Winds of Change
Once again, Aleru finds herself glaring at a yellowed sheaf of parchment by guttering candlelight. Why her boy had stopped replacing the candles in a timely matter she didn’t know, and she didn’t care to ask. If he was more concerned with his tinctures and potions than earning reliable coin, that wasn’t her problem.
She ignores the candle’s pathetic guttering, and rereads the missive.
Regret to inform you of the cessation of our compact. This should not come as a surprise, as your hunters have been targeting caravans and ships within our territory. We do not live in such fear of you that we will allow such insults to stand. Dragons of Windfall and Kismet will be attacked on sight, and if captured, put to trial and execution for their crimes against our state, and others.
Naturally, you also understand that we will not purchase another ounce of your ill-gotten cargo.
Cooly, Aleru rises from her high-backed seat, heavy chair legs scraping noisily against the cold flagstone. She grabs her mantle before she leaves, her breath swirling visibly as she extinguishes the reluctant candle she’d read by. It was too cold in this fucking place.
As she storms down to the docks, her slight form bright and colourful amongst the browns and reds of the tanned, work-soiled bodies of the clan’s sailors, the denizens of Windfall afford her a wide berth. Eyes and quiet follow her as she cuts directly toward Windfall’s most deadly ship; the trade boss’ presence at the docks was unusual, and never heralded well for whomever she’d sought to accost.
Khaegris lounged on the quarterdeck of the Defiant as she often did, the smooth, soft sound of a whetstone against her blade rhythmic and audible even before Aleru hauled herself aboard the pirate vessel.
The wildclaw doesn’t look up from her work, though a green eye turns to the younger woman for a moment before returning to the inspection of her bright and shining blade. “You again.” The pirate’s voice is deep and rich, unhurried as the tide. She still bears a slight accent from her birthplace, her words drawled.
Aleru’s lip curls, revealing tidy white teeth. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re playing at.” She stands directly in front of the captain, hands on her hips, looming over the powerfully built elder woman as best she can.
The whetstone continues to whisper along the length of the blade. Twice, thrice more before it stops, and Khaegris’ scarred and weathered face turns upward. A tongue runs over fangs behind closed lips which yet bear the slightest hint of a smirk. “No?”
Nostrils flare as the merchant queen of the pirate isles struggles to restrain herself. “Attacking our fucking allies, you belligerent shit.” Aleru takes a deep breath - she had never had a great handle on her temper, and she knew it. She can feel her eyelid twitching.
The captain, damn her, barely moves, though perhaps her smirk becomes a little more pronounced, a scarred eyebrow twitching as she thinks. “That caravan was moving sixteen crates of Everbloom Port.” She smirks, sheathing her blade as she stands, deliberately turning the tables as she remains too close, now towering over Aleru. “I was thirsty, and so were my crew.” She snorts as she turns her back, making her way into the Defiant’s grand cabin. “You know how much that swill is worth in southern markets. A fucking shitload.”
Aleru seethes in silence as she watches Khaegris’ retreating back. The captain still did not respect her as an equal; this was painfully clear.
The door begins to shut, the wildclaw drawling something about being busy, something about having courses to chart and ships to hunt. And something snaps within the spiral. She bursts forward, a delicately manicured hand slamming against the closing wood, forcing the woman on the other side to stumble backward with her force.
“No. You will account for this, Khaegris. I will be taking this to the captains, to the merchants. To the street. You can’t continue to undermine what we all have built here. This isn’t just your clan any more. If you want to remain matriarch, fucking act like it.” She snarls, red eyes flashing. “I’m calling a meeting. I will see you there.”
