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“I don’t see ‘s how I can even take ye seriously as a pirate now, knowin’ ye’ve been foolin’ about with that High House dandy o’ yers.”
Sicard looked Rhoswen squarely in the eye. “I could say the same about you, couldn’t I?”
Carvallain straightened, almost imperceptibly. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means Emmanellain’s a bit too young to remember anythin’ much ‘bout the lost heir of House Durendaire, but he knows the count, and now he’s seen you in the flesh. You favour your father’s colourin’ there, don’t you, Carvallain?”
Rhoswen’s eyes went wide. “High House? Ye never —” She caught herself, drew up imperiously to her full height. “Not that it makes me any mind in th’ least. Ye could be the bloody archbishop fer all I’d care.”
“All it took ‘im was a single glance your way,” Sicard continued to taunt, ignoring Rhoswen completely. “I guess there’s a reason you never head north on your little privateerin’ jaunts, even if it means missin’ the choicest Garlean freighters. You don’t dare cross paths with someone who might know Daddy. An’ that’s why your Krakens’ll never be the foremost of Limsa’s pirates.” He preened slightly at the mention of that word, foremost.
“Oh, let’s not pretend you brought the Bloody Executioners up so high all by your lonesome,” snapped Carvallain. “Hyllfyr built the whole structure and then presented it to you on a platter.”
“Well, that’d make it just like everythin’ you ever had, milord ,” growled Sicard.
“Oh, of course,” Carvallain said, voice dripping irony. “Coming out of one of the High Houses of Ishgard — as you say — is a sure guarantee of success out here. I’m sure House Durendaire would be just itching to give its eldest scion a pirate ship. They’ve such respect for that in the Holy See.”
“’S true, then?” asked Rhoswen. “Yer some sort o’ bleedin’ aristocrat?”
“I only repeat his claims. I make none of my own.”
“But ye don’t deny it either, do ye? Ye’re halfway t’ bein’ an Ishgardian prince.”
“You’re droolin’, Rhos,” said Sicard.
Rhoswen swiped a hand across her lips. “Am not!”
“S’pose I didn’t mean up there.” He smiled meanly, eyes flicking downward. A slight flash of amusement broke through the annoyance on Carvallain’s face as well. “Not that it has much to do with the money or the prestige. We all know you were throwin’ yourself at ‘im well before you had the faintest notion he might be —”
“Come off it, ye salt-crusted bilge rat,” said Rhoswen, cheeks flushed. “Either of ye’d be right lucky t’ see a Siren go sweet on ye — or take pity on ye, more like. Yer a sorry bunch of string beans, the pair of ye, not a scrap o’ hard muscle between ye and I ‘spect not much in yer pants t’ match. ‘S that why ye’re swivin’ th’Ishgardian brat, Sicard? Couldn’t get a real woman t’ take an interest in what’s below yer breeches?”
“Nor a real man,” Carvallain snorted, “if what I know of Emmanellain de Fortemps is to be believed.”
Sicard’s face twisted with anger. “You’re talkin’ a lot of trash for someone who doesn’t want Daddy Dear to know his long-lost pride an’ joy’s been sailing the five seas without a care in the world for nigh on twenty years.”
Carvallain scoffed. “What Ishgardian nobleman is going to listen to a scurvy-mad sea snake like you?”
“Try me an’ find out. I’m the next best thing to bein’ a Fortemps now.”
“If you were courting Artoirel that might worry me. But as for Emmanellain —”
Sicard’s hand drifted down to the butt of his pistol. “Say his name one more time, Durendaire. I dare you.”
“Save it for the Garleans.”
From the doorway, Admiral Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn dwarved them all. Even being of a height with Carvallain, she seemed to tower over him. The argument stopped in its tracks. Guiltily, Sicard let his hand drift away from his weapon.
“I care very little for what personal squabbles lie between you,” she continued. “Indulge them if you must. Too well I know the futility of expecting anything different from rival captains. So long as it can be put aside when the Empire comes calling. But when that day arrives, woe betide you if any of this childish bickering keeps you from coming together united under the flag of Limsa Lominsa.”
“Oh, I’d not call what those two’ve been doing ‘bickering’, exactly,” muttered Sicard.
“They’re welcome to indulge that too, if they like,” sighed Merlwyb wearily.
Rhoswen opened her mouth to protest, but Carvallain elbowed her and shook his head, and she thought better of it.
“The core of Limsa Lominsa, the essential trait that sets us apart from the likes of Garlemald, is the Lominsan drive for freedom to chart one’s own course. To conform to their narrow conceptions of excellence at all costs — of defining oneself in accordance with the sum total of others’ expectations — would be anathema to our very souls. So we must continue to unite against them.”
“S’ long ‘s we keep the freedom t’ deal wi’ one another as we see fit durin’ our spare time,” said Rhoswen.
“Ever have you had that gods-given right,” said Merlwyb. “And you are, tragically, under no obligation to make any better use of it than you have in the past.”
“Oh, I’d not worry about that, Admiral,” said Sicard. “Seems they’ve been makin’ use of each other just fine.”
Merlwyb ignored the innuendo. “Then let us leave off our squabbling and plan our attack on the coming supply run out of the Bloodbrine.” She spread a map out on the table, anchoring its curling corners in place with sunstone paperweights. And the three captains crowded around, united under their flag.
- - - - - -
“Sicard. A moment of your time, please.”
By the end of the strategy meeting, the sun had disappeared on the western horizon, the sky streaking gradually from orange to rose to violet before melting to sure, starry black. Rhoswen looked poised to linger, but a linkpearl message from one of the Sanguine Sirens sent her rushing back to the Missing Member without a backward glance. Sicard checked his stride and waited, hands in pockets and shoulders tense, for Carvallain to catch up.
“What do you want, Durendaire?” he said antagonistically.
Carvallain looked pained. “Don’t call me that. When I was last truly part of House Durendaire, my voice hadn’t dropped yet. I’ve been gone longer than I was there.”
“Fine. Captain de Gorgagne.” There was an undercurrent of irony in Sicard’s lofty tone, which Carvallain clearly chose to ignore. “What can I do for you?”
A deep breath from the bottom of Carvallain’s lungs. “The firstborn son of House Durendaire is dead. He was kidnapped by pirates and his bones lie at the bottom of the briny deep. Let them remain there.”
Sicard stared, unblinking, unmoved.
“His people have mourned him and moved on,” Carvallain continued. “The count has chosen another heir. No one would be well-served by the reopening of old wounds. You least of all.”
“Is that a threat?” asked Sicard, eyes narrowing.
“Think of it more as an opportunity,” said Carvallain. “I believe we can help each other.”
“I’ve no need of help from the likes of you.”
“Have you not? Tell me, how are you getting on with the Fortemps family? Do you get the sense that Edmont approves of his young son’s choice of mate? Or is there more a feeling of . . . well, a boy must sow his wild oats. Best that Emmanellain get it out of his system. And if he chooses to do it by slumming with a pirate of no notable pedigree, well, at least there won’t be the problem of bastard sons to worry about.”
Sicard’s jaw tightened.
“That said, I suppose it’s not Edmont’s blessing you would need anymore, but Artoirel’s. How are you getting on with big brother? Do you suppose he finds you fit to wear the family crest? If you asked for Emmanellain’s hand in marriage . . . well, you see where I’m going with this.”
“I don’t recall ever sayin’ a single bloody word ‘bout marryin’ anybody,” said Sicard.
“Really?” said Carvallain. “Because as I recollect it, you described yourself as ‘the next best thing to a Fortemps’. Yet I’d wager a fair sum that, if it came to that, Artoirel might rather see Emmanellain take Spence for a surname before he’d call you Sicard de Fortemps.”
“So what? Even if Artoirel wouldn’t listen to me, he’d at least hear Emmanellain out on a subject as important as a long-lost High House heir.”
“But that wouldn’t do much to solve your problem, would it?” said Carvallain. “If only you knew somebody who was intimately familiar with the ins and outs of Ishgardian high society. Somebody who could teach you the best ways to present yourself as palatable to the High Houses and the Ishgardian upper classes at large while still retaining that rough charm that I can only imagine Emmanellain finds so seductive. If only there was someone with all the necessary qualifications who also hoped to ask for a favour.”
“That’s the shape of it, then?” said Sicard, thoughtfully still. “If I keep my gob shut ‘bout your current location, you’ll make me into another Ishgardian dandy just like the rest?”
“A version of that, anyway.” Carvallain smiled. “Mostly pirate, with just enough polish that Emmanellain can bring you to society parties. But then, of course, piracy has no place in Limsa Lominsa. We can call ourselves privateers under the auspices of the Lominsan navy.”
Sicard considered his options. “That ain’t a half-bad deal, I s’pose. I reckon I can keep your secret a while longer, Captain de Gorgagne.”
There was a teasing glimmer in Carvallain’s eye. “I would be most appreciative, Captain de Fortemps.”
“Don’t press your luck.”