Four
When Nico woke, he was bound to a chair in the middle of a dark, gray room. His head throbbed, and he felt the unmistakable stickiness of dried blood on the side of his face. He barely remembered being hit; it felt like a distant dream. In fact, the entire day was starting to feel like a hazy, fabricated nightmare.
Nico didn't realize he wasn't alone until a lantern suddenly hissed to life. He squinted, trying to get a better look at the person who shared the room with him. She wanted to be seen, because she rose from her chair and closed the distance between them. Her footsteps were slow and deliberate, and each one echoed. She stopped in front of him and raised her arm, bathing her face in the lantern's light.
“Hello there, Your Highness.” Her voice was deep and cold.
Nico studied her with panicked eyes. She was a dark-skinned woman, and her wild pink hair made him think of a flower's petals.
“Don't look so frightened, Prince!” In one hand, she held the lantern. In her other hand, Nico realized she was holding a shotgun. When she caught him staring at the weapon, she shouldered it. “You don't need to be afraid of little old me.”
“Why am I here?” Nico's question was followed by a groan. “Did you drag me here? Where am I?”
“One question at a time, please!” The woman watched him struggle against the bonds that held him, which was hilariously useless, since she was holding a loaded shotgun. Even if he managed to wriggle out of the ropes, he wasn't going anywhere. “What was your first question? Why are you here? Hmm. I should probably let my boss explain that.”
“Who?” Nico whimpered.
“I'll let him introduce himself. He likes to make an entrance, and I don't want to take that away from him.” The woman cocked her head and grinned. “I'm Vee, by the way. Now... what was your second question? Did I drag you here? Of course I did. But I had help. We had to get you out of the pub as quickly and inconspicuously as possible, so there were a few of us working together. I had the pleasure of tying you up, though. Those ropes are nice and snug, aren't they? I bet you've never been cozier. You're welcome.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Not Gee. Vee,” she said with a wink. “I don't remember the last question you asked, and quite frankly, I don't care. I'm not here to answer your questions all day, I'm just supposed to watch over you until he gets here.”
“So you're not going to tell me who you're working for, where I am, and why I'm here?” Nico pouted at her.
“No, no and no. Why should I care to answer your questions?” Vee walked away from him, laid down her lantern, and lit a cigar. After puffing on it a few times, she asked, “Would you like a drag, sweetie?”
Nico shook his head.
“No? Are you sure? These are some expensive cigars, made in South Columbigo. I only smoke the best. You're missing out on a rare opportunity, Prince.” When he shook his head again, Vee sighed. “Oh well. Your loss.” She leaned against the wall and continued to smoke it.
A door suddenly opened, and for a moment, light poured into the room. An ominous cloaked figure appeared in the doorway. When the man stepped inside and closed the door, Nico shuddered. He had a feeling something terrible was about to happen.
“Good evening, Your Highness,” spoke a rich, masculine voice. “Has Vee made you nice and comfortable?”
“So comfortable.” Vee answered on his behalf. “I'm sure the prince is so cozy, he might just take a nap.”
The man answered her sarcasm with more sarcasm. “Well, he better not fall asleep just yet. We have some important matters to discuss.” A dry chuckle slipped from his throat as he sauntered closer to Nico.
The room was dark, but when the man was standing directly in front of him, Nico could see him well enough. Half of his face was concealed behind a crooked silver mask. He was dressed in all black: black cloak, black breeches, black top hat. Even the man's hair was deepest black. If he meant to look menacing, it was a resounding success. Nico's body instinctively cowered at the sight of him.
“So... I'm assuming you have some questions for me,” the man said. “I'll answer three. And you better consider your questions carefully, because I'll answer no more than that.”
The first question was easy. “Who are you?” Nico tried to sit up straight. Even though he was terrified, he didn't want to look too intimidated.
“My name's Thomas Harriot,” the man replied. “But I prefer to go by Harriot because Thomas is so... ordinary. Tom is even worse, but some people insist on calling me that anyway. Does that sufficiently answer your question?”
“I call him Tommy,” Vee added. “He really, really hates it, so you better not copy me if you want to keep your life.”
“Don't scare the prince, Vee! I'm not going to kill him.” Harriot's mouth wasn't covered by the mask, so his grin was on full display. “Our leader would like me to kill him, but I'm more merciful than that. In fact, you should be glad that I'm the one standing in front of you, not him. He would treat your life like a throwaway thing.”
“Who's your leader?” Nico asked.
“Is that question number two? That's a big one!” Harriot rubbed his palms together, as if he was excited to reveal the truth. “When you were a baby, Prince Nico, there was a rebel group called Eversio. Our leader was a founder of that group. At the time, all they wanted was peace and prosperity for everyone, including the destitute. They were never violent, but they were very outspoken... and it was enough to frighten your father. Twenty years ago, Eversio was routed by the emperor. In fact, your father committed atrocities to ensure they would never rise again. There was a very thorough purge of Eversio and its supporters.”
“I've never heard this before,” Nico said.
“You haven't? I can't say I'm surprised. I imagine you lived a sheltered life in the palace. They protected you from all sorts of unpleasant truths, I'm sure.” As he continued his story, the masked man walked away from Nico's chair and paced around the room. “Well... Eversio did rise again. Only this time, we're less about peaceful protests and more about getting things done. We have a plan. And for many of us, including myself, revenge is part of that plan.” Harriot stopped walking and held up a finger. “Now, I believe you have one more question. Make it count.”
“Why are you doing this?” Nico was wincing as he asked the question. His arms were tied so tightly, they were starting to hurt. “Why have you captured me?”
“That sounds like two questions!” Vee pointed out.
“It does. However, I'm feeling very generous, so I'll count it as one.” Harriot returned to Nico's chair and knelt in front of him. “Are you prepared for the shock of your life, Your Highness?”
“No.” The masked man was uncomfortably close, so Nico tried to scoot back in his chair. “Not really.”
“That's too bad, because you'll be hearing the truth regardless. You see... our group needs a foothold in the palace. If we're going to succeed, we need someone on the inside. We need someone to get us in. We need someone the royal family wouldn't suspect. We need you.” The masked man's eerie grin suddenly reappeared. “Or we need something like you.”
“Should I bring him in?” Vee asked. When she saw Harriot's nod, she picked up her shotgun and fled from the room.
“I'm very sorry about this, Your Highness,” Harriot whispered to Nico when Vee was out of the room. “Well... I'm not too terribly sorry, to be honest. But for all I know, you could be a nice young man. You're about to be punished for the sins of your father, and that doesn't seem fair. God knows I would hate to be punished for my father's sins.”
“Just let me go!” Nico tried to plea with his captor. “It sounds like you have reservations about this! I'm not sure what you're planning, but it's not too late to stop!”
“You're mistaken,” Harriot corrected him. “I don't have reservations. What will be done must be done. At the end of the day, I have no regrets.”
“Why are you wearing a mask?”
Harriot snidely clicked his
tongue. “No no no, Your Highness. That would be a fourth question. I said I'd only answer three, remember?”
When Vee returned, she brought someone with her. She escorted the young man to the center of the room and raised her lantern, letting its light illuminate his face.
As soon as Nico saw him, a fearful tremor rocked his body.
The young man looked identical to Prince Nico.
“I don't believe this man requires an introduction,” Harriot said with a snort. “He's you. Or he will be you, once we take him to the palace. He's to be your replacement.”
“Why? How?” Nico bellowed.
“If you're asking me to explain the science behind it, you're out of luck.” Harriot reached into his coat and pulled out a long, sheathed dagger. In a quick motion, he unsheathed the blade and pointed it at the captured prince. When Nico saw how razor-sharp and jagged it was, his stomach turned. “I only know that someone paid a lot of money to make a copy of you. Believe me, Heigal's notes weren't easy to come by, but they were certainly worth it.”
“Wh-what are you going to do with that knife?” Nico mumbled as the blade drifted closer to his face. “I thought you said you weren't going to kill me!”
“I'm not. But I need to alter you in some way. That way, I'll always know who's the real prince and who's the fake.” Harriot grabbed Nico's hand, which was already tied up, and flattened it against the arm of the chair. “I'm really sorry about this, Your Highness, but this is going to hurt. It's going to hurt a lot, actually.”
Harriot's knife descended to the little finger of Nico's left hand. When he started sawing the blade back and forth, Nico screamed and thrashed.
“I'd stop moving if I was you,” Vee advised him. “You don't want him to slip up and sever the rest of your hand, do you?”
But Nico couldn't stop. The pain was so immense, he rocked in his chair, whimpering and crying.
“As much as I hate doing this, it's better than the alternative,” Harriot assured him. When Nico's little finger fell off, it bounced on the ground. Harriot picked it up, pitched it into a waste basket, and sheathed his knife. “Bind his hand, Vee. We don't want him bleeding all over the floor.”
Vee did as she was told. She coiled a bandage around Nico's bleeding hand, then she tried to offer him a drink from her flask. Nico wasn't a regular drinker, and he didn't trust her not to poison him, but he was in so much pain, he couldn't refuse. The prince gulped from her flask until there was barely anything in it.
“So, Prince Nico...” Harriot sighed as he spoke. “I'm taking the impostor prince to the palace. I don't want to kill you, so you're going with Vee. She's taking you to Bordeaux, I believe. You're to be kept there until I say otherwise.”
“Oh, you'll like Bordeaux!” Vee exclaimed. “Their whorehouse is top notch. I'll find you a real nice lover, and you'll forget all about this awful day, you poor thing.” Vee smiled and stroked his hair. He would have liked to dodge her hand, but he was in too much pain to do anything.
Harriot stood beside his clone and laid a hand on the false Nico's shoulder. “Think of this as an escape, Your Grace. Haven't you always wanted to go out and see more of the world? Now's your chance!” Harriot suddenly lowered his voice. “And if you're smart, you won't cause any trouble for me, because if you do... I'll kill you.”
Five
It was a big day for the Baltmoor Aerial Militia—perhaps even a big day for the entire world. Letitia Rose Jordan was to become its first female captain, if not the first female captain in Columbigan history. On her twenty-first birthday, her father, the esteemed Admiral Jordan, decided to hand over his tertiary airship to her command.
But not everyone approved.
“She's too young!” Admiral Jordan's wife chased him throughout the airship, liberally voicing her concerns. “I know it's a big deal for her, but she simply isn't ready!”
“She's ready,” the admiral objected. “I know she is. She's a strong girl, Abigail. She's a good shot, a decent swordsman...”
“Swordswoman,” Abigail gently corrected him. “And that's the problem! Don't you understand? She'll be all alone on a vessel... with all men. They won't listen to her. They won't respect her. They might even hurt her!”
Admiral Jordan heaved a lengthy sigh as he turned to face his wife. “These are my men you're talking about. Lettie will be their captain, but at the end of the day, they're my men. They're in the service of the Baltmoor Aerial Militia. Do you really think these are the sort of gentlemen who would lack respect for their captain?”
“Of course not... if their captain was a man.”
The admiral groaned at his wife's complaints. “Give them a chance!”
“But she's so young! She's practically a child!”
“She's one and twenty! When I was twenty, I was leading men into battle.” He gave his wife's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Lettie is very level-headed and decisive under pressure. She'll be alright. If I didn't trust her, I wouldn't be handing over one of my favorite airships to her.”
“But... but...!” Abigail was running low on arguments. But she was determined to keep at it, because she didn't want to lose her daughter. “She's our only child!”
“I'm well-aware of that, dear, which is why I've gathered some of the very best men to accompany her.”
“It won't be enough!” Abigail whined. “I have a bad feeling about it.”
“Is Mother still protesting?”
When she heard her daughter speaking behind her, Abigail spun around and gasped. “Tell him! Tell your father! Tell him you're not ready, Lettie. Tell him this is madness!”
“But it's not,” Lettie confidently replied, firmly supporting her father's decision. “I am ready. I know I am.”
Apart from being female, Letitia Jordan looked the part of a captain. She was dressed to the nines, in royal blue breeches, a snug waistcoat, a dark brown greatcoat and an intricately tied cravat. She even wore a top hat, on which there was a rose pinned to the brim. The hat was a bit large for her head, so it slanted to the left, but the obvious tilt only made her look charming. Her chin-length honey brown hair was drenched in sunlight, and her cheeks glowed pink behind the plethora of freckles on her face.
The thought of commanding her own airship was unnerving, but Lettie was glad her father was giving her the chance. Most fathers wouldn't have been half as generous. If Admiral Jordan was any less progressive, he would have found her a rich husband to marry. Instead, he supported her career and ambitions, and she was eternally grateful for that.
“Oh... Lettie!” Her mother's arms suddenly flew around her. “I'm proud of you. I really am. I'm just afraid to lose you! Like your father, you'll be away on dangerous missions for weeks and weeks, and I'll never know if and when you'll return!”
“Speaking of which...” Lettie spoke as she wriggled out of her mother's embrace. “What is my first mission?” They were standing on the deck of her father's airship, but Lettie's attention was focused on her airship, which was docked beside them. Lettie couldn't stop staring at it. It was a slim, medium-sized, agile black ship with huge propellers built into its sides. Every time she thought about climbing aboard and addressing her crew, her pulse raced.
Captain Jordan. Lettie still couldn't believe it. She was actually Captain Jordan now. As the first female captain and the daughter of Admiral Jordan, people were expecting great things of her, and she couldn't let them down.
“I'm sending you south, to the city of Durby. Last night, I learned a troubling bit of news. Someone might be planning to... attack the city.” He seemed reluctant to discuss the mission while his wife was standing beside him.
And he was right to be reluctant, because Abigail shrieked, “Attack? You're sending Lettie to get attacked?”
“No, dear, I'm sending Lettie to prevent an attack. With the right airship in her hands, I have no doubt she'll be up to the task.” The admiral smiled at his daughter, who proudly returned the gesture. As soon as he saw the smile on Letit
ia's lips, his heart felt a little bit lighter. Every time his wife made him doubt himself, Lettie's self-assurance put his fears to rest.
“Ohhhh!” Abigail groaned. She was coming closer to abandoning her argument. When her stubborn husband and equally-stubborn daughter were against her, she had no hope. “I can see you're both determined to ignore my feelings on the matter. So... go ahead. Give her the ship! Give her the dangerous mission... but don't say I didn't warn you!”
“You're too overprotective, Mother,” Lettie said.
“And your father gives you too much freedom!” Abigail crossed her arms and simpered. “But... I admit defeat. When your father's this determined, there's really nothing else I can say!”
Ignoring his wife, Admiral Jordan stepped forward and pinned a badge to Lettie's lapel. That made it official. His young daughter was now a captain of the Baltmoor Aerial Militia, in charge of her very own airship.
“Before you go, I believe there's a young man who would like to speak to you,” Admiral Jordan said, bowing his head in the direction of a handsome blonde sailor. “I'm leaving now, and I'm taking your mother with me. I think you might like some privacy.”
The admiral was sure his wife had more protests on the tip of her tongue, so he took her by the arm and dragged her away before she could say another word.
“George!” Lettie's smile broadened as she waved to her boyfriend. They had been together for almost five months, and yet her heart still raced when he approached.
George Whitley was as perfect as a man could be—and he was hers. Sometimes, Lettie couldn't believe her good fortune. He was easily the handsomest man she had ever seen, with his chiseled cheekbones, bright blue eyes and sun-kissed blonde hair. He had full, pink lips, which were flanked by dimples when he smiled. He was tall, broad, clever, kind, and he always supported her ambitions. Lettie knew she was lucky to have him, and that made her determined to hold on to him.
The Lady Captain Page 3