Valor and Violence

“Leanne! Waist buckles!” Leo barked as he raised his arms. His attendant darted behind him, releasing the cuirass’ straps with a single smooth and practiced motion. The bottom of the armour immediately popped out a few inches as the pressure holding his gut in place disappeared.

“Ahhhh. That’s it,” Leo said, ambling up to the bar and settling onto a stool beside Ferez. “Four top shelf whiskeys, Claude.”

The barman nodded and produced the tumblers, splashing a generous helping of dark spirits into each as Leo took off his helmet.

“Gods, how many years has it been? Sixty? Seventy?”

“Something like that,” Ferez replied, taking in his friend’s face. He had aged, as had Ferez, he supposed. His once glossy, or greasy, blue-black hair was now streaked with grey, and his round face had deep smile lines. “You’ve been busy, I see. I hear this whole island is yours?”

Leo raised his missing hand, and Ferez could only assume he would be making a seesawing motion with it if it still existed.

“Not mine, per se. We’re an autonomous, self-governing, politically neutral port commune. Everyone is free to do as they please, so long as they don’t rock the boat, so to speak.”

“So the fleet of ships in the harbour isn’t yours?”

“No, no, they are.”

“And the police patrolling the streets?”

“Mine too.”

“Sounds like you’re the ruler.”

Leo chuckled and took a heavy draught of his drink as a sudden presence at Ferez’s back announced Leanne standing menacingly over him.

“Aqua Vitalle has no formal leader,” she said in a thick Ris accent. “However, the people of this town owe The Patriarch a debt. They pay him the respect he is due, and he continues to protect and provide.”

“The Patriarch, eh? You have been busy, old friend,” Ferez said, cocking his eyebrow with a smirk.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, I didn’t pick the name. Besides, nobody likes a hypocrite Red Death.”

“Eh, touché,” Ferez replied, picking up his own glass and taking a sip. It was absolutely delicious, which was surprising, as he usually had to choke down dark spirits. He still drank them often enough, made him look tough, but he was actually enjoying this drop.

“Anyway,” Leo said as Ferez guzzled the rest of his drink, “as much as I wish it were, this isn’t a social call, is it?”

“What makes you say that?”

“It’s been over half a century, Ferez,” Leo said, finishing his glass and grabbing Leanne’s. “You need something, don’t you?”

That stings a little.

Ferez looked down at his empty tumbler, unwilling to meet Leo’s disappointed stare as he fought to overwhelm the sudden feeling of shame settling in his stomach.

“It’s true,” he said, finally. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

Leo sighed and stood. “Sure. We’ll go to my villa. We can relax and discuss it there.”

He strode out of the pub, a pair of porters about to enter jumping aside and bowing their heads in deference. Ferez followed with a bemused expression as Leanne and Asim fell into step behind him.

I wonder if they’d still be this reverent if they knew the stupid shit he’d done?

“Actually, that reminds me,” he said.

“What does?”

“Uh, not important. But how, if you don’t mind me asking, did you lose the rest of your hand?”

Leo turned to him with a cocked eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Well, yes. That is why I asked.”

“He lost it during the duel in which he slew the dread assassin Fahroul,” Leanne said matter-of-factly.

“What!” Ferez blurted. “I killed Fahroul!”

He heard the unmistakable sound of steel sliding out of its scabbard, and he glanced over his shoulder to find her bastard sword levelled at him in one hand. Despite its weight, and Asim’s halberd held to her throat, neither the weapon nor her hard gaze wavered.

“Take. That. Back,” she growled through clenched teeth.

“Leanne,” Leo said, striding over and placing his hand over her sword, gently forcing it down. “It’s alright, lower your blade. Ferez speaks the truth.”

“But, Patriarch-”

“I don’t know who started that rumour, but it’s false. I was there, and I did fight Fahroul-”

“I remember you getting beaten up by a family of drunk raiders, actually,” Ferez interjected.

“Shush, you. As I was saying, I fought him, but it was the High Mage here who struck the killing blow.”

“Wait, if you didn’t lose your hand then, how did it happen?” she asked, the tip of her sword clattering to the ground as her face took on an expression partway between kicked puppy and lost child. Leo gave her a knowing smile and resumed his stroll down the street.

*

“So, you want my help sacking Widow’s Wail?” Leo said, leaning back into an oversized leather armchair and puffing on an ivory pipe.

“That about sums it up, yes,” Ferez replied, sipping on more fancy whiskey.

The conversation had gone far longer than expected, and it had seen them through the walk to Leo’s villa on the mountainside, a sumptuous three course meal and several hours of relaxing in the privateer king’s expansive study. It was full of fine mahogany furnishings and bookshelves bursting with leather-bound books, but based on the coating of dust over everything except the liquor cabinet, it seemed unlikely any of them had actually been read.

They had spent most of the time just catching up, sharing tales of their exploits since last they had been together. Ferez had spoken of breaking the siege of Daaromin, where he had overwhelmed a team of battlemages in the service of a powerful Aderathian duke, then put the noble’s army to rout. Leo had spoken of the infamous battle at Canarran, a vicious three-way fight between two pirate factions and a Calandorian fleet that had seen Leo muddle his way through to become the biggest private naval power on this side of the Continent.

And that had just been the tip of the iceberg. Ferez had to admit, if even what half of Leo said was actually true, his friend was a far cry from the bumbling fool he had known over half a century ago. He swirled his drink, staring into the rich, honey coloured liquid as it flowed, feeling that creeping sadness sink into his bones, the type that usually only oozed out of the recesses of his mind on the nights his old injuries denied him sleep.

So much time lost, time spent chasing his own path to fame and fortune, he hadn’t stopped to realise he walked it alone until it was too late.

“Alright,” Leo said, prompting Ferez to raise his gaze to the buccaneer.

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. What are friends for if not to bail each other out of impossible situations?”

The smile on Leo’s face was warm and genuine.

“Even after sixty years?”

Leo’s smile grew, and he took another puff of his pipe.

“What better way to reconnect, I say. It might have been nice if you’d dropped by once every decade or so, but what’s done is done. Besides, this could benefit me as well. If the Crimson Blade falls, I’ll have no equal on the seas.”

A smile crept onto Ferez’s face to match his friend’s.

“I thought that might pique your interest.”

“What can I say? I’m still a businessman, after all. I have to ask, though, do you have a plan yet? A brawl between our fleets would be close on the open water, but with the home ground advantage? We won’t have a hope in the Pit without more allies.”

Ferez nodded, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“I may have something, but first,” Ferez said, finishing his drink. “Mind if I help myself to a refill?”

“Sure,” Leo replied, waving a hand towards the liquor cabinet. Ferez walked over, classy and coordinated and definitely not stumbling from the half dozen glasses he had already consumed, until he reached the expensive-looking furnishing. He ran his fingers over several bottles before selecting one that looked particularly pricey. As he went to pour, he noticed a scrap of paper folded underneath it. Unwilling to help himself, he picked it up and unfolded it. It was a note, written in elegant script and addressed to Leo.

Dearest Leo,

I’m heading over to the next island for a few days. A trader passing through town says there is a gathering of textile merchants presenting their wares for the archipelago’s rich and powerful. I’m going to go see if I can get a few choice bolts of cloth. Be back soon!

I love you.

Mia

“Found a drink yet?” Leo asked as he repacked and lit his pipe. Ferez hastily refolded the note and put it back where he found it.

“Yes, this looks suitably ostentatious, I think. And regarding evening the odds, I have an idea, but you might not like it.”

Leo stared at him for a few long seconds until he realised who Ferez was talking about. His eyes went wide, and he spat the pipe out of his mouth.

“You aren’t seriously considering asking her for help!”

“Why not? She has a powerful army that can travel over water.”

“She’s a harpy!”

“They’re formidable fighters. Valorous in battle.”

“She’s tried to kill me. Several times!”

“Their services are easily bought with the promise of riches which the stronghold will surely contain.”

“She used you to seize control of her clan, then dumped you the same day!”

“Gods damnit, Leo. Who else can we ask if not Ingrid?”

“Uh, I dunno. Maybe we could just stroll on up to the Crimson Blade and ask him to trip onto his own sword. I think it’s probably safer and more likely to work,” Leo said, angrily crossing his arms and sinking back into his seat. When done by a toddler, the gesture was expected and cute. When done by a mage well past a hundred, it was hilarious and a little sad.

“Oh, come on,” Ferez said, trying to placate his friend with a calming tone. “You haven’t even tried to kill each other in, what? Seventy? Eighty years?”

“She tried to kill me last week!”

Ferez dropped his glass, the crystal shattering and the whisky spilling across the floor.

“What?”

“Careful! That whiskey is expensive! And yes, as I was returning from a smuggling run. The escort was minimal as the rest of the fleet was on another job, and a damn raiding party attacked me! They were flying her colours.”

“So you two have kept in contact, then?” Ferez asked, trying hard to appear nonchalant.

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” Leo said, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “We’re both building military empires based on maritime warfare. It’s brought us to blows occasionally.”

“Oh. That’s… that’s nice. Sort of like the gang getting back together, but without me.”

Leo frowned and shook his head. “By the Pantheon, are you serious? I tell you your old flame tried to kill me, and you get jealous??”

“I’m not jealous,” Ferez replied, but he could feel his lips pouting. He tried to wrest the traitorous slugs back under control but only succeeded in pulling an odd facial contortion.

Leo burst out laughing.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that? But alright, if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll come with you to visit your ex-fiancé. If she kills me, though, I want you to know I’m going to haunt the shit out of you. Every time you’re taking a shit, I’ll be there, running commentary. Every time you’re giving a public speech, I’ll be in the crowd, pulling faces. Every time you’re boning, I’ll be there… watching.”

“Creepy, but alright.”

“And I’ll give you a score afterward. Probably out of ten. Just so you’re prepared, though, I’m a hard marker. You probably won’t get above a four.”

“Let’s move along, shall we?” Ferez said, feeling uncomfortable with the intensity of Leo’s appraising stare. “I’m sure she won’t kill you.”

“How sure?”

“Around seventy percent. Give or take. Anyway, do you have a toilet? I really need to pee.”

“Sure, just down the hall, third door on your left.”

Ferez grunted his acknowledgement and left, trying not to hurry as he fled the awkward chat. Although, once he started moving, he realised he actually did need to pee as he gently bounced off the walls while wandering down the passage.

Might have drunk a bit much.

He grimaced, willing his bladder to obey him and hold the line as he reached the door. He wrenched it open, ready to charge through and relieve himself, but immediately jumped back, averting his gaze and muttering profuse apologies as the naked girl inside the room shrieked. The sound of bare feet slapping against the tiled floor announced Leo’s arrival as he bodily shoved Ferez aside and slammed the door shut, shouting a ‘sorry darling’ as he did so.

“Right. I meant to say fourth door, not third.”

“Leo, that was a naked woman in a bright red, love heart shaped bed.”

“That was, yes,” Leo replied, leaning against the doorframe and trying to look nonchalant.

“And there were… accoutrements, hanging from the ceiling.”

“There was indeed, yep.”

“And did I see a diamond encrusted thong lying on the ground?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Leo…”

“It’s not a thong, it’s a reinforced diamond cod piece. It’s armour.”

“Armour?”

“Yes.”

“Made from diamond?”

“It’s the hardest naturally occurring substance known to humanity.”

“But why a thong?”

“That shit is expensive. I could only afford a bit.”

“A. Thong.”

“Well, as the saying goes, a deep-sea fisherman is nothing without his rod.”

“You’re a pirate.”

“A pirate’s nothing without his ‘peg’ leg,” Leo countered.

“Oh, for the love of… what would your subjects think of their Patriarch if they could hear you now?”

“A Patriarch is nothing without his twenty-first family forging phalange?”

Ferez scoffed and shook his head, then shot forward and wrapped Leo in a hug. To his credit, Leo didn’t even pause before wrapping an arm around the high mage, patting Ferez on the back.

“Leo?”

“Yes, Ferez?”

“Thanks for still being an idiot.”