by T B Phillips
“To be fair, you do.” Braston obviously felt the same hesitation but was a man of honor.
“You do realize I’m ready to rig this election, right? You, Amash, and Eusari will win if you say the word, but I need to know soon.” Samani had worked diligently through the months to ensure the outcome, and everything was in place.
“You know how I feel. I promised Eusari that we’d win legitimately and without interference. We have to trust in the people and keep the campaign fair. Every statement is read verbatim, without changing a word. Got that?”
With a sigh, Samani acquiesced, “Fine. I’ll read it.”
They made their way to the docks where the entire town had gathered. The new ships stood in the harbor with colors raised like magnificent sentries standing to protect The Cove. There were enough to call them a fleet now, with more coming every month under Sippen’s team of engineers. The light reflected off their armored hulls and seemingly glowed.
Some of the older ships moored, as well. They had trickled in one by one as word of the new government spread, and every captain had returned except Dominique. Some were curious about Braston, but most were eager to put their letters of marque to use and resume pillaging.
Every candidate, except Horslei and Nevra, stood on the pier ready to address the crowd. After each statement, the people would fan out to three polling places based on their district of residence. Soldiers stationed at every site would screen the residents and ensure each voted only once. They would also escort the ballots to the palace for counting.
Samani stepped forward to address the crowd. “People of The Cove, you know me. I served in Artema Horn’s Inner Sanctum during his entire reign and advised previous kings before him.” Some cheers came from the crowd at Artema’s name, but some shouts of “traitor” and “criminal” heckled, as well. Samani was unsure if those were meant for him or for Artema. “The council has been hard at work drafting our new constitution to both protect you and establish your ownership over the government. It was ratified last night, and copies are available at the polling stations.” This time only cheers met his ears and he paused to allow the applause to die down.
“You will choose your own representatives to the new council based on your place of residence. You will also choose from these nominees to lead the council as a triumvirate, a three headed leadership equal in power and ending the age of kings!” This time the crowd roared, hungry for the power that they believed they would hold in participatory government. “The candidates will randomly draw stones painted with a number signifying their order of speech. I will draw for the absent candidates and read their statements.”
Sippen Yurik held the bucket high above his head and walked before each contender. Adamas Creech drew number one, Eusari drew number three, and Braen chose number five. Good, Samani thought, let his words be the last and the most remembered.
Creech wasted no time and stepped forward to start the show. “The Cove has always invited foreigners from both continents to enjoy the spoils of a granted marque.” He spoke with an eloquence that matched his flamboyant attire. “To invite foreigners is one thing, to allow them to invade our beloved soil and force a new form of government upon us is oppression. After I am elected, I will work to restore the Pirate’s Guild to the true hands of the people. Yes. I will wrench it from the hands of a smiling tyrant from the north and place it in yours.”
A cheer erupted from a large section of the assembly. Samani frowned, not expecting his words to resonate with such a large number. He leaned over to Eusari and whispered into her ear, “No matter what he says about you, remain calm and don’t let them see your anger.” She nodded and continued smiling at the crowd.
“And then we have his wench, the whore who shares his bed as well as fuels his revolution.” Creech pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Eusari.
Samani felt his heart lurch as he watched her stiffen. Oh shit, he thought. Her hand slowly worked its way into her leather jerkin where she kept her assortment of blades. Don’t do it, dearie, he silently pleaded.
“What has she done for us except destroy most of our defenses with her sharpshooters and fancy weaponry? Why doesn’t every captain of the guild share such awesome firepower if this isn’t a tyranny?” More of the crowd clapped and many of the sailors on the wharf began chanting for access to the guns. “A vote for me is one against tyrants and for the rightfully deserving people of our Cove.” He finished his speech with a flourished bow. “Thank you!”
Samani let the deafening applause die down and stepped forward. A quick glance let him know that Eusari still held her hand close to her knives. At least she’s still smiling. But he knew her well enough to recognize the anger behind her clenched teeth. He drew out the first of the two prepared remarks.
“Amash Horslei provided the following, and the words spoken are his own.” He cleared his throat more for effect than necessity, even if it felt dry after Creech’s insults to Eusari. “My brothers and sisters of The Cove. Today marks an auspicious occasion for our beloved guild; one that will establish precedence for social contract theory with our representatives and provide an opportunity for recourse should they fail in their duties in popular sovereignty.”
Damn it, Amash! Samani could tell instantly that, although the man was brilliant and well educated, he had missed his audience. The crowd stood dumbfounded, whispering for their neighbors to translate. Kernigan thought fast and ad-libbed. “It’s a good day when you can hold your government accountable and take action to remove them if they fail to act on your behalf!” His quick thinking worked, and the crowd erupted in applause and chants of “Vote them out!”
Samani stepped back and glanced at Braen who shot a disapproving stare. His pulse quickened when Eusari stepped forward, awfully close to Creech and with her hand in her leathers. “Yes. My esteemed opponent speaks true. I share a bed with Braen Braston, but I am not his puppet nor his prize.” The women in the audience screamed their approval, drowning out the cat calls of the men. “My words and my mind, just as my body, are mine. No man will ever convince me otherwise. I am empowered and strong because, as a dear friend once taught me, I choose it for myself.”
She drew something out of her jerkin and Samani held his breath. She was in striking distance of Adamas and a single knife could end the day with bloodshed. Instead of steel she drew out a folded piece of paper which she carefully opened and continued her speech. Samani let out the air in his chest with an audible sigh. She turned and gave him a knowing wink as she talked.
“But today is not about me or any man on this stage. Today is about selecting leadership into an age of prosperity. Vote for me and you choose to balance strength with compassion. Ignore the words spoken today out of hatred and negativity and select the leaders who will provide you with protection against the wars that rage around us. Thank you.”
Samani could not believe his ears. He had never heard her speak with such passion or with as many words, for that matter. She was brilliant! He resisted the urge to join the wild applause from the crowd and waited until every clap had ceased to sound. And then he swallowed hard to prepare his next statement.
“And now I read the statement from Lord Stefan Nevra, unable to attend due to pre-trial confinement.” He closed his eyes to steady himself before continuing. “Again, these words are not my own.” He swallowed hard and shook his head in disbelief at the words on the paper.
“People of The Cove. Braen Braston is a murderer and a foreign invader. He has forced you to accept a form of government that usurps my legitimate rule as your king. I was chosen by Artema Horn who faked his death so that he could enjoy uninterrupted retirement. I apologize that I chose to spread the lies to you, as he suggested. Had I told you the truth, I would still be your benevolent king.”
The crowd murmured and Samani could see many heads bobbing and pointing at Braen. “Captain Braston wants to put me on trial for crimes
that he cannot prove, but neither he nor any candidate before you can wield the scepter of justice over my head, because I am the law and your rightful king. Raise me from my prison and restore me with the power of your revolution. Kill Braston. Kill Horslei. Kill Kernigan. Kill Creech. Kill the she-bitch. Kill them all.”
Samani stepped back and crumpled up the paper, tossing it into the water in front of him. All eyes stared at him expectantly. Creech broke the silence by leaning close to Eusari. “And you thought ‘my’ speech was full of mudslinging? He’s way more eloquent with his insults.” She nodded agreement through her still clenched smile.
Only Braen remained unaffected and stepped before the silent crowd. “Yes, I’m an invader, but he and Adamas are wrong to call me foreign. I love The Cove, and the destruction and lost lives that I brought with me are on my conscience every night. Artema Horn was my mentor and friend, but he profited from a deal he made with Marcus Esterling and turned his back on all of us. His ‘retirement,’ as he called it, is actually an abandonment of every citizen of The Cove.”
He stood tall on the pier, facing the crowd with the regal stature of a king. As he spoke Samani could not help but marvel how different everything would be if this born leader had stayed in Fjorik. But the prophesy foresaw that he wouldn’t.
Braen continued, “And to think that he left Nevra in charge? A man accused of stealing your wives and daughters and selling them to slavers? I cannot tell you how he will be judged, but I can promise that a vote for me is for justice and fairness.” His voice boomed over the silent crowd, no one speaking out of fear of missing a single word from the Kraken.
“The concerns regarding my war against my brother and the claims that it is personal are valid. I will not conceal my motive, but I will not press any of you into a war against your will. If elected, I will ask the council to promote me to the rank of admiral with war powers to sail a volunteer armada against Fjorik and Marcus Esterling. There are spoils to be gained in such a war and I will outfit every crew that participates with the new weaponry. Our allies on the mainland are amassing an army that will assist with raids from the ground, helping to ensure our success. The time to strike with revolution is now, and a vote for me is a vote for a different world.” When Braen finished speaking he turned to Samani and whispered. “Do it. Win this by any means necessary.”
Part II
Choice and Consequence
Pain and suffering early known,
Raised a king without a crown.
– The Oracle of Astian, 702nd year of order
Chapter Eighteen
The streets of Eskera were always busy no matter the time of day. People bustled from place to place despite the late hour; the market full of vendors peddling all sorts of wares. Lively tunes radiated from buildings as musicians entertained. Renowned for music, a budding prodigy would travel far to learn from the masters of the arts. Visitors loved the energy that surrounded the city, but Alec Pogue paid no heed. He was a man on a mission.
He made his way through these streets every evening since arriving in the city, determined to find his quarry in a brothel or tavern. When they had arrived in port, there was no mistaking Dominique’s ship Aggressor tied off to the pier. He spent the first few days watching and listening for signs of the slave trader, but quickly learned that the ship, like all other warships in the harbor, had been seized by King Robert and pressed into service. Alec had to look for Dominique deeper in the city, searching the pubs and restaurants near the entertainment district.
Eskera enjoyed more than modest wealth, not because of its resources, but because all trade up and down the Misting River paid usage taxes in her ports. Even with the blockade, the people within the walls acted as if no war loomed in the East or drew nearer each day. The district was full of all types, from sharply dressed merchants and escorted women in flowing gowns to prostitutes and peddlers of questionable wares.
Alec stood outside a theater, scanning the crowds partying in the streets. This city could be razed next week but no one’s worried, he thought. It’s been so long without conflict that they believe war is only fought by soldiers in the field. He felt the eyes of residents on balconies above the shops but felt confident that he blended in.
A whore ambled up, deep in her cups and stumbling from too much revelry. “Ow bout uh tumble in the alley, yuh lawdship?” She slurred her words as she pawed at him.
“Not interested.” He gently pushed her away, mindful of his purse. The woman shrugged and quickly found a buyer to take her into the shadows. Alec shook his head, trying to keep it clear, but thoughts of Mattie and the girls bubbled up to the surface. Alexa would be of age soon, and Liza was already a woman. He hoped it wasn’t too late, that they hadn’t succumbed to their fates and chosen the same profession as this drunkard. Of course, if he were to believe Lord Nevra, they had already been forced into it against their will.
He nearly killed the man on that day and silently wished he had. But his old friend Amash had dueled away his rage, insisting that the monster stand trial for his crimes according to the code of the guild. But the blatant confession haunted Alec. Nevra’s poxed face had contorted when he hissed out his claim that he and his men had taken advantage of all three. With pleasure he told Pogue that Dominique and his son had sold them as whores on the southern continent.
Hope still clung to his heart that they were unharmed; that their minds weren’t broken from the abuse. Gods please grant them the strength to heal. Mattie was a fine mother, and, as long as they remained together, he knew they would be fine. Or at least he hoped.
A flashy uniform caught his eye across the street, scarlet in color and nautical, contrasting sharply with the white of the king’s army. He focused on Adolphus Dominique, the son of the slave trader, emerging from a gambling den with two pretty girls on his arms. His heart leaped in his chest. They’re the right ages. But as he stepped closer, he could tell that these were not his girls.
Following the lad was easy in the crowd, with so many people for concealment. A proper short sword hung at the boy’s side, meaning that he was either classically trained like his father or a fool. It was safer to assume that he was well trained and experienced. Alec touched the dual cutlasses at his own sides. Only one man had ever bested him with blades, and that had been his protégé Amash. Of course, he had been recovering from a wound in his side at the time, but Horslei had shown considerable talent with the two bladed technique. It was a pity that the era of swordsmanship waned with the advent of Braston’s new weapons. Any man can pull a trigger, but only a master swung steel and lived.
The boy and the two girls walked through the first ward. This was the home to the wealthiest of Eskerans, especially the noble families who controlled the old shipping rights. But new wealth slowly joined the old and freshly built houses dotted the streets. Manor homes popped up on lots sold off by the families who had slowly lost their grip on the city’s high society. Adolphus steered the young ladies into one of these.
Grinning with victory, Pogue hurried back to the palace to retrieve Horslei. Out of breath he approached his old friend. “I found the bastard.”
“Great! When do you want to do it?”
“Tonight. Right now.” Pogue was already buckling his leather chest plate with high protective collar. It would protect him from glancing blows.
Amash watched him with concern. “You expect a fight?”
He nodded. “Both the kid and the father are skilled with the sword. This may turn bad quickly, and I don’t want to risk dying before I find Mattie and the girls.”
Amash grabbed his sword belt from the table and buckled it to hang in the same fashion as Pogue’s. He paused midway through fitting his own armor and froze, eyes fixated on the open door. “Shit, Alec.” He nodded toward the little girl in the doorway.
Marita smiled her trademark grin at the duo. “Oh goodie! You found him!”
Al
ec turned slowly to meet her voice and nodded. “Don’t let anyone know that we have. Also, if you’re questioned, fib and say that we’ve been here all night.”
“But that would be a lie, Captain Pogue.” She spoke with sharp condemnation that sent panic through both men. Alec drew a deep breath and imagined the girl giving them up to authorities because she thought pirates followed a code. Amash started to speak, but Marita cut him off with a giggle. “Just kidding! But your faces were funny. But I won’t be lying because I’m going with you. If they’re that good of swordsmen, then you’ll need my help to bind them.”
“Absolutely not,” Amash shook his head, adding emphasis when he added, “No.”
“Wait.” Alec put up his hand, not to the girl but to his friend. “She’s right. We can’t go in there overburdened with ropes or chains to tie both men. Plus, Adolphus will be in bed with two women.” He walked over to Marita who still grinned. Kneeling, he gently placed his hand on her shoulder and locked eyes. “dearie, what we do tonight is dark business.”
“I know, like what you had to do to the captain on the ship.”
“Yes, exactly like that. It’s the kind of thing that could get us in trouble, but we do it because we have to. If you go with us, you must lie through your teeth, or we’ll all hang from our necks at King Robert’s order. It’s the code! Do you understand?” She nodded vigorously, thrusting her thumb upward to match her ludicrous grin. “Good. Then go put on dark clothing, preferably britches like Eusari wears.”
Her eyes grew wide at the mention of her mentor. “I can be like her tonight?”
“Exactly like her, dearie. Now hurry!”
The girl scurried off and Amash took a step toward his friend. “What the hell was that?”
“She’s coming because we need her.”