Bandits

Chapter 14: Solicito

A jagged fragemn slowly emerged from swirling golden clouds and pillars of dust and gas. The two suns hung just beneath the horizon, lighting the clouds from below. A craggy dilapidated city clung to the cliffs, silhouetted against the evening sky.

Crooked towers rose above winding streets and alleys lined with buildings built one on top of another. Dozens of piers jutted out into the sky. Some were very old structures, solidly built of stone, wide and strong, constructed for mighty warships long absent from this part of Regius. Other piers were wooden docks haphazardly thrown together to accommodate the many ships of the bandit fleets. Both were crowded with crates, supplies, and idle men drinking and stammering around.

The Wraith sliced through the clouds, wispy tendrils reaching up to wrap across the deck. On the port side, a small fragemn hung in the clouds, slightly above the Wraith. A squat tower sat on the fragemn and a crooked wooden dock snaked into the sky. Several men sat on the dock. As the Wraith passed by with her massive prize in tow, they jeered, pointing and shouting vulgar jokes that were lost to the wind.

Gideon stood beside Naman and Gerard near the port bow. Gerard leaned against the railing, meticulously cleaning the lock mechanism on his musket, though it was hard to tell why, the steel shone like silver. Naman tapped his foot and quietly hummed a shanty as he smiled at the nearing city.

Andromeda and the young Duke sat several yards away, watching a few of the crewmembers gambling. Tarleton stood nearby, leaning against a railing, watching carefully over the princess. Gideon tried to focus on the short length of rope he always kept in his pocket, tying and untying knots, but his eyes constantly drifted toward Andromeda.

He had hardly spoken to her since they had argued several nights before. Only brief greetings and short, terse conversations had been had between the two, and even those often ended with glares sharper than daggers.

"Ya' know lad," Naman said, drawing Gideon's attention. "If you want my advice on how to talk to her, you should just ask. Don't mope around all day waitin' for me to take pity on you."

Gideon looked at Naman. He was both confused and a little embarrassed. "What?" He managed, "I, don't know what you..."

"Ignore him, Gideon," Gerard said. He spit onto his rag and proceeded to harshly scrub the mechanism. He eyed it closely before being satisfied. "The man doesn't know what he's saying. Thinks he's got that pretty maid goin' mad over him."

Gerard scoffed. He pointed the musket into the air, looking down its sights. He frowned and lowered the gun, using the rag to twist the rear sight, muttering while he did it.

"Hardly, you little filth," Naman said, glancing at Gerard before turning back to Gideon. "I don't think, lad, I know. That Vega's infatuated with me. Can see it in her eyes, you can. You'll see, boy," he said, glancing over toward where Vega had just appeared from below decks carrying a pitcher of water for the princess.

Gideon struggled to picture his friend as any kind of romantic. With his boisterous personality and habitual drunkenness, the idea amused Gideon. Naman stood, running a greasy hand through his greasy hair. Looking over his shoulder, he winked at Gideon as he began swaggering over to Vega. Gerard subtly lifted his eyes from his gun to watch.

Naman greeted the maid and seemed to offer to carry the pitcher for her. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but Gideon could tell that whatever it was, Naman hadn't been slapped yet, so it must've been going alright.

Gideon watched for a few more moments before turning his attention to the rapidly approaching city.

A shrill whistle blew from the helm and all the crew quickly jumped into motion, grabbing ropes, climbing the ratlines, or otherwise getting ready to dock. Gideon hopped onto the railing, sticking his arms out for balance as he ran along the gunwale toward the bowsprit. A second blast from the whistle had the men furling the sails, quickly pulling in the massive canvas sheets. Moments later the helmsman turned the ship sharply starboard to bring the port side of the ship in line with the stone pier. Men below decks and all along the port railing tugged on thick rope cables to fold the port-undermasts against the hull to keep them from crashing against the dock.