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thegildedlady · 8 months

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Dinner with the Captain

Meeting with the Warden of the Stormwind Stockades was a quick detour before the real journey began. Once the conscripts had been loaded onto the ship, the HMS Indomitable had a crew of about 100 and was ready for whatever the sea could throw at them. She was a fine vessel- a great galleon with the speed of a clipper ship- and no expense was spared on equipping her with latest tech and bespoke detailing. The Captain was determined to keep her in mint condition, too, and that meant many long hours and lots of elbow grease on holistones. Stockton would settle for nothing less than the best.

The Indomitable put Jack’s formerly assigned ship, an accursed lump of driftwood called the Swiftwind now in scrap pieces somewhere no doubt, to shame. So did Stockton’s ability to keep the crew in line, which Jack had failed so spectacularly at the last time he’d been entrusted with a naval mission. After his infamous capture (or rescue, depending on who is asking) at Scarabs Landing, most of his men either joined up with another crew shipping out of there, or stuck around the island and got lost in the debauchery of it all. That would not be an issue this time around. It was hard for him to imagine any of Stockton’s crew acting with such disregard, or even stepping a toe out of line. He had started the mission with a fiercely loyal crew already signed on. It wouldn’t take long for the conscripts to fall into step with the rest, or be made to. From their previous journeys together, Jack recalled that Stockton was not shy about corporal punishment.

After a long day of introductions to the crew and individual interviews (one in particular that still lingered on his mind), Jack was hardly feeling socially inclined enough for company, but the invitation from his Captain to join him for dinner was not exactly a request. Stockton expected his Lieutenant Commander to be at his right hand whenever called, and work hours would not be delayed by something as trivial as a meal. Dinner was a time where they could talk in private, without the distraction of others barging in or needing something looming just around the corner.

Stockton wasn’t exactly Jack’s idea of the ideal dinner companion- for one thing, Jack rarely ever got a word in their conversations. Everett could go on and on about the mission, the crew, his career; his thoughts were never ending. Little was required of Jack but to nod occasionally and to show enthusiasm when prompted by Stockton’s emphatic leaning in. That is why it was so unusual on this particular evening for their dinner conversation to begin the way it did- with Captain Stockton’s full attention turned towards his First Mate.

“So Lieutenant,” he began as he cracked open the first of many oysters with a tiny silver fork, “give me your initial thoughts about the conscripts we saw today.”

Jack felt his stomach flip but said nothing as he reached for the glass of water set out for him. He took a sip to buy some time for thinking, then clicked his tongue.

“Nothing terribly interesting to note. Most of them are what you’d expect- petty criminals, mostly uneducated. There were a few with skills, though.”

“Like that Tidesage of yours?”

The Lieutenant frowned. He knew it would come up. “Not mine. I thought it was someone I used to know, but I was wrong. Just another Tidesage.”

“Oh come off it, Lieutenant. There’s no sense in hiding. We’re all going to be on this ship together for a long, long journey. It’s natural to feel drawn to a pretty young face. What happens at sea stays at sea, doesn’t it?” He chuckled as he pried the pearlescent shell open.

“No, that’s not- I’m not interested, if that’s what you mean.”

“I argue otherwise.” Crack. “None of the other recruits caused quite that big of a reaction. Had you flustered like a school boy, Abernathy.”

Jack was starting to feel defensive now. “I think you may be exaggerating a bit, Captain.”

“Relax. Your secret is safe with me. What the Admiral doesn’t know about his son’s taste for handsome young recruits won’t hurt him, nor your lady wife. A man has his needs, doesn’t he? Nothing wrong with that.”

“You’ve got it wrong.”

“Then you have no qualms if I have a go at the lad, do you?”

Jack felt his jaw tighten. The room fell quiet- all the clinking noises of dinner ceased. “You’re the Captain.” It was equal parts resignation and accusation.

“How right you are. And it feels right, Jack, to be leading the way. Forging the path. Guiding the men to victory!” He emphasized his point by slapping his palm on the tabletop, rattling the silver and porcelain ware. It did little to ease the tension in the room.

“You know, Lieutenant Abernathy, serving as this ship’s captain is one of the great honors of my life. Along with those honors, Lieutenant, come the privileges as well. Of course, you wouldn’t know about that, given how brief your time as a captain was. But-“ he twirled his fork in a nonchalant, dismissive wave, “despite your singular fuck-up, your previous experience at sea by far outweighs any shortcomings, and that’s why I wanted no one else for your position.”

The Lieutenant silently wished the Captain would steer the conversation back onto himself and off of Jack’s shortcomings. He didn’t want to know what less-than-ethical behavior his Captain found acceptable or had in mind, but he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for implicating that Vyland fellow, who might never have crossed the Captain’s radar were it not for Jack’s fumbling and stuttering.

When Stockton’s tone shifted from mocking to genuine, Jack didn’t know how to respond. Stockton knew how to soften a blow with praise, and Jack wasn’t sure if he should be offended or thank the man. In his confusion he opted to simply nod instead, and took another sip of water.

“It’s going to be critical,” Stockton continued, “to have only the best of the best at my side once we set foot on the Dragon Isles. Our mission is to tame her wilderness into something resembling a base, so the men can start leveling ground for the new fort.”

“The new fort, sir?” Jack questioned.

“The Regent General authorized me to establish a more permanent foothold on this island thanks to its strategic significance. Lest we forget, the last time our kingdom was nearly destroyed by dragonkind was within both our lifetimes, Lieutenant. Any man who blindly trusts a dragon is a damned fool.” Crack, and shell remnants went flying from the table. “Fort Stockton…. Can’t you see it?”

It was very like Stockton to make himself the namesake for the fort, so Jack couldn’t be too surprised. He refrained from any sneers or eye rolls, despite the urge. “I’m sure it will be a fine fort, sir.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. I wholeheartedly agree.” Crack. “Of course, the Explorers’ League had to butt their nose into military business, right on schedule. We’ll entertain the dirt diggers for a while and let them do some of the clearing, but they’ll have to fall in line eventually. These academic types… they can be quite obnoxious under duress.”

Jack nodded slowly as he took all the details in. Stockton had been intentionally vague about the expedition and what they would actually be doing once they made landfall, but now the cards were on the table. The crew would not be alone on this island, but rather would be supported by auxiliary Explorers’ League members. That was positive, at least for the sake of strength in numbers. He wondered how they would react when the Captain pitched the fort to them, or if he had plans to do so at all.

“This expedition is going to be the crown jewel in my naval career, Jack. Speaking as your comrade for a moment and not your captain, you understand how far I’ve come- how far we’ve both come since our days at the Academy. How important this is to me… I’m eager to see our success, I cannot help myself. This, my friend, is what we were made for.”

Those last words fit Jack like a too-tight shirt. He shook his head with a half smile on his lips, then poured himself a dram of the table rum for an entrement.

“Perhaps that’s true for you, but… I’m still getting my sea legs back. Feeling a little rusty.”

“What? Nonsense. I say this is exactly what you need to get your spirits up. It’s as I told you before, Lieutenant. Men like you and I are not suited to peacetime, slowly growing old and fat and gray. We must seize the opportunities to be great, drink deep from life’s cup. Don’t worry about being out of practice, Jack. I’ll be by your side to help steer you in the right direction, should you ever miss a step.”

“…I appreciate that, Everett.”

“Ah-ah-ah-“ he chastised.

Oh brother. Was he being serious? Jack breathed out a small huff of a laugh. “Captain, right.”

“You’ll get used to it.” Crack.

——

@stormandozone for character mentions

#a scene

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thegildedlady · 8 months

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I Spy

(This is the first thing I've written in like a year so bear with me)

The man was about to crack. Jem was sure of it.

It had been well over a year since he had been placed on this special assignment. His Handler had made it sound like an easy enough job. “Keep an eye on the Admiral’s son. Intercept any outgoing mail. Report back regularly,” was all the instruction he had initially been given. Simple… and boring. His punishment, Jem supposed, for losing track of Agent Black when he did. The Handler had given him two equally unpleasant options: either stay at the Academy and train the new whelps (a fate usually reserved for those who had proven useless or too cumbersome in the field), or go on ‘special assignment’ and shadow the Lieutenant indefinitely. Watching doe-eyed recruits fail miserably again and again to even slightly impress him was a fate comparable to torture for Jem, and being responsible for them was a prospect that made him shudder. At least with the Lieutenant job, all he had to do was stay out of sight. And so he did– for sixteen months.

Sixteen months Jem had stayed in the shadows of Brightcrown Keep, hiding in dark corners and lofty rafters where eyes rarely lingered. Despite the numerous armor-clad guards littering the place, it was easy to disappear in a place like this. The Lord of the keep, Admiral Edward Lawrence and his Lady wife Ursana, saw dozens of guests pass through their gates every week on one order of business or another. Highborn socialites, peasant laborers, and everyone in between could be spotted on an average day vying for their extremely wealthy patrons’ attention. Though not exactly blue bloods themselves, the Lawrence family owned well over half the ships in the royal fleet. That was enough to earn a commission in the Royal Navy without ever seeing a real fight. The Admiral inherited his position from his father, and his father before him. Clearly, his son the Lieutenant was closely following the path his forefathers had laid out for him… Right?

Wrong, Jem had come to understand. Not even close.

Over the past year and four months Jem observed every movement that Lieutenant Jacques Abernathy made. The man never left his sight. Jem felt he had come to know this man more honestly than even his own family did– in fact, what they didn’t know about their son could fill several textbooks.

To the outside observer, Lieutenant Jacques Abernathy had the perfect life. An orphaned local boy raised out of poverty by the generous and benevolent gentry leadership, molded into the ideal successor to the Lord’s vast estate and naval empire. His wife, Letitia Abernathy, makes the most dazzlingly decorated of the Keep’s guests look like potato farmers in comparison. They recently welcomed their first child into the world, a bouncing baby girl called Maren. Jem had watched their little family grow from afar. By all measures, this life was the stuff of dreams for many less fortunate people. That was the fantasy.

In reality the Lieutenant’s life was a far cry from perfect, and only partially of his own making. His adoptive father the Admiral was a cold, distant man with little but criticism to offer his chosen heir. His adoptive mother, Lady Ursana, was more interested in her sewing circle and the high society gossip to be found within than anything her family had going on, and seemed oblivious to the unhappiness of her son (or her servants, but that was another matter entirely). The best of them all was his wife, Letitia, who didn’t try very hard to conceal her affairs with anyone who paid her more than an ounce of attention. Guards, servants, visiting guests– Jem saw them all coming and going from her private chambers, some more than once. It seemed to Jem that the only one not sleeping with his wife was Jacques himself.

The Lieutenant was no angel himself, and Jem found little sympathy for him after sixteen months of being forced to watch Jacques avoid his issues in favor of creating new ones. He couldn’t blame Letitia for seeking out other lovers, because Jacques never seemed to notice her anyways. When she leaned on his arm at public events, he nearly recoiled at the touch. When she spoke his name at the dinner table, he ignored her and ate on in silence. More than once, Jem had watched her storm out of a room and saw the Lieutenant’s relief at her departure. It was clear to anyone living within the Keep’s walls that there was no love lost between Letitia and Jacques.

And speaking of those walls, they did little to keep the sullen Lieutenant contained and out of trouble. More nights out of the week than not, Jem followed him down the shoreline til he reached the outskirts of Brightcrown Bay and climbed the steep road up to Kingscliff. Away from the prying eyes of his father’s bannermen, the Lieutenant was just another stranger passing through, or late-night lingering at the tavern. Sometimes he took a pretty new friend upstairs to a rented room, while other nights he drank himself stupid at the bar until his coin purse was empty and he had to go home. It was pretty pathetic, Jem thought, to choose this sad life over the one Jacques had back home. Not to mention the kid, which was more often than not in the care of the Keep’s nursemaids than anywhere near her mother or father.

Yes, it seemed that behind closed doors the Lawrence family was anything but perfect. Most of their troubles were rooted in the keeping up of appearances that they all insisted upon, and every one of their subsequent failures to do that without fail. Soap opera that it was, Jem was sick of it. The entire family’s vapid entitlement and wasteful, lavish living was so obscene it made his lip curl. He could not help but start to hate them, and hate the assignment he had been placed on for no discernable reason whatsoever. For months and months he watched them bicker with each other, until finally one night, Jacques could take it no longer.

Jem had been observing the family at dinner– their guest tonight was some other naval officer called Stockton, with a flat top haircut and a beautifully maintained mustache– when one too many sharp words from Letitia had broken Jacques’ temper. Too afraid of angering his father to cause a scene, the Lieutenant simmered as he excused himself from the table and quickly found the exit. Jem was not far behind him, though of course he was not aware of this. He burst from the grand hall’s doors and strode across the courtyard, around corners, and to the end of a private garden with a round, tiered fountain at the center. Jacques walked right up to the fountain and splashed his face with cool water, cupping a handful onto his neck as he tried to steady his breath. A perch in a nearby tree made for a good lookout spot, so Jem got comfortable and settled in to watch until his target decided to move on.

As the Lieutenant leaned over the fountain’s edge, cooling his head with the water to douse the anger burning inside, Jem could see Jacques’ face reflected in the pool below, along with the amber leaves of the tree he was hiding in. The best word to describe the man’s expression was broken. He was breathing hard, choking on a sob that he would not let loose. His teeth bared, he slammed his eyes shut before covering his face with his hand. Was he crying? Gross, Jem thought.

Any evidence of tears was quickly covered up by Jacques washing his face with a splash of cool water from the fountain. Just in time, too, as Jem picked up on the padding of boots nearby. Not long after, that Stockton fellow rounded the corner and stood at the opposite of the garden clearing. Jacques turned when he noticed he was no longer alone, and pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket to dry off with.

“What do you want, Everett?” growled the Lieutenant as he dabbed the last of the water off his neck. Everett Stockton, Jem noted to himself.

The other man crossed his arms over his broad chest and cracked a crooked smile when he spoke. “I came to check up on you, because I’m such an upstanding gentleman and because we’re still old friends. May I?”

Stockton gestured with a nod of his head to the empty seat on the fountain’s edge next to the Lieutenant. Jacques waved him on, shoulders slumped and unable to find the energy to send him away. They sat together in parallel poses, each with their hands folded neatly in their own lap, though Stockton’s confidence shone through his body language in a way that made Jacques look meek next to him.

“I can understand it,” he began, slapping a meaty paw across Jacques’ shoulder, “Blowing up, I mean. If I had a wife as mouthy as yours, I think I’d have thrown her in the harbor by now.”

Thinly veiled implications of violence aside, Jacques couldn’t help but feel validated by Stockton’s attempt to relate to his plight. He huffed out a grim half-chuckle, then wiped his forehead with the kerchief again.

“I see how the day-in-day-outs of this can wear on a man, Jack. Shit, I’ll be honest with you– it grates on me too. Men like us, Jack, we weren’t made to sit around and play house with the women all day. We’re sailors and soldiers above all else. You and I, we can never truly be happy while kept in a cage– a fine one, to boot, but a cage all the same. Maybe for a time, but sooner or later the sea starts calling, war or some other adventure presents itself…”

“Everett–” interrupted the Lieutenant. “What do you really want? Why are you here?” Why indeed, thought Jem from his hiding place in the canopy above.

After a few beats of silence, Stockton sighed. The crooked smile stayed frozen on his lips, but any warmth behind his eyes was replaced with a steely bluntness. “I’m putting together an expedition to the Dragon Isles, and I need you as my First Mate. There’s no dissuading me, so don’t even begin to try it. Despite what the Admiral had to say about keeping you here, I highly doubt he will stop you from following official naval orders.”

They talked for a while about Stockton’s plans, the expedition in question, and Jacques’ role in all of it. Jem was trying to catch each and every word, but his mind was three steps ahead trying to piece together why the Handler would be interested in an expedition to the Dragon Isles. Surely, this was what he had been sent to report back on, and after completing this mission he will be reassigned… or at least that’s what he had to tell himself. After a moment of checking out, he tuned his attention back into their conversation.

“...rest of the crew can be conscripts from Stormwind’s stocks. I just need to know that you’re committed to seeing it through until the end. This will be a dangerous trip, and there’s a real chance we run into something we’ve never encountered before. You’ll want to discuss this with your family so they understand the risks.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’m ready to depart when you are.” Jacques replied flatly. Father of the year, he was not.

Stockton clapped him on the shoulder once again before rising from the fountain’s edge. “Good man. Well! I say we get a good night’s rest, then ship out bright and early just after dawn. Wrap up whatever business you must, and we’ll be in Stormwind harbor by mid-afternoon. I knew I could count on you.” As he began to turn, Stockton stopped himself and raised finger to make a point as if it had just occurred to him.

“Ah– by the way, Jack. Since we’re on official business, we’ll use our proper titles from now on, eh? So the crew knows who is in charge. Understood, Lieutenant?”

Jacques didn’t respond right away, Jem could just barely make out a quiet, serious voice saying, “Of course, Captain.”

The next morning they left without very many words of goodbye, and one extra SI:7 agent in tow. This report was one that Jem was going to hand in personally.

(@stormandozone for mention of their characters)

#a scene #my ocs

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