, "This shows a bit more detail of the city layout, though some things there have changed. Nothing that will stopper strategy."

"You can mark the changes?" Lorelei asked.

"I'll request a copy and we'll be able to make it there."

"Zeviir is part of the merchant council of Kuait," Lorelei said to Blackburn, "and has a strong ear and voice within the Kingdom."

"King Einfort passed several years ago," Zeviir said as he took a seat, giving a glance out toward the hall beyond their private study. Lorelei gestured at the door and closed it with, yes Fane, magic.

"His eldest son succeeded him on the throne, now crowned King Beaufort. His good looks do not nearly make up for his lack of leadership ability. His most recent decision to shutter the prison and break ties with Kuait's largest trade allies has rankled more than just the merchants," the komodo leaned in and lowered his voice, "there is already talk of revolt, but those displeased with the current King have no one to rally behind. Dissent has spread through the Chantry, the Merchant Council, and the local militia."

 

[Blackburn Fane]

No army, no navy, no magic users sworn to her name.

Just her red fucking hair, a recently-dried angry man and a merchant fop.

Yes, she cast him a sharp glance and he answered it with a knowing gaze. As if they were already married a hundred years instead of only having crossed blades centuries ago and now apparently destined to marry each other.

If they didn't die first in this endeavor.

"Why would they pick a random ancient woman they have never met before over one of their own?" He cast into the mix of opportunities being laid about. It was a powder keg, alright, and they could work with it. But they had to be realistic about things too.

He hummed softly as he kept looking over the maps.

Even with his dissenting words, the battle was already shaping in his mind.

"We could do it quietly. Just take him out in the dark, take out any heirs he might have. Then swoop in when things get chaotic in the power struggle."

Lorelei Darke

 

[Lorelei Darke]

"Why would they pick a random ancient woman they have never met before over one of their own?"

A fair question. She did not answer immediately. There was no sense in doing or saying anything rash. Lorelei already knew her answer, but it had to be given at the right time.

"We could do it quietly. Just take him out in the dark, take out any heirs he might have. Then swoop in when things get chaotic in the power struggle."

"You can't take the island and keep it unless you have the navy and the current Commodore staunchly supports Beaufort," Zeviir shook his head and moved the topmost map aside for the broader island view, "you see this gorge here that nearly cuts through the Kingdom? They've turned that entire zone into drydocks and have been churning out warships for the last five years. King Beaufort intends to become a conqueror, he's spent nearly his entire life on the island and has grown restless in his prime."

"How does the young King intend to conquer? He's no cavalry, a fraction of the militia he'd need to take on inland cities."

"Precisely," Zeviir tipped a finger toward her at her point and then drew that finger across the long run of coastlines from the west to the east surrounding Kuait, "he intends to go strictly after coastal cities, but he's forgotten one key element: pirates."

"Are they strong in number?"

"Separately, no, but if this crusade of his aligns them under one banner, they could take on his entire fleet easily. Those pirates depend on the coastal cities for supplies, refuge, and entertainment as much as Kuait relied on them for trade."

 

[Blackburn Fane]

His instinctual reaction was- okay, then let's kill the Commodore too.

Fane's greatest strength was also a weakness.

He was immortal. It meant that he could behave as a hammer and more often than not it would be fine. He could keep smashing himself against his enemies over and over and over again. Eventually the anvil would shatter, because the hammer never did. That was the true horror of having someone like Fane as your enemy, he did not give up, he could not give up.

But listening to the back and forth between Darke and her confidant it became clear that these two were made of more subtle stuff.

They wanted plots, they wanted machinations and they wanted to feel smart doing it.

A head tilt as the pirates came into view. "Don't forget there is a third person in the room with you." He stretched there slowly. "Who is comparatively a dumb-ass with muscle." Stories about Fane differed on that regard. Some said he was much sharper and shrewder than he got credit for. But in truth the past hour together would not give Darke any reason to think he was more than just a hammer.

"Letting the young King lead his fleet into being slaughtered by the pirates will leave the island ripe to being targeted by them even once you take power." He looked away from the map and instead refocused on the archive at large.

It was a fancy thing, scrolls and books all over the place. So much wisdom gathered into one place.

"Why don't we identify the likeliest candidate to succeed the Commodore. Then cultivate him as an ally. Once he is ours, I can slip onto the island and remove the Commodore myself. Once the King loses him as his closest ally, the other nobles and ruling parties will be more amenable to look elsewhere for authority."

His eyes flicked back to Darke.

He didn't say it again, but it was clear in his gaze.

Why would any of them bow for her when she was a nobody?

Lorelei Darke

 

[Lorelei Darke]

His look was unavoidable, given the size of the man. The idea that one could feel another looking at them wasn't a fairy tale, it was merely a sixth sense that humans had long since dulled following their days of growing civilized. They with their buildings and their tools and their weapons had forgotten that they weren't actually at the top of the food chain.

Maintaining that preternatural sense kept her own people sharp. So when the mountain of the main pinged her with his eyes, she felt it. Lorelei closed her eyes for a moment, chest slowly rising and then falling with a tempered sigh before those same eyes slivered open again and pinned him back with sharp green. Again with the silent doubt and questioning.

"Ohhh," Zeviir nodded, waggling a finger toward Fane's idea, "I like the way this man thinks. That would work nicely with your own plan, Lady."

"Indeed," Lorelei maintained her resentful stare of him, tone flat. "Order the copies, Zeviir. And the ship and crew."

"Already on it with the ship," said the komodo, giving her a look over, "I've also ordered some gowns flown in. Should be here in a few days and then we can ship off. If you no plans for lunch I can suggest many fine establishments in the city, top notch."

"No. Bring the maps to the manor as soon as they are ready." Pushing her chair back, she stood and gave Fane a look over quite similar to the one she'd given him earlier before the spectacle of magic, "It's going to take the rest of the day to fix this."

 

[Blackburn Fane]

He sniffed there.

"You already threw buckets of water over me and then dried me with flame and air. What more do you wish to do?" In the past Fane had worn fine liveries and graceful suits to grand balls. But that had been several life times ago. The past few decades were spend in violence and his state represented it. Leather armor to deflect away the sharp bits and other clothing choices more fit for a bandit or a warlord than a general or husband to a Queen.

Fane looked to Zeviir when he mentioned gowns and then back to Darke.

He sighed.

"I am not going to like this, am I?"

Lorelei Darke

 

[Lorelei Darke]

"No," one side of her lips ticked upward in a smile, "but I am."

Back to the carriage and away to the manor they went. Alliria wasn't nearly as posh as some cities she'd visited before beyond Anver, so it lacked a place for a complete grooming cycle. There was plenty of staff and help, including a barber and tailor on hand at the manor, however. The Darke sisters wanted for nothing and their host, a wealthy Lord of the lands, was more than happy to cater to their every whim, want, and request.

The first stop was the grand bath tub. Though she resented how many years of grime would be scrubbed away into it, this was a sacrifice of her own she was willing to make. Fane would be doused in soaps and scrubbed pink by the Help.

Any protesting could be heard in the main bed chambers where Lorelei stood with the Tailor, looking through his catalog of swatches and materials.

"Mmmm, no," Lorelei swished away a placard, "his eyes are green. That will clash. Let me see that one-" and she took another with an array of dark greens, blues, and greys, then strode into the bath chamber holding it up so it sat in view right alongside a sud-covered Fane. She was no longer humorless judging by the glint of her eyes.

 

[Blackburn Fane]

He protested and struggled but in the end he caved.

Fane would never admit that it felt good to have all the grime and dirt scrapped off of his hide, until he was rudy and pristine. Luxuriating in the bath after it had been drained a fifth time or was it sixth? Even still when Lorelei strode in and started arraying textile near him to check he grunted.

"Know this, Darke. I don't know how, I don't know when or where... but there will come a time I will make you just as miserable as I am now."

This would have been terrifying threat... if he didn't immediately follow it up by splashing the soapy water into her face.

Lorelei Darke

 

[Lorelei Darke]

Water dribbled down from her forehead and off her lashes. Suds clung to her nose and cheek. Lorelei briefly closed her eyes in the act, the barest hint of a smirk hidden somewhere in the schooled facade. When she opened them again it was with a flutter to rid her lashes of the water and a finger lifting to swipe the soap bubbles from her nose.

"Hmmm," the woman rumbled in thought as she flicked the bubbles back at his own face, "such things you say."

"Mavers," standing, she called to the Tailor, "the dark cerulean. Ladies," a courtly smile was given to the very harassed and soppy looking maids who had been making hard work of scrubbing him down, "you missed a spot. Just there."


Next up was the Barber.

"Leave the beard," she told the man from her seat over at a small tea table where her handmaiden was currently pouring her hot tea, "and not too much off. Just... clean up the stray dog look."

 

[Blackburn Fane]

"I resent that."

He said as they sat him down and started chopping into the forest of his mane. "Dog, really? I am a wolf at a minimum." Another sniff there, indignant, but most of it was play. They both knew he was here by choice from start to end.

A man like Fane was not forced or subjected by someone's will other than his own.

But finally he sighed and allowed a measure of relaxation to enter his body. It was still only a measure, but more than most got out of him.

"I can't even remember the last time I let myself be pampered."

Lorelei Darke

 

[Lorelei Darke]

"Consider it a perk of our agreement," she replied idly from behind a book, "I take care of my family." She glanced at him over the brim, "Future husbands included."

"Future husband?" piped in Mavers from across the room, "Are a congratulations in order?"

"It would seem so..." Lor slowly turned a page, brow larking at the man in the Barber's chair, "though it's not public yet."

"Oh of course, m'Lady, not a word out of me," Mavers made sound of delight, "I do so love weddings. I hope you'll be giving me a call when the time comes to dress for the event?"

"That remains to be seen on how well you dress this wolf today..."

 

[Blackburn Fane]

Another sigh.

As if he was already a put-upon husband having to deal with an over-imaginative wife.

"Can we dispense with the frills and make something I can actually move in? If I die because my outfit prevents me from punching someone in the throat, I will be very annoyed." Then again, being able to say I told you so seemed like a perk.

The power of positive thinking at work.

"Tell me of family, wife-to-be." He said airily. "You said something about a sister? Is she as... delightful as you are?"

Lorelei Darke

 

[Lorelei Darke]

"Not to worry," Mavers looked excited for the challenge, "frills have been out for a decade. It's all about the streamlined silhouette now."

Lor looked from the Tailor to the wolf... no, he was more like a bear in both shape and disposition. There was nothing streamlined about that silhouette. She sniffed at the thought.

"My sister is quite delightful," another page turned, "with me and a select few others."

Aristeia Darke had no lack of strong opinions or beliefs. Even if she was a Priestess, her tongue was just as sharp and cutting as her fangs.

"She is a Priestess of our faith and very devout. Where I am bold, she is withdrawn, but where I hold doubt she holds certainty. I would say she is my foil but we are more alike than not... aside from stature." Her sister had been one of the shortest in their family, taller only than Desdemona... until the Reckoning.

Bitter amusement filtered across her face briefly at that thought. Now Aris truly was the shortest. Of two. The truth stung. She did not allow herself to linger on it.

"Her name is Aristeia," Lorelei closed her book and set it aside in order to take up her tea that was steeped and cool, "you will meet her before long."

Snip snip snip went the rough edges of the man.

 

[Blackburn Fane]

"Lorelei and Aristeia..." He murmured softly. "Long names." A soft smile there. "Nobility often enjoys their long, meaningful names. Do your names mean something?"

Slowly shape began to hold. If the barber tried to cut off too much, his large hand would curl around his wrist and squeeze in a warning.

"That's enough." Which left him with a long mane, but tamed (barely) into a nice silver-black dress. "I like my hair when it is relatively long."

It was annoying to take care of, yes, but it felt satisfying.

Finally he got up and sighed, wandering on over to her. "I feel lighter even. I guess dirt can wear a man down just the same."

Just a bit of a teasing smirk playing there.

Lorelei Darke

 

[Lorelei Darke]

"They do," her reply over a sip of tea, "but the night isn't long enough for me to explain what."

There was some meaning to them, but explaining that required further exposition on a whole lot of other things and she didn't think he had the patience for all that. Instead, she attended him with her focus, expression lightening faintly at the improved presentation.

"I feel lighter even. I guess dirt can wear a man down just the same."

"And hide him, too. Turns out there is a man beneath the grime after all." Thank goodness for that.

Lorelei gave him a cursory look over, pleased thus far with the results. Especially now that she could finally stand to be in close proximity without wrinkling her nose. Years of caked-in stench had also been scrubbed from him, head to toe. What a pleasant development.

"You're not done yet," she raised her brows pointedly at him and looked sidelong at the Tailor who was eagerly awaiting the man over by the stand in front of several floor-to ceiling mirrors.

 

[Blackburn Fane]

He was curious to find out the meaning of her name, but they'd come to it eventually. No sense in rushing all of it on the first day. Second day, really, since they had met once before on the battlefield. But that had been a different sort of exchange and introduction.

"What did you think was beneath the grime? Three goblins in a harness?"

Bemused there but eyebrows quirking up at her suggestion he wasn't done yet.

From one moment to the next his fingers suddenly curled around her chin. Tilting her head up as he stood over her like that.

"Aren't I?" He murmured softly, holding her lightly, hands of violence offering... a form of gentleness for the time being. "You know, usually, in a relationship you start with romance and only afterwards share your bath tube with them."

Did a violent bear of a man like him even know what romance was?

Lorelei Darke

 

[Lorelei Darke]

"What did you think was beneath the grime? Three goblins in a harness?"

She snorted, brows larked at the preposterous idea, "Five at least. Three is not nearly enough..."

Then her chin was caught and her view was filled with bulging pectorals beneath a lawn of dark, curly hair and two broad shoulders rounding out beyond her peripherals. All in all, the scenery was quite pleasant. Lorelei's green eyes flicked up to meet his own, narrowing at his words.

"And you would prefer what usually happens?" She certainly would not. Sucking air through her teeth in a tsk, those brows bobbed in bemusement, "I'm afraid that's not how I work, darling."

 

[Blackburn Fane]

His thumb slowly ran along her bottom lip.

Taking his time with the journey.

"Oh, I don't think either one of us expects that, no." Fane murmured softly as he lightly squeezed her chin. "But how do you usually work, sweetheart?" If they were going to push around endearments and pet words, then he'd meet her thrust for thrust.

He wondered if she was always so in control, so dominant... or if there was a part of her that could let go. That would determine just how much fun he'd have with this.

Then again, a potential long process of breaking could be enjoyable just the same.

Lorelei Darke

 

[Lorelei Darke]

The desire to bite the end of his thumb off was palpable.

Sadly, even for one such as him, that probably wouldn't do much for their relations. At least, not in an positive manner. He'd be mad, for starters. And missing half his thumb. Lorelei wasn't certain which hand he favored, but he'd be needing all his digits to be of the most use as a warrior in the days to come.

"In whatever way best suits my purpose," she answered, pressed a kiss against his thumb, and then gestured to the Tailor with a nod of her head.

 

[Blackburn Fane]

The only way to find out if it would bother him is if she tried it.

Who knew what an immortal was into.

However, the kiss against his thumb surprised him a little. An almost gentle gesture compared to the more claiming way he had taken her chin. He wasn't entirely sure what to do with it... and withdrew his hand in amusement.

"Oh, you do love holding your cards close to your chest, darling." Echoing her earlier pet name this time around. "But fine..." As he turned away from her and towards the tailor.

"If you jab me with one of those needles, I will make it disappear." Pointed look at him. "And you might shit it out later."

Lorelei Darke

 

[Lorelei Darke]

"Tadaaa."

They were standing on the planks of the port walk before a large, empty warehouse and a small docking bay bare of anything but smaller fishing boats. Zeviir held out his palms as he moved to yank open the massive bay doors to the creaking of abandoned tools and equipment swaying in the sea breeze.

Lorelei was not particularly pleased, but it fulfilled every parameter of her request: something already standing, open for purchase, not terribly expensive but not run-down, and located somewhere near the water in a low-traffic area.

She inhaled slow and deep, nose wrinkling at the scent of the port water, and strode inside to look around.

"You mentioned something about access to the sewers..."

"Ah, yes, I've had some men look into it and the entrance seems to be collapsed but they believe it can be opened up without too much fuss."

"Hm..." Lorelei's eyes cast around in contemplation, landing on her companion and alleged future-husband who had agreed to come along on this errand because apparently getting to know your betrothed was something people did now before getting hitched. Imagine that.

"And what about the other buildings in this area?"

"They were all owned by the same whaling company before it went under just last year. There's a few lowball offers on some of the others, but the old man hasn't accepted anything yet."

 

[Blackburn Fane]

He sniffed and scowled softly.

The smell was disgusting. Yes, he realized the irony of being the one annoyed about the smell, considering how they had all met in the first place.

"Fancy arse place, but I am still unsure what the point of it is." Stepping past them into the warehouse and looking around. "You are not going to park a navy fleet here." Hands settling on his hips as his eyes wandered further.

"This looks more like a place to do crime or sell drugs than an invasion staging point."

Glancing over his shoulder to Lorelei Darke, who as per usual was keeping the cards close to her chest.

 

[Lorelei Darke]

"I have no intention of parking a navy fleet here," she replied, moving to join Fane where he stood and lightly looping her arm through his to continue idly strolling about the warehouse.

"What I intend..." she said, voice dropped as they walked along through old whaling tools and even remnants of catches--whalebone sold for a premium, she couldn't believe it was just left here-- "is to set up a location to craft Blodwyne and grow Irnroot."

This would only raise more questions than it answered since Fane would likely have no clue what either of those two things were. She'd leave him to ask the questions he felt like asking rather than flooding him with an entire history of her people.

"For my sister and myself. We are running low on what was left of my stockpile."

 

[Blackburn Fane]

"Oh, Blodwyne and Irnroot? Why didn't you just say so."

He said casually as if he knew exactly what she was talking about. While the odds of him knowing would in general be very low, he was an immortal who had walked the land for a long time. Who was to say what someone named Blackburn Fane had encountered across his journeys?

He looked over her shoulder, tiptoe style, to look at some of the whaling tools.

"You know, I didn't know you were a witch." Fane murmured in her ear, passing by and then murmuring in her other ear. "I wonder if I am safe in your hands as your future husband."

Smirking there as he wandered over to a crafting desk. Someone had been using a piece of whalebone to craft it into something strange.

"What is Blodwyne and Irnroot anyway?" As if he hadn't just implied he knew all about it.

Lorelei Darke

 

[Lorelei Darke]

Ugh. Tiptoes. He'd been pulling that stunt more lately and it had only been a week since their initial re-introduction and ad-hoc proposal. The woman's eyes narrowed and lips thinned in what was becoming a visceral response to the action.

Could he just not?

"You know, I didn't know you were a witch." Fane murmured in her ear, passing by and then murmuring in her other ear. "I wonder if I am safe in your hands as your future husband."

Was that hackles she felt flaring? Proverbial ones, perhaps. Lorelei suppressed a twitch as the sensation followed his voice from ear to ear. Hah! Witch. Please.... Her work was a far higher level of Sorcery.

"So much for reveling in the danger of the unknown..."

Perusing a line of crates, she began to inspect those that were yet to be nailed shut. These were stores of supplies for the whalers while they navigated the high seas. Why on earth it was all still here made rather little sense to her.

"Blodwyne is a drink made specifically to sate bloodlust as an alternative to the barbaric act of bloodfeasting. Irnroot is a plant that grew in the caverns beneath my people's capital that was the source for a variety of things but more importantly my..." she nearly said Sten and realized she'd have to explain that, too, "cigarettes. They help soothe the baser instincts that drive my kind to hunt and kill."