Conquest of Avalon

“Where are you going?” Eloise tapped Florette on the shoulder as she passed by, cold fingers sending a shiver down her spine. “We’re dropping anchor soon. You need to be ready.”

“Just dropping something off.” Florette tapped the worn copy of Olwen’s Song, a memoir of the Winter War written by one of Micheltaigne’s famous pegasus generals. She’d already read it twice since finding it in the Folly’s hold, and it still felt like a shame she wouldn’t be able to go through it again. With the new context of the ending, it was like reading another book.

The captain wrinkled her eyebrows. “Right, for the prisoner. That makes sense.”

“I’ll be right back. I just…” He’s the only one on this boat who cares what I did. “I did promise.”

“Of course. You wouldn’t want to break your word. Perish the thought!”

Florette bopped her lightly with the book, daring her to continue.

Eloise sighed, her gaze softening slightly. “Suit yourself, I suppose. Just make sure you’re ready when the time comes.”

That’s never been the problem; it’s what comes after.

Elizabeth was the one left guarding the prince this shift, and she was only too happy to tap out for a few minutes when Florette offered relief.

The man himself didn’t look much better, lying still on his bed and staring at the ceiling with dark-ringed eyes, almost like he was peering through the veil from Khali’s world into reality.

“Here.” Florette set the book down on his bed. “As promised.”

“Thank you.” He sat up, grabbing the book and examining the cover. His nose wrinkled when he read the title, though he attempted to smooth out his expression right away.

“I can always take it back if you don’t care for it.”

“Sorry, no. I’m grateful, really. It’s just…” He flipped to the black-inked illustration on the inside cover, a flurry of lances raining down from the sky. “I’m not much one for all the sentimentality and melodrama.”

Florette frowned. “I don’t think you can call it that when it really happened. However much it feels like a fantasy, it’s as factual as anything.”

“You really think so?”

“What, you don’t think Olwen wrote it? Or, what, that she wasn’t real?” The Winter War was only half a century old; the authorship had to have been verifiable.

The prince scratched the back of his neck. “I’m sure she did, and the broad strokes probably did happen, but that doesn’t mean it’s really the truth. It’s propaganda, written for a specific purpose.”

“Propaganda?” What? “Olwen lost her lands and the respect of the High King. Her brother was driven mad by an horla, her wife pushed from the High Summit, her mount burned alive, and she was banished from the High Kingdom, all because of the war.” She slammed her against the wall to emphasize the point. “Micheltaigne doesn’t exactly come out looking that great.”

“Think about how it’s framed though. That whole war started because the High King went crazy starving himself and thought he was being attacked when he wasn’t. He jumped into the fight for no reason and lost the southern half of his kingdom! It’s a complete farce! And yet in Olwen’s Song it’s a tragedy.”

“So? That doesn’t make it propaganda, and it doesn’t make Olwen a liar.”

The prince massaged his temples. “Look at the motivations. Olwen, according to her own memoir, was a key part of losing the war for her kingdom and was cast out as a result. In the frame of the story, she’s in Porte Lumière explaining her downfall, trying to make sure the truth is heard.

“So the High King goes from a raving lunatic to a tragic hero, spiritual and wise, undone by one cruel mistake. All the while her own failures are brushed aside as a grand love story. It’s pandering, plain and simple, trying to get back into the High King’s good graces so she can return from exile. You can’t assume she really meant any of it.”

“She fought for Micheltaigne; of course she’d think more highly of it!”

He smiled. “In a way, you do get it, then. The narrator biases their recounting of events. Whether she was a deluded patriot or cynically exploiting the war to try to return home, either way the point of view and the framing slant the story towards melodrama and away from fact.”

“That…” She thought back to the dramatic turns, the narrow escapes, long scenes of the High King ruminating on a mountain top and lamenting what had come of his choice. “I can see it. It’s still a great story though.”

The prince grimaced. “If you’re into that sort of thing, I suppose.” He looked down at the book in his hands. “Anyway, I don’t mean to be ungrateful. I haven’t read it since I was thirteen anyway; it’ll be interesting to see how my view of it’s changed over the years. I do appreciate it.”

Sure. “Well, enjoy. You’ll have to read it quickly though, since we’re dropping anchor.”

“I know. The captain lady showed me.” He thumped his head back against the headboard. “I didn’t think I’d have to see more bodies so soon.”

Those bodies… The ones after the battle had been bad enough, but at least they’d been cleared from the decks pretty quickly, returned to the sea. The ones on the beach had been perched upright by that machine used to kill them, blue-tinted sentinels kept in a mockery of life.

And for what?

“Whose fault is that?” She almost grabbed the book back. “Simply coming to Malin, they’d have been there waiting for you anyway. Because of your Governor.”

“He’s not my Governor!” The prince pounded his fist. “I told you: he’s everything wrong with Avalon. If I had my way, he’d be back in Cambria where he couldn’t do any harm. It’s not my choice!”

“So?” She folded her arms, trying to emulate Eloise’s aloof confidence. “You’re the prince, aren’t you?”

He scowled. “It’s not that simple. As part of a peace settlement, my grandfather granted him the appointment until death—”

Florette smiled, causing him to cut himself off.

“A prince can’t just go around executing people who haven’t committed any crimes!” He flailed his arm in a wild gesticulation. “My brother explains it much better than I do, but that’s no way to govern.”

“No crimes, huh?” She swept her hand in the direction of the beach. “If it’s no way to govern, maybe he deserves to reap the fruit of his own labors. You could stop all of this, but you don’t want to because it’s inconvenient.”

“I don’t—” He slammed his head against the headboard, harder than the last time. “Agh! I’ve never even set foot in Malin. I only met Gordon Perimont in passing once or twice, as a child! I’m doing everything I can to fix things from Cambria with sensible, measured steps towards peace and reconciliation.”

Why come then? She almost voiced the question, but what was the point? Clearly he wasn’t much different from the miners who’d cheered Magnifico on, looking for any excuse to avoid changing his behavior.

Florette slammed the door, walking so quickly back to Eloise’s chambers that it was almost a run.

The captain’s quarters weren’t as lavishly furnished as the prince’s, but the bed was still leagues more comfortable than any of the crew hammocks, and more private besides.

She buried her head under the pillow, trying not to think about what she’d done.

“You have an interesting definition of ready.” Eloise’s voice pierced through the air. “Maybe it’ll confuse the customs agent so much that he’ll leave right away.”

Fuck. “Sorry. I just got caught up with some… Doesn’t matter. I’ll be out in a second.”

Eloise patted her on the back. “Up to you. If you’re not feeling up to it, we can manage without you.”

Florette sat up, accidentally knocking the back of her head against Eloise’s chin. “Fuck. Ow. Sorry, again.”

“Quite a stirring response,” Eloise said as she rubbed her jaw. “I take it you do want to come, then?”

“Of course!” The tricks were the only untainted part of piracy. None of the blood, none of the guilt. “Don’t try to cut me out of the best part.” Not that she was too closely involved. The language issues made that impossible. But she’d worked hard on the preparations, and it would still be good to see it play out.

Holding up her hands in mock surrender, Eloise nodded. “Not the point. I’m just saying… Everyone’s first battle is tough. I get the feeling that you’re having a bit of trouble coping.”

“Of course not! I’m doing just fine.”

“I can tell.” Eloise sat down on the bed beside her. “I’m not much one for the killing myself, honestly. It’s just a means to an end. Riches, treasure, wealth…”

“Freedom, reputation, respect…”

Eloise shrugged. “As a result, sure. But again, that’s not the point.”

“Maybe not for you.” Florette frowned. “I just… I wish we could have all of that without the…”

“Messiness? Me too.” Eloise shrugged. “But you can’t, not completely. We do our best to keep it to a minimum, but ultimately it’s all part of the game. They come after us, we come after their shit. Sometimes people die. We know what we’re signing up for, and they would just get eaten up by the crushing machinery of their workaday lives otherwise. They chose to work on that ship, knowing the risks just as much as we do.”

“They didn’t know a spy was going to tell us about it.”

“Eh…” She tilted her head. “They know this sort of thing happens. If not Jethro, then others. Shit, even Captain Verrou was in the Avalon Navy until the Foxtrap. It’s a risk that was accounted for.”

“Still…” It feels horrible.

“Look, it’s not about them. They don’t matter, in the end. It’s about us. About you. You have to look out for yourself, because no one else will.” Eloise bit her lip. “I mean I might, maybe. Sometimes. Don’t count on it.”

Florette forced herself to smile. “It almost sounds like you care, but I know Captain Eloise would never do such a thing.”

“Don’t tell anyone. It might soil my reputation.” Reaching into her coat pocket, Eloise pulled out a glimmering blue earring. “Here, this is yours.”

“A gift? I thought you didn’t believe in that sort of thing.”

“As a general rule, I don’t.” She pressed it into her hands. “But this already belongs to you. Prince Loose Lips was wearing it. He said it was a gift from his brother, which I figure makes it like double the royal theft.”

“Oh.” Florette stared into the shimmering blue void set into the gold frame, looking for some kind of answer, but all she could make out was a warped reflection of the candle light flickering throughout the quarters.

“You found him,” Eloise continued. “I figure you just missed it with all the excitement and everything, but you’ve got finder’s rights on it. Just think, your first boarding party and you’ve already got treasure belonging to two princes of Avalon. Shit, at this rate, it won’t be long before you’re robbing King Harold himself.”

Florette forced a smile, though it came more easily than before. “Why is there only one? Who wears one earring?”

Eloise grinned. “That’s the spirit! Never be satisfied; always aim higher.” She folded her arms. “I think the single-earring thing is a trend in Avalon, or maybe it’s just going to be. If both princes are doing it, the rest of the sheep will follow in no time. You know how independently-minded people tend to be in the presence of royalty and shiny objects.”

“Yeah…”

“Come on.” Eloise held out her hand. “We’ve got a customs agent to con.”

Florette grabbed it, following her out onto the deck.

With the docks apparently destroyed in some kind of explosion, loading and unloading was being managed entirely with smaller skiffs that could run around on the beach.

It made most of the usual strategies for sneaking goods through the port impossible, according to the other pirates. No “friendly face” at the docks to chat up customs agents long enough to unload things, no floating them around the harbor after darkness fell, and with the unexpectedness of the approach, bribing wasn’t as reliable an option either.

Of course, most of those methods depended on being unassuming anyway. Captain Verrou would never use the Folly for smuggling, not when it was so recognizable. And while this ship wasn’t yet recognizable as Eloise’s, it was clearly too fast and fancy for regular shipping of goods.

There wasn’t usually a prince on board either though.

Elizabeth had brought him up to the deck, walking calmly next to him without any overt brandishment of weapons. If he tried to jump overboard, the half dozen pirates in a good position to stop him would do so. If he raised a fuss or let on that this wasn’t his usual crew, this ship could outrun anything else in the harbor.

If he followed his script and did things right, no one would have anything to fear.

Right?

They had accounted for every possibility, even the worst cases. And if they pulled it off…

“Customs!” one of the pirates yelled.

When Florette turned to look, she saw that the agents had finished climbing up to the deck.

One agent was short, even with his thick heeled boots. His sandy brown hair was a tangled mess in the wind, his voice louder than it needed to be. By his side was a short-haired woman with noticeable muscles packed just right into a taut frame. “Where’s Prince Luce?” she asked.

“Right here,” Elizabeth announced. She would be playing the role of the royal attendant, since as a native she was naturally the most convincing speaker of the Avalonian tongue.

Between some books she’d tried to crack in the past and some hurried lessons from Eloise, Florette could just about manage to get the gist of a conversation if people were speaking slowly enough, but sounding remotely proficient was far beyond her at this point, let alone native. They had an explanation ready in case she were required to speak, but it would be far better if it never needed to be used. The less unusual things seemed, the easier everything would go.

“You’ll learn,” Eloise had assured her. “Without having to deal with those stuck up pricks at Lord Airion’s School for Wayward Youngsters. It’ll probably even come to you faster than it came to me.”

That had sounded nice at the time, but right now this was still a bit hard to follow.

The fact that the conversation was all playing out according to a script she knew backwards and forwards helped, though.

The prince began with a greeting, which the agents returned.

They would ask him about his trip, and he would remark on the fair weather.

He wasn’t to bring up inspections unless they did first, which was reasonably unlikely. No one wanted to be the one to poke their nose into a prince’s business, not if they knew what was good for them.

They’re all complicit. There’s nothing he couldn’t get away with.

And yet he wouldn’t simply get rid of Perimont and have done with it.

All the same.

The fit woman started to speak, but she was hurriedly shushed by the short man.

The prince nodded, stroking his chin as he moved into the part of the script where he mentioned unloading goods.

The man jumped up, practically shouting a long string that repeated the word “boat” over and over, but that was all Florette could catch.

Her eyes widened. That’s not in the script. Was he angry? He looked more excited than anything, and none of the other pirates were reacting with alarm. So why?

The other agent tried to speak again, but was once more shouted down as the prince simply shook his head. What? He shouldn’t be saying ‘no’ to anything. Even if they had called for an inspection, the correct response was to say ‘yes’ so they would be trapped aboard as the ship departed.

With a smile and a point, the man turned around and began climbing back down to his boat, the lady following shortly thereafter.

By the time they were clear, a round of applause erupted across the deck.

“What happened?” Florette asked quietly as she ran up to them.

Elizabeth laughed. “Those people weren’t customs agents. The short guy was the personal guard for the other prince!”

“It’s a bit distressing to see how easily that fooled them,” the prince added, the look of weariness returned tenfold to his face. “They even offered boats to help unload the goods, with no questions about what they were.”

“And customs aren’t coming at all now, since those doofs stepped in instead.” Eloise stepped up to Florette. “We’ll have this product ready for Jacques in no time.”

“Jacques?”

Eloise smiled. “Just a boring old man, nothing to worry about. He certainly never pays out the nose for smuggled goods from his old apprentice.”

“Oh. I suppose someone would need to do something with it for it to be worthwhile.”

“Good job, Elizabeth,” Eloise continued. “You admirably stood there while they fucked it up for themselves.”

“Aye, Captain,” the Cambrian responded with a smile.

“As for you…” She turned back to Florette. “It’s time you get a break from the rough-and-tumble, don’t you think?.”

“What?”

She smiled. “I think it’s best if you follow the shipment to Jacques, stay in Malin for a while. It’ll help with the language skills, and you can pick up a lot more. We’ll pick you back up before the next big job, and that way you’ll be able to contribute better.”

Florette’s eyes widened. “You’re sending me away?” After all of that? It was hard to articulate the feeling of betrayal, but… Didn’t it all have to count for something? How could she just leave now?

“Yeah, obviously.” She rolled her eyes. “Look, this isn’t a kingdom, and I’m not your queen. You do whatever the fuck you want. I think it would be a good idea, and I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you. We’re going to be stashing Prince Loopy and setting out for more plunder. This is something of a hot streak, and patrols are bound to tighten once they find out he was kidnapped. Better to get it in now while we still can.”

Florette looked at the prince, who seemed about ready to collapse. Past him the gallows were still visible on shore, not far from the splintered ruins of the docks. Is that where I want to be?

And then there was the ship. Even if it meant more time with Eloise, it also meant more battle, more boarding parties. More blood on my hands.

Florette gulped. “Malin it is.”