Soldiers of the Crown

by Stephen L. Nowland

  “You might not be so quick to offer a pardon if you knew everything I’d done,” Ronan replied grimly.

  “A man is defined by his actions in the here and now, not by something he did in a previous life,” Sir Denholm declared. “I am a passing fair judge of character, and I’ve seen you change considerably from the man you were when you first came aboard. Whatever you did in the past, it is no longer who you are now.”

  “Don’t let them blackmail you, mate,” Pacian chimed in. “Do what’s best for you.”

  “This is a big decision. I need a minute or two to think about it, Ronan remarked quietly, as he walked towards the back of the upper deck to look out over the sea.

  “I trust he will make the right choice,” Sir Denholm assured them quietly. “I will see the longboat is made ready.” He issued orders to expedite their imminent departure.

  “I’ll go have a word with him,” Aiden quietly told the others, then strode casually over to where Ronan was deep in thought.

  “Y’know, it’s funny,” he said as Aiden leaned on the rail beside him. “I spent most of my life in the alleyways of this city, yet never ventured out onto the open sea before joining the navy.”

  “How is that funny?” Aiden asked, failing to see the humour.

  “Well, Fairloch being a port city ‘n all,” Ronan clarified. “You know, lots of water close by, yet I never ventured out in so much as a dinghy. I’ve come to love the sea, these past two years. It cleared my head, and helped me to see things differently.”

  “I don’t know what your past was like, though I gather it was far from pleasant.”

  “Yeah, wasn’t all warm and comfy like things are now,” Ronan replied dryly. “I’m just seeing the irony of finally finding a place I can be myself, and then being forced back into the underworld.”

  “Underworld?” Aiden asked. “Were you a criminal or something?”

  “Never convicted as such, no,” he replied with a wink.

  “I see. Well, no one’s forcing you to do anything, regardless of what the captain said,” Aiden assured him.

  “I can read between the lines, Aiden. If I don’t do this, the cap’n is going to inform the authorities,” Ronan disclosed, his voice flat and emotionless.

  “Perhaps,” Aiden answered dubiously. “Captain Sherrard doesn’t strike him as a man who would sell out one of his own crew, regardless of past transgressions, particularly after he made that little speech about a man’s past not governing who he is now.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I love this place, Aiden, and I do feel some small sense of obligation,” Ronan continued. “Naval life instils a sense of duty into you, after all. Besides, you and your friends would get lost in this city without a guide, and I’m the best there is. If you’re investigating a conspiracy against the Crown, my guess is you’d all be dead within two days, and that’s being optimistic, because I really like you lot.”

  “It sounds to me like you know the kind of people we’ll be dealing with,” Aiden observed with a wry grin. “The captain was right, you’d be an invaluable aide.”

  “I guess I’ve made a decision then,” Ronan sighed, turning to face Criosa and the others. “If anyone asks, you had to threaten me to join up. I have a reputation to maintain.”

  “I won’t mention to anyone how easily I swayed your decision,” Aiden quipped, finally drawing a grin from the laconic sailor.

  “Okay, you’ve got me,” Ronan said to Criosa as they strode back over to join them. “But I want a large pile of money for this, part of it paid in advance in the form of decent equipment.”

  “We have an accord, then,” Criosa beamed. “Aiden, you’ll need some equipment too, am I correct?”

  “Yes, Highness, it will be hard to defend you armed only with my… arms. Perhaps I should have kept that cutlass for a while longer.” Her face light up at this news.

  “Never mind that,” she said, “we’re going shopping.”

  Chapter Four

  The longboat pulled alongside the navy’s designated jetty nearly ten minutes later with Aiden and the others crammed aboard, along with the captain and five sailors. Naturally, Aiden and Pacian had to do their share of rowing, for there wasn’t enough room for all of the passengers in addition to a full complement of sailors.

  Strong hands on the jetty helped bring the ladies onto the pier first, with Aiden climbing ashore just before the captain. Snow covered the wooden pier, and the sun was just resting on the horizon by this time, shedding a subtle orange glow through the thickening fog. The cacophony from the city was louder than ever, now that they stood amidst it, and it was a harsh sound indeed compared to the sounds of the sea Aiden had become used to.

  “This is where we part ways, ladies and gentlemen,” Sir Denholm told them, his voice crisp in the chill evening air as he disembarked from the longboat. “I must advise the admiral of the latest news and see to the repairs to the Redoubtable. I would, however, strongly advise against your course of action, Your Highness. Several attempts have been made on your life, and I hardly think it is fitting for you to go and buy a new dress at this time. Consider the officer’s attire you now wear as a manner of disguise, if you will.”

  “Forgive me captain, but I failed to notice many female officers on your ship,” she replied archly. “Am I to disguise myself as something that does not exist?”

  “Certainly not, I—”

  “Or do you believe that I pass for a man in this garb?” Criosa pressed and before Sir Denholm could speak further, accentuated her point by pulling aside her navy blue longcoat to reveal her shapely legs, tightly wrapped in white hose.

  “Your Highness, this is highly inappropriate,” the captain protested, averting his gaze.

  “Yes, it is,” Criosa agreed, “which is why I must attire myself properly before entering court. The scandal of a woman dressed as a man — and a naval officer at that — would follow me around for the rest of my days.”

  “Your point is well made,” the captain conceded at last, “though I find your methods of persuasion somewhat distasteful.”

  “Now you’re sounding like my father,” Criosa mused, not altogether pleased with the captain’s assessment. “Thank you for providing us with passage, Sir Denholm. I will send word to the Admiralty that you performed your duty above and beyond the call.”

  “I am grateful for your high praise, Your Highness,” he bowed. “I wish you all good fortune in your endeavours, and I think it goes without saying that if anything should happen to the princess under your aegis, I will personally see that you hang. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.”

  “Believe it or not, that was actually a joke,” Ronan remarked after the captain was out of earshot.

  “How can you be sure?” Nellise asked.

  “Once you’ve been around the man long enough, you pick up subtle things like ‘humour’ and ‘compassion’.”

  “We can talk some more about that later,” Criosa interjected. “The shops are closing soon, and I simply must get out of this uniform.” Aiden cast a quick look at Pacian, expecting an unsavoury remark and noticed he was struggling to keep his mouth shut.

  The enigmatic sailor led the way so Aiden figured they’d be able to find their way through the foggy streets of Fairloch without walking into a wall. His legs were a bit wobbly and he still felt like the ground was moving beneath him, but he figured this would pass with time.

  People of all kinds strolled along the cobblestone streets, though a fair number of them were fishermen, sailors, or other less-scrupulous looking individuals. Having grown up in a small logging community near the edge of the Kingdom — with a population of under two hundred — the bustling city was quite a shock. Ronan weaved amongst the crowds on the narrow street leading from the docks like an old professional, while Aiden was trying to figure out how to avoid bumping into oncoming traffic.

  Large houses and other buildings built from bricks or wood towered over the streets, as the dense population had been
forced to build upwards in order to stay inside the city’s protective walls. Narrow cobblestone streets threaded their way through the tall, closely-packed buildings around them and the smell was a cloying mix of smoke, seaweed and refuse, and he could only hope the entire city wasn’t like this.

  After five minutes of wading through the morass of citizens, they arrived at a large gated wall, over twelve feet high and made of stone. The gate was open, and people passed through under the shrewd eyes of half a dozen men bearing stout clubs, and dressed in dark blue leathers covered in a tabard bearing the golden dragon standard of Fairloch — the men of the City Watch.

  Of their group, only Sayana was carrying visible weaponry, for Pacian’s daggers were hidden in the folds of his armour and clothing. Her vythiric axe was on her back, barely noticeable underneath her pack and other belongings, yet Aiden was nervous about the prospect of the City Watch accosting them. He wanted to blend in with the crowd to help them avoid detection.

  Sayana seemed nervous, for her eyes were darting about frantically and her steps were uncertain as they approached the guard post. Fortunately, her small stature allowed her to pass by without notice, which was both a relief and a source of discomfort for Aiden. He wondered how many other people were carrying concealed weapons within the city walls. The potential perils of Fairloch’s streets were becoming more apparent, even at this early stage.

  “People in this city can simply walk around with weapons?” Aiden asked Criosa as they made their way through the throng.

  “For now, yes,” she replied curtly. “I know it’s quite common out in the countryside, but here things are a little different. Father has been imposing regulations to reduce the number of weapons being carried openly in the city, though they’re still not technically illegal. You may be inspected by the City Watch if you’re seen with weaponry on your person — they’re just making sure that you aren’t going to murder anyone.”

  “I feel safer already,” Ronan said absently.

  “If I have my way, in a few years it will be a punishable offence to bear arms in the city, but you needn’t worry about that for the moment,” Criosa added.

  “No, we just have to worry about everyone else who may be armed,” Pacian muttered. “It’s going to be difficult to keep you alive if any little old lady could be carrying a concealed weapon.”

  “I know, but there’s only so much we can do,” Criosa sighed. “The nobility is resistant to change and it will take time to bring them around.”

  The fog was diminishing as they moved further from the docks, allowing Aiden to take in more of the scene around them. The quality of the roads and buildings nearby was improving noticeably as they walked, and the clothing worn by passers-by was of a higher quality. An assortment of non-humans could be seen moving amongst the crowd as well. Sturdy, solidly-built dwarves went about their business, along with well-dressed raelani men and women, the little people navigating the crowd of humans with practiced ease. The air even smelled clearer, carrying with it the aromas of hot food and exotic spices.

  “This is the Market District,” Criosa explained, turning around for a brief moment to speak. Her voice conveyed a sense of pride as she spoke of her home. “If there’s anything for sale, it can be found here. We may be on the top of the world, but the Fairloch markets are a central hub for all manner of goods. That leads me to my next topic — your reward.”

  “Reward?” Pacian asked, sounding innocent despite the twinkle in his green eyes.

  “You saved Culdeny and my own life,” Criosa explained, leaning close to be heard. “I am not unappreciative. There are some excellent shops around here, so I want each of you to pick something for yourselves. Money is no object, so think big.”

  “From what I can see, the doors appear to be closing,” Ronan pointed out, gesturing at what appeared to be an armoury.

  “Sir!” Criosa called out in dismay. As a petite blonde girl with alluring eyes, she did not, of course, have any problem catching the attention of the burly man.

  “Sorry ma’am, I’m closing up for the evening,” he said gruffly as Aiden’s group moved in closer. “The missus doesn’t like me working late these days.”

  “If I could just have a moment of your time,” Criosa pressed, stepping right up to face him. They spoke for half a minute, their quiet conversation lost in the din of the surrounding population. The transition of emotions on the face of the big man was curious to watch — he started cautious, then ashamed, and by the end of the conversation he looked like he was trying to figure out how to propose marriage to the princess without his wife finding out.

  Whether or not she had used her position in the city to leverage his favour or not was a subject for discussion, yet she succeeded in keeping the doors open for a while longer. She waved Aiden and the others to follow her in. The warm air was a welcome relief from the bitter cold of Fairloch’s streets.

  “This is Magnus, who has kindly allowed us to peruse his wares after hours,” Criosa said as a way of introduction. “Aiden, why don’t you, Pacian and Ronan take what you need and I’ll catch up with you shortly?”

  “Wait, where are you going?” Aiden asked just as she was about to head out the door again.

  “There’s a dress shop just a few doors down, and I want to get there before they close up. Oh, and I’m stealing your sorceress, too,” she added, grabbing Sayana by the wrist and playfully dragging her along, her sudden expression of distress notwithstanding.

  “Nel, could you keep an eye on them?” Aiden pleaded, silently wondering how on earth they were going to keep control of the spirited princess, and fearing the repercussions if they didn’t. Nellise nodded and joined the other two women.

  The three men spent some time examining the weaponry on offer, most of which Aiden couldn’t use without risking the lives of everyone around him. He settled upon a fine singlesword nearly three feet in length, a common weapon used by soldiers and the nobility with a straight, doubled edged blade. Ronan settled on a matched pair of short swords for himself, and when he inquired about some leathers, the man behind the counter voiced his opinion.

  “Leather? Might as well wear a frock for all the good that’ll do you when a sword’s coming your way,” Magnus grunted.

  “Was that a yes or a no? I’m sorry, it was kind of hard to tell,” Pacian drawled.

  “We don’t have the basic leathers,” the armourer grunted dourly, “but we do buy some of it from Clancy down the street a bit in order to make the plated stuff.”

  “Bring it out then,” Aiden shrugged.

  “Make that two,” Ronan added quickly.

  “And me,” Pacian said as Magnus went through a small door behind the counter to fetch the suits. While they waited for him to return, Ronan turned to speak to Aiden.

  “So, this Sayana girl,” Ronan asked with a slight catch in his voice. “What’s her story?”

  * * *

  By the time they left the armoury, they’d added quite a bill to Criosa’s account, for the plated leather armour that they’d selected was very fine quality indeed. After a little adjustment, Aiden donned the dark-brown suit and found it to be a near-perfect fit.

  He had kept his remarks about Sayana short, explaining only how she had lived in the forests and mountains for most of her life, and was a talented sorceress. He refrained from mentioning their brief dalliance, for he didn’t want to go into detail of why they parted ways. Ronan listened without comment until Aiden had finished, and then refrained from commenting after he’d stopped, too. It was hard to get a read on the man.

  The laconic sailor led them down the snow-covered street a little further, until they reached a store with a sign hanging out front with the words ‘Fairloch House of Fashion’ engraved upon it.

  Once inside, they discovered that despite having ample time to choose a new dress, the princess was still trying things on. Her current choice was a slim blue garment that accentuated her curves nicely. Dresses of varying designs were piled up
on the floor nearby, and although the proprietor of the establishment was maintaining a pleasant demeanour, the tightness around her eyes suggested her patience was wearing thin.

  “Your Highness, I hardly think this is the time to be concerned with picking the right dress,” Aiden suggested diplomatically. “What you have on right now looks fine to me, so how about we get you safely to the castle?”

  “There’s no rush,” she answered with more than a hint of defiance. “I’ve been living in an old fort for months, and I’m about to endure a prolonged visit to the castle, so permit me to have a little fun while I can.” Aiden exchanged a glance with Nellise, who wore a similar expression of suffering impatience as the lady in the store.

  “Far be it for me to tell you what you should be doing with your time, Highness, but your pretty new dresses will be irrelevant if you’re too dead to wear them,” Aiden suggested. Criosa turned and looked shrewdly at the young man, possibly deciding whether or not to be offended by his comment and then sighed at her reflection in the mirror before her.

  “Your point is well taken, sir,” she relented. “I’ve suddenly decided upon this one, Anita, and I do apologise for keeping you after hours.”

  “Not at all, Highness,” the lady replied graciously. If she was relieved in any way, she hid it well.

  “Before we go however, I have a little surprise for you all,” Criosa said, a sly grin appearing on her face as she looked at them over her shoulder. “Sy? Could you come out here, I want to see how you look.” Across the room, a door opened up and Sayana walked out, dressed in expensive yet practical clothing. Suede boots complimented her leather trousers, finished off with a snug white blouse and dark vest that seemed to go well together.

  “Why didn’t you put the dress on?” Criosa cried at the sight of the wild girl’s appearance.

  “That silly thing was too impractical,” Sayana answered bluntly. “How am I supposed to do anything in it without tearing it to pieces?”