BALADA: The Sight Of You Recalls The Grief's That Locked Within man’s Bosom Bide;

by Solea Razvan

  Extract from the book “Confessions, an Admirals tale volume I”

  The moment I left the conference room and arrived at the quarters I was given onboard Skyfall I immediately burst into an impromptu song and dance that would put any folk group to shame.

  And by that I mean shame that the same ancient dance style which represents the pinnacle of one’s culture and in some cases the only thing that kept them from being destroyed by foreign invaders was performed or rather hanged, drawn and quartered by such a pathetic excuse for a dancer!

  But the pain and suffering of professional entertainers would be redeemed by the joy I felt in myself at that very moment.

  For I had just been given the order to capture Galiana, the impenetrable fortress, the graveyard of a thousand fleets and a billion ships, and I was jubilant!

  Yeah, you heard me!

  Now, to those of you who may finally think that either this author seriously needs to learn to write or that you have legitimate proof that this is either a forgery or that I’ve finally cracked from the war, hear me out before you start the arguing.

  As you know I’ve always tried to avoid danger and get myself out of the war and the space fleet.

  The latter where up until that point an unsuccessful venture, but the former was something that I put a lot of effort into and succeed a couple of times, with mixed results.

  Okay, negative results.

  But getting back to the point at hand, I was jubilant for the following reasons:

  After the nightmare that I went through at the 67th assault on Galiana, which happened in the previous conflict I vowed that I would never assault that blasted thing again!

  And if HQ was so obsessed with it even after 67 failed battles, then by all that’s holy I would create a plan to capture that damned thing without a fight!

  The dread of once more facing Dextera and Synistra was not the only factor in my determination to create such a plan, but also the prospect of being transferred to some admiral’s command staff where I’d be relatively safe if the plan was good enough was also a great motivator, or be either relocated to some isolated rear line military base since they would either want full credit for the plan or if it was crazy enough I would still be send there since I would be considered too loony for a field command.

  But as usual, the bane of my existence James Crackerjack had a say in it!

  Once I tried to show him the plans, he immediately shot them down without looking at them.

  “Focus on the here and now, instead of the past or future attacks on Galiana; if you do not keep this under wraps you risk your career! Forgive me Metty but I’m just looking out for you, I only wish for your ambitions to come true, I’d hate to see your future squandered!”

  ‘You’re the one stopping my ambitions and jeopardizing my future by constantly placing me in areas where can end up fattening daisies you twat!’

  Was what I wanted to say, but wanting something and having something are too different things altogether, that and I did not fancy a flogging for insubordination and disrespect to a higher ranker.

  And so that was that, but now I had the perfect opportunity to use the plans.

  This may surprise you all, but I was sincere in my desire to capture Galiana, for it not only was a vital strategic location, but it would also give the Empire better protection against our foes and me by default.

  But that was only 10% of the reason for my happiness , the other 90% was from the fact that the plans I made where insanely risky, bordering lunacy, too great for even other lunatics to even consider and since I fostered a loose style of command I highly doubted that my subordinates would follow such plans.

  As such, I was in very high spirits when I entered the conference room and much to my delight I was joined not just by my subordinates, but the remainder of my command staff from the Vampire’s Vengeance.

  They were all in their second forms and what a sight for sore eyes it was!

  There was the ship’s Captain James ‘Butcher’ Centengu, a tough no nonsense ex-NCO who was the best captain and corvette pilot that I’ve ever laid eye’s upon.

  He was a tall man, with a thick mustache and sideburns, with an iron grip and a voice of an in-utero cigar smoker, he looked and sounded like one of those bad guys that escaped from some classic movie or cartoon, but you’d never find a better sailor than he.

  Next to him was our ships Logistics officer Sergeant Alega ‘Baker’ Sovorovda ‘, the greatest scrounger and forager this side of the galaxy, he was a small, bald eyed man, who took pleasure in wearing one of those old fashioned monocles all the time, along with fingerless gloves and the soldiers variant of a sun cap all the time on his head, even in the shower.

  How good of a scrounger was Alega? Well one time during my Captaincy he had a month’s furlough coming up, but out corps commander had annulled it.

  So what does Baker do?

  We’ll, he just leaves the ship and for the next couple of days we had not heard hide nor hair of him, until about three days later he reappeared back at our ground base, dressed in the finest clothes I’d ever seen him up until that point, a Republican field marshal’s coat on his back, two suitcases of such high quality leather and workmanship that the one he gave to me was enough to pay for my house’s mortgage in full.

  In the first of them was money, jewels and stock bonds and within the second was the really important stash of alcohol, cigars, meat, fresh fruits and vegetables, no cake though!

  He, after giving the contents of the second to us so that we could have a little party and placing the first wherever he hid his stash, then once more met with the Commodore and presented him with a piece of paper which said:

  Commodore Peskins, it appalls me to hear that you and officer and a gentleman would deny a sailor who has done his required amount of service time his furlough, as such I have decided to approve it and hope that you will approve of it as well.

  Admiral Jack Blemirmon

  Want to know what the real kicker is?

  Admiral Jack Blemirmon was the commander of the opposing fleet!

  Like I said, best scrounger in the galaxy!

  Finally we had Lieutenant Lloyd Colomas ‘Candlestickmaker’ Firebark or CM as we sometimes called him, a tall and milk skinned glass wearing four eyes( and I’m not being mean, he literally had four eyes) who was our chief engineer, and let me tell you he was a genius, he could built or come up with anything, in fact he was a student at the T.I.S ( Tomiris Institute of Sorcery) and was said by many friends, colleagues and teachers to have a great career in front of him.

  Then he was drafted by the military to fight in their various wars, I suppose he could have avoided it, since medical personal and high ranking scientist could be exempt for the draft.

  But as I said before he was held in high regards by every sorcerer and warlock there, so it’s safe to say that perhaps it was because of his vast intellect that he ended up drafted and even worst sent to a dumping ground unit.

  But there he met James, Alega and myself, and somehow we managed to survive whatever the galaxy could throw at us, a while later I met Butz and Adrian and the rest is history!

  The room was lively when I entered; James was apparently telling them of the time we managed to elude a pursuing enemy frigate squadron by means of a carrot and a fluffy bunny.

  “So there they where, a whole squadron following the merchant ship that had the bunny, to who’s cage we had hidden a windwaker that constantly sent out distress calls! Slipped right past the buggers; though I wonder whatever happened to that squadron?”

  “They didn’t become MIA, I know since if they did I could have asked for a ransom for their return.” Alega added while he was playing with his deck of cards.

  “That I do not know, but I do recall hearing that the fleet of which the squadron was part of now has the tradition of serving rabbit stew to the least efficient squad and corps.” a voice from my left was heard and there from the corner of the room, fr
om where the only remaining shadows where located stepped a figure clad in the smartest business suit I’ve ever seen.

  The person in question had a face that was ghostly white and pale, with blackened eyelids, not from makeup, but rather some long forgotten scar that gave his eyes a very disturbing aspect.

  What completed this portrait was the fact that his face had two deep scars than ran from his mouth’s edge, all across his cheeks and to his ears, giving him a permanent Glasgow smile on his face.

  This frightening and psychotic figure walked out of the shadows and towards me and I immediately shook his hand and embraced him.

  For this was Akanthos, my dear friend and business partner.

  “Still lurking in the shadows I see!” I said to him.

  “We’ll you have to be there in order to rule.” he said as a matter of fact and we both chuckled.

  “What are you doing here anyway? Did you join up?” I asked half happy that he was here and half dreading the possibility that I would see him die in battle.

  “In a manner of speaking. You sir are looking at the local representative of the Merchant’s Union for Camp Followers attached to the 378th corps!” he exclaimed with pride.

  And it was a pretty decent accomplishment, since there was big money to be made if you managed to get yourself attached to a fleet and no doubt my good name would profit not only us, but our firm.

  “Seems like a pretty big risk to take for just some money.”

  “I don’t take risks, I take victories!” he replied and smiled, or rather managed to make a facial gesture which indicated that he was actually smiling, rather than his permanent grin.

  “That’s a lot of confidence to place in me.”

  “It’s based on fact and your track record.”

  “OH! BOSSMAN’S HERE!” Lloyd being the first one to finally notice me said and quickly walked to me, or rather he did that quirky indescribable wobbly thing that passes for walking to him.

  He shook my hand and the other’s followed suit.

  “James, how’ve you been?”

  “Same jackass I’ve always been; Good to see you sir!” he shook my hand and gave a crisp salute, the likes of which only a lifelong soldier could give.

  “Alega! You must have run out of officer to scams their money off and leave them with nothing but wooden barrels if you decided to come here!” I shook hands with him.

  “WHAT! Me? NEVER!” he half said, half squeaked.

  “Wooden barrels are expensive and valuable goods, I’d never let something with as much market potential be wasted by such nefarious circumstances as not being in my possession!” he said and we all shared a chuckle.

  He was the perfect addition to any team to bring logistical support along with good humor and from the looks Dalius was sending him some friendly rivalry for jokes.

  And so, with a cheerful demeanor I first announced my promotion and our expansion into a fully fledged wing, to which the news was greeted with joy, since my promotion mean they would get ones themselves in the near future.

  This to them was a dream come true. To have one of their own little clique as an Admiral, even as a Rear Admiral, which was the lowest rank of them all, gave way for opportunities for advancement that was previously denied to them since they were Commodores.

  That was how the military worked, a subordinate’s or superior’s advancement meant advancement for his subordinates and superiors as well.

  I then warned them that a difficult mission was given to us, and the blasted fools drunk on our corps’ recent victories and news of expansion actually cheered!

  The most damning thing of all was that I felt myself also joining in, since the huge amount of joy in the room was infections and for a moment I too believed that I was ‘Metternich’ THE HERO OF THE EMPIRE’.

  And because of that I started to believe that everything would go according to plan, my private plan that is!

  So I started the meeting, confident in my ability to predict the future.

  Oh dear God, forgive me for what a fool I was!

  Metternich per Pelasgiamus, Freelance Potions Maker