An hour later, the Firgovian master of ceremonies gave Captain Silverthorne an askance look as he approached. He couldn’t blame the officious man, he was wearing his second-best, shirt, trousers, and coat which were a good distance less impressive than his best. He handed over the invitation for inspection. The master of ceremonies perused the letter languidly and did not give an immediate nod to the guards, they kept their pikes crossed and barred Rhys’ entry. Beyond, Rhys could see the greeting line starting to break up, it was further a count against him due to the wardrobe malfunction.
“You are Gregroy Haakonsen, Captain of the Cardiff Rose?” The officious Firgovian managed to sniff derisively as he asked the question.
“I am Captain of the Cardiff Rose, Rhys Elias Silverthorne at your service.” Rhys bowed, slightly, and indicated the gift in his arm. “Captain Haakonsen is retired and now Governer of Black Rock. This invitation was sent to the captain of the Rose, the mistake of name is understandable.”
Face Danger w/ Heart + Socialite (10, 6, 2+2+1), Miss. Burn Momentum, Reset [+2]. Weak Hit. -1 Momentum [+1]. Vow Progress: Acquire Letter of Marq 6 of 10.
The Master of Ceremonies inspected the letter once more and waited allowing the greeting line to completely break up before giving the nod for admittance. “Captain Rhys Elias Silverthorne of the Cardiff Rose.”
The late announcement turned some heads, but the various frowns of disapproval outweighed the ones who were curious about someone who was – rather more than – fashionable late. Putting on his best roguish smile, Rhys pretended he didn’t see, or didn’t care, about the looks of curiosity or disapproval and started to mingle. The letter of invitation had been sent by the lord of the castle, Duke Estaban Navarro. Without the line of introduction though, there was no way of immediately knowing which of the many Firgovian men was the man in question. So with a pleasant smile and his usual charming manners, he started to make small talk with the closest unengaged member of the ball.
Gather Information w/ Wits + Socialite (2, 6, 2+1+1), Weak Hit. +1 Momentum [+2].
A few polite and largely dull conversations later, Rhys had identified Duke Navarro, Castilian of Delafuente. However, he’d also learned that the Duke was old-fashioned in his customs and wouldn’t speak to someone whom he hadn’t formally been introduced to. Without the greeting line, Rhys would have to find a method of introduction.
I could make this a Secure an Advantage, but I also want to give a bit of life to the party so we’re going to Make a Connection instead. Make a Connection w/ Heart (10, 8, 3+2), Miss. Fail Track 5 of 40. /sigh. The Situation worsens. Face Danger w/ Heart + Socialite (1, 4, 2+2+1). Strong Hit. +1 momentum [+3]. Make a Connection (1, 8, 6+2+1), Strong Hit. +1 Momentum [+4]. Bernd [Theyan Inquisitor] – Dangerous.
Two captains in a row, that Rhys thought he’d recognized, had not, in turn, remembered him, or at least didn’t acknowledge knowing him. Before he could attempt a third contact, the officious Master of Ceremonies appeared at his elbow. “If you’ll follow me, sir. Please don’t make a scene.”
Turning to face the tall slender man, Rhys leveled a hard look. “Pardon?”
“You are bothering guests, Captain Silverthorne.”
“The Duke himself invited me,” Rhys leveled a hard gaze at the Master of Ceremonies, “you collected the letter with his seal.”
The officious man opened his mouth, a contemptuous smile starting to tug on his lips, but his words were cut off by a new member of the conversation.
“Captain Silverthorne! So good to see you, I’m glad you made it. Terrible storms this time of year.” An aged gentleman who walked with a cane and visible limb approached the hushed conversation. The crow’s feet around his eyes seemed to accentuate the mischief that sparkled in his eyes. Dressed in layered red robes, he was instantly identifiable as an Inquisitor from the Hand of Theya.
“Inquisitor?” Rhys’ surprise was genuine since he knew he had never met the man before. “It is good to see you. How have you been?”
“I am well. Come, let’s sit. My leg is bothering me.” Placing a hand on Rhys’ shoulder, the Inquisitor guided him away from the humming and nearly sputtering Master of Ceremonies and towards chairs that lined the walls of the grand hall.
“We haven’t met.” The Rose’s Captain admitted once they were out of earshot of other partygoers.
“No.” The Inquisitor admitted with a smile. “But I do enjoy seeing the look of frustration on that stuffed shirt. Matos. At least, I think that’s his name. I knew his father, didn’t like him either. I’m Bernd.” He proffered his hand.
“Rhys.” Accepting the offered hand, they both lowered themselves into chairs. “You’ve already done me a favor and I hate to ask another . . .”
“But you’re going to anyway.” The Theyan Inquisitor smirked. “You need an introduction to the Duke. Yes, I know. Most of the guests at the party know at this point. Probably everyone but the Duke. Don’t worry, my boy, I’ll take care of it. It will annoy Matos to no end. We’ll wait for the dance. Navarro doesn’t dance much these days. Neither do I though,” He tapped his leg with the cane, the solid thunk of wood striking wood was clear. “Why is it important to you?” Bernd waved his own question away. “You’re young, you’re looking for a letter of marque, same as every other young captain here.”
The small company of musicians put strings to bow and began to play, signaling the beginning of the next dance. standing, the Inquisitor tested his wooden leg before standing and putting his full weight on it. “That’s our queue.” The pair made their way across the hall to where the Duke watched his guests spin and twirl through elaborate steps.
“Duke Navarro, I want you to meet a dear friend of mine.” Inquisitor Bernd had more strength in his arms than one might guess and he pushed Rhys forward before the Duke of the castle. “This is Captain Rhys Silverthorne.”
“Yes, the new Captain of the Cardiff Rose. You’re name proceeds you sir.” The Duke gave a slow and critical once over of the presented captain, one mirrored by Matos – the Master of Ceremonies – who stood just behind the Duke’s right shoulder. “And a close personal friend of an Inquisitor from the Hand of Theya. I’m not sure that speaks well for you, sir.” He glanced down at the gift tucked under Rhys’s arm and gave a small involuntary sigh. “And a gift. Let me guess, a sword you had made especially for this occasion, the finest in all the Sundered Isles, to represent your desire to earn a letter of Marque and Reprisal.” Behind the duke stood a table with at least a dozen sparkling new swords that had been gifted to the Duke by the various captains who’d attended.
Doing his best to be unfazed, Rhys didn’t let his pleasant demeanor falter. “You’re partially right, Duke Navarro.” Rhys unwrapped the bundle revealing the ornate crossguard housed in a simple sheath of wood lacquered green. “It is a finely crafted sword, but not one I had made.” He offered the hilt to the Duke. “If you’d inspect it, sir. You can see the fitting where gems are missing from the hilt.”
Grudgingly intrigued, the Duke drew out the curiously long and thin double-edged blade. Inspecting the blade with a practiced eye, the intrigue became more genuine.
“This blade is not new, I think it has passed through many hands. You can see it has been kept razor sharp and yet it is a supple and nimble weapon. It has been well cared for by many generations.” Taking a breath, Silverthorne delivered his trump. “The swords behind you represent wealth or connections, at best deeds of the past. My gift was taken from a captain who valued this sword greatly, he surrendered it to save his crew. I won this blade in battle. Fought on my voyage here. This sword is a deed of the present, proof of the worth of my ship and crew.”
Compel w/ Heart + Contact + Socialite (8, 2, 1+2+1+1), Weak Hit. +1 Momentum [+5].
“It is a fine gift, the finest of the bunch,” Navarro replied, the dismissive tone dropping for a brief moment, but it returned with force. “And it was a fine story, but a story may be all it is. You are an unknown to me, sir. Your association does not do you credit. When your character becomes known to me, if it is of worth, we will revisit the question of the Letter of Marque.” Sheathing the sword, Duke Navarro handed it to Matos who placed it on the table with the other blades.
There was a petty side of him who wanted to snatch the foreign longsword back, or perhaps challenge to Duke to a duel on the spot for insulting his honor, and while both might make him feel better, they would ultimately destroy the opportunity to acquire the letter.
Before either of Silverthorne’s sides won the internal argument, Bernd took Rhys by the arm and started walking him towards the far side of the room, leaning in, he commented quietly, “That could have gone better.”
Rhys nodded, his head still spinning. “How does he expect me to show my character without a Letter of Marque? Raid and bring him prizes for free?” Anger threatened to overwhelm the bewilderment.
“Probably he expects you to leave dejected, but you’re going to dance instead.” Angling them around the dancers, Bernd then orientated to a quintet of women holding court, complete with hangers-on who lingered within earshot, hoping to be brought into the conversation. “You do dance, don’t you?”
“Yes. Why?” Despite his suspicions, Rhys let himself be carried along by the Inquisitor, trusting – or perhaps merely hoping – that the Theyan’s desire for mischief would be of benefit.
“I’m going to introduce you to Evangelic Navarro, but you aren’t going to dance with her. That would be too aggressive. Also, too obvious. She’ll introduce the women with her, pick your favorite to dance with. And be charming.”
“Lady Navarro, I just finished introducing Captain Silverthorne to the Duke and knew that you would want to meet him next.” Releasing Rhys from his guiding grip, Bernd bowed slightly and offered a mannerly smile to the ladies.
“Inquisitor Bernd.” The woman clearly in charge of the social circle stood to address the red-robed Theyan. Long chestnut hair tumbled down around her shoulders, and a dusting of violet around her dark eyes and on her heart-shaped lips was set against the black and yellow layers of her dress. “It is always a pleasure to see you.” Her voice sounded flat and it suggested there was no love lost between them. Even so, she extended her gloved hand, palm down.
Taking her gloved hand in his wrinkled own, Bernd kissed it and straightened. “Lady Evangelic Navarro, this is Captain Rhys Silverthrone of the Cardiff Rose. He is in need, of a dance partner.”
I know who we’re going to meet, but I don’t know the nature of the connection between Evangelic and Bernd. Action/Theme Oracle says: Scheme Duty. My first instinct is that Evangelic is scheming against her duty to the Duke or perhaps the regency as a whole. But I want to drill deeper, Theme Oracle Says: Relationship. I don’t think it’s romantic, that doesn’t make sense. I think Evangelic is a secret convert to the Hand of Theya and is a spy.
“A pleasure to meet you, Captain Silverthorne.” She looked him over with her dark critical eyes and then a second time, a slight pull at the corner of her mouth. “Allow me to introduce my companions.”
Aware that there was subtext that he was missing, Rhys could do little but follow the inquisitor’s advice. Evangelic had seemed to be playing favorites with her introductions so Rhys took her advice and invited Benita to dance. As he guided the woman with the lovely round face out onto the floor, he couldn’t help but think his clothing looked a bit shabby in comparison and he wasn’t entirely certain his original choice of attire would have a significantly better contrast.
I’m thinking about Age of Sail/Regency-ish dancing and it seems to me that amid the upper class, dancing is more about charm than dexterity. Secure an Advantage w/Heart + Socialite, (6, 6, 4+2+1), Strong Hit w/ Match. +2 Momenumt [+7] & +1 Forward. For the Match, Action/Theme Oracle says: Focus Weapon. The weapon, in this case, is Rhys, he’s being wielded by others and isn’t completely aware of the fallout. He has drawn someone’s focus and that will end up being a good thing. Vow Progress: Letter of Marq 7 of 10.
Fortunately, Rhys made up for his lack of dress with cordial conversation. He avoided anything too martial in nature and instead discussed places he’d seen, describing them in as vivid detail as possible: the lava flows of Khazeera, the massive and majestic white oaks that only grew on the aptly named Oak Island, the turquoise water and the sunsets of Stellar Basin. The topic of travel and locale also meant it wasn’t a one-sided conversation, Benita spoke of her homeland, the region of Forgovia that she grew up in, and wide sweeping grasslands that flowed like golden waves across the plains.
By the end of the dance, they were both smiling and he’d been able to put the greater concerns out of his mind to enjoy the moment. They both applauded, as was custom, a thank you to the other dancers and the musicians. “Have you had enough dancing for the moment or would you like to take another turn?”
With a coquettish turn of the head and a thoughtful finger against her chin, Benita attempted to leave him in doubt for a moment, but she couldn’t keep her smile in check and it gave away the playful ruse. “Yes, Captain.” She covered her mouth with a gloved hand, as it if might prevent the heartfelt laugh at her own failed jest. “I do believe another turn around the floor is in order.”
“She is not yours to dominate.” A Firgovian marine officer with narrow shoulders, a commander if Rhys read the rankings correctly, grabbed Benita by the arm. The man’s hair was slicked back with oil, which served to make it a shade darker than his narrow brown eyebrows.
Benita cried out sharply in pain, stumbling due to his forceful grip, but not falling due to the same.
Hesitating only until Benita had her feet under her, Silverthorne replied to the Firgovian by throwing a gloved fist into the other man’s face.
Face Danger Fray w/ Iron + Forward (3, 5, 5+1+1), Strong Hit. +1 Momentum [+8].
The Firgovian marine looked up at him from the floor, clutching his broken pointy narrow nose with a white-gloved hand quickly being stained red with blood. “I accept your challenge.” The voice was more nasal now.
The new dance had abruptly ended and a circle of spectators was beginning to form. He had forgotten until this moment that the Firgovian’s took duels very seriously; one would not be entirely wrong to call dueling their national pastime. “For the honor of the Lady Benita Valiente.” Rhys wasn’t truly familiar enough with the Firgovian Regency’s customs to know if any portion of her honor had been impinged, but it sounded good and there were nods of approval.
A trio of other Firgovian officers – another marine and two naval – helped the offender up off the floor and Master of Ceremonies Matos was back organizing something amidst their numbers. After a brief consultation, two of the officers stepped back, leaving the oldest, one of the navy men who was a Vice Admiral no less.
“Vice Admerial Bonaventura stands as Commander Borja’s second.” Matos announced to the room while looking directly at Rhys. “Who will stand as Captain Silverthorne’s second?”
The idea that a Vice Admiral would stand second for a Commander was ludicrous, without a family tie at stake; something terribly important – that Rhys was missing – had to be going on. Relaxing his stance, he started straitening his cuffs. It was a silly thing, an idle thing, but it kept him busy for the moment and hopefully made him look unconcerned about the lack of forthcoming volunteers.
There is definitely a manipulation at play, though Rhys isn’t aware of what, we know he is being used as a weapon and we know Bernd has his fingers in it. Ergo, Face Danger w/ Shadow + Connection (3, 6, 5+1+1), Strong Hit. +1 Momentum [+9]. Vow Progress: Letter of Marq 8 of 10.
Out of the corner of his eye, Rhys caught sight of Evangelic Navarro speaking earnestly to her father the Duke. Frowning, Duke Navarro looked from Rhys to the Vice Admiral, then stepped forward to stand beside Rhys. “I will stand second for Captain Silverthorne.” Somehow, his frown deepened further and he pitched his voice so only Rhys could hear. “Do not disappoint.”
Formalities were observed, weapons were chosen: swords at the belts, the location decided: the ballroom they were in, and the condition of victory for the duel: first blood on the torso.
Shrugging out of his coat, Silverthorne was a little surprised that the Duke deigned to hold it himself. Perhaps it was a ritual obligation of some kind. Just before turning to face Commander Borja – of the flattened yet still pointy nose – Benita laid delicate fingers on his arm. Pulling her hand away, Benita checked her sleeves as if looking for something, touched her necklace with both hands, and finally removed her left earring: A pear set in golden petals. She pressed the earring into his hand. “For luck. And thank you.” The last was barely a whisper, furtively looking up at him, Rhys could see a pleading look in her eyes.
“I’ll do what I can.” Rhys acknowledged softly, taking her hand in his before bringing it up to his lips, and kissing her gloved fingers. Letting her hand go, Silverthorne turned to Borja. The man’s nose had stopped bleeding, but his face was red with anger. Drawing his saber, Silverthorne dropped into a fencing stance. Borja’s stance was a near mirror of his own, but he favored the straight-bladed rapier. They crossed blades and stared daggers at each other for a long moment, waiting for the signal to begin. Eyes locked in the stillness, Rhys’s lips curled into a broad smile. Matos – as Master of Ceremonies – also officiated the duel, signaling a beginning with word and motion.
I contemplated running this as a normal fight, or even a scene challenge, but both of those options felt overly drawn out. So, we’re resolving this with a Battle move. Blade Master doesn’t normally apply to the Battle move, but I’m going to make an exception here due to the context. Battle w/ Iron + Blade Master (3, 8, 2+2+1), Weak hit. I thought about burning momentum here, but the consequences are interesting. Pay the Price: A new enemy is revealed. Vow Progress: letter of Marq 9 of 10. Also, this satisfies the condition for the Make a Connection with the Duke, so that is also Vow Progress: Letter of Marq 10 of 10.
The first few clashes were tentative, probing and testing each other’s defenses. A beat, a thrust, and parry, a quick combination. The strength of Borja’s rapier was its precise thrust and its reach, excellent advantages for dueling. Advantages Rhys denied Borja by never letting up on the pressure of his attacks and never giving ground in with his defenses. The saber – Rhys’ weapon – was made for war, favoring cuts and slashes in the close quarters and chaos of battle. What started slowly, ended all at once. They clashed in earnest, blow, counter, thrust, parry, riposte. No break, no quarter, no retreat.
Borja stumbled backward, Rhys not pursuing for the first time since they’d locked blades. The marine was breathing hard, his eyes were wide, and he was smiling. “I have bloodied you.” Borja crowed before realizing that something was wrong with his own body. His gloved white hand – already stained with blood from his nose – touched the slashed flap of his uniform tunic and the hand came away with fresh blood. There was quite a lot of blood, his knees quivered unsteadily and gave out. His sword clattered to the ground.
“The duel goes to Captain Silverthorne. Lady Valiente’s honor has been redressed.” Matos intoned and motioned for the doctor who’d been standing by.
Relaxing finally, Rhys forced himself to breathe deeply before turning away from his opponent. Broja would live, probably. Accepting a cloth, he cleaned the blood from his blade before returning it to the scabbard held by Duke Navarro.
“I honestly did not think you’d be able to prove your character, let alone so quickly. Yet,” Castellion Delafuente let the word trail off, his eyes looking past Rhys to the man he’d defeated in a duel. “You’ve earned an enemy, whether he lives or dies.”
Adrenaline still coursing in his veins, heart thundering in his chest, Silverthorne couldn’t keep the hope or anticipation out of his voice. “Have I earned an ally as well?”
Fulfill Your Vow: Letter of Marq w/ Progress (1, 9, [10]), Strong Hit. Mark Quest Track – 1 Box = 4 Ticks on the Legacy Quest Track. Gain 2 xp. Gaining the Letter of Marq counts as Vow Progresss: Making the Cardiff Rose your own 10 of 10. Fulfill your vow w/ Progress (9, 9, [10]), Strong Hit. No matches on odds, house rule (unless I forget). 2 Ticks on the Legacy Quest Track. Finally, this is progress on Developing your Relationship w/ Bernd 2 of 10, his help was leveraged off and on throughout the scene and this outcome is of benefit to him.
“Yes.” Duke Navarro smiled and almost laughed. “Yes, you’ll have your Letter of Marque and Reprisal before the night is over. Now, you should tend to your own wound.” The duke indicated the long shallow cut along his cheek. “It will make an admirable dueling scar.” Clapping Silverthorne on the shoulder, Duke Navarro returned the coat and sheathed saber before departing. With the duel over, the rest of the party was beginning to resume, and the host simply had other matters to attend to.
Benita’s smile – born of joy and relief – was utterly genuine as was the flush in her cheeks from the excitement. “You are like a knight from a storybook, and fighting over my honor,” she stepped close and touched his cheek with two fingers, her satin-clad fingertips stained a deeper hue of crimson. “I . . .”
Whatever compliment she was about to say died quietly due to a look from his mistress and she took a conscientious step back. Lady Navarro interposed herself between Benita and Rhys. “That was quite the attractive display Captain. Come, I’ll have my physician look at your wound.”
Something in his stomach clenched at the thought, he knew there was some other political game or machination taking place that he didn’t understand. Bernd for all his help had wielded him as a weapon to his own ends and Lady Evangelic Navarro was wrapped up in it somehow. Departing from the ball with her immediately after the duel seemed – and felt – like a decision he’d regret. “Forgive me, lady; but, your father has promised me a Letter of Marq before the evening is done. I must stay, lest that promise be made a lie. It is a small wound and the doctor here will tend to it soon enough.”
Dark eyes narrowing, Lady Navarro nodded once before turning and departing without another word. Torn, Benita looked between her departing mistress and Silverthorne. With a nod of encouragement from Rhys, Benita looked relieved to not have to make a difficult choice and followed after the Duke’s daughter. He looked after her for a moment, still feeling the pearl and gold earring in his hand.
“That was well done.” Inquisitor Bernd chuckled as he came to rest near Rhys. “Well done on all fronts, almost like you knew the game.”
“I didn’t, not all of it anyway.” Silverthorne affixed his saber back to his belt and shrugged back into his jacket. “Are you going to tell me what intrigue you’ve embroiled me into?”
“Only what you were asking to be.” Bernd’s smile said everything and nothing all at once, his eyes were layered secrets. “Your actions have benefited me though and I’ll remember that.”
~fin
Quests:
- Become Governor Silverthorne [Extreme] 0/20
- Acquire Letter of Marque and Reprisal [Formidable] – 1 Box/4 Ticks
- Make the Cardiff Rose your own [Dangerous] – 2 Ticks
- Gain the trust and confidence of the Rose’s Crew [Dangerous] – 2/10
- Find Guelderland’s Treasure [Formidable] – 0/10
- Failure Track – 4/40
Connections:
- Governor Haakonsen of Black Rock [Formidable] – 0/10
- Inquisitor Bernd [Dangerous] – 2/10
- Duke Estabon Navarro [Formidable] – 0/10
Discoveries
- Voyage to Castillo Delafuente [Dangerous] – 2 Ticks
Legacy Tracks
Quests: 6/40 Bonds: 0/40 Discoveries: 2/40
Rhys Elias Silverthorne
Health +5 Spirit +3 Supply +4 Momentum +9 XP: 0/2
Edge: 3 Heart: 2 Iron: 2 Shadow: 1 Wits: 1
Cardiff Rose
Integrity: +4 Hold: +5 Command/Crew +2
Assets:
Path: Crew Commander, Blade Master, Socialite
Wayfarer Stories 