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Angelcynn: The Myrcian Conflict - Act 5


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"You think so?" Claire looked up at Nona with a confused look on her face, caught a little off guard by the remark. "I always thought that she was a lot more talkative than me, but maybe..." They got along well enough. Maybe they were more similar than Claire had thought? She dropped a wad of potato skin in the bin, wondering too about Ceirch. Had he ever told her why he was so fond of oatmeal? 

A tiny frown formed, and Claire decided that even if he had told her once, she wasn't going to remember. "He's very earnest. I couldn't imagine him eating anything unhealthy, honestly..."  The baron's total dedication to his duties made it sometimes difficult to understand him. I wonder what he does in his free time? Does he even allow himself to take any? She laughed softly. Somehow, that wouldn't be a surprise.

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Eric was bored. It was still that same busy day, but now that he had time to himself and was quite literally just laying around below deck, Eric was bored. And at a loss for what to do.

I should go occupy myself. I don't really like having a lot of time to think.

...That explains a lot.

...

Eric stood up, paced around the spot to get used to walking on a moving boat, and climbed above deck. He meandered around for a second...and then the group of barrel-lifters caught his eye.

"Hey you guys, need any help with whatever you're doing?" He called out cheerfully as he approached them, "Nobody gave me a job to do and I feel like I need to keep myself busy."

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Live into tomorrow, Owen.

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16th of May, late evening

There was a notable absence in his group Owen couldn't just shake off. It had been two days since his sister had left him, and that had certainly drained most of the liveliness in them. It was almost astounding how much silence there was at the camp these past few days. Deafening in comparison. In some ways, his sister truly was the heart of the group, mayhaps even the heart of Wyke. The people certainly were fond of her quirks, provided they weren't scheming nobles. What am I going to say, when I get back now? After being gone for so long, could Owen show his face a weaker man than he had been before? If he was unable to even garner the trust of his sibling, then what of Wyke itself?

Such a cold night... Owen looked to the skies, fatigue from the day slowly seeping through his body. The small clearance he lay down, roughly quarter of a mile away from where the group stationed themselves, was a brief respite for Owen’s own little mind. Perhaps a practice he’d done too often in recent times, keeping himself ever more distant from his allies. It was easier to be that way, to not remind how much his decision weighed on their lives. Yet…

Something in Owen urged to change. He’d felt his days wasted, his discipline challenged. Everywhere he went, people attempted to manipulate him or stab him in the back. “I must look so weak.” Owen reminded a brief etiquette lesson from his early years with Lionel: One’s self was always quite different to how others perceived them. That was true for both sides, he would hardly be aware of how much an easy pawn people saw him before this journey. Was that why Owen’s father wanted him to kill Gewaint? If people were to see Owen as a merciless leader, maybe he’d gain some favor.

Owen shifted his body, leaning to the side, cheek brushing the grass. It was pointless, there was nothing he could do to change it now. He would be seen as weak, he would need to be protected, that’s how life turned out. Almost as if the virtues he learned in youth were just fairy tales, separating the childish believers from hardened adults. And he was childish, oh, Owen certainly was. Barely able to touch a woman, to handle relationships, to stand his ground against older people… he was pathetic as an adult. He saw it now, the folly of it all.

It was best here, the light of the moon his only company, away from vile men and their schemes, eager friends and their expectations. He curled up. What would he give for his father to be alive and healthy… tears escaped, the barest bite on his lower lip, he turned face-down, arm around his head. What a sorry boy. Nobody would trust a grown-up child like him, not even his own sister. Perhaps it was best to just give, to just let his friends go, without the worry of his mistakes. Without needing to protect such a wasteful life. He hardly wished to meet Earl Valter face-to-face after this, heavens forbid should General Gringolett be the one to greet him.

Silence stood for the better part of a half-hour, thoughts swirling inside such frail mind. The fatigue seemed to meld between mind and body, like he were once again in Malaphar’s world. Useless. Using an epée as a makeshift dart was his best achievement in 19 years. What a brilliant idea. Perhaps treating people nicely would count for something if they didn’t just push and use, abuse, manipulate. Weak. So unremarkably weak. Air. A pushover, carriage wreck. Unfashionable. Money waster. Disgrace in pink. Stop. Braggart. Devoid of common sense, fool. Stop! Weakling. Pretentious. Naive. Boot-licker. I need air!

Owen jerked his body up, pulling himself with a heave, gasping and breathing deep as he shifted to sit on the ground properly. He took a deep breath, hand covering half of his face. “What am I doing?” Owen wasn’t sure what stirred him to move, aside from the basic need of air. Was he still scared of death, after landing so many killing blows? ...What am I thinking? The prince was puzzled by his own mind, so unwilling to cooperate. Why was he there again? ...Did it even matter? Maybe it’d be for the best, to just follow in Adele’s steps, and make sure--

Owen slapped himself, heavy hand against his left cheek, bound to leave a mark. What AM I thinking? His thoughts were so driven towards his own demise… there he sat, completely drained of will and mind, with only the moon as his witness. “I hate it all. Why did we have to leave?” This war was useless, an attempt to drive him away from his lands  while Deira schemed. “I wish we were all home still…” No war, no death, no worries over Adele and Cass. Maybe his father would even be alive still. “I’m not fit to rule.” Owen sighed under his breath, that was how others saw him as well, surely. At home, they must be cursing a leader as weak as him.

Mustering strength to stand up was an herculean effort, Owen picking himself slowly. Feeling perhaps a bit lighter over crying his insecurities away, but it wasn’t good enough. They always came back. Stronger, more and more cynical. He could already see the breaking point in front of him, should another leave him. Should he prove himself unworthy once more. Everyone, please hold onto your lives. I’m so sorry, I’m barely worth half...

“You seem lost.”

A voice behind him, his heart raced faster. At first Owen assumed it was one of his vassals looking for him, but moments let him rationalize how foreign the voice sounded. “Who?” He kept himself from yelling, his guard up immediately. Turning around, Owen could make out a woman in white, her tunic a bit more intricate than a peasant’s, and the way she held herself refined. “State your rank and affiliation. Are you Deiran, or Raewalden?”

The woman stepped forward, shaking her head. With moonlight casting down, her dark skin was easier to make out, as well as the symbols in her clothes, they resembled much of the church of Engel, yet there was a definite foreign look to her. “Neither. I am merely a missionary, bringing solace to what families I can in this torn land, forgive my intrusion.” She seemed to pace herself cautiously after Owen held his guard high. “I just couldn’t ignore it when I heard low, hushed noises... much like sobbing. My apologies, you seemed in complete despair. I thought you needed help.”

Owen winced, looking down to the grass beneath his feet. Even someone entirely unrelated could tell how much of a mess he was. It that had been an assassin, he’d surely be gone by now as well, his last moments spent in self-shame. How careless. “You could say I’ve awoken to the harsh reality of life… nothing else to it.” He spoke without thinking, the question of whether he should even impart such information reaching his mind later. “Men are cruel beings, children are merely to be used as pawns. There is nothing divine about the world as it stands.” It was his epitaph to his old self, or at least he thought so. With his worldviews upside-down, all that was left was to see the world in a cynical, defeatist manner. “Please don’t waste your breath worrying about a fool. These families need your help more.”

“Oh dear…” The missionary seemed almost taken aback by Owen’s words, avoiding eye contact as she seemed to think on the best way to handle this. “You don’t sound a fool at all. It takes a lot of wisdom to accept the world as it is and still put the well-being of those families before your own. That is hardly the action of a cruel man…” She took a single step, trying to establish some sort of connection. From Owen’s point of view, she looked disarmed, that was good. “Man has the power to be just as kind as cruel, cruel enough to leave a gentle heart scarred, but if life had only cruel men, we wouldn’t be where we are today.”

“Hah.” Owen let out an unconvinced chuckle, “That’s a bit hard to believe when you consider the powers at play. Queen Ethel is far too ambitious, and Deira is governed by a fear-mongering coward. Magonsaete plays by the rule of the strong, and Whitwar simply watches it all from their callous vantage point. Countless die to the whims of cold rulers. This cold dystopia is what cruel men weave with their fingers. Angelcynn is doomed to march to its fall.” Fatalist, but in his mind deserved. Owen had a lot of repressed anger, and in the presence of an unknowing stranger, he saw it fit to sling insults at those who wounded him. Not to mention, Malaphar himself…

“Kings and Queens are quick to lose sight of what is truly needed for the people. That is why they employ the help of the church… much as it seems they are a bad influence over us, at times.” The missionary seemed to opt for a pragmatic approach, acknowledging Owen’s afflictions. It did result in his breathing lightening up a little, at least the missionary seemed to have no intention of forcing her views onto him. “I only speak for myself and those who believe like I do, but if the world had nothing but cruelty to see, there’d be no point in living. We’d sooner skip it all and join Engel in his realm.” She caught herself a moment after, hand close to chest. Her dubious demeanor probably wondering if she had said something she shouldn’t. “The children I’ve met in my journey have seen horrors adults would tremble before. Without kindness, they are certain to lose the will to live, just like… pardon me if I am assuming, but not unlike yourself.” She clutched her hands in front of her chest, hopeful that her actions were not aggressive to Owen. “I am powerless against a king’s army, but as long as I can make one of these children happy again, I believe… I believe the reason I’ve moved here was validated.” Her eyes were lit with a confidence that Owen felt long gone in himself. It was the same pursuit of virtue… was it? “Reason to live, to push each other forward, is what drove man so far already. To master the land and seek enlightenment.”

“I…” He couldn’t possibly argue against helping children like that, even after looking at his own life with much cynicism. “Their inability to impact the world around them will kill them on the inside eventually. It’s almost a shame. I don’t wish them to live joyless lives either, but with how powerless they are in the face of invading rulers, or their own... I just can’t see a good ending anymore. At best, their lives will only remain as miserable as they are, whilst some lunatic attempts to glorify his achievements, his power over others. That’s simply how humans are.” Simply a tragic cycle as it were. As if nobility drew the worst of people. Weak or ambitious, there was truly no paragon of humanity as they were so often lauded. “Even leaders who try do well make sacrifices. They are not saints in the eyes of all men.”

There was a looming silence after that. Owen’s points seemed to be acknowledged by the missionary. “And yet they still live, most surviving their despair. I would say, even if their actions are small in the grand scheme of things, they still impact the lives around them.” Her desire to get through Owen’s heart was true, regardless. “Nobles aren’t the only ones who can shape the future. When ideas are spread throughout a village, the results are clear. Spread it far enough, and you’ve got something more… Myrcia itself was not under the rule of a king before Deira and Raewald cast their shadow over it. I’m sure you know.” She gauged Owen’s conviction, looking him in the eye. “A village where kindness spreads like an idea is something you must see for yourself. Where everyone treats their neighbours with respect and chase their dreams. It’s a little piece of heaven. Perhaps, if we were all this conscious, there wouldn’t be a need for kings or emperors...” She caught her tongue, voice quieting down at the end. It was a rather blasphemous thought, especially coming from a faithful.

However, Owen couldn’t disagree with it. It was sound, people were very capable of their own. What made a king more important than a peasant? There were stories of kingdoms with rulers so callous that their own populace overthrew them. Perhaps, they weren’t all that doomed. “That’s an optimist thought, although not a bad one.” Owen conceded, “Perhaps we could all learn from these enlightened little villages.” It brought him back to one instance in particular: Magon, the small village not too far from the Magonsaeten coast. Despite everything, they lived in peace, and there was no such thing as a count or baron overseeing them. Simply their own council of villagemen, and a charismatic farmer. They don’t need me, in the end… That was a dark thought, but one that lifted much weight from Owen’s shoulders. “Perhaps they don’t need rulers at all.”

“Hmm, perhaps… though a kind ruler would be better than a town in discord.” The missionary added, a hand on their chin. “If such were to exist, one that could bear so much weight on their shoulders… after all, they are supposed to be divinely mandated. Most seem to stray from the path of Engel, though perhaps it is only expected. Only Engel himself is supposed to bear such burden, no man could be up for such martyrdom.”

Silence again. Owen had invited the topic of conversation, but he knew that kind of discussion would be looked down by most nobles. The air between both of them was tense, blasphemous thoughts lingering in the air, but there was a certain appreciation Owen had for this kind of direct conversation. “Where are you from, if I may ask?” He figured it the best time to ask, before they delved even further in thoughts that would have them branded conspirators in the eye of most. “I appreciate that you could speak about such defiant thoughts so clearly, it gives me a better idea of what the people see.” A kind ruler better than a town in discord… I suppose, if it were ever possible.

There was a telltale increasing discomfort in the missionary as Owen continued to praise her. Firstly, he had all but disclosed his status as a noble. Furthermore, her words had been so aggressive that he might have just led her into this poor situation, branded a traitor and other horrible things.

“None of this conversation is going to leave these woods.” Owen reassured, if a bit more confident thanks to the fact Sebastian had gone with Cassandra. He could never track that man. “I thank you for giving me such insight. I had doubts over my position, felt impotent because I was neither callous nor ambitious. Not in the way of Queen Ethel, at least.” Owen had implicitly calmed the missionary’s worries as he lowered his voice. Speaking ill of Queen Ethel was a bonus. “I must admit, I still see myself as weak… but my people are not. There is not much I can do without them, but perhaps things are best this way. You’ve helped me decide my future.” Wyke was never meant to be abandoned, and Owen was never meant to be a martyr. A catalyst of the people’s will… that role felt more comforting, calming. “Letting Deira and Raewald do as they please for the sake of peace in Wyke was a wrong choice. We will never be safe with such horrible neighbours, and neither will their people. Once I can guarantee Wyke’s safety, I will work on stopping this war, and any future ones.” The people of Myrcia, Raewald, and Deira, were not meant to be toys for ambitious rulers, either.

“I… I see.” The missionary was certainly lost for words, feeling like she had missed something. “I heard Wyke is going through rough waters as well… I take it that’s why you plan to return?” She seemed calmer, at least, no longer seeming as if ready to sprint. “I come from the distant lands to the east, not from the same branch as the Church of Engel that resides here… the faiths can get a tad mixed in my homeland, but I believe that’s what gives us our insight.” She seemed proud of that fact.

“I thank you regardless.” Owen bowed, holding an arm in front of his torso for respect and etiquette. “I suppose this naive way of thinking has made me at odds with the world, but nobody claimed it to be a bad thing but myself.” A certain conviction was stirring inside Owen. “Though I will never be a great king, I can still forge the path for my people.” A world where they would not live in fear of tyrants, or rulers and other men who would take their rights… a lot of blood would be spilled for that, thanks to the warring nature of man, but this new ideal, like a shiny object, rekindled Owen’s resolve.

“Well… as long as you feel it is right, I’m glad I could give you some insight.” The missionary had felt she served her purpose, bowing back. “It is too much of an honor to have a noble bow out of respect, I don’t deserve this… but at least I now see that not all nobles think alike. I hope, as much as my message of kindness spreads among villages, your message of selflessness will reach others of your kin.” For such hopeful ideas to flourish in an afflicted, weeping man… “Do not abandon your sense of self, however. We’ve just talked about this. No man can become a true martyr.” She repeated herself, just to be sure. “I really must go, now, or I won’t reach my village before dawn, when the guards are up.”

“I understand. Farewell.” Owen nodded, holding himself with a new sense of confidence. I don’t need to be ambitious… simply to carve the path for my people. If they call me a horrible, bloody king, so be it. As long as the kingdom of Wyke can flourish evermore. No longer were the eyes of other nobles haunting him. Owen had detached himself from his role in a dangerous, but liberating way. A compassionate, yet aggressive side was given form.

---

17th of May, some more moments after the battle of Oston

Owen left the burial of Angus in the care of Escablor and the others, unable to look at his friend’s corpse any longer. It should have been me… Angus, you fool… His fist was clenched, trying to distract himself by looking at the rubble left by Deira. This village had been ruined by their explosions, utterly so. Could happiness even flourish in a place this sorrowful again? It brought him back to the conversation at the clearance. If she were here, perhaps… this world needs more people like her, and no lackeys to ambitious men. “Justice Friends. What a horribly unfitting name.” He sighed, thinking back to Barnaby’s words.

‘The most powerful man in Angelcynn.’ Owen wrinkled his nose. Repulsing. The avatar of everything he had grown to hate was a singular person, apparently. “Such a man can’t be allowed to live. I need to find who he is.” He spoke under his breath, kneeling down to pick up some of the rubble. Some of these corpses were so young… “I can’t believe they used such explosives in good conscious.” Their faith had been weaponized, and a fearsome weapon it was. Able to cause grief unimaginable, without a hint of hesitation. There was also the underlying callousness of Toulouse. They had clearly negotiated with Deira behind Wyke’s back. That was a blow to his trust that Owen would need to remind later. I wonder who I can trust at this point at all. Use and abuse, huh. It’s as if kingdoms and empires had no other way to sustain themselves. Perhaps then it was a bad idea for them to expand so much.

“It’s a real shame, all these--” Owen paused, chilled to the bone, catching an exotic piece of cloth half-charred in the midst of the rubble. He quickly crawled closer, lifting the broken pieces of the house and tossing it aside. It had a familiar feeling, and as soon as he dug up the rest from the rubble, Owen was stunned speechless. A corpse, the same woman he’d met and exchanged ideas with, had suffered that dreadful fate. Her body was still hugging two children, orphans she ultimately failed to protect, but tried until the very end. Owen could only imagine the scene as the fight outside went on. It made sense now. Oston was the closest village, and her vocation made it a duty to care for children like the orphans… of course she’d be here. She said she was planning to return before the guards were up back then… of course. Because the guards weren’t local, but Deiran. Owen felt a big part of his will drained, kneeling in front of that sorry scenario. Her life was gone, as well as the children whose life she wanted to improve. Selfless duty cut short by the ambition of some man with power.

“Damn… Damn and blast.” ‘Most powerful man in Angelcynn’. Owen stood up, clenching his fist. “Is this what we do, the divinely mandated?” ‘Most powerful man in Angelcynn’. A clown, complete ignoramus, stopping the betterment of a land so wartorn as Myrcia. Owen’s foot hit the ground hard. “Monsters! All of them!” And the worst, he was at least partly at fault for engaging them. Endangering the citizens over a game of kings and queens. He knew it. He couldn’t hold back his tears. The lives lost in vain all lined up in front of him. Not only Angus, but even people not from the continent had their blood spilled. “Is this really what we are?”

Owen took a step back, failing to hold back his tears. While he hadn’t been close to that woman, the conversation that they shared that night magnified that sorrow evermore. Not only was she a victim, but Owen himself was an accomplice in her death. The implications haunted his soul. Blood will be spilled, I told myself that back then, but now that I see it up close. What my actions will do. Was Wyke worth this? Was anything worth this. I’m so sorry… if I hadn’t… Owen fell to his knees once more, having shed so many tears the past couple of days that his eyes were running dry. Angus was dead, his sister hardly trusted him, and he was the kind of man he despised, at least by association. What would his father think of him at that point? Owen’s fists clenched, grasping dust in vain. His head lowered, a swirl of anger and disgust taking over his thoughts, and tears gone completely dry. “She put her faith in me…”

A miserable pile of a man again, until nothing was left of his former self. Quickly, his pity and self-disgust turned into ire, punching the ground. “A fool! A fool! Idiot!” Three times swung, three times hitting the ground in vain. What was he to achieve now? He promised… at least to himself, he promised he could change the live of those under him for the better. What did that make of Owen now?

Atone. He picked himself up, slowly, bitterness clear in his face. Repent. And make those fools repent as well. Owen was almost too good at being self-destructive, his thoughts brought so much hate to his own person. Perhaps that was why he was never comfortable in a relationship. He hardly loved himself. “A heartless murdered, not unlike Malaphar... I will hunt that man down myself.” Vengeance. Something other than self-hate was finally emerging in his soul. I will tear every wall in Deira down until I find that man… until… With what power? He bit his lips, fury almost bursting at the seams. No, the ‘Strongest man in Angelcynn’ could die one thousand times and it would still not be enough. This man and Malaphar seemed to be cut from the same cloth.

What was Owen to do now? ...Wyke. More than ever before, he needed to go to Wyke and regroup, muster more power. This wasn’t just about stopping Deira with the aid of Raewald. This was persona, and Owen would see to it that this would be done through his own strength… no more abiding to the will of others. He’d vowed to pave a way for his people before, but now, more than ever, he’d have to live beyond that. He couldn’t change the world… but Angelcynn was enough. He’d take these men down, and pave a way for a new political climate as well. None would escape. I’ve had enough… if my naive beliefs are too easy to manipulate, then I will harden myself and spill the blood of those who dare manipulate. This corruption had no place in the Angelcynn he wanted to create. He’d live, to fulfill the wish of those that died to maintain peace.

---

"Four days from the south of Wyke? That's wonderful news. Thank you, Nelon." The wind was their ally this time. What could have very well been a week or two long journey would be completed at blazing speeds... for a ship, anyways. "Please, if anybody is struggling to fit in their given role, tell them to have a word with me. If their skills lie elsewhere, I'll make sure to handle the reassigning. If they are simply slacking, though, tell them the hull could always use some scrubbing." There was no time to waste if their journey was going to be so brief. Thankfully, Owen could delegate most of the overseeing to Ceirch.

Before he had too much fun stargazing with his looking glass, Sidney did have some questions for Owen. "I can't wait to return to Wyke. Being home again will be good for my soul." That sense of familiarity and normalcy would be much needed, nowadays. "Of course... this would have been better if Cassandra and Adele were still here, but I suppose I can't do anything about that right now." One day, he could worry about searching for his lost sister. As long as he handled these unspoken threats looming over the continent of Angelcynn, there was a good chance Cass would still be breathing and going somewhere. I wonder where she is, though... I can't imagine she was very fond of Raewald after the marriage fiasco. Thinking about it, Whitwar was always quiet and reclusive. Maybe that'd be where she decided to hide. Hmm, for a place so close, I can't say I know much. I should ask Claire later. "I'm glad you're looking forward for Wyke, but it won't be a cakewalk. We'll have our work cut out for us."

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"Mm, no, unfortunately the situation can't be perfect. But things are looking better, aren't they?" Sidney took his hand into hers and smiled. "If all were nice in the world, we'd just all be returning from a visit to Raewald together which really was just diplomatic and not planning the beginnings of a war, and Wyke wouldn't have to be retaken from Deira... but, instead those things aren't true and we just have to make the most of what we've got. So, I believe you when you say it won't be a cakewalk, but none of this has been, right? That's why I'm confident in us, even though some things have changed. It's just us and Claire still around from that first foray into the village, and I wasn't with you from the start, either."

She thought back and laughed. "Sorry, it's not all funny, just... the whole situation, you know? Who would've thought, huh? I got myself tied up in that mess, but even with all that's gone wrong, I'm certainly much better off having met you, Owen. So I believe in all of us, and that we really can do it. Not just blind faith, but real confidence- I think we've built up that much, at least, with the fact that we've gone through so much already. Never perfect, but getting by well enough, if you ask me." Sidney looked at her new bow by her side. "I can just go forward without any big regrets... maybe I'm not completely off the hook for everything in Raewald, but I made things up with my family, and that's what really matters to me. So let's save Wyke from the Deirans, and then we can start fixing relations with your family."

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Similar Sister

Nona smiled, hacking away at her potato under Constance's watchful eye. "Thank you, Miss Constance. You know so much about cooking, it's really impressive. Do you cook for people a lot? I've never seen you eat... do you not get hungry? Maybe as you get older you start to eat less..." Nona pondered, slicing a juice lump from her spud. "We never had to cook because we were wealthy, but it's more fun than I thought. I remember trying to make dinner for Baron Esclabor once... he said that he spent a week in the bathroom. He never did want to come for dinner after that, I'm not sure why though."

She let out a playful chuckle, a glimmer forming in her eyes. "Ceirch is a very thoughtful man, he always works hard and tries not to let people down." she replied, cutting the potato in half unintentionally. "When we were younger, he helped look after Morta. Daddy always had trouble getting her to behave, but Ceirch always managed to keep her out of trouble. He's good with children, do you think he would make a good father, Claire?"
 

Barrel of Laughs

Both Decima and Accolon looked at Eric, somewhat perplexed by his sudden appearance. "Oh? Eric... I thought they'd put you on repair or kitchen duty." Decima replied awkwardly, trying to find her words.  "There's still plenty to do... if you're here to help, that'd be great! Maybe you can help Freya? I've already got Accolon helping me... or maybe I'm helping Accolon, I'm not sure."

Accolon was more composed, the golden clad giant appeared more accepting of his friend's offer. "Many thanks, Eric. Your eagerness is a standard that more should aspire to. With effort together we shall conquer this task." Accolon declared, lifting up a barrel single-handedly , leaving a stunned Decima staring at him. "To think we are venturing to Wyke to fight our own people. To fight our brothers and sisters for the freedom of those they oppress... I pray Engel can forgive us."

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Constance cut a bit too vigorously with the knife when Nona made the comment about her eating. Why did she say that? Does she know something about me, or is she far more perceptive than she lets on. "No," she said quietly. "I don't eat. But I do get hungry. I'm always hungry. It's my pact with Belial. He keeps me healthy at the cost of my eternal starvation." She kept her head down and proceeded to cut the carrots. "I used to love cooking. I felt...so...so purposeful when I prepared a meal for my husband. I wasn't a common housewife, even back then I was busy with my remedies and spell books. But I sacrificed my time to cook for him. And when he died, I sacrificed to Belial instead." She noticed some tears had fallen on the carrots. :I'm not completely out of skill though," she said, trying to put some mirth in her voice. "I always had a cauldron of stew ready for the travelers who journeyed to my cave." She looked up to see how Nona and Claire had reacted to her words. "Try to be a bit more gentle with the peeler, dear," she advised. "You just want to take the skin off."

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"No, the boat that we took from Wyke to Magonsaete was the first time I was ever on a ship before either. I'd hardly been anywhere outside of my home village and the capital before being assigned my post here. To be honest, I don't think I'm terribly fond of ocean travel, but it seems to be a necessity, so here we are. But I don't think being helpful on a ship is really so different from being of assistance on land, just we're in a more confined space and moving as we go. Don't worry about it, just do your best and I'm sure it will turn out fine." Freya did her best job at being reassuring, which she wasn't sure how good it was, but there was certainly an attempt! "Hmm. A dozen barrels, huh? Well, between the three of us, that's surely not so bad." And with Eric approaching the group of three, that made four. Freya gave him a nod. "Sure, working together can certainly only progress things along more quickly, so I certainly wouldn't mind some assistance here."

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"Sweet." With the leave of all the deckhands, Eric strode with purpose over to a barrel-wonder what's in these things-turning it on its side, ready to roll. As he began to ferry it to its destination, though, his pace slowed considerably when the weight of Accolon's words sank in.

"Brothers and sisters...we were prepared for that from the day we left, though, weren't we, Acc? I mean, we had to fight 'em to leave, let alone come back." Eric paused for a time, as if he were struggling to find words. "I'm sure Engel will forgive us. We're trying to do what's right for everyone, as opposed to the selfish bastards in Deira."

...Are you sure about that?

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Cooking Nona

Nona listened intently to Constance, so focused that the mention of Belial and sacrifices didn't even phase her. "You've been doing it for a long time then, no wonder you're so good. Hopefully I can improve, I don't want to waste all the potatoes." she replied firmly, even more determined than before. Her eyes followed the tears as they went down Constance's face, perplexion spreading across her own. "I thought it was onions that made people cry... wait..."
 

From the knees

Accolon nodded, lifting the barrel in front of him up - and pulling Decima up with it. "It is a choice that we have decided. Our fate is in our hands. Engel has willed us to act for the good of our fellow man, I shall accept whatever punishment my homeland has for me once the conflict has ended." Accolon affirmed, unaware of Decima dangling from his barrel. "Prince Owen's people have been very accepting. I resemble the very enemy they face yet they treat me as their own. Such comradery, it's a truth that can never be hidden."

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"...I see." Claire gulped, wondering if it had been a horrible mistake to bring Nona into the kitchen. Perhaps she was having fun, but the poor potato casualty list was growing awfully long. It was only when Claire heard her own name that she looked up from the floor, breaking her out of her daze. "Er, I suppose so." If he could get past the whole 'having to take a wife' part, that is, which seemed to be a little difficult for him. 

Constance's reaction to Nona's teasing was of far greater concern, however. Claire bit her lip as it all came flooding out, aware that she'd have to choose her words carefully - or at least more carefully than the others were handling their potatoes. "I think that we should take a break for a few minutes." she suggested, for the sake of their food stock and the elder's well-being. Nona... Claire sighed. She couldn't understand the Valter girl. She had to be playing dumb here, but the mage just didn't get her.

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"Yes. A break would be...agreeable," Constance said. She took the current potato from Nona's hand and placed it in the bucket that was meant to contain a finished pile. "That one's done," she muttered before leaving the kitchen and wondering up to the deck. The movement from the boat was odd and disorientating. She heard tales of people getting sick from such a thing, but she seemed entirely unaffected. I can't rest too long, she thought. Somebody needs to make the dinner. But what would it matter if it wasn't finished? Why does any of it matter? What am I even doing here? She placed her hand on the book of Balor she still had, but had vowed never to use. Somehow, whether they know it or not, these people are the most qualified to face Malaphar at this time. And they need feeding. I will have to redouble my efforts, on the battlefield and in the kitchen. But I need...just a moment more to rest. The sea...I never thought it would look so beautiful.

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"Yeah, it's really somethin'." Eric attested, returning to a brisk pace of work.

"...So after all o' this is over, you're going back to Deira, huh? Me personally, I'm not sure if I'll head back. I was never really patriotic towards the place anyway. I never felt like I was more than just...there. Defecting was probably the first standoutish thing I ever did."

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"Well, yes... I didn't mean to say you weren't, Sidney, I'm just on edge. I don't k ow what Wyke will be left for me to see. I hope we'll still be able to make something out of it, you see?" They were blind to the affairs of Wyke these past few months. Hardly a noble tried to confide with Owen through mail. Not even Duke Herman. Considering the scale of events, something did not bode well. "I'm flattered I've made such an impact on your life... but right now I have a lot to think on my own. I will be Prince Regent no longer, once Wyke is retaken." It was a thought time to put much else on his mind, rude as it sounded. "...I'll go get some fresh air, being stuck here doesn't feel too good." He bowed, making his way out to the deck. Lately things were too restless. He was too restless. He couldn't focus like this.

 

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Sinner's Solace

Accolon grimaced, lowering their head in shame. "Deira is my home, I hope it can return to a nation that I can remain proud of." Accolon replied, lowering the barrel with Decima still attached. "When I pledged my allegiance to the Reliants, I made a solemn vow... one that I have broken in joining Prince Owen. My heart could not take ignoring the injustices that were being carried out, but to go against Engel's order is unforgivable."

 

Afternoon of 19th May 812 - At Sea

The crew's journey had been relatively uneventful for the most part, the waters had behaved themselves and their carefully planned route had been expertly carried out. Nelon's estimates put them several hours ahead of schedule, it would be perhaps only another day before they landed at Wyke's western coast. The winds had started to pick up and a fog was setting in, but for the most part visibility was good. Despite their lack of experience, Freya and the other deckhands had managed to keep the deck clear, all inventory was present, accounted for and in a suitable storage location. The larger vessel would have perhaps been able to hold more of the cargo at the dock, but it was sufficient for what they needed.

Owen's party acquires 5000G from the cargo!

However, there were other issues that could not be corrected. Whilst repairs had generally been of good quality, Esclabor's input meant that his allies had to remedy his mistakes. Nothing was likely to break during the voyage, but the work could have certainly been better. Food was another problem, Constance had done her best to salvage things but the end result was something barely palatable. Nona's utter lack of experience in the kitchen resulted in several suspect meals. Claire's presence wasn't detrimental by any means but her input was limited.

Vesta and Decima are unable to be deployed next map due to food poisoning!

There hadn't been sight of any other ships during the voyage, the waters had been oddly calm. Morta had nothing to report for the first few days. However, her pegasus hastily landed on the deck, the young rider clambering off it. "Prince Owen... there's a ship approaching." she panted, barely able to catch her breath. "They had a big flag with a skull and crossbones, they're pirates and they're heading straight for us.... there's Deirans flying about too. At least one squadron patrolling the skies. I don't think they saw me but they're gonna find us eventually."

It was only a matter of minutes before the ship Morta spoke about came into view, a similar sized vessel to theirs but with a black sail, bearing a skull and crossbones. The ship was directly on course for the group's own - collision was inevitable. "Prince Owen, we should prepare for an incoming boarding. Neither ship appears to have the means to fight at range and the winds are unfavourable for escape." Nelon advised, approaching his liege. "Those of us who fight on horseback may have to battle on foot, it is ill-advised to bring our mounts onto the deck."

All players are free to post, this section will last a very short amount of time!

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Sidney had been feeling quite pleased with herself with how well the voyage was going. Sure, some of the food had been very questionable, but there certainly could be worse problems overall. That was true until Morta reported just about one of the worst things that she could've heard. "Pirates?! No, no, it was all going smoothly and now this happens? Of all the--! There's no way we can get out of here in time, huh..." She took a couple moments to steady her breathing and heartbeat. "Alright... we've dealt with plenty more than pirates before. Everyone! I don't think there's a whole lot I can do at this point, so we're just going to have to be ready to fight instead!" She kept her eye on the steadily approaching ship and got her new bow ready. Time for a real test, huh?

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Everyone was rushing about with screams about pirates. Constance looked down at the book of Balor she still carried. It had been her intention to sell it somewhere, but there had been no opportunity. "No," she whispered. "I'll stay true to my vow." Constance put the book with the rest of the things in her cabin and made her way onto deck.

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The time they'd spent at sea had convinced Claire that she was much more comfortable slicing enemies with wind magic than watching Nona try and slice up vegetables. Poor Decima... She sighed quietly. Nona's sister had never stood a chance. Of course, before their cooking had the chance to finish everyone else off, the pirates were going to make their attempt on the Wykian lives. Well, at least this is something I can handle... Fighting at sea meant they'd have to be careful, but when she thought about it, hadn't that always been the case. "We've dealt with worse." She'd take the pirates over Malaphar and friends, at any rate, and so she hurried to the deck to prepare.

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Although it wasn't easy fitting everything, Freya and the others had managed to do a serviceable enough job with everyone's equipment and rations online. Luckily she had managed to avoid the fate of the other deckhands, maybe having more experience with less tasty food than the other two, though it still was rather awful, though unlikely to be as bad as dealing with pirates. She followed along a bit after Claire, her armor and weaponry at the ready- there was a lot of it for her now. "Much worse indeed. Let's show them what folly it is to try and attack us!"

Freya stores her Vulnerary and Heather Shield for a Steel Sword and Iron Axe.

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Once again faced with the predicament of having nothing to do, Eric had meandered his way back onto the deck. He was carrying his full belt of equipment-in fact, there was no indication he'd taken it off since he got on the boat-and leaning on the deck's railing. He stared off towards the horizon, feeling as his scabbards brushed against his leg.

With each rock, he felt his stomach lurch, if only a little. Maybe it was seasickness? Maybe it was breakfast coming back to haunt him? It wasn't the greatest thing he'd ever eaten, that was a given, but Eric couldn't complain too much. Food is food. Or maybe, the feeling was leftover from the last boat he'd been on...

Eric shuddered and turned his gaze more intently at the sea, a seperate thing from his blank stare. And in the distance...a ship approached. Are black flags normal? I don't remember any-the scurrying of other people around the deck sealed it. This appriaching boat did not contain anyone friendly. Eric steadied his hand on the grip of a sword.

Guess I get to use my one selling point. 'Bout time.

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Regrets, Forefathers, and the Sea.

Spoiler

18th of May, in his own chambers, aboard claimed Deiran Caravel ‘St. Elfflaed’

 

Silence once more. Owen was getting used to it. First Cass, and now Angus. His trusted friends and vassals were dropping, or abandoning him, and his numbers thinned. Whom were the ones that had been by his side since the beginning of his journey again? ...Right, Claire and Ceirch were around from the start, as well as the Valter sisters. I guess.... Esclabor almost counts. And Sidney as well, despite not being a vassal.

 

Owen tapped his finger on the wooden table he leaned on, sat on an inelegant wooden chair himself. Beggars couldn’t be choosers in a former military ship. At least he didn’t need to share his sleeping chambers. Possibly the one good point of their numbers thinning. But that’s no way to think of them… He sighed, slumping onto the table. The wounds had not healed, and to think of when they would heal would be an exercise in frustration. It was best to think of the present, of his return to his homeland of Wyke, but that also had its own problems.

 

Wyke had been shattered by Deira. What would the people think of him, having been caught with his pants down, so to speak, absent from the kingdom at such a time? If he wasn’t seen as weak before, certainly now he would be. What of the future? Wyke was going to suffer a fate not unlike Myrcia now, subject to Deira and Raewald, and their damned grabs at power. Owen had inadvertently walked right into Ethel’s game. They’ll act like we owe them, either ways, and if I just went through with leading the charge among her troops… The narration that Wyke was just a subservient state to Raewald was already there, you couldn’t make it up. My sister had a point.

 

Owen needed to stand up, anxious thoughts breaking his quiet, he was aimless. His path had been laid before him, and he chose to close his eyes and follow the downtrodden dirt road. “I can’t be this way…” It could, very well, a prince with lacking presence turned a regent with lacking presence. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Wyke’s balance of power had shifted since his departure. Perhaps many took advantage of Owen’s absence. Owen wouldn’t know until the moment he’d step in Wyke.

 

But one thing he knew, he needed to change. Most of all, that wavering blade, and weak posture. If he was going to be a king, he’d better act as one. “I…” He sighed, picking up a small pace towards the one weapon he had left in his chambers, his épée. “...” He stood in silence, grasping the hilt. The blade was too slim to show his own reflection, but he still stared intensely. Owen had never dedicated himself as a warrior, despite the potential in his background.

 

“Perhaps I could use some change too.” There were many styles for a swordsman to pick. He always imagined a swift blade that strikes true the best description for the style he’d sought to master, but he had come short in many ways. He couldn’t waver in the face of enemies like he often did, stalling his time and looking for opening. Owen needed to carve paths, show the strength of a true king. Especially now, to save his people. Brute force has never been my strength…

When his allies were plentiful, that role had many occupants: Angus, Adele, sometimes Esclabor, but never him. He’d charge with them, but was never imposing. “What am I to do now?” He had the potential, for certain, but lacked a certain conviction. Retraining myself in a boat isn’t quite ideal… Owen was short of time, what could he do for himself? I suppose it starts with the first swing… It wasn’t the time to let his doubts deter him from acting. No, not again. Not anymore...

---

After a few bouts of training that morning, and a quick study of the ship's position relative to the stars, Owen had most of the day free once more. With the ship going at the pace it did, these breaks wouldn't last too long, but that was good. No time to be wasting. His intensive but haphazard training led him to get accustomed to walking around in the chain mail he'd so often wear, with a few armored plates --unused spares from his friend, Angus. It was a cumbersome getup, especially for walking on a ship, no doubt grabbing the attention of some, but it was part of his rigorous training.

Unfortunately, lunch had left him a bit... weaker, overall. He left for the deck, taking in the wind breeze. With a pale but stern face, he did his best to not fall in the same category as Vesta and Decima. Thankfully, it seemed his body was just a bit too stubborn to fall for the poisoning.

Being in the deck was an advantage as Morta descended, running out of breath. A bearer of bad news was the last thing he needed that day, but it was unavoidable. A look towards the direction Morta came from affirmed Owen's fears: That distant dot of a ship had indeed noticed them. It was turned towards them, homing into their position. "Goodness." Holding himself back, Owen tapped his sword's sheath for a moment before reacting further. "...We should warn the others. Be prepared to defend from an invasion." Others were gathering around, but that was hardly enough. Owen took quick steps. "Everybody, stay on guard!"

Edited by Xinnidy
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The enemy vessel continued its approach with no signs of stopping, Owen's group was in for trouble. A crowd of ugly thugs garnished the ship's deck, readying themselves for the inevitable invasion. They definitely had the advantage in numbers, and it was likely they were all more adept at fighting at sea. A large caped man stood at the centre of them all, raising his axe and issuing a challenge to Owen and his crew. His beard was dark and his frame powerful, he was a man who could probably last a few rounds against the likes of Baleros.

"Yarr! I be Captain Dankbeard, the dankest pirate in all o' Angelcynn!" he bellowed, his voice loud enough to carry across tens of feet of water. "We be men of the water, no landlubbers can try an' paddle through where they shouldn't be! Ye all be swimming with the fishes when we be done with ye!"

"Sounds like a friendly guy, I say we go give him a swimming lesson." Esclabor remarked, steadying himself. "This is their specialty so we need to play smart, we don't have much time to play with. The moment they step foot on our deck we need to be ready."

For once, Esclabor was right, it wasn't long before the two ships collided, the impact sending a shockwave across the boat. The ship's mast came crashing down, leaving it stranded as the pirates readied to board. The enemy crew were adept as Esclabor had warned, it was only a matter of minutes before they'd invaded their ship. The pirates were a varied lot, their forces comprising of a selection of fighters. More disturbingly was the presence of two in particular. Arteria and Appellon stood at opposite ends of the vessel, grinning intently - their expressions were enough to not need words, they were out for blood. Nelon had other concerns on his mind, the knight quickly approaching his liege.

"It is likely we have sustained damage below deck... we will most likely require some repairs, Prince Owen." Nelon warned. "If there is a member of our group who is familiar with repair work, they may be able to stabilise any leaks until we reach shore. Leaving it would be ill-advised."

Chapter 11A - Survive or Sink!

Victory conditions - Defeat Captain Dankbeard OR rout all enemies on the ship
Side objectives - Regain control of the ship's wheel with a sea-worthy unit to stop pirate reinforcements, repair the ship as early as possible
Failure conditions - Fail to repair the ship by the start of turn 5

92a20e69d320bec07048efbeec422006.png

Spreadsheet

Deploy in the blue zone! 2 NPC's may be selected!

Edited by Shin
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Constance reached the deck to see they had already been swarmed. Amongst the crowd of pirates she spotted that woman. The one who had killed a civilian during the princess' wedding. She gripped her staff. "I suppose it was only a matter of time until we crossed paths again."

Constance deploys at (16,8)

Edited by Jotari
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Freya to 15, 8

"They've really surrounded us already..." Freya adjusted her armor and readied her weapon, turning and looking at all the raiders- two familiar faces stood out. The captain sure proved to be loud, but Freya was certainly not the type to calmly accept such words. "Men of the water you may call yourselves, but certainly you cannot consider yourselves men of any real level of valor! If your skills with weaponry prove to be as lacking as your attempts at boasting, you're the sorriest crew of seafaring fighters I've ever heard of! I laugh at your weaponry and shrug off your coward's attempts at spellcraft if you truly think pirates with such caliber as yourselves pose a threat to us! Shatter your steel upon me and say any prayers if pirates believe in the divine, for men of the ocean or not, corpses can't swim."

Edited by Juliette
number typo!
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"Damn!" Sidney scrambled towards the starboard side of the ship to avoid stranding herself with a bunch of unruly pirates, wincing as the mast crumbled down, backing up near Claire. "We're gonna have to make a break for it right away to secure below deck. The pirates are bad, but the ship sinking would be much, much worse. We have to be fast, and think fast- can you cover me, Claire?"

Sidney begins on (11, 9).
NPC deployment: Serge (9, 8), Nelon (10, 8) and Accolon (11, 8)

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Despite his best efforts, Eric had nearly faceplanted when the two ships collided. However, he did manage to keep standing, and was able to steady himself and reaffirm the grip on his blade handle.

Eric took a deep breath.

Eric phases in at (15, 9).

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