Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

The beat of his heart against her ear combined with the pleasure of being held so close to his chest and his warmth flowing into her, had her own heartbeat quickening. Thus the words then spoken were like a shower of cold water. She looked over at the pirate she killed and shivered. The shadows that played could be easily mistaken for ghosts if one believed in the spirits. She believed in spirits.

Her mind was whirling, her breath for a moment flowing in jerky gasps. Talk...he wished to talk, now...now after she had finally started to make a new life. A new life now in shambles since she killed a pirate to save a worthless boy’s life. She would have to go below deck once more, and just when she was so tired of running. The weight of it all seemed to crush the fight right out of her. All her senses told her to flee...to just take off and take off preferably with billowing sails. She struggled to accept the loss of another attempt for a life. But leaving Franky here, in his own piss, would render the life she snuffed out a worthless action. Her peace of mind could not allow that.


And like as if said mind had come to the end of a long list of considerations, she gestured vaguely towards the dark alleyway between buildings behind the unconscious Franky.

“His aunt lives in the Jewel Ward. It is not too far. And she knows me well...which is the only reason I was entangled in all of this in the first place…”

Her voice sounded so...bitter and jaded, even to her own ears. She was not the girl he once wooed and abandoned. Not anymore. She wondered what he would think of what she had become. She wondered if he would really care. Then she hated herself for even wondering. He was bad news, trouble walking on two legs. And she would be far better off if he did not care.



The assassin nodded and finally let go off her. “Mm… ‘ight, betta get goin’ then.” He pulled his hood back up and leaned over, his leather gloved hands reaching for the unconscious body.

So… basically… instead of tossing Rosabel over my shoulder, it was Franky who got privileged. Not that he completely deserved this service as I bet he never ever before had faced the consequences of his actions. But neither did the boy deserve whatever it was these guys’ clients or captain have ordained.


And neither did... -they-...

I turned a moment to look at the bodies at my feet and I actually felt pity for them. Young lads who once as boys had been lured into the romantic illusion that was pirate’s life, lads who had harbored merely notions of the dangers such contained. I bet to neither of these three lads it actually had occured to they could end up sailing into madness under the flag of a captain displaying bloodthirsty behaviour... or the possibility of ending up in dark, damp, perilous dungeon chained to a wall with merely nothing but a few scraps of cloth clinging to their bones, their skulls hanging down as if they had left to the life beyond this merely by dozing off.


Since, in their dreams many of these young lads saw themself showing off their bling while strolling hand in hand with some sexy pirate lass down sweet golden sand near a twilight blue ocean. The promise of wealth had something to do with this foolishness, along with the snare to catch these minds camouflaged in the numerous tales and songs meant to implant the idea of aspiring a life that escapes ‘tyranny’. I myself have actually been one of those ‘unknowing propagandists’, armed with a lute I had used for the job, a device which was now lying shattered to pieces at the rocky bottom of some unknown cliff.

But I couldn’t help it recalling the words and the melody. As… yes… I did recall them all too well.

song + lyrics : https://worldwideadventurers.bandcamp.c ... ate-shanty

Not wasting any time, and without hiding the bodies I followed Rosabel wordlessly into a narrow alley, carefully stepping between debris and the waste inevitably disposed between it. Now, I may have lost my ability to identify color, but not my sense of smell. Here and there I picked up the scent of human and animal excrements. I was used to some stuff but at some point we crossed an area where the stench burned an unforgettable smell into our nostrils ever so deeply, so much worse than a leg displaying an infectious disease in the shape of multiple festering wounds. Something over there in a dark corner was rotting away into the very core of its empty, soulless shell. I shook my head. Something that was far far beyond any help. And when I glanced over at Rosabel, I noticed I wasn’t the only one whose stomach turned.


For a moment the girl had to stop, her palm flat against a wall as she leaned, the back of her other hand covering her mouth as she attempted to ease her gag reflex.

“Jist make fists, Bel’… make fists...” the assassin behind her whispered while exhibiting the nervous impulse to cast a few furtive yet worried glances over his free shoulder, the boy like a sack of potatoes over his other.

Rosabel could easily detect Ric’s behaviour, as if he was expecting a boat to show up, filled with black-robed killers paddling towards them. The leather of the man’s outfit squeaked softly as he shifted Franky’s weight. She could notice his eyes, noticing they never settled on one spot, alertly scanning their surroundings. Yet he remained without further words or other sounds.


So much suffering. Part of her gift was a higher degree of empathy. She could sense the pain of others, she was more aware of things others tend to miss. It did her well when pretending to tell fortunes. But in a situation like this, it was a liability. The scent of death was a sickening perfume, surrounding her in a suffocating shroud. She could not escape it. She had to escape it, but she couldn’t breath. All the while, there was a prickling sensation at the back of her neck as well. That feeling of being hunted.

Was death now stalking her? The spirit of the pirate whose life she had taken? She looked back for a moment, her knees going weak. Ric’s voice called her back to reality though, her hands balling into fists at the command. It helped...if only a little. But then she noticed, he felt it too. Perhaps it was not just her guilt chasing her. Perhaps the specter she felt was something far more mortal, and perhaps far more dangerous than any spirit she could imagine.

So she concentrated on Ric. Stepping where he stepped, watching the play of muscles that rippled under the leather as he carried the boy. She whispered directions, not surprised that he seemed to know exactly where to go and how to get there. He was always resourceful. He got rid of her quick enough after all…

Bitterness welled up. Fed to the sharks...was it true? Or just a handy lie to deflect her anger? She hated that small kernel of hope that was taking root in a heart that she long believed dead.

Just as dead as the child she had lost...




A pair of black boots stopped just outside the puddle of thick blood pooling from under one of the three cold bodies. And as if the owner wanted to make sure he didn’t ruin the fine quality leather, he took one step back before he crouched, sweeping a dark cloak back over his shoulder. There was of course an entirely different reason why he was so careful. A glacial calmness seemed to be running through this man’s veins as he fingered some blood-soaked cloth with the tip of a lengthy stiletto, his head leaning a bit to the side as he studied the entry wound which had been delivered from above. He peered up from under his hood at the roofs and quizzingly looked out into the night, a single ring glittering upon his finger as he silently put on supple leather gloves.

An instant later the ‘boots’ were gone and the pitch-black alley was deserted again, once more without anyone caring to close the staring eyes and gaping mouths on any of those corpses, let alone cover them...

At some point Ric stopped and scanned the alley ahead. The darkness was heavy like a tomb, the alley behind and in front of them seemingly desolate, but the man knew things could be deceiving. And so he remained in the deepest of shadows along with the young woman, his forefinger rising to his lips as a sign of silence. And they waited, -not- rushing things at all. The man smirked a bit to himself.

Unlike in the past.

And the longer they waited, the more their hearing seemed to improve. A drop of what was high likely waste water splashing into a dirty puddle somewhere in the distance, pieces of laundry rustling in the breeze above them, a woman hollering through one of those closed shutters, clearly having an argument with her man, and a door slowly squeaking on its hinges as it was opened and closed not that far behind them.


My trouble bobble had been itching for too long now. I looked at Rosabel and shook my head once to her. There was no way we’d be moving, not yet.
‘Expect the unexpected as whatever god may have something up his or her sleeve... anything… except a miracle. As for all you know a devil may be send in the disguise of angel.’ Wise words I guess from my once mentor, but at times they have proven more true than my very own reflection in the mirror.

This waiting was getting troublesome however. Franky wasn’t very heavy, but after carrying him for over more than half an hour while moving through this type of terrain, I started to feel his weight in my knees. Yet I didn’t dare to move. And another thing. The longer we stood there, the more I found it hard to not have my swirling thoughts on Bel’ distract me. How the hell did she manage to escape after she was thrown to the sharks? Or did they fished her up again, had a bit more fun before they dumped her in the conviction the sharks would get her? How much more had she suffered? Cause if they had made her su…

I cut off this maelstrom of thoughts with a pinch at my ear. See what I mean? -Dis-tracting-

And not a moment too soon either as I perceived two silhouettes stopping at the entrace of the deep alley we were in. I held my breath when I saw weapons clearly outlining against the background, the metal several hues lighter than the blackness surrounding them. But then the sound of a tiny stone dropping from a roof down an outer wall and clattering to the ground had those men turn their backs on us. One of them was making silent gestures and they took off in a direction opposite to ours. But dammit, I suppressed a curse when I stopped Bel’ with the back of my hand. Against which she almost ran into with her nose. But I didn’t care at this point. It’s not because there was no visible danger that the coast was clear. I ignored the fury briefly flaring her eyes, though I think she realized as she waited like a good girl in silence next to me.

So close next to me...

Dammit Ric… dammit…


After a stop that seemed to last like hours, they continued their journey through many more ‘useful’ streets and alleys, the assassin keeping his keen eye on the rooftops and any fast getaway routes by sight. Then, all of a sudden, where there first barely had been any light, the sky turned bright, the moon shining like a diffuse ocean above them as pallid clouds dissolved. Buildings became higher than the ones at the docks had been. Pitch black candle-like structures lined out, rising up against the night sky, some protuding from roofs.

The jungle of washing lines and frayed rope ends made way for clear and well-kept terraces, most of them featuring little gardens that seemed regularly weeded and kept in good condition. Rods had been used to hang oil lanterns, and the light these soft burning lamps spread, cast a play of light and shadow around the walls and tips of dozens of minarets, structures that dominated this city’s skyline. The height of these creations, build of stone cut from quarries in nearby hills, was usually designed in proportion to how deep ones pocket were. The higher the buildings got, the more wealthier the people living inside were.

It was that hour of the night were the pair found the balconies and terraces empty, and the assassin briefly squinted at the surrounding steep, narrow spiraling stone staircases before he motioned to continue. The two with their ‘package’ trudged in silence through the streets, -shadows cast on their faces-, and still none had crossed their path...

Almost too easy heh. But if anyone shows up and does ask, I have my story ready and I just will have to be faster than Rosabel’s chatty lips. Unfortunately, and as far as I recall, she’s an incompetent liar whereas I once used to be a master of pooring the truth into an all concealing masquerade. Or rather a master of deceit who decided who wasn’t worth the truth. I smiled sadly to myself. Back then I did had to watch out to keep truth and deception well seperated as my lies were at times so complex and good, it almost felt like they were true, even to me. Not always the best way to go as the more complex you build up a lie, the more complicated it may become to cover every aspect. A few times it even had been necessary to enforce lies into truth, making things happen that hadn’t happened. Just to cover our asses.
As long as we fared well I suppose.

We were clearly getting into the better parts of the city, so we better kept our eyes and ears open. And hopefully Bel’ will keep her mouth shut. Well… at least until we have delivered this lame drunk to his aunt. For me it has been a while since I last visited these parts. But the docks just proved to have more opportunities for a case like myself. Yea sure, it was probably at lot more dangerous, but around here I’d also have to take the Guard into account should my cover ever get blown. And the infrastructure about… well… it simply did not lend itself greatly to ‘neck-breaking solutions’.


How confusedly buildings earlier on had been heaped and piled together, and how very narrow streets and alleys had been, shutting out the cold wind, how well-arranged, spacy and windy the suburban street the young woman lead them into proved. There were even sidewalks and vegetation in the shape of tidy yards walled in with designful wrought iron between what appeared to be a main road and the homes. The homes around here were clearly older, yet almost each of them seemed to feature such refurbished, decorated facades and timber patios that it caused the transition from those shanty dwellings to this obviously flourishing neighbourhood to be universally shocking.


Fecking ‘home sweet home’.
At least those last three words is what I read from a wooden sign above one of the doors we passed. This ‘trip’ we were doing made me rediscover one of the other reasons why I hadn’t picked this location over the docks to go into hiding.

My aversion to the wealthy.

I know I wasn’t fair at all, and that my current thoughts were partially still affected by events from my childhood. Of course I realized that there were a lot of hardworking and successful citizens about who had earned their wealth in strictly earnest ways. And yea sure, I knew pirates these days were nothing but scum who often unprovoked and dastardly claimed such people’s belongings. Somewhere down the line though we forgot why we had become pirates, and that our actions were initially aimed at government policy and certain aspects of what they claimed to be the law.

Also unfortunately, our way of living appealed the most to the marginalized people at the bottom of every society. And the lack of some ‘force’ coordinating this increasing population eventually had caused our purpose and goals to fade. It degenerated into chaos and into a watered down culture of stealing, plundering and worse. It was really and truly hypocritical of those who claimed to have turned to liberated, unconventional lives, to be feasting and drinking on piles of gold of the hardworking.

I knew all of that, yet it still wasn’t enough to suppress the memories of a little boy being kicked out of his parental house by said ‘hardworking folks’ after his mother had passed away. And the memory of how no one seemed to want the responsibility over that boy, or even support him in overcoming his significant problems. Well, I guess by now some may have learned what a mistake such was,... and still is.

Such an easy target kids are, no?

At any rate. My vision of a spirited youth along with my dreams of rag-tag gangs of mavericks fighting inequality had been shattered already years ago.


After a few more left and right turns through neatly paved side streets, the young woman stopped in front of an older building on the corner. Fog had started swooping in from the direction of the docks, skirting around the roofs of the buildings and their respective minarets. The door and buildings in front of them mysteriously loomed out at them, bathing in the remaining blue-white light of the moon. Around them it was as if the world was slowly going blurry, like a painting worn by time, the decor and buildings coming across as two-dimensional as they poked out and silhouetted black against the impending mist, slowly envelopping the rest of the city.

Some weathered antique looking wooden sign above the door read : -Dr. Troy - Druggist-
The assassin stood still with the package over his shoulder, quietly looking up at the door as fog now also started curl about his form. Then he turned his gaze to the woman whose hair clung dankly to her head, his expression a moment like as if he was staring at the image of some half forgotten dream.


Dame Adelaide was in her comfortable bed, but she did not slumber. Sleep had become but a nodding aquaintance since the death of her brother and his wife. Her nephew worried her. He had no ambition, he had no prospects and he had no dreams but for a life of debauchery. A life that she did not have the funds to support. She had a modest fortune as a retired actress. The shop below was once her husband’s and now...her husband’s younger brother ran the shop and as what was right, he recieved the bulk of the profits. And she did not begrudge him that at all. And she would not see that taken from him, not even for her own blood.


Rosabel breathed easier as they had entered the Jewel Ward. While this was by no means as wealthy as the Grand and Palace Ward, it was the place where gemcutters and whitesmiths resided, and the area was well maintained, far better lit, and a lot more safe. The current Ward Ruler was a member of the Kindly Order of Silversmiths who seemed to do everything in his power to keep trade and wealth going. How he exactly achieved that, Rosabel didn’t know. But what she did know and did learn, was that a big share of the illegal weapons and magic trade happened in the underbelly of this Ward. If she knew this, the Ward Ruler knew this. Regardless, and aside from that, this Ward was one of the best places in whole Calimport to live.

Just two houses to go and they would find Dame Adelaide’s townhouse. A small drugstore was the bottom floor, the top two floors being designated as the once reknown actress’ abode. It was so neat and tidy, painted in faded pastels. The balconies on the upper floors were overfilled with flower pots in a happy explosion of color and scent.

It made Rosabel yearn. Perhaps one day… a place similar, for her. Something small. It would need not be so large, just safe. A place she could fill with flowers and herbs, a small workshop where she could ply her wares. It was not an entirely impossible dream, even for someone who had to start from scratch merely years ago.

Now that she was more in her own element, she took lead. Ducking beneath a ivy laced overhang, she made her way to the side door to ring the bell, cringing just slightly. The old dame had no live in help. At this hour, they would wake her, possibly frighten her. Her hand unthinkingly reached out, and then just smacked the unconscious Franky upside his head.


Franky was unconscious, the top of his head displaying a huge bump, and he probably had pissed his pants. But he was breathing. The slap didn’t seemed to add to his current condition and the assassin shook his head,” Pr’bably sleepin’ ‘ff th’ debauch.”
Then, he raised his head and looked up when shutters of a window on the next floor carefully opened a crack.


An older lady with permed hair and a woolen scarf wounded tightly around her neck peered down. As if a map of her life, the lady displayed a fair number of wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, her back stooping over like she was carrying an invisible weight. But there was a strength in those steel-grey eyes, her face soul-expressive and one could easily perceive she was a lady of respectable breeding.

Stout-hearted she gazed down at the assassin and her voice displayed authority, making her look even less frail,” Take your trouble and friend someplace else before I call for the guard. The shop is closed around this hour… especially for addicts. Try the docks if you need your brain stimulating stuff…”

At that point Belle took a few steps back and away from the building and stopped next to Ric, holding up her hand and waving, causing the elder lady’s voice to falter. The entire scene down below seemed to mystify the lady and when she spoke again she sounded slightly alarmed,” Rosabel? Is that you? What -on earth- are you doing down there in the middle of the night with…”


Scum…

I truly believe that is what she was about to say. But I see her think it over and wonder. Still… I guess I have this effect about me causing this and frankly… I couldn’t really blame the wariness and suspicion that had entered those old eyes. I actually had gotten used to the fact of being judged upon my appearance. If what people are observing doesn’t conform to what they have learned from past experiences, or on the contrary… did learn..., they promptly dismiss or reject it.

I guess I have been a shallow judge ever since my youth as well... when I watched those rich people in silence rolling by in their fancy chariots with lots of bling bling, while I was shivering in my rags, the wind and cold whisking any heat away my body contained. I’ve been naive at the time, hoping someone would take me along. But only for a few days. Coincidentally, my mother had been a jewelry maker and our home always had appeared warm and comfy to me. I was fed well every day and I had received a proper education until the day she passed away. Her employer however never had cared much about her or me, only about her work, and her money. The house, so I was told at the time, was rented by her employer. And I found myself being kicked out after she died, no remorse. Of course he cheated. But who cared?

I truly believe I would have been a totally different person if my mother had still been alive. Unfortunately, she wasn’t. And now, each time I see diamond brooches and fancy hats, -like as if it were some conditioned reflex- I turn as cold as the cold I experienced the day I ended upon the merciless street where I was emotionally incompetent to resist the temptations and opportunities I came across...

Dame Adelaide was slightly shocked seeing Rosabel, her hairdresser, standing next to that man. The young woman had always seemed so careful, only once speaking of a husband lost at sea. When she saw the girl gently touch the ruffian’s arm and the way the girl looked at the man, her own head tilted. She regarded the male -who had pushed back his woolen hood- a bit more carefully, noting the sun-weathered features. A gleam of lighter revealed hair that had been kissed by the sun. His stance showed a male used to the deck of a ship, his feet braced slightly apart. Could this be the long lost husband? Then, she heard the soft words. “We have Franky here, he had a small bit of trouble…”

Adelaide sighed. “I will be right down, dearheart. We can discuss what trouble he found inside.”


Using the wooden railing for additional support and slightly side-stepping, the lady descended the stairs as she shook her head to herself. Franky was the child of a widowed mother, her brother’s wife, who had come to pass a few years ago as well. She herself was married once long ago but never had been able to bring a child into this world herself. She had taken care of Franky like he were her own son. Especially when his mother had turned to prostitution in order to pay Franky’s private school fees. More than often Adelaide had offered her sister to take care of that as she was fairly comfortable off thanks to her late husband’s legacy. Such conversations however often lead to fierce debates and bittersweet goodbyes each time her sister in law left for ‘work’, and in the end Adelaide had given up on it. So each woman did what she thought she needed to do, and for Adelaide it meant taking care of Franky.

Having Franky around hasn’t been and still wasn’t easy. Partially that was her own fault. Too much sugar, too many toys, and not enough rules, but she never had known an iron hand herself. Already as a toddler, Franky had had more bratty days than ‘less-bratty’ days. Back then she should have responded with a lot more authority each time he whined or threw tantrums across the room. She sighed. If Franky only was as strong-willed as his father had been back then. Maybe if she had countered him more often. If, if if. Nothing she could do about it right now. At this age Adelaide’s hopes had shifted to Franky finding a job… and a decent woman. Unfortunately Franky proved capable of ruining every contact she had carefully orchestrated. Including the contact with Rosabel...

And for ‘some reason’ she sensed how her last hope for setting up Franky with the girl for whom she was about to open the door, faded away…


Adelaide opened the door, allowed them to enter and quickly closed it behind them. Then, she turned around, watching the scenario with a certain interest.

Adelaide regarded the two carefully, seeing things many others might miss. Rosabel’s color was heightened and she was trying so very hard to keep from stealing glances at the man who had Frankie almost carelessly slung over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. Not that she could blame the girl. Something about the male was extremely compelling. In the light of the torch Adelaide was holding, she could make out the sun-kissed skin that made his eyes almost startling. And with that hood of his down, his streaked light brown hair was consistant with what little Belle had spoke of her long lost husband. Also, the man stood with feet braced apart, as if still riding the waves aboard ship.


“And look at you, back from the dead, are we?” She lowered her glasses, shook a finger at him, not even waiting for the introductions as her own astuteness had taken the lead. “Young man, I know that once the sea becomes the mistress it is hard to resist the call, but our Rosabel is too pretty a woman to be left to fend for herself. You should think about either staying closer to shore...or becoming a captain in your own right and taking her with you!” She was leading them up the stairs and into her appartment as she continued on and on. “Ric, is it? Yes, that was the name… and you should get her a proper wedding ring as well, man. You left her with no protection at all...and the vultures will prey on pretty little girls with no male to protect them!”

Rosabel had no idea if crying or laughing would be more appropriate. The topic of her ‘husband’ had come up once, maybe twice, and mostly when she was avoiding being ‘matched’ with some male. Ric’s existence had become a shield of sorts, so that role was easier. She has been playing the grieving, loyal wife, still married to the memory of a husband lost at sea, yet never forgotten. Only one tiny detail… they were never wed. She saw her carefully constructed story unraveling. Any moment now, Ric would reveal her for the liar she had become. She could only hope... Adelaide would still wish to retain her services. She paid very well and damn it… she was kind to her. She was aware of her eyes pleading with him, so she quickly let her lashes shield them. The last thing she needed was for him to see her beg. Then came the sudden realization that it really did not matter. Her life here, such as it was, was already over as a matter of fact. Yet, there was that part of her that did not wish this one woman to think ill of her. She liked her. ‘Damnit Ric’, was what briefly flashed through her mind.


The assassin watched the girl with growing amazement as the elderly lady carried on, his dark honey colored eyes were bright and glittering with amusement as he cocked his head, a little smile lurking at the corners of his lips at the mention of a wedding ring. Then, he abruptly interrupted Adelaide and patted Franky’s thigh. “Nay ‘ffense, lady, ‘tis matey ‘f yers is gettin’ heavy. Whar ye like me t’ dump ‘im?

-My- first thought? Wow! Crap... Ric, who’s the first class liar now?

Adelaide motioned us to a sideroom where I tossed Franky on an old sofa featuring a large dip in the middle. Figured, lazy as hell. His aunt rather rudely shoved two cushions under his head and threw a wool blanket over the lad. Then, we followed her back to the warm, cosy living room where a gentle snapping fireplace just seemed to invite me and Bel’ to curl up with one another.

So I dropped myself onto a rather deep couch, my body sinking at three-quarter speed. I rested my legs and weary feet on a low stool as Adelaide closed the thick drapes and took a seat on the edge of a winged-back chair. She looked at me with a level and levelling gaze, clearly assessing my mannerism. I didn’t care. Heh, I earned some rest after saving her nephew’s butt, and for dragging him all the way down here. Then, I looked up at Belle… anticipating...


Adelaide sighed a moment, memories of the past intruding as they tended to do. Once she had a handsome young man like that at her feet. Youth was wasted on the young, they wasted the time given until age stole the vitality from them. These two were certainly wasting their time. Perhaps they needed a little nudge.

“I imagine Franky got himself into a mess that his pretty face but somehow exhusting charm could not get him out of.” She waved a hand as if used to such. “I am sure you have quite the tale to tell...and I look forward to hearing it… in the morning, over breakfast where I expect to you both to show up, -on time-. The guest room is always kept prepared. I am sure you both will find it most comfortable. It is far too late in the evening to give whatever you tale it is you have a proper audience, and I am sure you can both use some relaxation. My cook does put on a rather extrordinary brunch… I just ask that you light your own fire there. My old bones protest such contortions now days.”

For a moment she watched the scenario with interest, her gaze shifting from Ric to Rosabel who was still standing in the middle of the room, indecisive. She exchanged a significant glance with Ric who first arched a brow and then grinned. Then, she got up and moved out of the room with a pillow under her arm, whispering something incomprehensible under her breath.


A silence descended over the room like a blackwinged owl striking from the darkness... as each drank in the other’s appearance. The girl’s heart however was racing as fast as a fireworks shot, her breathing everything but rhytmic. The man lounging on the couch seemed to experience fragments of thoughts and splinters of words uttered so long ago while his fingers ran through his somewhat tousled hair. Then, he turned to look up at her, and noticed her anxiety. He extended his arm, his hand reaching out. ” ‘t be real, luv. Jist say mi name,... Bel’,” he said. His now gravel-rough voice was genuine and clearly affected by this reunion. The soul-baring emotion when he uttered her name powerful enough to make her want hunker down and listen to whatever he had to say. Or sing… as she recalled him being a singer.

His request triggered a short, quick breath through her lips like as if he just had pulled her aboard a ship, with her sprawling on the deck. Her heart began to beat unnaturally fast as he grasped her by the wrist. And then he pulled her towards him while he leaned in, his mouth capturing hers in a slow, drugging kiss.

“Say mi name…” his addictive voice a husky whisper as he turned her over on her back, his fingers moving up to grip her trembling upper arms, the booze probably explaining his demeanour, partially.

She didn’t know what she was expecting. Scorn maybe, laughter, excuses. Her emotions were too confusing to make sense of any of this. It was like some sort of obscure dream. Maybe that was it. Maybe she was not really here, but beaten and dying in that ally. His voice, so much said with such few words. When he held out his hand, damned if she did not just wish to crawl into his lap. She wasn’t given a choice. His hand pulled her to him, his lips found hers and she was just lost.

His kiss was intoxicating, it always had been. Even that first night when she was so young and so scared. But now, now he kissed her as if she was necessary for him to draw his next breath, all the while demanding that she say his name. What was a girl to do? Being kissed by a naughty devil as he wove such a spell? She said his name alright... moaned it against his lips actually. Then cursed herself after…

Mint and rum she tasted from his lips as she went to capture more. His reply was a soft and pleased groan, his hands seeking out the rest of her form. Deeper, and deeper they sank into the kiss and that couch, her hands threading through his hair. “Hold tight, mi litta humming bird” he whispered at some point, before she was lifted from the couch into his arms, and carried off to the room next door. Its door was shut with a careless swipe of his foot before he laid her down on the bed, his hands with fascination working on the upper buttons of her clothes that concealed her shape…


---


There’s nothing above a good night sleep after mind blowing sex. As a matter of fact, I haven’t fallen asleep so easily in ages. My intercourse with Rosabel was as if I had attended to a nine-course gastronomic banquet with my senses as cutlery. Every mouthful had left me tingling all over my mind and body, and curious for more I eagerly awaited what’d be next. In the end I had just felt joyful, carefree… weightless...

They say the ocean was once the cradle where all life began in this world and I just felt like -I- was the only one gently floating on top of its serene surface with a fair wind, and with tiny waves lapping about each other and my form. A sensation of tremendous peace in the boundless space of the birth-chamber of all life was to a sailor the sign for a very successful voyage, to lovers the promise of hot mutual affection and a long-term future courtship. And there I was, being both. Even through my dreams I seemed to be well aware of that warm body cuddling against my own, my arms wrapped around her.

So quiet, so peaceful… that I never would have guessed things could get so restless and turbulent again at such short notice...

Why couldn’t they just leave me alone, heh…



I was jolted awake in the middle of the night, and for a moment there it felt as if my soul had been sucked out of my body. While my spirit was still floating out there in that other vast realm, my body slowly became aware of a noise in the complex existence in which I actually lived. I still couldn’t move a muscle and I only slowly became aware of my surroundings. Soft hair tickling my cheek, the fragrance of feminine perfume slowly filling my nosetrils, the velvet texture of a warm skin against mine.

While it felt like some imperceptible force was holding down my arms, legs and head, I heard it again. A muffled thud, like something tiny being tossed against the wood of the shuttered window in the room next door. My eyes were already open and I found myself staring at the ceiling until another thud sounded… followed shortly by yet another one. I frowned and thus far that was the only thing I could do.

There had been a certain rhythm to it and when I moments later overheard three thuds again with the same time interval, I was convinced I had heard well. The rest of my body finally awakened. Carefully I detached myself from Rosabel, got up from the comfy rope bed and slid the sheer curtain aside. I slipped in my leather pants and put on my black shirt. Slowly I crept to the other room where Franky was snoring like a wart hog on the couch, his blankets beaten backwards and his armpits displaying embarassing pools of sweat leaking through his shirt. Trying to stave off the unpleasant underarm odor that assaulted my barely awakened senses by putting my forearm to my nose, I manoeuvred behind the couch towards the room. Funny... if you thought about the stinking, beer-swilling ratholes I’ve been in.

With my hand on the bar latch I glanced a moment back at the snoring Franky and wondered how a lad could smell this much after only one night out. That is assuming there Franky always did return to his aunt after each of his nocturnal escapades.
There was one guy who could use a hell of a bath in the morning and I couldn’t suppress a grin as I imagined how his aunt might take the lead there.


Back to the window I carefully unlocked the latch and slowly pushed open one of the panels which caused cold air to flow in the room.
Well, turns out I was wrong and right. It wasn’t the middle of the night, just rather close to dawn although the sun wasn’t even peeking at the horizon yet. Under a descending moon, the pearly mist -and with it my dreams- had dissolved until nothing remained but some tendrils of silvery hair curling like the smoke of the last flames of a fire. As I overlooked the street and my eyes shifted to the other side, a shade soundlessly emerged from the metallic shadows of the alley across the street and peered directly up at me. Then, the figure -clad in black-, took a step backwards, the soft edges of twilight and darkness like a magician’s cloak making him disappear from sight again.


But I knew he was still there, waiting. Waiting for me as his message with the tiny stones against the shutters had been simple yet explicit.

-Come-


...

Moments later Erickar emerged from the building. After gently closing and locking the side door behind him, he crossed the street at a leisurely pace. As he briefly stopped on the gleaming cobblestones to take in his surroundings, the forefinger of his left hand curled inside the entrance of his wide sleeve, the fingertip assessing a mechanism that was set up to release a sharp, cold projectile from a device attached to his wrist. Then, his eyes hidden in the shadow of his hood shifted to the alley.

Whoever would pay attention to him now would conclude this man was dangerous. Ric’s step turned more reptile-like, and one could tell immediately this man possessed the predatory instincts honed by years of merciless hunting on unforgiving grounds to take a life silently,... if he chose to. In the cold, stiff night air he moved lean and with a lithe grace towards the alley where he melted into the awaiting shadows, keeping the center of gravity of his body low at all times. An asset he easily was able to maintain after Rosabel had cured his knee with her magic.

The alley he sneaked into was pitch-black, but as a result of the years of color blindness Ric’s sight had undergone a remarkable evolution which enabled him to stalk and eliminate targets under colorless circumstances since he had become better at penetrating certain color camouflages. Down the way he had learned to use texture and shape clues and therefore wasn’t as easily deceived by camouflage designed to mislead people with normal color vision.



The shade lurking in the shadows on an elevated balcony was all too well aware of Ric’s feat… and without Ric being aware that he knew...
It would only be a matter of seconds before Ric would distinguish the difference between his form and the even darker parts of the shadows. So, there was no point of playing for time even though he wished he had had the time to observe this ‘Prodigal Brother’ for a bit longer. Best to get this over with as fast as possible.



In Ric’s monochromatic world the man in a squatting position on that balcony was nothing more than a ghostly outline of a deeper grey-black. To any other however he probably would have been invisible. His hand instinctively moved in the direction of his knife at his thigh, while his other was standing by to operate the hidden wristbow as he observed the shade for furtive movements.


A smooth, yet to Ric familiar voice sounded,“ I trust you recall that the rules of the Knives are absolute. You’re either in… or you are out.” The shade rose to his feet and stepped into the weak light of the moon as he looked down at Ric with black beady eyes glaring from under darkened brows, his seemingly empty fists clenched at each side of his lean body. Ric gasped softly with surprise as the man resumed, the shadows at the shade’s legs now sharply defined puddles of blackness. “You still experimenting with that ballistic stiletto mounted on your wrist?” The man opened his gloved hands as if to show he was unarmed and placed them on the railing of the balcony as he leaned over. “I figured you’d be making a fortune in the West by now, Reverend.”

Ric’s lips parted at that, but words seemed to freeze on his tongue as the man remarked,” Then again, it might be a trifle problematic for them to allow a wanted pirate in their midst. Soo…” The shade leaped over the balustrade, swooped down and landed on a wooden beam that formed a bridge between buildings. “Where would you run indeed when there are people at either side eager to cut your throat.” Swift as a bird he jumped off the beam and silently landed merely a few paces away from Ric.


Ric had been ready to veer away but where would he go indeed. Instead he didn’t move an inch and observed the shade slowly approaching him. The man stopped only a three feet away from him, secretly admiring Ric’s composure and said,” So let us keep this as brief as possible even though I bet there is a lot of interesting stuff to talk about.” And then the shade extended his hand to Ric…


Sharks among a few others swim and hunt at the top of the food chain in virtually every part of every ocean. And yet… at least even they play a critical role in keeping populations of other fish healthy and in balance. This man was far more calculated -and- far mor ruthless than any type of shark I’d come across. Fernandez El Suave was one of the deadliest men I know as within the Knives he always had had the highest recorded number of confirmed kills. It represented the fact how much his talents were appreciated and how often he had heen deployed in the field which he more considered some sort of playground more than anything else. Some of the things he had achieved were insane and the fact he himself wasn’t insane made him all the more frightening, especially when he made an abrupt appearance.

So… I grabbed his forearm as he grabbed mine…

After this rather unusual and what appeared to be a greeting, the man motioned Erickar to follow him deeper into the alleys, and further away from more commonly used streets. The two dark figures stepped through an old door and into a basement with a low ceiling, barely more than a crawl space. They had to hang their heads low just to walk through a warren of rooms and at the other side of the last room Fernandez opened a hidden panel. The space behind it was all damp stone and rotten timber and had no personality at all. It clearly lacked circulation of air, a stagnant scent making it dungeon-like, and the surrounding walls triggered a rather claustrophobic feeling. A small lamp spread a weak glow hung from the ceiling, its light barely enough to illuminate the floor.

Both men took a seat on a stool and Fernandez peered from under his hood up at Erickar, his elbows casually leaning on his knees. He had a smooth, well groomed beard, dark bristly brows and a hawkish nose. His midnight eyes resembled an inky ocean of unsettling coldness and darkness, each an endless pitch black abyss that was a pretty uneviable privilige to look at, especially when it was the last thing one would ever see.

“I see the years didn’t affect you that much,” Fernandez noticed.

“Heh, thanks, ya be lookin’ good ‘s well… given yer profes’sion…”

Fernandez smirked a bit and shook his head,” You did get sloppy however.”

“Th’ bodies?”

Fernandez nodded gravely.

“It be nay like me had ‘n lotta’ choice there. Th’ situa’tion required n’ fast conclu’sion ‘n me be happen’ t’ be ‘roun’.”

“Yes, you are around alright. And being hunted again as well.”

Ric arched a brow, his hand moving to his boot.

“Leave it, Reverend. If I wanted to kill you, I already would have. However… you do know I have to report irregularities in our territory within a day.”

“Dinna know th’ Knives be active ‘roun’ ‘ere.” Ric crossed his arms.

Fernandez barked a laugh and sat up straight again,” You haven’t been long enough among ours to discover how far our arm actually extends, my friend.”

Erickar rubbed his nose with his gloved hand, frowning at the mention of a friend.


As far as I recall within the Knives there existed no such thing as a real friend as there wasn’t much room for personal feelings. Friendship was classified as one of those ‘unhealthy’ emotions and although perhaps a somewhat odd philisophy, it did help keep temper in check. Uncontrolled anger can take toll on one’s health and may disrupt the ability to find sensible solutions. However, it’s not that the people of the Knives were altruists like those royal guardians who protect King this or Empress that, and fall in battle along with them. But their theology did show a few similarities regarding loyalty, a behaviour that oppossed the troublesome aspects of self-concern and represented the denial of the self. Every single member of the Knives was ought to be capable of self-sacrifice for the cause. That cause was always and forever... the continuity of the organisation. I studied the man’s expressions in front of me. Whatever Fernandez did, he was doing for his institute and it made me wary of the man’s definition of friendship as well as his intentions.


“So I be in trouble ey?”

“I would rather say double trouble, unless you make it out in time.”

Erickar frowned,” Wat’cha mean double trouble?”

“Those sailors you killed... their friends were after you. I was able to distract them just before you entered the next Ward… but… they seem rather persistent. Personally I would have chosen the roofs, but I suppose you were busy saving someone.”

“Thanks…”

Fernandez held his hand up,” Don’t thank me yet as the Knives will take measures once they are informed, probably they send someone after you to hunt you down.”

Erickar shifted on his stool, then shrugged,” He’ll ‘ave t’ be good…”

Fernandez gave him a direct look,” It probably will be me, Rev. As a matter of fact..., I’m expected to volunteer since I’ll be the one delivering the news on your whereabouts.”
His eyes grew dark on Erickar, and there was a thin line of tension around his jaw. “I’m offering you a 24 hour headstart, old friend, and may I strongly advice you to cross the Sea of Swords and head west as far as possible.”


There it was again, calling me friend. And it looked like he was letting me get away, yet I had one burning question which Fernandez could easily read from my lips forming the word.


The master assassin furrowed a brow at Ric. “...Why? Hmm. I suppose because you did what you had to. You were loyal to your crew and you put your life on the line for a cause greater than your own. If I ever were to find out that the Knives got betrayed from within, I probably would have acted in a similar way.” Fernandez paused a moment, rubbing his ear thoughtfully,” You would have served our institute well. Now, I’m sure if you manage to pull off an ‘sensational’ disappearance on us, and after me putting in a praising word or two for you… there is even a slight chance that one day the Knives may welcome you once more.”

“So I ‘ave t’ leave…”

“Pretty much. I’m glad we understand each other so well.” The other assassin got up from his stool and looked down on Ric. “One day, no more, no less. If you are still about, I won’t back away from whatever orders I will have to execute.”

Erickar got up as well, pulling his hood back up and turned to the exit.

“Oh, and one more thing.”

Ric’s face was cast in the shadow, only his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lamp.

“Let the lass be. If she is caught in your presence by those sailors... or by one of us…” He paused ominously, his eyes intense as they gazed into Ric’s, ”...I think you understand. She’s not like you or me, Reverend. She’ll be defenseless.”



So much for ‘friendship’ I thought when I left that basement. I guess I should have guessed. But he was right on one thing. It had gotten rather unhealthy to stick around any longer out here, and since I had no other plans and intended on moving on anyways, I might as well better choose South. The question that would probably occupy me for the remainder of the night was on what to do with Rosabel. I followed the narrow passage until I arrived at an paved area between the backs of old terraced houses, a large heavy oak gate that used to be a way to prevent thieves and other scum from entering the rest of the city on the far end. I stopped for a moment in front of it, my eyes on the cold steps that led to the next Ward. I didn’t want to lose her again, but I also feared her death, and losing her would be permanent then. The choice I was about to make weighed heavy on me.

One course would have me my love at my side, but I would have to watch over my shoulder all the time, and the responsibility of the bond I desired with her would force me to take control of every nerve I had like all the time. And that wasn’t even the worst case scenario. The other option would be very painful at the start but gradually I may be able to forget about her, the knowledge of she being alive would be sort of soothing my soul. Sort of…

Dammit, just when I finally started to have my sex life back on track…


Suddenly these alleys seemed too restricting to me, just like the choices I have they were making me feel cold and suffocating. I hated it when events and people make me feel like this, but hells, I shouldn’t allow this.

What to do… what to do...

I climbed a building until I had reached a desired altitude from where I overlooked the night and inhaled cool air.

Meanwhile Fernandez was left behind with his own thoughts… and intentions. He had watched Ric leave with a somewhat odd and sad smile on his face. He meant every word of what he had said regarding Ric’s mindset and talents. He regarded Ric as a man who had the ability to fight his impulses when it came to business, controlling his potential strength until it was time to strike. Would it be in swordplay, Ric’s tactic would be pretending to cower away from his opponent only to catch him by surprise with a devastating counterblow the moment his incautious foe came in for the ‘kill’. The man did tend to get a trifle overexcited once it was his turn to hand out the blows, but at least he was very effectively at taking down his opponenents.

Ric also had had the patience -and- the nerve to infiltrate the Knives, and waited for years, making them all believe he was truly part of them. With a cunningness of a red fox, and one that was admirable, Ric had weaved and left behind a hopeless labyrinth of still so many unsolved puzzles to Fernandez. With his tricks, Ric had walked their ranks and even received a day of training from the their martial arts grandmaster himself. All mysteries, until Fernandez was approached by a new client years later, a contract that was now old but still in progress. And Fernandez had no choice but to respect it. Taking Erickar Avery captive was essential to the Knives, so that the man could stand trial for the disarray he had caused, and for abandoning and disappearing from their Institute right after. But the girl he currently was with... was of far greater importance.


It was to be hoped Ric would follow Fernandez’s advice, and that he would actually leave the lass behind. That way she would be an easy catch, and Fernandez wouldn’t have to feel forced to take out Ric prematurely. Perhaps that would be even unnecessary as Fernandez indeed planned on putting in a good word for Ric. Within time.
For now it was imperative Ric didn’t get hold of what was up. If he learned who those sailors he earlier killed really were… he -and- the girl would disappear without doubt. Ric had been the finest of his ‘class’ at that. It was also undesired Ric learned that Fernandez has been back on his track, and had kept a closer eye on his daily routine for quite a long time now. It was enough in order to learn Ric had never lost his ability to disable his enemies effectively, and perform his parour skills in masterful and stealthy ways, even while he was as of late under the influence of liquor and other booze. So it seemed at least...

Fernandez waited a few more moments, and then ghost-silent slipped out of the basement, the solitary shadow’s frame dissolving in the night and letting the dry, cold wind swirling between the buildings behind to play with torn, discoloured rags that barely could pass for laundry hanging overhead.

The next morning… her eyes opened slowly, her head turning to the what she thought would be the male next to her. All there was... was an empty pillow. Shame mixed with disbelief and then anger. Hitting his nose until blood splattered the sheets. What an improvement that would be.

Often she heard others speak of after morning regrets, but until now it was not something she had ever experienced. The night before had been a potent cocktail of danger, excitement and relief, doused by an intense attraction that worked like some heady hallucinogenic dose. They both had reacted on sheer instinct and impeteous emotion. He had engulfed her senses, rocked her world, and with it, stolen away her reservations on the past and worries for the future.

The promised conversation had not taken place yet, and in the cold light of morning, she had her doubts that it ever would. She did not know why she was so surprised that he was gone now, or that he had left her to clean up this mess. He was good at escapes. But damn if it didn’t hurt that she was one of the things that he sought to escape.

And escape was on her own mind as well. The back ally where this adventure started always had eyes, her part in it all could soon be known. And as soon as her true identity was revealed, his old crew would come calling. She didn’t have the luxury of dreams or hopes for happy endings. Or even regrets.


Rosabel disengaged from the sheets and quietly rose from the bed, her clothing scattered all over the room causing her to wince once more. She got dressed quickly, her hand brushing against the amulet that never left her neck and causing her gaze to travel back to empty bed.


She remembered that moment years ago, the moment he took that chain from his own neck and placed it around her own. His grin was boyish in that moment, his eyes full of laughter and so warm. “It was given to me by my first captain, hold on to it for me, humming bird.” And she had, even knowing that she could have sold it long ago for much needed coin. She should likely have given it back to him. But then, it was the only part of him she could really keep. And in the end, she was just not that noble.

Rosabel looked around the room. Obviously, he had only wanted just one night. She supposed she had been available and willing. She was the one who wove fantasies of something more, he had his own plans. She at least deserved this much. Her eyes were stinging and she could not lie and claim it was from smoke or the candle-light. The past night revealed one thing, he had stolen her heart years ago and it was still firmly in his grasp. Pity that he didn’t really want it. And a pity that she let him back in knowing that all too soon he would be leaving with her heart once again. Well, who needs a heart anyway? Where there had been love and laughter, there was now merely a cool and aching hollowness.




Her pullover barely warmed her, her lips even shivered slightly, and it felt like she was holding up an ocean of a thousand tears. She made her way out the guest room and down the stairs. She did not have much time and the key to escape was to get a good head start. The lady of the house would want some sort of explanation… a good story to tide her over. She would have to be denied that. But at the least, she was owed a letter. Rosabel quickly found the small office and began a search for parchment and quill.

As soon as the girl was leaning over her letter, Franky’s aunt came down the stairs, stopping halfway, a woolen cloak wrapped around her shoulders and neck against the cool sea air blowing through the entrance hall. Her snow-colored eyes were piercing as she crossed her arms,” And what exactly are you doing, young lady?”

Rosabel was good, but she was not that good. Her eyes were ravaged, her expression haunted. But she did try to fake a smile. “I did not wish to wake you, but I really have to be on my way. I am afraid I do not have much time at all… I was leaving you a note though.”

Franky’s aunt was a sweet but also stern lady, and at that she straightened herself as if invisible weights had temporarily dropped from her shoulders and she shook her head in slight disapproval. As if Rosabel had just become her teenage daughter who deserved a scolding. But then her eyes softened, if only a tad, and while keeping her voice -and- tone under control as she regulated her emotions, she said,” You foolish girl. How could I possibly let you leave without a decent breakfast. Food has been served since an hour ago... and I am expecting you to join me.” Her eyes gleamed intelligently in the morning light shining through the man-heigh windows as she continued,” Besides, you wouldn’t leave before you did my hair, would you?” She glanced up the stairs and back at Rosabel, then turned around and went up, expecting the girl to follow her.

Belle’s shoulders just slumped and she followed the older woman. As usual, Ric would get away clean. She would be delayed most of the morning with pacifiying the old woman. Hopefully it would not cost her.


She wanted to scream, to rage. She wanted to weep. A conversation was the last thing she needed now. She did not want to discuss Ric, or what happened, or try and explain why he was gone. She just wanted to be on her way, salvage what few belongings that she could and lick her wounds in peace. Instead, she found herself following her once employer, forced to partake in a breakfast she really had no stomach for, and to somehow weave a believable tale that would have to include the very male who had her throat tight with unshed tears. Moments like this… she wished she had let his friends kill her…

Just as Adelaide had promised, breakfast was served. She must have taken care of everything herself as the maid was nowhere to be seen. Any other day, Rosabel would have been thanking the gods for a feast like that laid out before them. She was so used to never having enough to eat that such a repast would have been viewed with glee. Baskets of fresh baked bread and pastries sat next to crocks of fresh honey and fruit preserves. A platter of ham glistened with a honey glaze sat right next to a plate of scrambled eggs. And if that was not enough, bowls of freshly sliced fruit surrounded a crock of sweet clotted cream. And the scent of her own signature brewed tea perfumed the air, likely from the last batch she had given the old lady.


Adelaide strode forward straight for her usual place at the empty table, and before she took a seat she turned to look at Rosabel who had stopped in the doorway. “Come in, dear girl, and please close the door behind you, will you? It is still fairly cool outside.” Demonstratively she tugged at her warming cloak and motioned the girl.

In a haze of mindlessness Belle entered the room and blindly closed the door with her heel...



When the winds shift quickly, you have to make sure you were quicker with shifting the sail or it would be a useless journey for that matter and you’d be at the mercy of currents, set adrift for an unknown period of time, helplessly bobbing in the waves. Those however were not the only choices you would have. Setting another course for instance, even if it was a bitch, was also an option.

Heh, screw that. No sailor as of yet has ever claimed this or that course would be one without any effort, or without risk. Especially when it was the course of love. I have to admit my decision took me about the rest of the night, but then again I had every right doing so as my change of course would be significant to say the least. I wasn’t just doing it with resignation, but also with great conviction that this was for the best. Would I be in trouble?

Sure as hell…

The moment I watched Rosabel enter the room and by closing the door in front of me, robbed me from my cover by doing so, I stepped up behind her. And when she turned around with her eyes going wide in surprise, I kissed her hard on the lips and pushed the bundle of flowers I was holding in one hand in her arms. But I wasn’t intending on letting her catch her breath. As soon as I broke the kiss, I said it.

“Mar’ry me…”

As if it hadn’t been just a request for her hand, the former assassin didn’t await Rosabel’s answer, but instead shoved the ring he had been holding in his other hand on her finger. What once had been his mother’s golden wedding ring, the only thing he had left of his youth and which previously had served as some sort of band to hold his former rope braid together, and which featured a small pinkish-purple stone in the center... sat now at the bewildered girl’s finger...

The gypsy’s face had registered shock from that very moment he stepped from behind the door. That look only intensified when she was snatched up and kissed, pressed with flowers and proposed to in one dizzying display. So many emotions flittered over her lovely face, disbelief warring with joy, anger fading into confusion, sadness fading away into hope, and all that layered with sheer bewilderment.

How could she hold onto her resentment when he was kissing her so passionately? How could she try to play things safe when his request answered every girlish dream she once treasured? He had kissed her breathless before even proposing, but had he not the sight of his mother’s ring now on her hand would have robbed her of speech.

To her they still had to talk, there was so much that had not been said, so much that needed to be said. Then there was Adelaide. What must she be thinking? She was told they were already wed. It was not the time for Rosabel to cause any huge scenes or they would never break out of here. So, she did the only thing she could do.


Her hand came up to stroke his cheek, a warm gesture that had the old woman smiling. Then she rested her head on his shoulder, whispering low so only he could hear. “We will talk after, rogue.” The term was her old endearment for him, spoken before even she realized. To Adelaide, it appeared that the two had reconciled and the proposal accepted, a fact only too well conveyed by the expression on their faces. Whatever had been keeping the two apart, it was obvious even with her failing eye-sight just how much the two felt for each other.


The couple took a seat at the table, their heads together as they softly whispered to one another. Adelaide watched them rather pleased with herself, but also with growing concern. She had no fear that her employee, soon former employee would be abandoned again as the man at her side sincerely seemed to love her, a love that was unconditional and which had survived for the past four or five years even though he had truly been convinced she was dead. How Adelaide all knew? Easy, cause she was an elder woman who needed less sleep... and because she and Ric had had a brief yet enlightening conversation just before daybreak when she caught him sneaking back into the house. She had alluded to the possibility of Rosabel learning about his nightly trip unless he explained himself. And when he did... she almost wished she hadn’t pushed that. She was certain he hasn’t told her everything. But she feared he told her more than what was good for her.

Erickar... was a man up to his ears in trouble, somehow he got involved with people who’ve made death their cool business. The how and why wasn’t clear to Adelaide still but she hadn’t asked. The less she knew, the better. She did however assume he had been in it himself, probably. Fact was if he didn’t leave this city, he wouldn’t be able to take care of Rosabel anymore, and when he told her what Rosabel meant to him, she had made sure his proposal was a little bit more… convincing. Adelaide glanced at the flowers which Ric hastily had fetched at the morning market, and then at the breakfast table where she had assisted him discretely in preparing. Almost Belle had escaped the scene when they were setting up the final preparations. Only thanks to their keen hearing they overheard how the girl had moved down the steps. She sighed, a soft, almost inaudible escape of breath, and watched the two for a moment longer before she started filling her own dish.



I haven’t been entirely fair with Rosabel. Yes, I wanted to have her at my side and sure, I wished her to become my wife. From the point of view of my feelings my proposal was sincere and heart-felt. It felt like we just got ourselves an amazing second chance and it felt like the best gift in my entire life. I realized from the start my Bel’ was a keeper, and that our love would only grow stronger with every moment we would be together. But the reasons why these things were happening so fast gnawed at me. Like as if the current scene had been designed, hastily constructed to show my love while it was there regardless. But the reason why it happened now was for underlying, secret reasons.

In a moment I was going to steer this conversation in the direction of a surprise trip to celebrate our reunion and our happiness. In reality, said journey would be dark, overshadowed by a threat. But to me it was important to shield Rosabel from it as it was my problem, not hers. I would never allow that she would ever experience our trip as such. Rather the opposite. It was going to be quite the feat, but in the past I’ve been confronted with things that were far worse and far more challenging… at least I hoped that this would be less complicated. Rosabel could never ever learn, cause if she ever did... how was she ever going to believe my proposal was genuine and sincere….?

The breakfast was a rushed affair, the two telling the tale of Frankie’s rescue quickly while filling their stomachs. Adelaide did not ask many questions, watching the couple with both joy and worry. She almost wished she was young again, such an adventure they would embark upon. And danger just adds a hint of spice, yet the mothering side of her worried about the girl caught in the middle of all of this. As they said their goodbyes, she pressed a heavy purse into the girl’s hand, whispering “Think of it as an early wedding gift, my dear.”

And that is when their morning got very complicated.

Ric earlier at the breakfast table had proposed to leave as soon as possible to celebrate their love, but also out of consideration for possible trouble after the kills of last night. Somehow Rosabel had consented eagerly to that so from Ric’s point of view things were moving rather smoothly in the direction he intended. There would be no discussions, no fights, and most of all, they would not be wasting any precious time. However...


They were not even two doors down before Rosabel was taking charge in a way that took the former pirate completely off guard. He did not even have time to present his own plan before his girl was dragging him down the street at a brisk pace. Her words came fast and he could hear the urgency in her tone.

“We have time, I hope, but not much. I need to grab just a few things from my place and with this... “ she jingled the purse a bit. “This should be enough to get us berth on a fishing boat and I still have a few contacts among them. Question then becomes where to go? Athkatla is out, as is Murann...they found me there already.” She shook her head a bit. “I had a good run of it here...over a year with no trouble...I will miss it.”


An involuntarily sharp intake of breath before I froze on the spot. It was one of the seven or eight universal expressions of emotion, expressions I all had studied and practiced over the years, but this one kicked in rather intensely, by itself. Fuu-cking surprise. I also learned that expressions like this -if natural- usually are very brief... -unless you wished to display shock-... and immediately were followed by a reaction. I hadn’t been able to control my surprise, but at least I would have some grip on my reaction. How to respond to her words that felt like punctuated with panic?
There was my own buttload of trouble I intended to hide from Rosabel for the time being, just in the hope our journey would take place in a maximum of calmness. I most certainly didn’t want to come across as overanxious, so I concealed whatever I could and just gently took her by the arms. “Bel’… Bel’… reef yer sails…” I lifted her chin and looked into her eyes,” What be goin’ on? ‘n who be they?”


His confusion was apparent and she had to pause to watch his eyes for just a moment. She tried to be what she considered to be a good person, but she did have a temper and she did tend to lash out when hurt. But looking at him, she started to realize that perhaps some of the anger she held on to for so long was misplaced. Now, how much to tell?

“Ric, your old crew has been hunting me down for years now. They found me in Pandira after just maybe a month or two. They at first said that they were fetching me for you...but something didn’t seem right. When I overheard one of them saying that they could not wait for the captain to tire of me so they would have their turn, I ran. They caught me...I had to escape...I took one of them off a cliff with me. I survived the fall, but our…” No, she couldn’t speak of that, so she quickly changed the end of her sentence, “... well… the guy didn’t.”

“I was found by a fisherman, he took me home to his wife, they nursed me back to health...and hid me when more came looking. I traveled, but they always seem to catch up with me. I assume that the death of their mate made me a loose end. Or maybe your bloody Captain was just insane and hated that he wouldn’t get something he wanted. I just know that they always come and that the sailors seem more than eager to sell information so they must be paying well. So we have to get moving, get a head start.”

She didn’t like reliving this. Too much pain was entwined with the memories, so she kept it short. She didn’t tell him of her fears, of how she learned to not form close ties or attachments because she always had to be ready to flee. She did not speak of what she lost. Perhaps it was something he did not need to know. It would only cause more pain. Or maybe she was lying to herself, trying to spare herself the pain of speaking of what could have been...


Shj-it, she couldn’t learn I already made certain arrangements, so I had to sound as light and as improvising-on-the-spot as possible. Just before I made it back to Adelaide’s place I sent a letter along with the first ship that left the harbor to someone from my past. It’s been almost five years ago now but I remembered it like it were yesterday.

I had finally managed to escape the pirate crew I once was part of by jumping over board not that far from the coast. At least it didn’t seem far at the time, but the current had been too strong, dragging me further and further away and at some point I simply gave up, allowing myself to float on the waves with the sun on my face... until sleep would come. Yeah, I was ready to be taken to a watery grave after I had lost her.

At least we would be together in that amazing turquoise world below, gliding free of gravity and other concerns until the universe or the gods would bring us back together, ...and the salt of our tears of joy would be mixed with the ocean’s. Perhaps a trifle inauthentic, but I truly believed those would be have been my last thoughts ever...

Then, out of blue (literally), a ship came by, a two masted hulk with massive black sails named the The Hangman's Shadow, and it was this guy’s crew who picked me up out of the cold water. At the time he was the First Mate of this ship which was part of the Alliance of Freesailors, and he was the one who took charge of my recovery. I was a mess back then, pale white from the freezing water and nearly dead. Only when the color returned to my features he could see I had been beaten up like a dog, worse even. He told me the life had faded in my eyes even in the days after I was rescued, and that I had looked as if I had lost the will to live. It’s only thanks to him and our conversations I was alive now… and in a strange way it was thanks to him Rosabel and me were together again.

He did raise questions back then as well as his adoptive father Captain Thadrius Scowlfang, but even through my misery I had been evasive… just as evasive as Matthew was when I started to ask questions in return about him. To me it was clear, we were both men hiding things, and we respected not to dig in further. Maybe we could have become friends under the right circumstances, letting each other in on one or two secrets. Me and Matthew Craig, or whatever his name was, said our goodbyes a few weeks later after he had dropped me off in some unknown location in the East where I ever since had been trying to pull myself together again, as a mercenary, as a guard but always keeping low profile. At least when I didn’t get drunk...

I bet when he sees that letter he’ll be wondering. Maybe, just maybe I will tell him my tale now, or at least Rosabel’s and mine. I knew he was about to do me a favor once again but perhaps this time I also would be able to return one or two. That is if he was still around and actually would receive this letter. What had become of Matthew Craig, I had no idea of.

We were about to find out…


As all those memories swirled a moment through his mind, the former assassin listened to Rosabel, and then just silenced her with a kiss, putting a stop to the series of concerns as he said assuringly,” Ye jist leave ‘t t’ me, Bel’, tis all gun’na work out well.”