Losden was one of twelve people gathered on the side of Hennessee's burial plot opposite the priest; he was the only one who chose not to hide his face with a hood, or a scarf, or tinted bifocals. It was doubtless the Burvendi family had spies out for the funeral, watching, taking notes, keeping tabs. Perhaps it was the naivete of youth, but Losden wasn't worried about being seen. He anticipated that they wouldn't see him as a threat; his soft, wet-eared complexion; his imperceivable involvement in the activity of Hennessee's family. Little did they know.
As the priest blessed the ground in which Hennessee would be lain, Losden felt strangely torn. On one hand he knew he should be giving himself completely in respect to his fallen mentor. But on the other--and Hennessee had prepared him for this very moment--he couldn't help but see ahead, that Hennessee's death was not some ballsy hit just so the Burvendis could reaffirm their decade-long grip on Fermoy, but rather a distraction to quell a rebellion as they turned their eyes elsewhere. Rumor had it that the Nausikaa forces were being drained from Talsiny to the distant city of Rhydin, and Hennessee had known better than any that the Burvendis would snatch at any chance to stake a claim in Talsiny, like hyenas salivating over a freshly slain body, unravaged yet deserted.
Losden pushed away a few stray locks of hair from his eyes. He looked around, over the cemetery and surrounding streets and sparse homesteads. No one was watching, as far as he could tell. All was still, even the late afternoon air. Losden lowered his head and resumed the group prayer with the others.
When it came time for each of the bereaved to pay his or her final condolences, each began the same manner: They crossed themselves--forehead-to-chest, shoulder-to-shoulder--and briefly knelt before approaching the casket. The last moment was personal. For some it was a murmured prayer; for others, typically the older men of the family, it was no more than an unspoken goodbye. For Losden, it was a solemn gesture: He pressed his fingers to his lips and touched them to the wooden lid.
The Families of Fermoy
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Arane Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 59
- Joined: Sun Apr 04, 2004 2:45 pm
- Location: The Atalaya Manor at Atalaya Beach in Talsiny
Eh? Speak a bit louder, child. I am an old woman with old ears.
What? You want to know about Nausikaa, do you? What more is there to know? They rule Talsiny from the shadows. They pull the strings of the council of bishops. We are their subjects.
Ah. About their childhood, you say? So I see. That is why you came to me. Yes, I was a nun at that orphanage. The Nausikaa Orphanage three decades ago. Nausikaa... it means light in some ancient language. Anyway, the orphanage burned to the ground… oh, I suppose it was about fifteen years ago now. They want us to forget where they came from, forget that they were not always so high and mighty.
I know, I know. You are shocked to hear such talk about Nausikaa. It could get me killed the young nuns tell me. Ha, I say. I am an old woman. If they are so low as to kill the old woman who changed their diapers then God will accept my soul.
Now… where was I?
Yes, yes, dear. They were all orphans. The entire top tier of the original Nausikaa – all thirteen of them. I do not remember all of them. Edwin was named after the saint who killed the pagan king. He was left on our doorstep one snowy day. There was Gabriel and George, named after the chivalrous knight. Gabriel and George were brothers, you know. Sad story there. Their father captained a boat that was lost at sea and their mother could no longer bear to look at the boys because they were spitting images of their father. The youngest was Ariadne, after a martyred slave. She was never in very good health. The boys looked after her, really. Hated her name, though. The boys insisted on calling her Arane. Jerome… I do not quite remember how he came to live at the orphanage. And, of course, there was the ringleader – Henry.
They were trouble.
But not the bad kind of trouble, mind you. They were just mischievous. I do not know what happened. I do not know why they turned from their Lord. I try not to think about it. Thirteen lost souls. So sad.
Most of them are now dead, of course. Just Jerome, Ariadne, and Edwin are left. Gabriel and George were killed when… well, I do not believe they were not much older than twenty. Died together. The details were vague but that is how it always is with those types of deaths. Henry’s death eight years ago hit the city hard. He had been the face of Nausikaa for so long. You would have thought he had been a king for all the fanfare that his funeral had!
Anyway, they all ran away together when they were about fourteen – although Ariadne was several years younger than them and quite small for her age. We lost twelve children in one night. As you can expect, Mother Superior Margaret was quite angry. They became street urchins, thieves. Once in a while the police would pick one up and bring him back to the home but within a week, he would be gone again. People in town found them endearing; the Nausikaa Bunch is what they would call them.
As the kids grew older, they seemed to float away, into the backdrop. Mother Superior had us pray that they had straightened up their ways. I knew better, though. They had simply learned how to be sneakier. They worked in the underground, building their purses, gaining a reputation among those who live in the dark under belly of Talsiny.
Then suddenly about a decade ago, they all reappeared, now calling themselves Nausikaa Enterprises. Mother Superior had passed away by this time. Some say she was heartbroken over the destruction of the orphanage. The rest of us had continued our duties at the Hope Orphanage. Some of the nuns who remembered the Nausikaa Bunch declared that our prayers had been answered, that they were legitimate business people pushing for the betterment of society. I knew better.
They did indeed give a fair amount of their wealth back to community. Some said they were remembering their roots but not I. I knew long ago that they wished to escape their roots.
After that, well, everybody knows what happened. They gained more and more wealth and, with that wealth, bought more and more influence in the Church, especially that Edwin. Heh. So much so that those of us who are brazen enough call him Bishop Edwin. We have to be careful to whom we use such a nickname with, of course. But you will not speak of it, will you dear? You seem sweet enough.
What do I think is going on now? Well… it is not in the way of the Lord to gossip… but come a little closer, dear.
Yes, well, that Ariadne – er Arane – has spent far too long in that horrible sinful town of RhyDin. I hear she is building an army there in RhyDin. That is why Nausikaa is abandoning Talsiny. Lord only knows what she will do when it is built.
I fear what will become of this city, my child. The Council of Bishop’s have had their pockets lined with Nausikaa gold for far too long. The vultures are beginning to circle. I do despise Nausikaa but, unfortunately, it appears without them we may be plunged into chaos.
You should get home, child. It is getting dark. This is not a good time to be wandering around after dark.
What? You want to know about Nausikaa, do you? What more is there to know? They rule Talsiny from the shadows. They pull the strings of the council of bishops. We are their subjects.
Ah. About their childhood, you say? So I see. That is why you came to me. Yes, I was a nun at that orphanage. The Nausikaa Orphanage three decades ago. Nausikaa... it means light in some ancient language. Anyway, the orphanage burned to the ground… oh, I suppose it was about fifteen years ago now. They want us to forget where they came from, forget that they were not always so high and mighty.
I know, I know. You are shocked to hear such talk about Nausikaa. It could get me killed the young nuns tell me. Ha, I say. I am an old woman. If they are so low as to kill the old woman who changed their diapers then God will accept my soul.
Now… where was I?
Yes, yes, dear. They were all orphans. The entire top tier of the original Nausikaa – all thirteen of them. I do not remember all of them. Edwin was named after the saint who killed the pagan king. He was left on our doorstep one snowy day. There was Gabriel and George, named after the chivalrous knight. Gabriel and George were brothers, you know. Sad story there. Their father captained a boat that was lost at sea and their mother could no longer bear to look at the boys because they were spitting images of their father. The youngest was Ariadne, after a martyred slave. She was never in very good health. The boys looked after her, really. Hated her name, though. The boys insisted on calling her Arane. Jerome… I do not quite remember how he came to live at the orphanage. And, of course, there was the ringleader – Henry.
They were trouble.
But not the bad kind of trouble, mind you. They were just mischievous. I do not know what happened. I do not know why they turned from their Lord. I try not to think about it. Thirteen lost souls. So sad.
Most of them are now dead, of course. Just Jerome, Ariadne, and Edwin are left. Gabriel and George were killed when… well, I do not believe they were not much older than twenty. Died together. The details were vague but that is how it always is with those types of deaths. Henry’s death eight years ago hit the city hard. He had been the face of Nausikaa for so long. You would have thought he had been a king for all the fanfare that his funeral had!
Anyway, they all ran away together when they were about fourteen – although Ariadne was several years younger than them and quite small for her age. We lost twelve children in one night. As you can expect, Mother Superior Margaret was quite angry. They became street urchins, thieves. Once in a while the police would pick one up and bring him back to the home but within a week, he would be gone again. People in town found them endearing; the Nausikaa Bunch is what they would call them.
As the kids grew older, they seemed to float away, into the backdrop. Mother Superior had us pray that they had straightened up their ways. I knew better, though. They had simply learned how to be sneakier. They worked in the underground, building their purses, gaining a reputation among those who live in the dark under belly of Talsiny.
Then suddenly about a decade ago, they all reappeared, now calling themselves Nausikaa Enterprises. Mother Superior had passed away by this time. Some say she was heartbroken over the destruction of the orphanage. The rest of us had continued our duties at the Hope Orphanage. Some of the nuns who remembered the Nausikaa Bunch declared that our prayers had been answered, that they were legitimate business people pushing for the betterment of society. I knew better.
They did indeed give a fair amount of their wealth back to community. Some said they were remembering their roots but not I. I knew long ago that they wished to escape their roots.
After that, well, everybody knows what happened. They gained more and more wealth and, with that wealth, bought more and more influence in the Church, especially that Edwin. Heh. So much so that those of us who are brazen enough call him Bishop Edwin. We have to be careful to whom we use such a nickname with, of course. But you will not speak of it, will you dear? You seem sweet enough.
What do I think is going on now? Well… it is not in the way of the Lord to gossip… but come a little closer, dear.
Yes, well, that Ariadne – er Arane – has spent far too long in that horrible sinful town of RhyDin. I hear she is building an army there in RhyDin. That is why Nausikaa is abandoning Talsiny. Lord only knows what she will do when it is built.
I fear what will become of this city, my child. The Council of Bishop’s have had their pockets lined with Nausikaa gold for far too long. The vultures are beginning to circle. I do despise Nausikaa but, unfortunately, it appears without them we may be plunged into chaos.
You should get home, child. It is getting dark. This is not a good time to be wandering around after dark.
Early that night Losden was sixteen again. He is on a dirt road in the heart of Fermoy with his modified glaive-stick, batting a fieldball back and forth with Shelli, shooting the breeze. Very soon four Burvendi youths ride up on their bicycles, surround Shelli and have her on the ground. It didn't happen quite so quickly, but dreams have a way of compressing time, highlighting only those things remembered most vividly.
He is stuck. He wants to rush toward them, slam his stick or his fist into each of their heads, not like before when he was too stunned, too disillusioned--or too afraid. But his body moves an inch a minute. They vanish before he makes a full step.
He lifts her up out of the dirt, and she looks at him. This is also different, because she was unconscious for three months. She says:
"Don't do this to me."
Jerked from sleep, he sat up, both hands clutching the edges of his single mattress. He couldn't sleep anymore that night.
He is stuck. He wants to rush toward them, slam his stick or his fist into each of their heads, not like before when he was too stunned, too disillusioned--or too afraid. But his body moves an inch a minute. They vanish before he makes a full step.
He lifts her up out of the dirt, and she looks at him. This is also different, because she was unconscious for three months. She says:
"Don't do this to me."
Jerked from sleep, he sat up, both hands clutching the edges of his single mattress. He couldn't sleep anymore that night.
Harlton had just blown out his candle and laid his head down on his pillow when there was a heavy, rapid pounding at the front door. He grumpily got back to his feet and felt his way through the dark. With a crack of the door, he saw Losden standing there alone, half his face ablaze in the light of a torch. "What is it, Losden?"
"Emergency meeting. Get Kristan and Sal and bring them to the weapon store."
"Wait, what? Who's calling this?"
But Losden had already turned and was striding away steadfastly. He raised his free hand and waved it in a forward-moving gesture, calling back, "Let's go."
"Emergency meeting. Get Kristan and Sal and bring them to the weapon store."
"Wait, what? Who's calling this?"
But Losden had already turned and was striding away steadfastly. He raised his free hand and waved it in a forward-moving gesture, calling back, "Let's go."
There was a good deal of confusion as the last of Hennessee's family found their way into the basement room; everyone was asking who had summoned the meeting. They crowded around the old wooden table that served as the room's centerpiece, and which was acned with char marks. Losden, who had been waiting at the store entrance for all to arrive, was the last to enter the room; he descended the steps and slid his torch into one of the free wall mounts.
"What is this, Losden? Perhaps now you would like to clue us in on who called us here?" Harlton's tone was irritable. A man in his early forties, he did not like his sleep schedule impeded, and he certainly did not like the idea that a meeting was called without his authority or blessing: As it was, he had been closest in command to Hennessee in regards to family matters.
Losden's eyes flickered across the circle of faces around the room as he stepped up. "I did."
That prompted an eruption of murmurs, but it was Sal's voice that rung the loudest, being the other of the two eldest members of the family's hierarchy. "What is the meaning of this?"
Losden raised a hand toward him, palm out and index finger pointed at the ceiling. "Listen; shut up for a second. Look, we've lost Hennessee-- I know that. We're still mourning. But right now--tonight--we must strike at the Burvendis. They're not expecting anything from us. They think we're scared, sitting in our cabins crying over our loss. You know as well as I that they are responsible for this hit."
"You don't know that." Harl chimed in dryly.
"Who disagrees?" Losden looked around at the others a moment for an answer, but none came. "Who denies the Burvendi--Coren and his gang--are at fault?" Still unresponsive, they all stared gravely back.
"The Burvendi are moving their forces to Talsiny. The Nausikaa presence there is weak; you all have heard of their operation in Rhy'Din. You have to believe that Coren is jumping on the opportunity. And if he comes to dominate Talsiny and becomes ever more powerful, you can bet things will only get worse for us in Fermoy. The hit on Hennessee is just the start. We must strike tonight."
"This is ludicrous, Losden," Harl broke in with a tight scowl. "What you're talking is insane."
Losden's intense gaze stuck to Harl's a moment before it began searching the eyes of the others. After a long, uncomfortable moment, it was Tanner, a stoic man of thirty years known for being quiet and equanimous, that broke the silence.
"I'm tired of the Burvendi family, and Coren. It's time Fermoy was freed. What's your plan, Losden?"
A smile toyed at Losden's lips, but he tamed it. Somehow in all this he felt alive. He reached down to grab one of the rolls of blank parchment lying at the feet of the table and flattened it out on top. With a piece of black chalk, he laid out his plan, and the others watched and listened, whether they desired to or not.
"What is this, Losden? Perhaps now you would like to clue us in on who called us here?" Harlton's tone was irritable. A man in his early forties, he did not like his sleep schedule impeded, and he certainly did not like the idea that a meeting was called without his authority or blessing: As it was, he had been closest in command to Hennessee in regards to family matters.
Losden's eyes flickered across the circle of faces around the room as he stepped up. "I did."
That prompted an eruption of murmurs, but it was Sal's voice that rung the loudest, being the other of the two eldest members of the family's hierarchy. "What is the meaning of this?"
Losden raised a hand toward him, palm out and index finger pointed at the ceiling. "Listen; shut up for a second. Look, we've lost Hennessee-- I know that. We're still mourning. But right now--tonight--we must strike at the Burvendis. They're not expecting anything from us. They think we're scared, sitting in our cabins crying over our loss. You know as well as I that they are responsible for this hit."
"You don't know that." Harl chimed in dryly.
"Who disagrees?" Losden looked around at the others a moment for an answer, but none came. "Who denies the Burvendi--Coren and his gang--are at fault?" Still unresponsive, they all stared gravely back.
"The Burvendi are moving their forces to Talsiny. The Nausikaa presence there is weak; you all have heard of their operation in Rhy'Din. You have to believe that Coren is jumping on the opportunity. And if he comes to dominate Talsiny and becomes ever more powerful, you can bet things will only get worse for us in Fermoy. The hit on Hennessee is just the start. We must strike tonight."
"This is ludicrous, Losden," Harl broke in with a tight scowl. "What you're talking is insane."
Losden's intense gaze stuck to Harl's a moment before it began searching the eyes of the others. After a long, uncomfortable moment, it was Tanner, a stoic man of thirty years known for being quiet and equanimous, that broke the silence.
"I'm tired of the Burvendi family, and Coren. It's time Fermoy was freed. What's your plan, Losden?"
A smile toyed at Losden's lips, but he tamed it. Somehow in all this he felt alive. He reached down to grab one of the rolls of blank parchment lying at the feet of the table and flattened it out on top. With a piece of black chalk, he laid out his plan, and the others watched and listened, whether they desired to or not.
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Arane Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 59
- Joined: Sun Apr 04, 2004 2:45 pm
- Location: The Atalaya Manor at Atalaya Beach in Talsiny
The theocratic government of Talsiny was awash in tense chaos. The small handful of brave outspoken critics that had railed for years against the tight hold that Nausikaa had held on the small port country realized that there was something worse than a corrupt government – no government at all. Nausikaa’s sudden and complete dismantling left a huge power vacuum which left not only Talsiny entangled in uncertainty but also many of the small surrounding city-states and provinces. Outside organizations and rulers began eyeing the riches that the port produced more and more seriously the longer the leadership remained in questioned.
Members of Nausikaa Enterprises in Talsiny found themselves in a desperate situation. Two days travel separated from RhyDin, they had a difficult time getting accurate information regarding what was happening between Arane Ganderfald, Edwin Nausikaa, and Cletus Ganderfald.
The members of the large legal and illegal operation had split off as well in the face of the controversy. A group loyal to Arane had gathered in the fortified ocean-side manor of Atalaya which served as the Ganderfalds’ home in Talsiny while those loyal to Edwin and Cletus gathered in a warehouse near the docks of Talsiny Port, leaving those who refused to take sides left in the organization’s legal headquarters. The third group attempted desperately to maintain some sort of normality with Nausikaa’s daily operations but the task proved much too large.
While neither the group loyal to Arane nor the group loyal to Edwin and Cletus were interested in aiding in restoring order to the country, they also were wary to break into violence. Several heated exchanges had been broken up in the streets before hands could land on their swords. These were friends, family. Without direct orders from Arane, Edwin, or Cletus neither group was willing to make a move that they could not come back from. The country, and especially Talsiny Capital City, remained mired in anxious waiting.
The puppet government, the Council of Bishops, slid out of public life on sudden vague vacations and claimed to be busy with emergency ministries. Without Nausikaa elite to inform them on what decision to make and to line their pockets with gold, the Council was helpless in the situation. The police, like the Council, seemed to disappear off the streets of Talsiny Capital City. If there was to be all out violence between Nausikaa’s own, which seemed to be the looming threat, the police did not wish to have to step in to stop it, making themselves a target as well.
Children no longer played on the streets. Women no longer walked alone to the market. Citizens traveled in groups of no fewer than three or four. Wild rumors of the violence in RhyDin were rampant throughout the streets of Talsiny Capital City and across the countryside. The entire country was drowning in a deep, parallelizing fear of the possibility of civil war.
Members of Nausikaa Enterprises in Talsiny found themselves in a desperate situation. Two days travel separated from RhyDin, they had a difficult time getting accurate information regarding what was happening between Arane Ganderfald, Edwin Nausikaa, and Cletus Ganderfald.
The members of the large legal and illegal operation had split off as well in the face of the controversy. A group loyal to Arane had gathered in the fortified ocean-side manor of Atalaya which served as the Ganderfalds’ home in Talsiny while those loyal to Edwin and Cletus gathered in a warehouse near the docks of Talsiny Port, leaving those who refused to take sides left in the organization’s legal headquarters. The third group attempted desperately to maintain some sort of normality with Nausikaa’s daily operations but the task proved much too large.
While neither the group loyal to Arane nor the group loyal to Edwin and Cletus were interested in aiding in restoring order to the country, they also were wary to break into violence. Several heated exchanges had been broken up in the streets before hands could land on their swords. These were friends, family. Without direct orders from Arane, Edwin, or Cletus neither group was willing to make a move that they could not come back from. The country, and especially Talsiny Capital City, remained mired in anxious waiting.
The puppet government, the Council of Bishops, slid out of public life on sudden vague vacations and claimed to be busy with emergency ministries. Without Nausikaa elite to inform them on what decision to make and to line their pockets with gold, the Council was helpless in the situation. The police, like the Council, seemed to disappear off the streets of Talsiny Capital City. If there was to be all out violence between Nausikaa’s own, which seemed to be the looming threat, the police did not wish to have to step in to stop it, making themselves a target as well.
Children no longer played on the streets. Women no longer walked alone to the market. Citizens traveled in groups of no fewer than three or four. Wild rumors of the violence in RhyDin were rampant throughout the streets of Talsiny Capital City and across the countryside. The entire country was drowning in a deep, parallelizing fear of the possibility of civil war.
The late-night assault on the Burvendi manor had been successful in displacing their forces in Fermoy, but Losden found that he had underestimated just how big a force the Burvendi had already committed to Talsiny. All the family heads were gone, including Coren. Losden was not pleased: They would be back certainly, should they accomplish what they sought to in Talsiny. Rushing back to the weapons store in the moonlight, fisting a patented maroon-colored Burvendi handkerchief that he had snatched from a fallen Burvendi, Losden made his thoughts heard to many of the younger brothers of Hennessee's family. "We must pursue them into Talsiny."
Over the next few days he convinced a small band to join in his pursuit. At the week's end, they traversed the day-long journey to Talsiny, where they found shelter with a couple of fellows by the name of Jon and Tobber. Jon had left Fermoy some ten years prior but always remained loyal to Hennessee's family and had kept regular correspondence; Tobber on the other hand was a native Talsinian. Both men were crucial in schooling the young lads on the current state of affairs in the city. They recommended they always carry a weapon, even during the day.
Jon also warned them not to draw too much attention to themselves. "You can stay here, but you'd be hard-pressed to find anywhere else to stay. So, if anyone you don't like tracks you down here, you're crap out of luck. Don't get stupid. And travel during the day while you're getting to know the place, and never alone."
Over the next couple weeks, Losden grew frustrated. He was unable to locate where the Burvendi might be hiding. He had come across a gang of them the other day, seven or eight, but it was a fairly deserted road, and they had spotted him before he could hide. Although they didn't seem to recognize him outright, many of them gave him a suspicious eye, and Losden decided not to take any chances. He realized, too, that he was foolish to think he could take out the Burvendi on his own, with just the four brothers he brought with him.
"What of Nausikaa?" Losden asked Jon one evening as they sat over a cup of cider.
"It seems they are divided. There headquarters has been locked down for some time, with very few visitors being let in. Rumor is a horde of them have taken camp at a warehouse down at Talsiny Port."
"We're going to need an ally," Losden said, busying himself with a sliver-like dagger, flipping it among the fingers of his right hand, his left on his cup. Jon chuckled.
"Don't you get it? Everyone's withdrawn, turtles in their shells. The Council ain't made a peep for days. And Coren won't mess with Nausikaa until he's built himself up some. He may be belligerent, but he ain't stupid."
Losden gazed off, continuing to move the dagger with a rhythmic fluidity with his right hand. "That's too bad." He stayed just like that for a time, and then for a moment the dagger slowed in its pace, and then picked back up.
"Warehouse, you say?"
Late that night, Talsiny Port was awaken by a fire and the shouts of Nausikaa men as they scrambled for safety outside the burning warehouse doors. Those exiting the front were greeted by a tall, wooden pole stuck in the ground with a maroon handkerchief tied to it like a flag.
Over the next few days he convinced a small band to join in his pursuit. At the week's end, they traversed the day-long journey to Talsiny, where they found shelter with a couple of fellows by the name of Jon and Tobber. Jon had left Fermoy some ten years prior but always remained loyal to Hennessee's family and had kept regular correspondence; Tobber on the other hand was a native Talsinian. Both men were crucial in schooling the young lads on the current state of affairs in the city. They recommended they always carry a weapon, even during the day.
Jon also warned them not to draw too much attention to themselves. "You can stay here, but you'd be hard-pressed to find anywhere else to stay. So, if anyone you don't like tracks you down here, you're crap out of luck. Don't get stupid. And travel during the day while you're getting to know the place, and never alone."
Over the next couple weeks, Losden grew frustrated. He was unable to locate where the Burvendi might be hiding. He had come across a gang of them the other day, seven or eight, but it was a fairly deserted road, and they had spotted him before he could hide. Although they didn't seem to recognize him outright, many of them gave him a suspicious eye, and Losden decided not to take any chances. He realized, too, that he was foolish to think he could take out the Burvendi on his own, with just the four brothers he brought with him.
"What of Nausikaa?" Losden asked Jon one evening as they sat over a cup of cider.
"It seems they are divided. There headquarters has been locked down for some time, with very few visitors being let in. Rumor is a horde of them have taken camp at a warehouse down at Talsiny Port."
"We're going to need an ally," Losden said, busying himself with a sliver-like dagger, flipping it among the fingers of his right hand, his left on his cup. Jon chuckled.
"Don't you get it? Everyone's withdrawn, turtles in their shells. The Council ain't made a peep for days. And Coren won't mess with Nausikaa until he's built himself up some. He may be belligerent, but he ain't stupid."
Losden gazed off, continuing to move the dagger with a rhythmic fluidity with his right hand. "That's too bad." He stayed just like that for a time, and then for a moment the dagger slowed in its pace, and then picked back up.
"Warehouse, you say?"
Late that night, Talsiny Port was awaken by a fire and the shouts of Nausikaa men as they scrambled for safety outside the burning warehouse doors. Those exiting the front were greeted by a tall, wooden pole stuck in the ground with a maroon handkerchief tied to it like a flag.
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Arane Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 59
- Joined: Sun Apr 04, 2004 2:45 pm
- Location: The Atalaya Manor at Atalaya Beach in Talsiny
A large solemn crowd dressed in black was gathered for the burial. The crowd for the mass prior held at the large Saint Mary’s Cathedral in the heart of Talsiny Capital City had spilled into the cobblestone streets. It seemed that the mouners had only grown in number as the pallbearers had winded through the old streets towards the sprawling cemetery.
One man had not survived the chaotic grab for power that had resulted due to the breakdown in Nausikaa’s leadership of Talsiny – Jerome Nausikaa. Jerome had been one of the few surviving members of the original thirteen orphans. Only Arane Ganderfald and Edwin Nausikaa remained alive. Eleven young men had been killed in the struggle to gain and keep control of their holdings.
Arane kept her gaze forward on the expensive black casket that had been arranged by Nausikaa staff. They had become quite good at arranging funerals. As the body was slowly lowered into the ground, Arane sat at the right of the silent widow, clutching her hand in comfort – a comfort she had offered to far too many wives over the years. Jerome’s wife, Nancy, was particularly strong. She had yet to shed a public tear. Jerome would have been quite proud.
Words flew in a furry past Arane’s ears. Before she realized it, the final prayers had been said and people had begun shuffling away in silence. Those invited would make the trip outside the city to the Atalaya Manor where the Nausikaa family was to gather to mourn the loss. Edwin stepped forward to escort the sedate Nancy to a waiting carriage. Arane’s cool blue gaze followed the woman, saying yet another silent prayer thanking God that she herself was not the widow at this funeral.
“Are you ready?” Cletus whispered softly, offering an arm. Arane gave a nod, slowly rising to her feet and taking that offered arm. “Losden of Hennessee is here. Do you have the energy?”
She gave another nod as Cletus searched her face for any sign of weariness which would cause him to overrule her nod. Without such evidence, he consented, leading her towards a surprisingly young man. She had been told of his age, of course, but was not prepared for the mop-topped youth. Something would have to be done regarding his unprofessional look yet, with the stories she had been told, there was no denying that the man was a leader.
He was alone which too surprised Arane. When meeting the leader of Nausikaa, most men felt the need to be flanked by scarred, bulky minions. A show of force. This man obviously felt no need to attempt to impress her with such juvenile displays. He offered a deep respectful nod at which Arane responded with a polite smile.
“I am deeply sorry for your loss,” he said as his impassive gaze found hers.
Her loss. The guilt weighed heavily on her shoulders. Had she not pulled resources from Talsiny to RhyDin the Burvendi family would not have made the move on Talsiny. She had left Jerome a target to die in that warehouse fire. “Thank you. I have been told great things of you by Edwin and my husband. It appears you were a great help in finding those responsible and punishing them accordingly.”
Little did the woman know that the fire had only been set-up to appear as if the Burvendis had set it. Only a loyal few inside the Hennessee family knew that they themselves had in fact been behind it and had set it up to appear as if the fire had been started by their greatest rival. Though Jerome’s death had not been planned, Losden could not feel too guilty. With the help of Nausikaa, the Burvendis had finally been destroyed. “Mr. Nausikaa and Mr. Ganderfald have been too kind. We were more than happy to help.”
“I haven’t much time so let me be frank,” Arane started as she began to walk towards her waiting carriage. Cletus’s eyes remained cast downward as he started beside her, keeping a supportive grip on her arm. Losden followed, struggling not to look eager at the conversation he had hoped would follow. “I am always looking for young men with leadership potential. You seem to be a perfect fit in the organization. Cletus tells me the men like you.”
Arane paused in the speech and Cletus quickly jumped in, knowing well that his wife did not wish to discuss RhyDin still. “We do not want to give up our holdings in RhyDin but we also do not wish for a well-known Nausikaa face to be running things at this moment so that the city can be assured that we no longer wish to rule it.”
The three slowed to a stop as they reached their destination. Arane smoothly slid back into the conversation. “We believe there is a place for you and your men in our organization. We would like it if you and your family went to RhyDin. Edwin will let you know exactly what needs to be done and you will have access to all Nausikaa’s resources in the area. All you must do is follow Cletus and Edwin’s orders for the time being.”
“It would be our honor,” Losden replied humbly. Cletus gave the young man a dismissive nod and Losden turned to leave.
“Oh, and Losden.” Arane paused until the man and turned to face her once more. “Family mergers such as these are often sealed with a legal family merger... or at least the promise of one.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Losden nodded. He had been expecting this and had been prepared to accept the offer even should it be an old ugly daughter of some minor Nausikaan leader.
Arane brushed back a curl away from her face and offered a soft smile. “You are a young man. You should be concentrating on your career for the next several years and not a marriage and family so we will go with the promise. I have a thirteen year old daughter. She will not be of age for four years but we shall have you over for dinner before you go to RhyDin to introduce you.”
Perhaps if Losden himself had not been so stunned by the offer of Arane’s eldest child, he may have noticed Cletus tense briefly. She was indeed drawing him into the organization. Losden could not have hoped for a better result. He checked his eagerness and offered yet another nod. “Again, I would be honored.”
Arane offered a polite smile before accepting her husband’s help into the carriage. “Good evening, Losden.”
The carriage door closed behind Cletus as Arane settled onto a cushioned bench. He settled his dark gaze on her with a questioning look.
“We will discuss it later. We still have a long evening ahead of us,” Arane said in an almost pleading tone. He consented with a heavy sigh as Arane settled her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, anxious to escape the guilt and responsibility that was a constant plague these days.
One man had not survived the chaotic grab for power that had resulted due to the breakdown in Nausikaa’s leadership of Talsiny – Jerome Nausikaa. Jerome had been one of the few surviving members of the original thirteen orphans. Only Arane Ganderfald and Edwin Nausikaa remained alive. Eleven young men had been killed in the struggle to gain and keep control of their holdings.
Arane kept her gaze forward on the expensive black casket that had been arranged by Nausikaa staff. They had become quite good at arranging funerals. As the body was slowly lowered into the ground, Arane sat at the right of the silent widow, clutching her hand in comfort – a comfort she had offered to far too many wives over the years. Jerome’s wife, Nancy, was particularly strong. She had yet to shed a public tear. Jerome would have been quite proud.
Words flew in a furry past Arane’s ears. Before she realized it, the final prayers had been said and people had begun shuffling away in silence. Those invited would make the trip outside the city to the Atalaya Manor where the Nausikaa family was to gather to mourn the loss. Edwin stepped forward to escort the sedate Nancy to a waiting carriage. Arane’s cool blue gaze followed the woman, saying yet another silent prayer thanking God that she herself was not the widow at this funeral.
“Are you ready?” Cletus whispered softly, offering an arm. Arane gave a nod, slowly rising to her feet and taking that offered arm. “Losden of Hennessee is here. Do you have the energy?”
She gave another nod as Cletus searched her face for any sign of weariness which would cause him to overrule her nod. Without such evidence, he consented, leading her towards a surprisingly young man. She had been told of his age, of course, but was not prepared for the mop-topped youth. Something would have to be done regarding his unprofessional look yet, with the stories she had been told, there was no denying that the man was a leader.
He was alone which too surprised Arane. When meeting the leader of Nausikaa, most men felt the need to be flanked by scarred, bulky minions. A show of force. This man obviously felt no need to attempt to impress her with such juvenile displays. He offered a deep respectful nod at which Arane responded with a polite smile.
“I am deeply sorry for your loss,” he said as his impassive gaze found hers.
Her loss. The guilt weighed heavily on her shoulders. Had she not pulled resources from Talsiny to RhyDin the Burvendi family would not have made the move on Talsiny. She had left Jerome a target to die in that warehouse fire. “Thank you. I have been told great things of you by Edwin and my husband. It appears you were a great help in finding those responsible and punishing them accordingly.”
Little did the woman know that the fire had only been set-up to appear as if the Burvendis had set it. Only a loyal few inside the Hennessee family knew that they themselves had in fact been behind it and had set it up to appear as if the fire had been started by their greatest rival. Though Jerome’s death had not been planned, Losden could not feel too guilty. With the help of Nausikaa, the Burvendis had finally been destroyed. “Mr. Nausikaa and Mr. Ganderfald have been too kind. We were more than happy to help.”
“I haven’t much time so let me be frank,” Arane started as she began to walk towards her waiting carriage. Cletus’s eyes remained cast downward as he started beside her, keeping a supportive grip on her arm. Losden followed, struggling not to look eager at the conversation he had hoped would follow. “I am always looking for young men with leadership potential. You seem to be a perfect fit in the organization. Cletus tells me the men like you.”
Arane paused in the speech and Cletus quickly jumped in, knowing well that his wife did not wish to discuss RhyDin still. “We do not want to give up our holdings in RhyDin but we also do not wish for a well-known Nausikaa face to be running things at this moment so that the city can be assured that we no longer wish to rule it.”
The three slowed to a stop as they reached their destination. Arane smoothly slid back into the conversation. “We believe there is a place for you and your men in our organization. We would like it if you and your family went to RhyDin. Edwin will let you know exactly what needs to be done and you will have access to all Nausikaa’s resources in the area. All you must do is follow Cletus and Edwin’s orders for the time being.”
“It would be our honor,” Losden replied humbly. Cletus gave the young man a dismissive nod and Losden turned to leave.
“Oh, and Losden.” Arane paused until the man and turned to face her once more. “Family mergers such as these are often sealed with a legal family merger... or at least the promise of one.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Losden nodded. He had been expecting this and had been prepared to accept the offer even should it be an old ugly daughter of some minor Nausikaan leader.
Arane brushed back a curl away from her face and offered a soft smile. “You are a young man. You should be concentrating on your career for the next several years and not a marriage and family so we will go with the promise. I have a thirteen year old daughter. She will not be of age for four years but we shall have you over for dinner before you go to RhyDin to introduce you.”
Perhaps if Losden himself had not been so stunned by the offer of Arane’s eldest child, he may have noticed Cletus tense briefly. She was indeed drawing him into the organization. Losden could not have hoped for a better result. He checked his eagerness and offered yet another nod. “Again, I would be honored.”
Arane offered a polite smile before accepting her husband’s help into the carriage. “Good evening, Losden.”
The carriage door closed behind Cletus as Arane settled onto a cushioned bench. He settled his dark gaze on her with a questioning look.
“We will discuss it later. We still have a long evening ahead of us,” Arane said in an almost pleading tone. He consented with a heavy sigh as Arane settled her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, anxious to escape the guilt and responsibility that was a constant plague these days.
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