Before the Storm

By James Robert Brady

Multiply and train those worthy while sacrificing the lesser ones to me. Keep secret and grow strong while keeping your enemies confused and weak. By this covenant, all you are and will ever be is mine to command, so I set you this first task: fill this hall with worthy forces while still maintaining those needed to defend this territory I have provided you. This is the great work to which you will dedicate your lives and the lives of your descendants.

I name you Empire, which is what you will achieve in my name when you complete this task, and I shall hold you all as treasured children when I send you forth to bring order to the unworthy. To this end, I grant you three boons: this land of sanctuary in which you will grow strong, the secret of soul forged steel to build your industry as you undermine your foes development, and two of my pet Wyrms for protection and guidance.

Never forget that these are not gifts but tools you are to use in a purpose of my devising. Fail me not, or you and your descendants will suffer eternally for my pleasure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546238362

James Robert Brady

James Brady has traveled upon 5 of the 7 Continents, mostly in the not-so-nice parts. Spending 5 years in the U.S. Army and deploying with 75th Ranger Regiment & 43rd Engineers. He has had jobs as Inside Wireman (Electrician), Lighting Tech, Welder, Stagehand, Bouncer, High Rigger, Motor Tech, Supervisor (various), and Fencing Instructor. Interests have included; motorcycles, horses, martial arts, firearms safety/competition/education, armored combat (SCA!!!), and other outdoor or adrenaline inducing activities. He currently resides in Phoenix Arizona with his family and tries to remind himself that he is a responsible adult with responsibilities and should (but wont always) act accordingly. He has a deaf Pitbull, 5 black cats (will claim they belong to his wife), and a python named Fluffy.

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© 2018 James Robert Brady. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 04/17/2018

ISBN: 978-1-5462-3837-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-3835-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-3836-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018904726

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Part I: It isn’t a party until…

Chapter 1   At voyages end.

Chapter 2   Oh Captain my Captain.

Chapter 3   A gathering of worthies.

Chapter 4   Bouncers? We don’t need no stinking Bouncers.

Chapter 5   Let the games begin.

Chapter 6   Now, a word from our host.

Part II: A day in the life of…

Chapter 7   I swear…I just stopped in for one drink.

Chapter 8   So what’s in a name?

Chapter 9   The care and feeding of big cats.

Chapter 10   So… You think you’ve had a bad night?

Chapter 11   No shit… There I was.

Chapter 12   Hate and hard lessons.

Chapter 13   Hell on earth.

Chapter 14   A hard truth.

Chapter 15   Two if by sea.

Part III: It’s all fun and games until…

Chapter 16   Ask me no questions…

Chapter 17   …and I’ll tell you no lies.

Chapter 18   We fix what we can.

Chapter 19   To the Victor, go the spoils.

Chapter 20   For peace of mind.

Chapter 21   With friends like this…

Epilogue

PART I

IT ISN’T A PARTY UNTIL…

When the Hall of Gathering was first brought into being, those true believers who survived the horrifying destruction and reshaping of the land could fit comfortably upon the dais, like a pinch of flax seeds left in a tipped over shipping cask. Six-hundred humans of exceptional talent and power, over three-quarters of them women, were all that was left of the countless thousands whose souls were ripped from them during the magical workings that summoned the full transubstantiated presence of their Deity. None knew how they arrived upon this place and none cared. Their full focus was on their God’s visage in the form of the 150 foot tall iron statue that stood behind the raised stone platform at the back of the hall …and then It spoke.

Multiply and train those worthy while sacrificing the lesser ones to me. Keep secret and grow strong while keeping your enemies confused and weak. By this covenant, all you are and will ever be is mine to command, so I set you this first task; fill this hall with worthy forces while still maintaining those needed to defend this territory I have provided you. This is the Great Work to which you will dedicate your lives and the lives of your descendants.

I name you Empire, which is what you will achieve in My Name when you complete this task and I shall hold you all as treasured children when I send you forth to bring order to the unworthy. To this end I grant you three boons; this land of sanctuary in which you will grow strong …the secret of soul forged steel to build your industry as you undermine your foe’s development …and two of my pet Wyrms for protection and guidance.

Never forget that these are not gifts, but tools you are to use in a purpose of My devising. Fail me not, or you and your descendants will suffer eternally for my pleasure.

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These were the words that became the Oath of Affirmation and would be repeated at the beginning of every formal assembly. No descendant of this first generation could help but wonder what it was like to be one of the first to hear those words, to look out at the vast emptiness of the hall and realize the enormity of the task before them? What was it like to be the first generation of soldiers to stand on the floor slated as conquerors and not in one of the six Army Groups required for home defense? To see it half filled? Or packed tight?

Many had hoped that the conditions would be met when the floor was filled with troops. This would have required four full Army Groups, nearly 72,000 troops. Alas, this was not to be, so measurements were taken of the gallery as well and new figures were presented …20 full Army Groups with a combined total of 360,000 troops.

This sent those with the gift of making numbers dance, to search out a new time line. The answer came back …65 years with a 10% margin for error. This brought more smiles than frowns. After all, what’s another few generations to those that have invested a century and a half to the cause?

CHAPTER 1

At voyages end.

Sitting on a large canvas bag in the waist of the merchant ship Silver Tides, A weather-worn and bearded sailor leans back against the capstan. Closing his eyes, he turns his face to the early morning sun and draws in a deep breath through his nose. The wind, coming from seaward, almost hides the smell of land. With the tide going out, the ship is no longer driven against the bundles of hemp rope used as bumpers between it and dockside so the soothing sound of creaking rope and timber is no longer disturbed by the unnatural thump-and-lurch of the hull hitting the quay. The sound of hammers on wood and screeching pulleys is a familiar comfort and even the voices of the Carters and Longshoreman were salty enough to be mistaken for sailors at work if you didn’t listen too closely.

It was the animal noises that ruined the fragile illusion. Chickens and goats are common enough aboard ships and are necessary for a proper galley. Having previously served aboard ships that kept dairy cows, he could even ignore the occasional ‘Moo’. However, the braying of a mule or the whinny of a horse is too far outside a blue water ship’s normal range of sounds to ignore. But the worst offenders of the auditory assault by far were the birds. The constant caws, chirps, twitters, and whistles were a steady reminder to the unconscious mind of a deep water sailor that he is either on land or too damn close to it.

The smile fades from the sailor as he exhales. ‘Land’ he thinks. Land always complicates things. Land is unpredictable. Land is full of random strangers, with many of them ready to do you harm for the slightest of reasons and sometimes for no reason at all. Land is a place of chaos, where things often happen for no discernable reason and people run about not knowing their place, because for many there is no place for them. This is not so on a ship, or at least the good ones. With its ratings, watches, divisions, and bells, a man knows his place and where he fits in on the larger scheme of things.

‘I could stay and let things just be.’ He thinks until reality kicks in. ‘No, you can’t and you damn well know why. Besides, it’s not just the base reason anymore. You’ve set it up so that after tonight, you could never again be a part of this ship.’ He tells himself.

‘I could call it off, I don’t have to do it, I could lie and just turn it into a party where no one gets hurt and everyone has a good time.’ His warm and happy fantasy is pierced and withered by his own cold logic and the truth that he cannot ignore. ‘Sure, lie. That’s always worked out for you. Turn it all into something warm and tender. That way, those happy little lies can burn away your soul when the truth you KNOW catches up to all of you. Then everyone can be devoured as a surprised and ignorant little family, except you. Ignorance may be bliss, but lying to yourself is like swimming with chains. Besides, this isn’t the best of ships to be on.’ He frowns, knowing the truth of this reflection. ‘I have a point there.’ He reflects. ‘Besides, if I stay here much longer I might go crazy and start talking to myself.’ This thought being funny enough for a personal chuckle.

As if to drive home the thought of this being the wrong ship, his dark reverie is broken by a kick to his outstretched feet, causing him to slip sideways off his bag.

Without thought he goes with the motion, curling his upper body and turning the fall into a roll, which ends with him standing ready and facing his attacker from a distance of several feet.

His assailant, the ship’s Boatswain, stands there looking irritated and a bit befuddled that his ambush resulted in no harm. The disappointment fades and his irritation turns to outrage as he looks at his intended prey standing ready and not floundering in fear on the deck as he intended.

Put your damn hands down you nimble little freak. Shouts the man, known only to the sailors by rank and position; The Bosun. The Captain will see you now. Paid off and gone you’ll be, and none too soon for my own liking. You’re a weird little bugger and no mistake. Never seen anyone like you before and hope to keep that run of luck once you’re gone. And what kind of grown man has, or would keep, the name of Mouse anyway? Stupidest name I ever heard. I ought to find a Giant named Rat-Catcher and put him on to you. You fucking rodent.

Eloquent and charming as always my dearest Bosun. says the sailor known as Mouse. I apologize for my feet being in your path. Had I known about your particular blindness to those that actually do their duty and wash with regularity, I would have kept an ear out for the sound of your mouth breathing and simian gait, or paid more attention to my olfactory sense and used it for detecting the fug that not only surrounds you, but can actually defeat the wind in announcing your odiferous presence. Mouse smiles as the shocked expression on the Bosun’s face turns to dim understanding and anger. Then lowering his arms, Mouse continues. As for your rat catcher, he’d have to look no farther than that face weasel you call a beard. I’d suggest a few braids and beads like mine, but on you, it’d be like pearls in a pig’s ass. Watching the rage build in the large Bosun was only half as satisfying as seeing the ship’s First Lieutenant, watching from above the rail on the poop deck, cover his mouth and turn away in an attempt not to laugh out loud.

Walking over and retrieving his bag, Mouse looks into the eyes of the Bosun. If not for the Captain’s summons, I’d gladly explain the larger words to you in detail. I’d offer a later class, but alas, your wish to never see me again makes that impossible. Shame really, I hoped to see you at my little get together later tonight. Perhaps the good Lieutenant would be kind enough to enlighten you in your vocabulary deficiencies. Mouse then walks toward the door leading to the Captain’s quarters as the Bosun turns to find out who just laughed at him, only to see the Lieutenant walking away with his shoulders shaking.

Spinning back and seeing Mouse already half way to the door, the Bosun yells out. Oh, I’ll be there alright you fucking little shit stain, and if not for the law and the Captain’s summons, you’d be bleeding at my feet.

Mouse stops inside the open door and turns. So you will see me later? Interesting. So you’re a vulgarian and a liar, who’d have guessed it? … As for the law, there are ways not only around that, but also ways within it as well. You’re a lack-wit and a bully, Bosun, and I wish you all that you deserve. Shutting the door, he leaves the incoherent burbling of obscenities behind him.

As his eyes adjust to the dim hallway, Mouse sees the Captain’s Steward standing outside the door leading to the Captain’s stateroom.

He’ll not thank you for that, you know. says the Steward. Captain counts on the Bosun to maintain order. Undermining the Bosun is tantamount to undermining the whole chain-of-command.

Horseshit. replies Mouse. Officers maintain order. The Bosun is there to be a sadistic bastard, capable of openly taking pleasure in any opportunity to deliver harsh punishment to those even thinking about breaking the rules. This does two things. It maintains discipline through fear, by having that brutish thug in charge of dealing out punishments. It also endears the Captain to the crew as a benevolent leader by restraining the Bosun’s more exuberant expressions of his murderous stupidity. The Captain knows this and has chosen that hulking brute of a half man, for that exact purpose. The only improvement I would suggest would be to cut out that blithering idiot’s tongue. Screaming and gurgling is half his vocal range as it is, full time would suit him best. The overwhelming verbal ignorance of that man detracts from his ability to menace properly. I truly…

Their conversation is interrupted by an indecipherable outcry along with a crash of crockery from the other side of the Captain’s door, followed by the shout of ‘Steward!’

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CHAPTER 2

Oh Captain my Captain.

Several minutes later, the Steward opens the door and gestures for Mouse to enter. While doing so, the Steward makes his exit with a wicker basket of broken crockery and shuts the door behind him. The Captain, a clean shaven, broad shouldered man with a visage worn by sun and sea, but with facial lines more suited to laughing than scowling, stands easy behind his desk wearing a new coat as evidenced by the one draped over his sea chest and still wet from whatever was in the broken crockery just removed.

Please have a seat Seaman Mouse. says the Captain, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. I was going to offer you tea, only I had the misfortune of overhearing your remarks to the Steward. Seems dropping a teacup onto the teapot can have negative implications for ones plans, not to mention jackets. He then gestures in the direction of his sea chest. I freely admit my surprise. By all accounts as well as my own observations, you have always been a quiet man and conscious of your place as well as your duty. To my knowledge, you’ve never exhibited that stinging wit or command of language before. It came as a semi-amusing, yet messy revelation.

With Mouse seated, the Captain places his hands on the desk and leans forward. However, as entertaining, and accurate I might add, your new found talents may be. I’m afraid I am going to have to insist that you apologize to the Bosun and order you not to provoke him further or undermine his authority with any of the ship’s complement. The chain-of-command exists for a reason and he is senior to you in that regard. I’m sure that a sailor of your experience and perception can see the truth in that.

Waves hitting a rocky shore had less effect than the Captain’s words washing over Mouse, who leans forward while staring into the eyes of the Captain. Well Captain, as for all that. I do apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused to your Steward. Tea stains can be hell to get out. Then dropping his smile, he continues. None the less, I will stand for any statement I’ve made concerning that imbecile, the Bosun. It is by your own design that he remains in his position. I cast no damning judgment, mind you. In fact, I applaud your choice. To find someone as vicious as he is and so dim witted as not to grasp the implications of his position, is a credit to your management skills.

But, to cry that the water is cold after throwing ice in it is beyond unjust, it’s shameful. As for myself, I have chosen to speak out over the unnecessary blood spilt by that man than to shed a tear and cower over the tea spilt by the natural extension of your own hiring practices. Leaning back and crossing his legs, Mouse inspects his fingernails.

As for chains, command or otherwise, I was paid off yesterday and have signed out of the Ship’s book that is by your left hand there. As a result, by law and custom, I am no longer in the ship’s company and free to speak my mind and call things as I see them. Just as any free man may do. Therefore, I consider the orders and insistences you have made to me as someone no longer in your employ to be invalid. As for the Bosun, I will say that he and anything concerning him… can bugger straight off, and let the fires take them all.

As the Captain’s shock and disbelief over the verbal bludgeoning he just received subsides, indignation is quick to fill the void. He stands straight and reaches for the sword on his side only to find it’s not there.

In that moment of confusion and hesitation, Mouse stands up and tosses a dagger onto the Captain’s desk. Here… He says calmly. …Take that one. Its good steel and I have two others just like it on my person. Your sword is on the bench by your sea chest. Go for it and blood flows, call out and blood flows, pick up that dagger and blood flows. In fact, anything other than sitting down and telling me the real reason you wanted to talk to me and, you guessed it, blood flows. Seeing the poleaxed expression on the Captain’s face, Mouse retrieves his dagger and slips it into the sheath on his forearm beneath his sleeve. He sits back down and waits until the Captain seats himself in his own chair.

With the ashen faced Captain now seated, Mouse continues. You didn’t call me here to give me that letter of recommendation you lured me here with. You know, the one which is sitting there on your desk. At least that’s not the reason entirely. I can see that the document is not signed which means you intended to use it as leverage of some sort. He leans forward, picks up the letter and reads it while keeping one eye on the Captain. When he finishes, he smiles. A glowing report, and as good as I am, this is slightly better than I deserve. Mouse then slowly tears it down the middle, folds the pieces and tears it again. He then carefully arranges the pieces and puts them in his vest pocket.

One doesn’t travel months on a ship without learning a thing or twelve about its Captain. For instance, when your authority is challenged, or your ego even bruised, you are capable of some rather rash, brutal and stupid actions. Therefore, I’ve taken certain precautions. There are two off duty Justicars somewhere dockside watching your ship. I paid them to alert their on duty friends if I didn’t get off this ship after two hours, or if anything… unpleasant… happens while I’m on board. That was a little over an hour and a half ago.

This bit of news brings the Captain out of shock and confusion, and concern makes its way onto his face.

Mouse gives him a slight nod before continuing. I’ve never understood the tactic of making someone wait for no apparent reason. It seems a waste of time for both parties. In this case it’s time you could have used to bargain or scheme once you learned of the existence of my other talents. Instead, it is time you no longer have and cannot make up… Anyhow, back to business. You have answers to give me and I won’t be leaving, at least not without a fuss that’s sure to alert the watching Justicars, until I’m satisfied with the answers you give me.

The Captain could not have been more taken aback if his dear departed mother walked through the door and kicked him right in the fork. In fact, he would prefer that scenario to the one currently facing him in explaining the gut-wrenching sensation he currently felt. Attempting to push his distress aside, he tries to get a handle on the man sitting across from him.

It’s obvious to the Captain that he’s made a mistake. The man before him is no simple sailor. The question is, how big of a mistake and how to mitigate it? ‘You don’t get to be a Captain by being timid or stupid’ he reminds himself. He fosters his calm as he reviews his options until one thought becomes paramount ‘I need more information to regain the upper hand’. Straightening his jacket, he forces himself to relax, and dons that invisible, yet tangible, mantle of command that all successful captains are able to produce at need. I find it peculiar that you went to the authorities. It’s obvious you’re not the sailor that you’ve represented yourself to be. Perhaps, they would…

The Captain’s speech is cut off by the amused chuckle coming from the man opposite from him. Smiling, Mouse leans forward without a trace of humor in his eyes. So its information you want, huh? Seeing he’s scored a direct hit by the way the Captain goes stone still with just a little widening of the eyes, he continues. Fair enough, I will tell you all you need to know. Time is wasting… Time you do not have. Mouse then leans back and assumes his previous relaxed position.

Do you think that the authorities would be interested in the false bulkhead in the lower aft hold? That’s something else you can thank your idiot Bosun for. He thought it was amusing to have me and few other new hands rearrange the stores in the hold during our off time to, how did he put it? Oh yes, improve the ship’s trim and improve our knowledge as sailors. I must say, I did learn quite a bit that day. Probably not the knowledge he expected to impart, or that you are going appreciate, but a lesson it was. I doubt I was the only one that noticed the hiding place, because the craftsmanship is rather shoddy. Whoever you had install it didn’t even use the same type of wood as the original panels. I’m telling you, hanging a tarp would have been less suspicious. Tell me, is there a reward for smugglers in this city? Mouse smiles as he observes sweat bead on the Captain’s face. Just curious, I really don’t care… at the moment. However, you may want to offer some discreet bonuses to some of the newer Hands, it couldn’t hurt. Having learned early in life that there’s no such thing as a fair fight, Mouse puts the figurative boot in a few times for good measure.

That said, we’re now back to the question of why you wanted to see me, I’m going to have to insist on a complete and honest answer. Besides the deadline I’ve set with the Justicars, I’ve only got an hour to retrieve a rather damning package from the Registrar’s Office before it is delivered to the Port Authorities. Watching the blood drain and the sweat rain from the Captain’s face as the man realizes just how deep and hot the water is, Mouse adds. And another thing, I take exception to your accusation that I’m no sailor. I can Hand, Reef, Knot, Splice, Climb, Lay out, Take in, Sew, and Fight as well or better than most of your crew, as you well know… As you are discovering, I can do more. As for your assumption that I could not, that’s your own failing and should not reflect upon the abilities I have already demonstrated.

The Captain sits there, looking like a man who has woken from a nightmare of being locked in a dungeon, only to find himself on the gallows instead. Realizing just how short his cable-tow is, he asks. What is this going to cost me? What is the price to get you gone from me, my ship, and my life? his voice trembling slightly.

Ten thousand gold pieces Says Mouse with a look of pure malice. And when a fresh look of horror breaks out on the Captain’s face, Mouse bursts into laughter. Raising his hands and shaking his head, he continues. I’m kidding of course, but it would serve you right. In fact, I don’t want any money from you… yet. However, if you continue to screw with me, I may be forced to levy a fine for not cooperating. For now, let’s start with the true reason you wanted to see me today and go from there, shall we? And remember, time is money, and you’re spending yours foolishly.

After some quick calculations, the Captain sees that in this case, the truth may be the cheapest solution and decides to answer him. Fine… Alright…There were a few reasons that I wanted to speak to you. The first was to see if you would reconsider your choice of leaving and stay with the ship. You’re a good sailor, and that torn up letter you now have was an honest evaluation of your skills. Much like that letter, the offer is no more for obvious reasons. The next thing was to find out what you have planned for your party tonight. The crew is torn between excitement and dread about it. These are dangerous emotions for sailors to have, especially when those sailors are going to spend so much time together afterward. It upsets the balance and I don’t like it. The last was to get you to call off your get-together if you wouldn’t give me the information I wanted. Then he sits back in his chair with a look of the ever suffering and put-upon.

Mouse continues to sit and stare at the Captain, then after a bit, he puts his feet on the desk and his hands behind his head. As you can see, the second and third reasons are as dead as the first. Also, your ability to dictate to me is as torn as that letter. Five minutes after the Harbor Watch Bell rings, the Justicars send for their friends. You may get past that, but a half hour after that, a certain package gets delivered, and that bell cannot be un-rung… You’ve left something out.

A look of genuine terror descends on the Captains face as his body goes stiff and his mind races. ‘There is nothing else!’ his thoughts scream. He pleadingly looks to Mouse, whose reaction is a half-smile, raised eyebrows, and him tapping his own chest with his finger. The numbness of shock replaces the icy grip of terror. Impossible. the Captain mutters. Looking at Mouse, who has sat back up in his chair.

Seeing no other option, the Captain hazards his guess. Are you talking about that ridicules pool that some of the other sailors started? The one concerning where you come from?

Congratulations Captain. Mouse says as he claps his hands. Please, don’t look so shocked. You’re a Tyrant, as all good Captains are. And as a Tyrant, you cannot stand to be ignorant of anything that occurs inside your realm. The truth of your ignorance and how much it bothered you lead you to act… injudiciously. You let your feelings be known when you forbade any of your officers from participating in it, saying that to do so would be low and unseemly.

Now, with the rumors of just how much the pool is worth, you want that valuable information in exchange for a bit of ink put to paper… You do think highly of yourself. You could then claim the prize on the sly, most likely using your Steward as your Beard, and thus maintaining the illusion of your infallible knowledge and wisdom. Most likely, by letting the fact that you won slip out once I was gone and you and the crew were back at sea. Because as we all know and you have so amply demonstrated, no-one gainsays the Captain on his own ship while under way, not without unpleasant consequences.

Mouse then stands up, places his hands on the desk and leans over to stare at the Captain. I am going to extend the holding time on that package I mentioned. The price for me retrieving it undelivered and unread is this; you will be at the Hall I rented for tonight’s little party. You will do your best to back me in maintaining order at the party. And finally, if you can leave your ego at the door and stop being a greedy little shit for one night, you might have a bit of genuine fun while learning a thing or five. Mouse then walks to the door and retrieves his sea bag.

With Mouse’s back turned to him, the Captain jumps up, rushes to the bench by his sea chest and snatches up his sword. Drawing the blade, he tosses the scabbard behind him and points the tip at Mouse. Flush-faced, dripping sweat and malice in equal amounts, he snarls at Mouse in a low tone. If you think that for one Gods-Be-Damned moment that I’m going to allow you… And is brought up short by four things; The smile on Mouse’s face, the waggling finger of Mouse’s left hand in a common ‘no-no’ gesture, Mouse’s right hand cupped to his ear, and the distinct sound of the Harbor Watch Bell tolling the hour.

Put that down before you hurt yourself, or more importantly, me. Mouse admonishes. Stop being an idiot, control your emotions and think. No-one knows the real reason for this conversation or what actually transpired. You’ve seen to that, because you couldn’t have any witnesses for your original plan to work, but if you continue this foolishness that will change. You’re already beaten; the question is how bad it will be. Fight me now and you lose everything. Go along, and you lose nothing more than an argument. Perhaps later you’ll get a chance to exact your revenge, kill me nice and slow where you can gloat. You may even consider asking for tips on that subject from the Bosun. That man’s a walking example of a fairy tale villain. Turning his back to the armed man, Mouse opens the door and steps through. Looking back once more, he addresses his former Captain who is still standing there with his sword in hand. I’ve heard before, that it is the pettiest of tyrants that fall the hardest… …Just a thought. And with that, Mouse shuts the door.

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CHAPTER 3

A gathering of worthies.

That evening, seventy-five of the ship’s ninety crewmembers were gathering at the steps of the rented hall. The fourth lieutenant, two midshipmen, and the twelve sailors of the lowest standing having been left on the ship to act as harbor watch. Having already had one night of debauchery to take the edge off, most of the sailors at the foot of the stairs were well enough behaved, clean, sober-ish, and dressed in their shore going rigs. At the top of the stairs the man known to his fellow sailors as Mouse and four other men stand, looking over the crowd.

Smiling, mouse steps forward, raises his arms, and addresses his former ship-mates. Welcome… I was going to say Gentlemen, but I’ve sailed with you scoundrels and couldn’t get that past my teeth without laughing. Thus getting the laughs he was looking for to lessen the sting of the shock to come. These men up here with me are Mr. Gannon, Mr. Worth, and two other worthies of note. He then indicates the well-dressed man to his immediate right. Mr. Gannon is a prominent solicitor in this city. He is here to act as witness and insure that no local laws are broken during our little get together. Mouse then points to the older well dressed man to his far right. Mr. Worth is the Caretaker of this Abbey, and has laid-on a fantastic meal for us, complete with an assortment of local brews, wines, and spirits that will be served with the different courses. This news gets a round of applause and several cheers from the crowd. These last two men are Justicars from the City Watch. the applause stopped like a ship run aground, only silent. I’m glad you’re paying attention… Mouse says sarcastically. Then looking over the crowd he continues. …because their job is to toss your ass out if you get disorderly or violate the rules. Their friends have been told that we’re having a party here, so they’re going to be listening for the whistle from either of these men if they feel they might need help. So behave yourselves.

Reading the crowd, he sees mostly happy faces, some slightly confused, and a few hostile. The good news is that through those doors, food, drink, and entertainment await you. I will even finally tell you something about myself and my homeland. This gets a huge cheer from the crowd. Raising his hands, Mouse gets the crowd to quiet down. The bad news is that I will not be telling you where it is or the name of It. This completely silences the crowd, again. Therefore all the coin collected for the pool on my origins will be spent on this party instead. This was met with mixed results.

Many of you were wondering about me, so I started the pool with the help of the Surgeon and his Mate. I intended to split the money with them and leave when no-one got the right answer, but it got out of hand and the amount of coin was just too damn large to run off with. It would appear that you lot of degenerate bastards will bet on anything… You all need help. This getting a few hard looks, a few laughs, and more smiles than he expected. Just so you know, I read through all of your guesses and… … not one of you was within two months sailing of being right. Some groaned, as only the hardcore gambler can, but most laughed good-naturedly.

"Therefore, I decided