A Romp Ashore

Short Story
Saniyeh
Lumenshard Team

Acrisp breeze bit at Arensio’s sea-weathered face as he navigated the winding streets. The tunnels funneled the wind in a way that chilled his bones more than he remembered it should for the end of Forgefire in northeastern Ithero. A few brisk steps carried him around the corner and into the weak morning sun, and with some light adjustments to his freshly pressed overcoat and favorite sash, he was properly armed against the morning air.

When he started his service, all those years ago, he found the layers of the uniform excessive frippery - wearing multiple pieces of clothing on top of each other seemed a waste. Years - no, decades now, he had to remind himself - on the open sea changed his mind. He’d gone on fishing trips with his father as a child. When out on that little skiff, he drank in the tales his father spun of his own service, and warned him many a time that the ‘weather was as fickle as a woman’s mood’. He hadn’t understood it then, but his first experience with a squall on open water brought half of the revelation; towering waves sent crashing onto the deck soaked him to the bone, and naught thirty minutes later, unforgiving sunlight would burned the clouds away, leaving only dead air and suffocating humidity. 

Shedding damp layers - or adding more dry, warm ones - proves a blessing in such times. Arensio was loathe had to admit it then, but time and perspective let him see that what seemed to be excessive frippery could, in fact, be rooted in practicality. His own overcoat, embroidered a touch more ornately than he thought strictly necessary, was a symbol of his station as captain as much as protective wear, woven with a particular enchantment that fought away the chill better than the wool otherwise might. Of course, he couldn’t recall any details about how it worked or was made from his academy days, and though he found himself more curious lately, he thought it was better not to ask. 

It wouldn’t do to admit to a requisition officer that he’d forgotten. He’d had enough jabs about his advancing age to deal with already. Though, with how his knees creaked as he climbed the stairs from the port, Arensio had to admit that the signs were there.

33rd Forgefire, 15:15.

"Weather fair, low tide. Finished securing ship not half an hour ago. Crew disembarked for the first romp ashore in six moons. All in high spirits. Usual speech given. Likely not a word will stay in their heads. Academy-fresh sailors always take off like a pack of starved lieqos. Forgotten how rowdy the young ones are.

Should assign someone to keep eyes on Rovachi & Riccilse. Capable and curious. Would be good, if they had more than a thimble of sense shared between them. Damned troublemakers. Though, hard to stay mad. Watching them makes me feel ten years younger.

All but me ashore, now. Nice having some quiet. Planned stay, week’s time. Repairs, resupply, rest. Plans to walk through Larugil. Been years since I stopped by the cafe. Wonder if she still makes those cream-stuffed pastries. Or if she’s even still there."

When he reached the next landing, he turned to look to see how far he’d gone. From his vantage point - a little over halfway up the cliffside - brought a view of Remiliciggio that made him wish for his sister’s talent in painting. The sleepy town really had blossomed over the years. In the light of dawn, the new buildings with their freshly waxed copper roofs reflected the soft sunlight. The colorful canvas cloths used in the market stalls and the pops of greenery from the plants, lovingly tended, added vibrancy to the stone walls and floors. If he squinted, he thought he could spot movement - shopkeepers, apprentices, errand runners. Soon, the streets would bustle with the morning crowd. He reluctantly withdrew himself from the vista and continued on. Best get to his destination before then. He still had a ways to go.

By the time the fog of dawn burned off, he found himself passing through the market. He really had missed how much richer and more varied the smells were ashore than at sea. Out on the blue, the brine was pervasive, overwriting every sense, but here? The riot of city-smells demanded to be experienced. Turning his head one way, he smelled the acrid smoke of a blacksmith’s forge, firing up for the day. Several paces forward and a tilt of his head to check the time brought the pleasant smell of baking bread to his nose. Far better than the foul stench from the fountain he’d passed before entering this district, to be sure. It seemed to Arensio that it may have been pretty, once, but if it had ever been cleaned he couldn’t tell. The… unique smell it emanated was rather off-putting. Perhaps he should submit a report. Someone should be in charge of clearing out the waste thrown into it. Come to think of it, among the trash and algae, had he seen a Navy sailor’s jacket floating in the water? Or-

A growl from his stomach cut through his musings. His focus returned to his gloved hand, holding his trusty pocket watch. He always did get easily distracted before he had his morning coffee. It was 06:47. He was on shore leave. Trash in the fountain of a town he was not stationed in was not his problem. He had an appointment to keep. He would keep his nose out of it. Captains are punctual. Arensio punctuated that thought by shutting his pocket watch with a snap, and began to walk forward once again. It wouldn’t do to be late, after all.

Thirteen minutes of brisk walking later, Arensio found himself face-to-face with his destination: a building with a warm red door, framed on either side by planters struggling to contain the flowers' life within. This was the one and only Cafe Grimmali, as proclaimed by the cheerfully painted sign. Comfortable looking, sunworn wooden chairs were paired to small round tables dressed in simple, clean linen cloths. As he looked around, he felt a smile grow on his face. The Cafe’s atmosphere was just as he remembered, he thought; everything in the exact place he remembered. Vibrant. Warm. Glowing.

Just like the woman in the corner of his eyes, dusting her hands on her apron.

A favorite of locals and tourists alike, Cafe Grimmali is a fixture in Larugil - as popular today as it ever was

He turned, then, fully facing her. Like the shop, she was just as he remembered; though she was as old as he was, she only had a fraction of the wrinkles he had. Judging from her posture, she seemed to have just finished setting up the tables and chairs. Standing beneath the sign that bore her name, she had one eyebrow raised in - was that expectation? Disappointment? He wasn’t sure how long she had been waiting for him to speak. Perhaps she thought he forgot her? Nonsense. Who could possibly forget Vevica Grimmali? Her eyes narrowed at him. Arensio exhaled, and then took a hesitant step closer.

He found himself rubbing the back of his neck suddenly somewhat sheepish. How many years had it actually been? Would she even remember? What should he even say? Why is he even ner-

“Arensio Drecani? Devoid of speech! I never thought I would bear witness.” her characteristically high-pitched laughter bounced off the wall. Well. She remembered him. Good. Was that good? Vevica leaned against the doorframe and folded her arms with a smirk. 

“I, ah, thought I’d treat you to a surprise.” She’d been throwing him off balance for sixteen years. “I believe you deserved a little taste of what it's like.”

Her only response to that remark was a chuckle. Pushing herself off the wall, she changed the subject. “That explains the warning I got yesterday.”

In classic Vevica fashion, her hands gestured wildly as she spoke, in a tone that suggested she was impersonating a Selukkite merchant. “Beware! A litter of moon-eyed lieqo pups has been let out of their cave for the very first time, ready to tear through town!”

Arensio’s control faltered. It was becoming difficult to wrangle the corners of his mouth back down.

“I’ll admit, it was a valiant effort to get me to buy more stock than I needed. Though, I wonder…” She fixed him with a pointed look. “Does their mother know where they are now?” 

“Their mother knows they can handle themselves. Why else would they be let out in the first place?” Arensio gave up on holding back his smile. “I see you’re as well informed as ever, Ms. Grimmali.”

“In this sleepy town? It comes easier to me than breathing. And moons above, Arensio,” She spread her arms wide in invitation. “Enough with that nonsense. I told you, Vevi, or even Vevica, if you must.”

Arensio chuckled and stepped in for a quick hug. She smelt of yeast and fruit, like always. She also nearly crushed his ribs, like always. The first time he made a comment regarding her unexpected strength, she said it had to do with kneading dough and when he expressed his doubts, he found himself trapped in a kitchen for the rest of the day and came out with sore arms for the next week. 

After separating from the hug, the captain raised an eyebrow, choosing another battle. “And just how is Remiliciggio sleepy? It’s the largest port on the Keruca!”

His exclamation was met with a huff and an eyeroll. “As well traveled as you are, Captain, I thought you would have more perspective on how exciting a town of this size should be. Now, take a seat right there so I can get on with my little routine.” She gestured at a nearby table before turning with exaggerated flourish.

Arensio took the cue and headed to his seat. After he heard the red door shut behind her, he quietly muttered, “Knowing your proclivities, Vevica, I shudder to think what you’d consider exciting.” 

A yell came from inside. “What was that?”

“I, ah…” He coughed, and raised his voice. “I merely said that you are a lady of exceptional tastes.”

A muffled laugh came from inside. “Well, then, it is a good thing that I happen to be in the business of selling exceptional pastries!”

He found himself laughing with her. It felt… good. He'd been throwing himself into work more and more recently and he was self-aware enough to know that he was doing it as a distraction.

Soon, familiar clinks and whirrs started coming from the cafe that lulled him into introspection. He’d been a Captain for- gods, how long? He knew most took mainland postings to aid with administration, infrastructure, or policing and half outright retired long before reaching his age. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, letting the peaceful sounds of the sea and waking town wash over him. Perhaps he would put in a request soon. He’d have to decide where, of course. He was fond of the Keruca coast. Perhaps-

The thunk of something being placed onto the table started him out of his thoughts. Shortly after, the smell of coffee floated up into his nose, and he opened his eyes to see Vevica smiling down at him warmly. 

Arensio sat up in his chair and reached for the coffee. She said nothing as he picked it up and took a sip. The depth of flavor always astounded him - yes, this was easily leagues better than the rationed stuff they kept on the ship, but somehow, her brews always had something to them he couldn’t find in other cafes he had been to. It even had the perfect amount of sweetness. 

“You know, I’m surprised you remembered how I like my coffee.”

“You’re the only one who ever comes by this early.”

Her quick retort caused him to sputter a bit into his coffee. “Well, ah, yes. Like you said. Exceptional pastries.”

The proprietress chuckled and swept back through the door, giving him a knowing side-eye as she did so. Suddenly, she was at the window near him, sliding it open and leaning against the sill. 

Almost immediately his nose was greeted by the comforting smells of yeast and fruit and spice. Arensio wasn’t sure which of the two, the rich pastry smells or her bright personality, warmed his heart more. He hadn’t realized the tension he held in his shoulders, or the weariness in his bad leg, until he’d sat down at her cafe. It dawned on him, then, how much he’d been looking forward to this meal ever since he got the order to put into port.

Caffeine and pastry make for an excellent morning - no matter the season, weather, or company

“So," Vevica’s voice cut through his thoughts, easing further onto her elbows with a smile settling languidly across her face. “What’ll it be? Unfortunately, Calastore boy, I don’t have any of your usual prepped. I stopped making them since they haven’t really sold well.”

The captain peered into his cup, somewhat deflated. “Oh. Well, in that case, maybe just the paper…”

“Nonsense!” Vevica sprang away from the window, bustling towards the back of the cafe. “I’m sure I can throw together something acceptable for your distinguished palette. Sit tight.”

Quiet returned to the street as she left, and Arensio took the opportunity to reacquaint himself with his surroundings. Dawn had broken, and the sunrise was beautiful - or so he assumed. It would seem that several new buildings had sprung up between Cafe Grimmali and the harbor since his last visit, obscuring his view. At least Elkaterne Academy was still there, Arensio mused. A beautiful old structure, the local philosophers’ school, with its many windows overlooking the sea. Illuminated from behind by the rising sun, the glass sparkled in the orange light. Not the same, he thought, but pleasant even so. He had similar hopes for whatever Vevica was about to bring out for him.

As if on cue, the door flung open and out she came, plate in one hand and the other hidden behind her back as if she were a fine dining waitress. “Apricot roll, first batch of the day. With extra whipped cream, just for you.”

Arensio eyed the confection as she placed it gently in front of him. He smiled. Pleasant, even so.

“Does it pass muster, Captain?”

He started. “Ah! Yes. It looks delightful.”

Vevica winked and pulled her other hand from behind her back, holding a bound newspaper. She rolled it onto the table, at the edge of his reach. “And this arrived just before you got here. Now, I have just a few more things to take care of. Do try to keep yourself busy with that until I get back, old man.”

Arensio’s brow furrowed, his earlier mood rushing back in like the tide. He looked up to meet her gaze. “Old man!?”

But it was too late. The door slammed behind her, leaving the open window the only place for her peals of laughter to escape. Arensio sighed and pulled the paper towards him. He’d give her this round.

34th of Forgefire, 07:44.

"Weather fair. Day 1 of 7 on leave. Peaceful morning. Checked in at the naval station. Ensured repairs would begin before disembarking. City same as I remember - just larger. Plans to check in during the afternoon. Until then, much anticipated time to myself."

Arensio put down his pen and tucked away his logbook. He’d add to the entry as the day went on, but since the book was supposed to be more a record of events than a personal journal, it was likely that he would have nothing more to include. The morning was shaping up to be lovely and quiet, just like he’d been hoping for. Training the new recruits had been harder on him than he remembered, but perhaps he was spoiled by his previous assignments. He had even been offered a promotion to Port Admiral, in a town closer to home, but felt that it was not yet time to leave the sea. Too political a position, he thought, and with hardly a raise in pay for the trouble - ornamental roles didn’t suit him.

He did, however, want a bit of a change, and had thought perhaps that taking some of this year’s new graduates on their first tour would agree with him. So far, it had been quite the experience - he wasn’t sure if the youth had gotten rowdier or if he had gotten older. He decided that it was likely a little of both. Arensio took another, appreciative sip of his coffee as he regarded his empty plate. He’d thought it earlier, but Vevica’s pastries really were the best he’d ever had, and that was saying something coming from one as well-traveled as he. She certainly had a gift, and he was surprised the cafe wasn’t busier. Then again, it was still relatively early for the clientele she normally catered to - part of the reason why he always came just as she opened.

The cafe’s central location along its eastern cliffside, above the harbor, placed it relatively near where his ship was docked but far enough into the city that the locals were unaffected by the noise below. As the rest of the city started to rise, he spotted several people going for leisurely strolls, admiring the scenery, and enjoying the early springtime sunlight. It was peaceful here. Perhaps Vevica had the right idea to settle down in such a place, after her own time in the Itherian Navy. He made a note to consider it more later, set down his cup, and reopened the newspaper that had been waiting patiently for him.

Having already been through the headline topics while eating breakfast, he began to see what Vevica meant earlier. The majority of the remaining articles were gossip pieces and interviews that doubled as advertisements for local shops. There was a small section discussing some new research station the philosophers had recently opened out in Skunemarr to the west, but nothing too exci-

EXCUSE ME!” A shrill voice sliced through the air and his thoughts. It sounded like it was coming from down the street, but the high pitch bounced it off of every wall in the district. It may as well have been everywhere. Arensio wondered what kind of argument was brewing. Perhaps a lady caught her lover in the arms of another? 

“Sir? Sir. I know you can hear me! I demand you cease ignoring me at once! Do you know who I am?!”

Hm, no, the voice was closer now. Perhaps behind him, coming up from the market? He felt a pang of pity for the person about to get an earful, and decided to wash the feeling away with a fresh sip of coffee. Arensio reached for the cup with one hand without taking his eyes off his paper.

Suddenly, there was a clattering of chairs and his table shook. Immediately after, he was assaulted with an awful smell and an eruption of sound that came dangerously close to damaging his eardrums. 

“I am Angelouce Tanobois! How dare you ignore me! You- I have no idea what I expected, given what your little rats put me through! The trauma they inflicted on my precious baby!”

The captain took a deep breath. He’d had nearly thirty years of practice tuning out the sound of canonfire, sailors shouting, and hurricanes - and used every bit of it to mute the horrible screeching. He’d also dealt with his fair share of… overbearing personalities. 

Lowering his newspaper, Arensio decided he was prepared to face the situation. As he looked up, his eyes were immediately bombarded by the most exuberant hat he had ever seen in his forty seven years, seated on a similarly flamboyant configuration of makeup and fabric. Somehow, this woman managed to look as loud as she sounded.

No matter, he’d handled angry civilians before. Arensio turned his attention lower. In each hand, the irate woman was holding a sailor by his ear. Two horribly disheveled, horribly familiar sailors, who had the gall to meet his gaze and look sheepish. One of the two was without his uniform jacket… which must have been left in the fountain…

Arensio felt a pressure building behind his eyes, resisting the urge to rub his temples as he realized that he would not get to keep his lovely, quiet morning.

12:36.

"Day 1 of 7 on leave. Peaceful morning ruined. Rovachi & Riccilse wreaked havoc ashore last night. Trial to be held aboard ship. Five sailors and two civilians were summoned for a Tribunal - awaiting their arrival now. As captain I will stand as Certifier. Helmsman Larragen is collecting the witnesses and will be Speculator, per regulation. May the Intertwined grant me the strength to persevere in this matter."

Captain Drecani put down his pen and rubbed his temples. The whole morning had been taken up by attempts to calm this lady - rather, Madam Tanobois - and collect a coherent summary of events. In the end, Vevica, bless her soul, calmed her with platitudes and a glass of some sweet smelling orange liquid, claiming it was juice from a rare Loghec fruit. The sailors, Vanni Rovachi and Celio Riccilse, slumped into chairs at the cafe when the madam finally let go of their ears. They might’ve liked a coffee, themselves, but were given none.

As far as the captain could gather, the awful woman’s cheese shop was the boys’ last stop after a drunken night of partying. They had stumbled through town and broken into the store in the early hours of the morning, where she found them ‘stealing away’ her ‘precious baby’.

The ‘precious baby’ was kept in a regular-looking basket, which had been brought along dutifully by what seemed to be either an employee or personal assistant. It was strange - the ‘baby’ made no noise, though it would occasionally rustle its basket as it moved, and given the woman’s eccentricities Arensio felt safe to assume there was no human baby in there. The Alor elite are rather famous for keeping unusual pets, and treating them as their children, so perhaps that was the case here.

But no pet, or child for that matter, exuded the terrible odor that had settled over the cafe patio. Arensio wondered if it was his men - perhaps they’d fallen into something last night on their romp? He shook his head. Everyone would be giving their account of events soon.

Many are the duties of an Itherian naval captain, among them keeping diligent records of the ship’s happenings

Arensio had great respect for the trial process. It was everything he enjoyed about the Navy: there was a logical sequence of steps to follow, a clear set of rules, and a well-balanced decision-making process when it came to deciding the final verdict. It allowed for all parties to speak their piece, and though it wasn’t perfect, he found it reassuring that all involved held responsibility in the process.

In Ithero, it was always the custom for the land to look to the sea, and as the commanding officer of the Accused, it was his job to ensure they were punished accordingly. Part of the requirements of reaching the rank of captain was to pass the Certifier’s exam, ensuring knowledge of the law for moments like this. After all, it was the Certifier’s role to know what laws were being broken and finalize the next course of action. 

That left the role of Speculator. When at sea, that role is traditionally passed to the helmsman. Arensio had considered finding a registered Speculator since they were ashore, but that would require an awkward conversation with the ship’s purser. Besides, the captain was fairly sure monetary reparations would be in order by the end of the day - and it would be today, as the shrill, behatted woman insisted time was of the essence.

It was an easy decision, then, to pass the job over to Sovilia Larragen, the ship’s helmsman. She had entered the Navy intent on becoming a Navigator, with particular talents as a seer. But, the art had exacted too great a toll on her too quickly, and her career path had to change. She was a capable helmsman, Arensio knew, as she could see with far more than just her eyes. This tied in well with one of the Speculator’s main roles: to contextualize information, bringing the motivation and intention of the Accused and their Accuser out to each other and the Tribunal. A valuable skill for an officer in any case, which Arensio hoped Sovilia would become with his recommendation.

That left the Tribunal, or the individuals charged with passing judgment. After the Certifier and Speculator were appointed and performed their initial investigation, they would select the members of the Tribunal. On land, in formal cases far grander than this, such a process could take weeks, maybe even months. But here, being so rushed by the Accuser and with no injuries apparent, it only took the better part of two hours to find a suitable group. At sea, it would be even faster - the only people around are your fellow crew members, after all. Arensio thought back on some of those trials. To require one while embarked, weeks away from land…

A knock came at his open cabin door. There Sovilia stood, firmly at attention, saluting as he looked up.

“Captain, the witnesses have been gathered and the Tribunal has received the preliminary summary. We are ready on deck, awaiting your command.” He could see some nervousness in her eyes, but she hid it well.

“At ease. Thank you, Larragen. I will be out shortly.”

She nodded, and turned to leave.

”One more thing, helmsman.”

“Yes, captain?”

“You can relax. This is not a battle, and you are not the one being judged.”

She blinked. “Oh. Yes, captain. I, ah, Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Arensio made use of the leverage his desk gave him and pushed himself up off his chair. ”Now, Speculator Larragen, let’s get this over with.”

14:17.

"Crimes have been read; initial accounts given. Tribunal is deciding on questions for the witnesses. Trial results in a separate report, to be sent to the Admiralty this evening. I am not looking forward to using that contraption. Mages and their inventions. Never understood them, but I do understand its usefulness. Still. They should put care into making its use less complex for the rest of us."

In all his years as captain, Arensio Drecani had never sat as Certifier for a more ridiculous case.

All were assembled on the deck of his ship, the INS Merganser, with the Tribunal sitting portside on chairs brought up from below. Sovilia had arranged an announcement in town and secured two locals to serve, filling out the Tribunal with sailors chosen at random from the vessel. In her brief investigation, she had also found three witnesses, now standing near the main mast: the owner of the bar where the sailors had started their night; a baker who featured later in their escapades; and, a longshoreman who saw how the night had ended. Facing them on the starboard side stood the woman with the horrible voice, flanked by the very sorry-looking Vanni and Celio.

Now-Certifier Drecani stood at the railings of the quarterdeck, regarding the scene with a quiet dread. Speculator Larragen climbed the stairs to join him, having received the oaths of the witnesses to serve the Tribunal and its goal of justice. She drew a small wooden box from her jacket pocket, revealed to contain a silver-rimmed monocle which she placed carefully at her eye. Arensio had seen Sovilia wear it many times, typically at night or when steering the ship through difficult storms. One of the few seer’s tools she kept from her education as a Navigator.

To begin the trial, Arensio gave a brief opening speech - well-practiced boilerplate from his naval manuals - and requested Speculator Larragen set the stage. She meticulously described her findings for the Tribunal, expanding on the brief previously afforded them.

The first night of shore leave had begun innocently enough for the crew of the Merganser. Most had decided to meet in the same establishment, a storied tavern in the city’s Vecceza called Bardovico’s. Helmsman - Speculator Larragen, Arensio had to remind himself, explained that the sailors had arrived after suppertime and only began to trickle out in groups after midnight. 

Theosel Bardovico, publican and now trial witness, was thrilled to have the business but kept strict hours. Sovilia paused her summary to confirm the details.

“And what happened at the end of the night?” She asked, gaze fixed on Theosel.

“Well I kicked them out, didn’t I?” He seemed a bit irritated at having to repeat himself, but he understood as well as any Itherian how the Tribunal worked. “With my son off at the university, it’s just me. Bar closes at two o’clock sharp since I have to be up again in the morning to tend to the, ah, other part of my business, the brewery, before lunch is on.” He crosses his arms. “Doesn’t matter how much ale anyone buys, it’s not worth me losing sleep over.”

“And do you remember the Accused, Mr. Bardovico?” Sovilla sweeps her hand towards the sailors.

“Hard to forget. I haven’t had that rowdy a bunch in years. A dozen, clearly off the same ship - this one, apparently. They got the rest of the patrons fired up something fierce, buying rounds and singing and carrying on. Pretty obviously their first shore leave. Anyway, I had most of them out before closing, but seven of your sailors here needed some extra convincing.”

Theosel crossed his burly arms, as if to illustrate his point, and Sovilia opted to move on with her summary. The Accused were of the seven who were graciously thrown out into the night, and they claimed to have followed the rest back up to town. Three of their fellow crew attested to this, adding that both Vanni and Celio loudly complained of hunger the entire way, having forgotten to eat at the bar. Celio had tried to climb a tree on the road up to the main gate, looking for “fruit, or something” - he promptly fell.

When the group made it back to Port Remili market, most opted to turn in for the night. The Accused, however, insisted on getting food before bed; the other sailors laughed them off, and left them in the market. Vanni, uncomfortable with the direction the story was going, took the opportunity to interject.

“Honestly, the state we were in, they never should’ve left us! We wouldn’t have gotten tangled up in all this trouble if they had our backs. They… they should be tried too, right?”

Arensio threw him a stern look, and instructed the Tribunal to ignore his outburst; they did not need to be told. Sovilia returned to her summary. After Vanni and Celio separated from the group, they wandered the market for a while before happening upon a building Celio had described as “smelling delicious”. Sensing his turn to speak, baker Rietto Grenolar stepped forward meekly and was acknowledged.

“When did you meet the Accused?”

“It would have been around three o’clock this morning, shortly after I turned out the bulk ferment for shaping. I thought they… I thought it was the, ah, the deliveries. The knocking, I mean? At the back door.” The portly baker shifted his weight between his feet. “Sometimes, they arrive real early, like me. Gotta get the oven hot and bread out before people wake, you know how it is. But it was just those two, crying hungry!”

Sovilia nodded, then looked to the Tribunal for effect. “And what happened after that, Mr. Grenolar?”

“Well, I… the test batch had burnt. Of scones, that is. Citrus zest and crushed berry. So delightful… Or, well, they would’ve been. Good breakfast for me and the delivery crew. Warms up the oven for the bigger bakes afterwards too. Gods, I really need to get a new one. Not reliable at all, not at all...” 

Rietto paused, seeming to realize that what he was speaking of wasn’t relevant.

“Right. So, ah, I remembered my days in the fleet - I just did my mandatory, but I remembered how it was. Saw no harm in giving the bad batch to the two. I grabbed one of my older baskets, tossed the scones in, and sent them off.”

Arensio closed his eyes and sighed. The boys’ pockets had been full of blackened and half-eaten bread when Madam Tanobois had dragged them up to him, somewhat soggy in Celio’s case. At least, he thought, they hadn’t stolen it.

A popular haunt for those less comfortable above, Bardovico’s Taproom is built into the sea caves below town

“Thank you, Mr. Grenolar. Tribunal, do you have any questions?”

All shook their heads, and Sovilia moved on. It was now time for the Accused to speak. “Seaman Recruit Riccilse, what happened next?”

‘Ah, aye, helmsman! We got the bread, it was really good. And, uh…” Celio scratched his head, and Vanni picked up where he left off.

“We went out and ate some, and it was good. Great bread. Kinda dry, and fruity. Hard. Makes sense, it was burnt, right?. And then we… well, we thought…” 

The rest of Vanni’s sentence was spoken so quietly that Arensio couldn’t hear it. “Speak up, seaman!”

“AYE CAPTAIN!” Vanni coughed. “Er, aye, captain. We thought that it would be better with… with cheese.”

The final pieces started to slide together in the captain’s head, and he found his headache returning with a vengeance. Sovilia broke the silence.

“While you were hungry, you found the bread you were given difficult to eat, so you sought to make it more palatable?”

“Yes- yes! We just was hungry.” Celio was the picture of innocence as he gave his answer, but here, Madam Tanobois could no longer contain herself.

“Are you not provided with meals as part of your job!?” the behatted lady barked, her fiery gaze switching rapidly between the sailors.

“I… uh, we do, but…”

“Then I fail to see how you could be so hungry as to break into my boutique and…

Arensio cut her off. “Calm yourself, my lady. It is not yet your turn to give your account.” 

Madam Tanobois gave a quiet harumph, straightening her dress as she did so. Arensio sighed, waving his hand at the Accused as a sign to continue.

“Anyway, I… er, we thought, cheese. So we went to…”

Celio cut into Vanni’s answer. “We remembered seeing a cheese shop earlier! So, we went back to find it. It took a while, and we ate more of the burnt bread. I don’t know when we got there, but the sky was starting to get brighter. And, uh, the door wasn’t locked, so…”

“PREPOSTEROUS! I ALWAYS LOCK UP!”

Madam! It is not yet your time.” Arensio was starting to lose his patience with her. Surely there were other cheese shops in the city the buffoons might’ve found, aside from hers.

Thankfully, she said nothing else. She did, however, produce a fan from her skirts and began fanning herself. It appeared to be made of metallic-looking feathers, flashing in the sunlight as she waved it.

Celio continued. “Anyway, uh, we thought the shop was open on account of- because it- it wasn’t locked. But when we went in, there wasn’t nobody there.”

“Yeah, nobody!” Vanni piped back up. “We walked around and picked up some cheese. It wouldn’t fit in the basket, so we moved some bread into our pockets to make room. We called out for the owner, so we could pay, and we heard rustling in the back of the shop. Celio carried the basket back to look, and…”

“And that’s when I was attacked by the monster!”

“Monster?” Arensio was paying attention again. That would explain the scratches he had noticed all over their faces and arms, and perhaps the torn jacket recovered from the fountain. He bade the pair continue.

“Yes sir, attacked! By… well, I’m not sure. It was hard to tell, the shop was kind of dark. But there was a lot of flapping and squawking all of a sudden. I dropped the basket for a second, but I managed to find it again and ran out with it…”

“I got the door open for us as fast as I could, so Celio wouldn’t crash through the glass.” Vanni looked over at Madam Tanobois briefly, hoping perhaps to score some points. She refused to acknowledge him, so he somewhat dejectedly returned to his account. “Anyway, yeah, Celio dropped the basket outside the shop while we were running. I stopped, but he kinda just kept going, and that’s when he fell into the fountain.”

“Went clear over the wall, he did. Two stories down, it’s a wonder he didn’t crack his skull. I saw it.” All heads turned to the longshoreman, leaning against the mast. He’d been mostly forgotten. Sovilia composed herself and resumed questioning.

“And what did you see after that?”

“Well, the other one came sprinting down the stairs. It was a real sight to see. His buddy in the fountain lost his coat in the water somewhere, trying to crawl out. Big mess. Hey, can I leave? I really need to get back to work.”

Arensio took a step away from the railing, face buried in one hand - with the other, he gestured at Sovilia to allow the request. “Yes, sir, you may be excused.”

Sovilia continued as the longshoreman disembarked. “Seaman Recruit Rovachi, if you left without taking anything because you were chased out, then how did you end up back at the shop?”

“Well, uh, we was still hungry, and we’d left the cheese basket behind. So we went back to get it.”

Arensio was speechless. Perhaps, he thought, it was a bad decision to accept this posting. Perhaps he should have taken the Port Admiral appointment, after all. He’d probably be off somewhere nice and quiet right now, somewhere that didn’t have…

LIES! You scoundrels returned only after you had formulated your dastardly plan to kidnap-”

Certifier Arensio Drecani mustered his full authority and channeled it into a single withering glare, charged by unmitigated annoyance at how his day had gone. He could’ve sworn he saw Madam Tanobois flinch. Satisfied, Arensio turned to Sovilia.

“Your assessment, Speculator Larragen?”

Thankfully, she was ready. The fractal pattern of her lens shifted rapidly as she leveled her gaze at the Accused. When she looked back to answer Arensio, her pupils were dilated, and some of the color had left her face.

The seer’s lens is just one tool of many in the classically trained philosopher’s arsenal

“Neither of the seamen held any malice in their actions. Celio was willing to face his fear to collect what he lost, and Vanni mistakenly intended to leave far more than the worth of the cheese behind in payment - had the madam not arrived.”

“Thank you, Speculator Larragen.” The captain locked eyes briefly with the annoying woman as he said this. It was the right of both the Accuser and the Accused to call for another Speculator, if they wished. He doubted Madam Tanobois would bother. She was clearly not enjoying the experience, but had not attempted to argue with Sovilia’s assessment. Perhaps she had realized how little ground she stood on. Arensio turned to address the assembled. 

“Tribunal, do you find reason to doubt this?”

All either shook their heads, or remained still. With the witnesses exhausted, and the Speculator’s assessment of the Accused provided, it was now time for…

My turn to speak now, is it? The justice system in this country, I swear.” Madam Tanobois looked expectantly at Sovilia, her lips pursed in feigned patience.

Sovilia maintained her composure. “As Accuser, it is now your turn, yes. After being chased from your shop, the Accused returned - this much is not in dispute. How did you find them?”

“Thank you. I did not find them, I caught them red-handed! Whatever your little assessment said, they were not there for my cheese. That would require taste, which they decidedly do not have an ounce of!”

The lady stood up straight and projected her shrill voice across the deck. “So what did they return for, you may ask?”  

She allowed for a pause nearly as dramatic as she was before pulling out her fan and, with a flick, cascading it open and speaking through it. Her words were heavy with exaggerated disgust. “It was not for cheese! No!”

Madam Tanobois swung her arm in a wide arc, then brought her gloved hands together and clapped twice. Her - assistant, was it? Arensio still hadn’t asked - stepped forward holding the same basket from earlier.

“I saw them standing outside my shop, door flung wide, thieving away this basket! My sweet, lovely baby was resting there, peacefully!” She dropped her hand to the fabric covering the basket and lifted it off in a smooth motion, revealing her precious baby underneath… and releasing a puff of noxious smelling gas into the air. 

The whole crowd sprang into motion. The assistant coughed, the baker nearly leapt overboard, and Vanni and Celio screamed in unison. “THE M- MONSTER!”

Inside the basket, a colorful, bald head peeped out and let out a gentle squawk. A flap of metallic feathers sent out another burst of putrid fragrance, wafting up to Arensio and sending him into a coughing fit.

The woman’s ‘precious baby’ was, of all things, a fledgling pilariel.

17:34.

"I should have realized it sooner. That damn stench, and the woman’s fan. A pilariel! By the tides, what vile creatures. A mercy we were outside. Smell didn’t stay; crowd was easy to calm. Those things can be deadly when they’re mature, but this little one had at least been bathed. Sent Rovachi & Riccilse to get their wounds disinfected."

“Of course, after everyone had settled, we sent a runner up to the Tanobois cheese shop. The baker’s basket was found in the back, overturned, burnt scones everywhere. It would appear that in the confusion, they had grabbed the pilariel’s bassinet by mistake. Can you believe it?”

Vevica smiled a wry smile as she leaned out the window. Arensio had recounted the tale of his previous day for her over a cup of coffee before even ordering his breakfast. “Finally, something exciting in this town. And aren’t you chipper this morning?”

Arensio chuckled as he settled back in his chair. He had become uncharacteristically animated in the retelling. Perhaps, he thought, Vevica’s energy was catching.

“So, what’s become of the little lieqos?”

The captain gestured behind him, up the hill towards the administrative district. “Guilty of disturbing the peace and unlawful entry. They were lucky the Tribunal recognized their comedy of errors. Both were ordered to report to Mynoggian to engage in community service for the rest of their leave.”

“And I’m sure you’ve spent a great deal of time writing in your journal about that.”

Somewhat self-consciously, Arensio reached for his notebook on the table - where it had been since he arrived. As it turned out, he had not written anything in it since the previous night. He found his captain’s log was becoming more personal of late. Of course, Arensio had finished the official report and sent it back to Calastore via telephane the previous evening. The arcane device never ceased to irritate him.

Vevica disappeared inside, calling back as she did so. “And that awful woman, how did she take it all?”

“Ah, yes. Madam Tanobois. She was somehow even more offended that they were not trying to steal her ‘precious baby’, and insisted the Tribunal award her financial compensation. Something about ‘irreparable emotional damage’. They voted against this, which surprised me a bit if I am to be honest. She huffed off with her two pets in tow, probably back to that damnable cheese shop of hers.”

“No surprise there!” Vevica shouted from the back of the cafe. “Now, would you like the paper before or after breakfast?”

“After.” Arensio sighed.

“Excellent. I think the food will take your full attention anyway - be right back. Don’t get too lost in that gray head of yours while I'm gone.”

Arensio pondered for a moment, but found his thoughts fading. The sun was coming up through Elkaterne again, on a day that may yet remain peaceful. He was still gazing off into the middle distance when Vevica stepped outside, looking up just in time to watch a plate slide across his table - stacked high with fresh cream puffs.

“I dug out the old recipe. You’re not the only one who’s been reminiscing.”

Her smile sat languidly on her face as she leaned against the open door. Arensio noticed she was preventing it from closing with the back of her foot, and seemed perfectly unhurried while waiting for him to try one. That familiar gesture of patient fondness caused his heart to lighten, and he felt his face melt into a genuine smile. The captain selected the largest puff from the pile and took a bite.

Vevica’s smile broadened into a satisfied grin. Well deserved, too. She outdid herself; it was, Arensio thought, leagues better than he remembered. A simple joy he rarely experienced anymore, and one he might like to have more of. As he reached for his coffee, he heard Vevica start humming inside as she set up the counter for the day.

The captain smiled again, and took a drink. Maybe it was time to retire.

Share this

Continue Reading

STAY CONNECTED