Princess of Beasts - Chapters Fifteen, and Sixteen (Patreon)

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Chapter Fifteen

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Executor Harliss sat behind her expansive, ebony desk, inspecting the final cartridge in a long line. Though the Golden Union provided her and her ship the finest ammunition, she refused to load a single round into her pistols she hadn’t personally inspected. The slightest sign of flaw or defect in casing or bullet was enough for her to discard the round. Even odd variations in the weight of a round put her off. Though such cartridges would probably fire just fine, Harliss left those for her underlings. 

Harliss set the last round down on her desk, alongside it’s brethren. She reached out and picked up one of her pistols, number one in a set of four. Each were custom engineered for her by a private gunsmith, rather than Union standard. They were designed for her, with weight and balance specific to Harliss. Their cylinders held eight rounds rather than six. Two had longer barrels than usual, and were engineered for accuracy. She kept those at her sides, serving as intimidators, reserve weapons, or simply for when she had the luxury of taking her time to line up her shots. The pistols at her hips possessed slightly shorter barrels, designed to drawn and fired in a blink. Those were especially heavily rifled to help prevent any loss of accurate. Every component part of all four firearms was engineered for durability, and reliability. 

Despite their custom nature, Harliss resisted the urge to have her guns given an especially flashy appearance. They were duty weapons, not show pieces. Their purpose was to defend, and to kill, not to draw the eye of auctioneers and collectors. She had allowed herself a bit of a vanity, though, with the emblem of the Golden Union embossed in gold upon handles of two, and the old stylized sword sigil of the Executors in ivory on the other two. The symbols were small, however, and easily covered by her hands when she held the weapons. Fanciful script along each barrel was the only other stylistic flourish. Her name and title were displayed upon the one side of the barrel of all four: Executor Harliss. The pistols she kept at her hips also bore an inscription divided between them. One read, By the Gods’ Will, while the other said, You Are Undone. 

The Executor opened the cylinder, and peered inside. All eight chambers were empty. She’d already cleaned and oiled the weapons that morning, but it never had to double check. She spun the cylinder, savoring the satisfying series of rolling clicks. When it came to a stop, she took a deep breath. Harliss held it, then exhaled slowly, and evenly. As she breathed out she swiftly and smoothly loaded the weapon. Her hands moved in a blur, plucking rounds from the table, pushing them into place, rotating the cylinder, and loading the next round, in a flash. By the time she took a second breath, the gun was loaded and holstered at her hip. 

She buckled the black leather hostler shut. “Well?”

“Worse.” A voice, deep but gentle, replied from just behind her. 

“What?” Harliss spun her chair around, brown leather creaking. 

Two immense, snow-white gryphons loomed over her, seated on their haunches. Each was male, and each bore a large, golden collar around their necks. Both had highlights of black, though in different patterns and places. One had ebony speckles across his wings, and limbs, while the other had black feathers mixed into his limbs, and a single black front paw, as if he’d accidentally trodden in a deep puddle of ink. The one with the black paw was the one who had spoken. Harliss had dubbed him, Sock. He gold-hued eyes met hers. 

“Worse.” The gryphon spoke again, then glanced at the other. “Concur?” 

The speckled gryphon, whom she simply called Speckles, fluffed up his feathers. “Concur.” 

Harliss took a another breath, and spun back around to face her desk again. Aside from the guns and bullets, it’s dark, polished surface was empty. She picked up a second pistol, checked the cylinder, and once more, slowly exhaled. She loaded her second gun the same way, her hands moving in a blur, and a moment later, she slammed the cylinder shut and holstered the weapon. This time she spun right back around towards the gryphons. 

“Well?” 

The gryphons glanced at each other, and this time, each nodded. “Better.” 

“Concur. Better.” 

“Damn right it was.” 

Just as Harliss turned back around to load her last two weapons, there was a knock on one of the large double doors of Harliss’ meeting room. She glanced up, and both gryphons gave low, guttural growls. Harliss pulled her pistols free, aiming them at the door. “Come in!” 

A muffled, female voice replied through the door. “You better not be pointin’ those fuckin’ guns at the door again!” 

Harliss set the guns down on the desk, instead. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” She went back to loading the third, albeit at a slower pace. 

“Uh huh.” One of the doors flew open, and a short, slender woman in a long, red duster, over a black and gold vest strolled in. Pistols hung at her hips, and belts loaded with bullets crisscrossed her body, along with another holding knives. Her dark hair always looked wind-tangled. “I could just feel you pointin’ em at me, and-Oh!” She gasped when she spotted the gryphons, her tone changing in an instant. “Who’s that I spy back there? Who’s that?” By the time she reached the desk, she was practically cooing at the gryphons. “Is that the best boys I see? Is that the best boys?” 

“Of course it is.” Speckles ruffled his wings, chirruping. 

“What have I got for you?” The newly arrived woman stuffed her hands into the pockets of her red coat, pulling out handfuls of dried meats, dusted with sugar and spices. “What have I got for you?” By now, her voice had melted into a syrupy sweet coo that grated against Harliss’ every nerve. “Is it treats? Is it good treats for good boys?” 

Harliss holstered her third pistol, higher up on her side, then crossed her arms. “Evlee, are you carrying treats in your damn coat, now?” 

“Of course!” Evlee held a big handful of jerky up to each of the gryphons. Sock and Speckles each delicately plucked a single treat at a time off the woman’s palm, careful as could be with their sharp yellow beaks. “How else am I going to be prepared for pampering good boys and good girls at all times?” 

Harliss scowled as she loaded her final gun. “They don’t need treats at all times.”

Evlee gave a mock-horrified gasp. “Don’t listen to her! You good boys always deserve treats!” When her hands were empty, she took to ruffling the gryphons feathers around their necks, then smoothing them back down. They bowed their heads to her, and Evlee scratched at both their ears. “Don’t you?” 

“Yes.” Sock tilted his head into her hand. 

Speckles did the same, from the other direction. He gave a little chirp. “Of course we do!”

“See?” Evlee smirked at Harliss over her shoulder. “Even the gryphons know they’re good boys.” 

“Mhm.” Harliss put her last pistol into place, and buckled the holster shut. She pushed herself to her feet, then shoved her chair under the desk. “Be that as it may, you’re going to make my gryphons fat if you keep giving them treats.” 

“Is that true?” Evlee gasped again, poking the gryphon’s bellies. “Is that true? Are you gonna be fat boys? Tubby birds?” She ruffled the fur of their bellies, giggling to herself. “Don’t worry, if Harliss doesn’t want you, I’ll take care you! You can waddle around my quarters, you tubby, fluffy murder machines!” She straightened back up, scratching their ears again. “Isn’t that right, good boys?” 

“Yes.” Socks leaned his head into her touch one more, but cast Harliss a helpless glance, his ears splayed. 

Harliss nudged Evlee away from the gryphons. “Alright, that’s enough. Now you’re just patronizing them. You can pet my gryphons again later.”  

“Awww.” Speckles hung his head, his ears drooping. “I like getting pets.” 

Harliss rolled her eyes. “Oh, very well, you may continue to pet Speckles.” 

Evlee went right back to the gryphon. “Aww, does Mr. Speckles like his pets more than Mr. Sock does?” She rubbed and scratched the gryphon’s neck with both hands, sticking her tongue out at Sock. “Mr. Sock is just a grumpy bird today!” 

“You know, Evlee.” Harliss leaned back against her desk, gazing at the other woman. “If it weren’t for the fact that you can shoot almost as well as I can, there are days I’d like to feed you to those gryphons.” 

Sock clacked his beak, as if in quiet approval. 

Evlee only laughed. “Oh, please. They’d miss getting all the pets! And all the treats.”

Harliss only stared at Evlee, her voice flat. “However would they cope?” 

“And you’d miss me too, Executor! You’d miss my bright and cheery demeanor!” She stroked the gryphon’s fur down towards his shoulders, to where they melted into fur. “And you’d miss my joyful laughter, when we’re gunning down rebellious filth together!” As Evlee spoke, one hand drifted ever so slowly lower, and closer to her own body. The movement was almost imperceptible, so much so that most people would have missed it. Harliss, however, did not. “And you’d miss my spontaneity and my-” 

In a blink, Evlee went for her gun. She drew it in a single, smooth motion, turning towards Harliss even as she lifted the barrel towards the Executor. Evlee’s movements were so quick and fluid that most people would have been dead even before they realized she’d drawn on them. But Executor Harliss was not most people. In a blur of movement, she drew her own pistol free and shoved the barrel up under Evlee’s chin hard enough to knock her teeth together.

“OW!” Evlee pushed the gun away, holstering her own weapon again. “Not so hard!” 

“You were close that time,” Harliss said, sheathing her pistol as well. “Well, you were closer, anyway. Your hand betrayed you, though.” Not that it would have mattered, she thought. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Evlee rubbed her chin. “Besides, you’d miss my little tests, if I was gone.” 

“I would, actually.” Harliss glanced down at herself, counting the extra rounds already loaded into her gunbelts. She had another eight rounds for each weapon. If she needed more that, well, she was probably already dead, she thought. “So I hope you’re presence means we’re ready to go.” She waved her hand, sighing. “Tormin’s whole ‘securing the perimeter’ thing really sucks the fun out of disembarking in a potentially hostile area.” 

“We’re ready, yes.” Evlee gave each gryphon a few more scratches around the neck, then dusted off her hands, and walked towards the door. “You should have just ordered him out of the way an hour ago.” 

“I would have, but then I’d have to listen to his nagging about security this, and protocol that, and I couldn’t be bothered.” Harliss fetched her coat from a rack nearby. The long, white coat hung to her boots, its leather dyed the same stark white hue as her gryphon’s feathers. A deep golden hue hemmed the sleeves, and collar, and the black buckle straps. Harliss tugged it on, but left it open to ensure easy access to her pistols. “Besides, I used the time to inspect my rounds, anyway.”

“Yes, yes,” Evlee said, pulling open a door. “We all know you love playing with your bullets. Though, as often as you sequester yourself away with your gryphons, people are going to start wondering what else you’re playing with in there.” 

“If you ever have a misfire in a firefight, don’t expect me to help you.” Harliss walked to the doors, snapping her fingers. “Heel!” 

Both gryphons jumped to all fours, trotting up behind her, walking in lockstep with one another. Evlee scrambled to open the second door to make room for them before they reached her. Harliss walked out into the wide, white-painted corridor, and the gryphons followed just at her heels. Evlee closed the doors behind her, then squeezed her way past the gryphons to walk at the Executor’s side. 

The walk from the meeting room to the disembarkment platform was a short one. Though Harliss had her own state room, offices, and more, she preferred to use the meeting room to make her final preparations before disembarking for a mission or other potentially hostile action. It was near the exit, for one, and with plenty of room for all four of her gryphons, plus her most trusted officers. She also kept the room mostly empty, with few documents or personal items other than anything she might discussing with her crew. The sparseness of it allowed her time to prepare mentally, to insect her ammo and ready her mind for whatever might come next. 

Despite the relative brevity of her trip, the hallways of her ship The Storm Caller were busy, and noisy. Soldiers and intelligence officers scrambled everywhere, all pausing to salute or bow to her before scrambling out of the way of her gryphons. Though her pets were exceedingly well trained and well behaved, she also made it clear she expected the crew to get out of their way when they were with her. Voices buzzed in the halls, and through the open doors of adjoining rooms. Now and then signal bells chimed, and somewhere in the ship, groups of engineers moved into place, while squads of soldiers took up new positions. Lamps glowed with bright golden light. 

The Storm Caller was still a new vessel, packed with both refinements and experiments. Its engines, its armaments, its internal communications, and so on were a mixture of both highly refined equipment, and newly installed technology just out of the testing phase. Hell, Evlee thought, some of it was still being tested. By them. She liked that, though, made things a little more exciting. 

Tormin, waited near the ship’s main disembarkment area with a dozen heavily armed soldiers. Despite his usual bland, gray clothing, his short cropped hair, and official Union first officer jacket in dark gold, Tormin easily stood out from the rest of the gathered security contingent. Not counting her pet gryphons, or the few collared servant-gnolls and va’chaak she kept on board, Tormin was probably the largest person on the ship. He might not quite be a mountain of a man, but he made for an awfully big foothill. 

Officially, Tormin was both her first officer on the Stormcaller, and her official bodyguard. Some obscure rule declared that Executors were required to maintain at least two bodyguards at all times, despite the fact they hardly needed them. Still, despite Harliss’ confidence in her own abilities, only a fool would turn down extra guns. Her second bodyguard was Evlee, who had held the position for quite some time despite pushback from the Union higher-ups. They preferred a more pious person serve such a role, but there was no one in all the world Harliss trusted more. 

Hell, she hadn’t even trusted Tormin at first. Unlike Evlee, the Union had assigned him the role several years ago. Initially, his piousness grated on her, as did his design for her habits and methods, but despite that, he’d proven himself a highly capable combatant, officer, and also, completely worthy of her trust. She’d warmed to him considerably over the years, though she could not say for sure if he felt the same. 

All the soldiers around Tormin saluted, and he did the same. Harliss returned the gesture, then turned for the exit ramp, only to have Tormin step directly into her path. 

“I have the status report, if you’re ready, Executor.” He clasped his wrists behind his back.

“I’m ready to leave the ship.” When Tormin looked crestfallen, she sighed, and threw her hands up. “Oh, very well, status report, First Officer.” 

“The ship is securely docked, and ready for resupply. However, per your orders, we remain configured for emergency departure, and crews on standby to return to flight configurations at a moment’s notice. A secure perimeter has been established around the ship, and will remain under watch and guard until our eventual departure.” Tormin paused, his eyes fixed on the Executor. 

Harliss knew he had more to add, but was waiting for her permission to continue. She also knew if she didn’t listen to the rest of his report, she’d get stuck listening to him nagging her later about the importance of entering a situation with the proper information at hand, or some other boring lecture. “And the Union vessels?” 

“Three in total, Sparrow-Swift class.” Tormin tapped his boot toe against the floor. “All three gave similar reports. While docked here for resupply and whilst conducting intelligence gathering missions, a dragon and a gryphon arrived, and forced the local workers salvage a large variety of parts from all three vessels.” Tormin scowled, he was never fond of beasts. “The monsters apparently possessed knowledge enough to inspect the parts, and insure they were correct, and undamaged. Before they left they inflicted significant damage upon all three Sparrow-Swifts, likely to prevent pursuit.”

“Why the hell didn’t they shoot the fuckers?” Evlee jabbed a finger against Tormin’s arm. “We oughta court martial the lot of ‘em for dereliction of duty!” 

Tormin only grunted at the prodding. “It is my understanding that most of the crews were currently housed within the local tavern and inn, or occupied at the…” His face twisted up into a sneer of disgust. “Brothel.” He snorted. “As larger monsters are not entirely uncommon visitors, no alarm was raised that would have indicated to the Union officials that their ships were being raided. Furthermore, local authorities…” Tormin spat. “Such as pirates may consider, at least, prohibit Union soldiers from carrying their armaments outside the ship. Those present inside the ships were forcibly sequestered, and in some cases, disarmed, by the local workers, under instructions from the beasts. Further more, due to docking configuration, the ships’ guns were unable to be fired, let alone safely. By the time our officers were able to regain their weapons, it was after dark, and the monsters were already well in retreat, and thus, subject only to inaccurate small arms fire.” 

Harliss fidgeted with the gold-hemmed sleeves of her white jacket. “I take it we all know who these creatures serve? Random wild beasts, or those working with common pirates would not be so brazen, or so specific.” She settled her sleeved back down, glancing at Tormin. “Anything else? I’m getting bored, Tormin. Where are my other pets?” 

“Your female gryphons are currently on patrol around the Sparrow-Swifts.” He tilted his head, gazing at Sock and Speckles as they loomed above her. “The Storm Caller has more than enough men left to guard it, even after we’ve gone ashore, and even assuming your other beasts go with us. I thought the other creatures better suited to ensuring none of the locals decide to help themselves to any more Union parts or weapons while we’re distracted.” 

“Very well.” Harliss took a step towards the exit. “Is there anything else, or can we go now?” 

“I suppose I can give you my disciplinary recommendations as we walk.” Tormin gestured at the sealed doors, and several soldiers hurried to unlock and open them. 

“We’re disciplining our own people for being robbed, now?” 

“That is up to you, of course.” Tormin worked his jaw, his face reddened slightly in unspoken anger. “But I would recommend an investigation to find out everyone involved with brothelry, and other debauchery, whilst allowing Union ships to be raided by monsters. Then I’d hit them all with heavy pay sanctions, on a scale commiserate with the amount of pay wasted on prostitution. To begin with. Or, you could have all their information transferred to the Military Justice division, and let them decide what to do.” 

“Or, I could do none of that, and just pass on the basic facts of the attack, then make them cover everything they lost out of their own salaries.” Harliss waved her hand. “Having a bit of fun with their own pay is hardly grounds for demotion, in my mind. But losing Union materials certainly calls for punishment. Besides, the locals may be more cooperative to our future advances if they believe we’re willing to let our people spend coin on their whores.” 

Tormin cleared his throat, an irritable noise. “I should think charging our people triple the costs for all repairs and resupply more than makes up for coin spent in their brothels.” 

“Ah, but we don’t always want to pay three times the price, do we?” Harliss patted his arm as the soldiers opened the doors. 

“We could just seize the port,” Tormin said, muttering under his breath. “Clean out all the criminals and monsters, and-”

“And open the skies to Union Trade vessels.” Harliss finished his thought for him. “I’ve heard it all before, Tormin, and I’ll hear it all again, I’ve no doubt. But you say that as if this is the only pirate port in the world.”

Evlee jabbed her finger against Tormin’s chest. “And as if they don’t have at least a thousand guns pointed at the sky.” 

Tormin batted her hand away. “They don’t have a thousand guns. They have-”

“Enough damn guns to cause us a serious problem, if we give them reason to use them against us.” Harliss pivoted back to Tormin, glaring at him. “Just because our ship may be able to outrange them doesn’t mean the rest of our fleets can. At least, not yet. Even if we could? Eventually you’d still have to land, and go in on the ground to actually seize everything.” She waved her hand, shaking her head. “And then you’d incur more losses, and Prav’s people would probably just raze everything on the way out. Or you could just reduce it all to rubble with artillery, and you lose the port anyway.”

“Actually…” Tormin scratched his chin. “Then we could just build out own port atop it.”

“Which would be attacked by vengeful pirates so often we’d have to fortify it as a military structure. And they’d just start raiding us from all their other ports, anyway.” Harliss turned back towards the door, signaling the discussion was over. “We’ll be better off just forcing Prav and his people to accept our terms, down the line, and get him working for us.” 

“Besides, Tormin.” Evlee punched him on the arm. “Don’t be such a stick in the ass. Pirates and monsters and brothels can be fun!” 

Tormin only glared at her. “Stick in the mud. The saying is, stick in the mud.” 

“There’s always sticks in mud, Tormin, they call it a swamp.” Evlee walked up alongside Harliss, grinning. “A stick in the ass would be much more irritating. Like you right now!” 

Tormin snorted. He turned to a few soldiers standing nearby, waving them forward. One of them brought his long rifle, a Sharp-Sight 17. It was an older lever action model, but Harliss knew Tormin preferred it for its reliability and accuracy. He quickly checked it over, then strapped it across his shoulder. Another soldier handed him his scatter gun. He checked it as well, opened the breech and peered inside, then clicked it shut, and turned to stand next to Harliss. 

Fresh air blew in as the external doors were finally opened. Cold air blew in and swirled around Harliss. Smoke and grease tinted its scent, along with the smells of meats being cooked over flames, hints of old booze, and somewhere behind it all, the sharp tang of pine sap. Disembarkment ramps lead through the tangled skeleton of docking scaffolding. Such scaffolds were a common feature at airship ports, a towering web of ramps and rigging, ladders, towers, platforms, chains and hoses all surrounding a docking berth. They allowed maintenance workers access to the ship’s exterior for inspections, repairs, resupply, and so on. Many were built atop great wheeled platforms they could be pushed up alongside a moored ship, and removed once maintenance was completed. Most berths and scaffolding docks also had mooring towers with lines and chains to anchor the ship to while docked, both to keep it stable, and to prevent any dangerous drifting. 

At Union ports, the docking scaffolds were all meticulously designed, and built from the sturdiest materials. Some were meant for only a single size, and class of ship. Others were built in hinged sections with joints and machinery to raise and lower them. Often times they were built upon great, mobile platforms so they could be pushed up alongside a moored ship,  with mobile bollards that could be locked into different areas, to allow adaptability in order to service multiple types of vessels. Everything was well ordered, and efficient. 

Here, though, at the pirate port called The Emplacement, the scaffolds were something else entirely. They were built haphazardly, and seemingly with whatever materials were at hand. The one in which The Storm Caller was docked looked to be constructed from parts of other, older airships. Harliss spotted floorboards repurposed as support poles, and an old wall section from a passenger ship, still adorned with flaking magenta paint, now serving as a work platform. Where the Union scaffolds were composed of evenly structured vertical and horizon lines of wood and steel, these looked like little more than webs randomly cobbled together by an extremely drunken spider. 

Though the docking scaffolds were already in place around The Storm Caller, they were conspicuously free of workers. Normally, maintenance workers got started immediately. But at a port like this that serviced mostly pirates, criminals, and other unsavory types, no work was going to be accomplished until payment was made in full. Not that Harliss had any interest in letting a bunch of lazy, poorly trained pirate mechanics put their hands all over her precious ship. Especially not with all its new innovations and secretive technologies. Besides, she had her own specially trained crew of mechanics for that. She was willing to let the local workers aid in things like fuel and water transfers and other resupply, but even that would only be under the direct supervision of her own crew. 

As Harliss descended the disembarkment ramps, she gazed across the immense docking area. There were dozens of docking spaces marked out all across the vast, stone plaza. Union ships took up only a few of them. Many others were occupied by a variety of vessels, from small, private ships that would only hold a handful of people, to much larger pirate vessels, to freighters run by smuggling crews. Some had docking scaffolds in place around them, while other scaffolds and maintenance platforms went unused. Further away were plenty more unused berths. 

Harliss turned her attention towards the other Union vessels that were docked. By airship standards, the Sparrow-Swifts were small, and quick. They had long, internal bays housing their gasbags, filled with as much lifting gas as possible, along with powerful engines powering stacks of propellers designed to help propel them swiftly out of danger. Or at least, they usually did. All three Sparrow-Swifts here had been put through hell. Broken turbines and engine parts lay scattered around, or missing completely. Doors and armor plates were ripped away. One ship was even laying on its side, on the ground, with its upper section was completely shredded, exposed down to its rent and empty gas bag. Oils leaked from the ships, staining the stony ground. Tormin’s report was right. The dragon and gryphon who had attacked them had certainly ensured they would not be pursued. 

Smart beasts, Harliss thought. 

“I want those ships repaired.” She glanced over at Tormin, cutting him off as soon as he opened his mouth to respond. “Hire the locals to ensure it gets done quickly. Just make sure they’re supervised by our own engineers so it’s done properly. I don’t care what it costs, just pay what they ask. Give them what they want, but make it clear we expect quality service, or they’ll have bigger problems than issuing a refund.” 

“Understood.” Tormin clenched his jaw. “But it’s going to be pricy. Especially if we ask for an all-human repair crew.” 

“Then don’t.” Harliss waved her hand. “I don’t care if they send monsters to help do the work, as long as the monsters can do the work. As for the cost, the officers who let this happen can have the fees docked from their salaries.” 

“As you wish, Executor.” 

At the bottom of the ramp, two of her soldiers stood guard. Like all those deployed around the ship, each was armed with a rifle, and a pistol. They were all dressed in a dark gray uniform and jacket trimmed lightly with gold, standard issue for soldiers working directly for an Executor. Each wore also specialized armor made of thickly layered silk meshes, and metal plating. The armor was designed to first absorb a bullet’s energy, and then to prevent it from penetrating any further. It was heavy, but proven to be quite effective against the basic firearms criminals and pirates tended to carry. It did not cover everything, and newer weapons with greater velocities come sometimes penetrate it, but the Union was working on upgrades all the time. Harliss rarely actually had her men wear it, but landing at potentially hostile port run by a conniving crime lord seemed as good a time as any to give the order. 

Harliss spotted a star of rank on one of the men’s jackets. She waved him over, and when he stopped before her to salute, she put her hand on his shoulder. “We’re going in. Maintain your positions. Until otherwise ordered, I don’t want anyone we don’t know approaching the ship. Send someone out to meet them, if need be, but no one reaches our perimeter. Understood?” 

The soldier nodded once. “Yes, Executor. Order of response?” 

“First, verbal warnings. Second, warning shot.” Harliss turned away, waving him back to his post. “After that, shoot to kill. I’ll send the girls here to back you up, just in case.

“Yes, Executor.”  

Harliss stepped away from him, and put two fingers in her mouth. She whistled, loud and sharp. Immediately two keening cries responded from the nearby skies. Two immense, white-feathered female gryphons swooped down, landing gracefully just before her. They trotted towards her, and as one, bowed their massive heads. At Harliss’s side, Evlee giggled and bounced on her toes. Harliss shot her a glare, and Evlee sighed, rolling her eyes. 

“Hello, girls.” Harliss signaled for them to rise, and both gryphons lifted their heads. “Anything to report?” 

The first gryphon, named Mohawk for her especially long, and completely black crown feathers, pointed towards the damaged ships. “Those aren’t just damaged. They’re ransacked.” 

The second female nodded her head. She was called Mittens for the black fur markings on all four paws. “The dragon and gryphon took specific parts. They only broke things after they had what they needed.”

Strike warbled her agreement. “Knew what they were doing, what to take, what to break. Broke what they didn’t need.”

Behind her, Tormin spoke up. “Your pets are right. Those beasts were looking for specific parts, and while they ruined important elements of the ship’s flight and propulsion systems, they broke different things on each ship. Think they took engine parts from one, then broke those same parts on the other.” 

“Had a list,” said Star. “Filled the list first, trashed the ships second.” 

Harliss reached out to scratch each gryphon’s neck. “Good eye, girls. Tormin gave me his report, as well, and we suspect it was the former Princess’s bidding those beasts were doing. Replacement parts for her floating behemoth, no doubt.” 

“Hey, boss.” Evlee nudged her with an elbow, whispering overload. “Can I give the good girls treats?” 

Harliss sighed, then stepped back. “Oh, very well. Evlee has treats for you.” 

Stripe and Star turned towards Evlee with hopeful coos. The other woman dug more spiced and sugared jerky out of her jacket pockets, and held out a handful to each gryphon. “Who’s a good girl? You’re good girls, yes you are! And good girls get treats, yes they do!”

Tormin groaned, visibly cringing. “She carries dried meat in her jacket, now?” 

“You know, that was my question, too.” Harliss shook her head. “She’s going to-”

“She’s going to smell like jerky for the rest of her life, at this rate!” 

“That’s what I was going to say.” Harliss rested her hands against two of her pistols, chuckling. “Not that I expect her to care.” 

Evlee glanced over her shoulder as the birds finished off their treats. “You’re just jealous cause they like me more than you.” When the meat was gone, she dusted off her hands. “Alright, good girls, that’s all for now.” 

The gryphons warbled their thanks, then returned their attention to Harliss. 

Harliss pointed at The Storm Caller, behind them. “Stay here, and make sure the ship is safe. Back up our soldiers, but don’t engage unless needed.” She pointed out the man in charge. “Or if he gives you the order.” 

“Yes, Executor.” The gryphons separated, heading in opposite directions to take up positions. 

With that taken care of, Harliss pivoted on her heel, smiling at her officers. “Alright then, everyone ready?” 

“Ready, Executor.” Tormin squared his shoulders.

Evlee rubbed her hands together, beaming. “Hell yeah! I’m ready to fuck with some pirate monsters!”

Harliss only laughed. “Not exactly what we’re here for, but close enough. Now, let’s go find out what this den of debauchery knows about our targets.” 

*****

Chapter Sixteen

*****

Harliss led the march across The Emplacement’s vast docking plaza. Though the wild, anarchic lands in this part of the world knew no the rule of no nation, various crime bosses, tribal factions, and warlords had each staked their claim to strategically important areas, and built their own so-called pirate ports. The Emplacement, named for the ancient gun emplacements looming in the cliffs above it, was by far the best known, and best stocked of all.  

The Executor had never visited the place before, but she had plenty of reports about it. She knew it possessed vast amounts of everything needed to resupply the myriad airships that visited it. As she walked, she gazed around. Immense tanks and storage units dotted the plaza between every docking berth, holding supplies of water, oil, lifting gases, coal, and even more modern types of fuel. Repair hangers provided space for ships that needed more elaborate repairs. Multiple warehouses stored every kind of spare part imaginable, from the small and simple, to the large and complex. From engine systems both aged and modern, to ship-wide plumbing, to gasbag materials, gauges and dials, and even airship weapons and ammunition. If something on a ship was broken, The Emplacement and its workers could probably fix it. All for an exorbitant cost, of course, but the sort of people who would come here for emergency repairs usually had no place else to go.

Their dealings went far beyond airship parts, as well. The Emplacement maintained a thriving market for almost everything. A ship docking for repairs could also stock on foods both fresh and preserved, along with barrels of ales, wines and spirits. They sold clothing of all kinds, as well as spare materials. Really, from the reports Harliss had read, it sounded as if there was almost nothing that couldn’t be purchased at The Emplacement, and that included a wide variety of illegal items. From guns, cartridges, and explosives, to a variety of firing powders, to illicit drugs, to rare animals and their parts, even coins, deeds, and bonds. Just about anything a pirate or criminal might want was available somewhere in the Emplacement’s marketplace. As far as Harliss knew, none of it was regulated, and all of it was overpriced. 

Sheer cliffs of crimson stone soared far above the pirate city, a natural red wall stretching further than Harliss could see. The cliffs were known as the The Broken Teeth, part of a monstrous and oft-impassible mountain range which edged the south-western continent. Craters from cannon fire pock-marked the stone, along with tunnel entrances and alcoves bristling with cannons aimed at the sky. Those too, stretched as far as she could see, enough combined fire power to hold back an entire enemy fleet. Or at least, it had been once upon a time. Now, some of the old anti-air guns were but rusted husks. Others had been destroyed in long forgotten skirmishes and battles. Still, countless more had been restored to working order and kept in good condition to defend the pirate port that now dwelled within their shadow. 

All the guns were first built by a small kingdom eager to seize control of the only local trade route that could reach the seas. At the time, airships could not safely ascend high enough to clear most of the mountains, and had to traverse The Broken Teeth’s treacherous pass. They built a fort upon the plateau, and a vast network of tunnels throughout the cliffs, serving as both bunkers and ammunition storage. Any other nation’s ships that wished to use their pass to reach the sea was forced to pay their tolls and tariffs, or face their firepower. Now, the kingdom was long gone, but the guns remained. For that matter, Harliss thought, so did the tolls. Only now they were higher, and paid to pirates. 

Not that it mattered at the moment. There was little official trade or travel across the seas since the Empire had fallen. In time, the Union would establish those lines, and forge new trade pacts, but none of that was for Harliss to worry about. For now, most of the ships using that pass were pirates or other criminals running from justice, or smuggling goods across the seas. 

For such ships, The Broken Teeth made for the only reliable approach. The pass lead directly towards the first in long train of islands that crisscrossed the sea. The islands were lifesavers for airships attempting to cross either expanse. To reach the far continent, was a very long journey indeed, and many were the ships that ran out of fuel, or food, long before they ever saw the far shores. Now that various ports existed along the way, the journey was a far safer one. Further south, a few more ‘islands’ jutted above the cold, ever-churning clouds of the Boiling Emptiness. Those, too, were inhabited, as far as Harliss knew, but mostly by monsters, and even more damn pirates. Perhaps, one day, the Union would control it all.

For now, Harliss would settle for putting their stamp on this den of debauchery while she was here. Speaking of which, the heart of the place was its infamous tavern, brothel, and inn. That was where The Emplacement first began, a place for pirates and criminals to start for respite and recreation, and swap stories of their various illegal travails before returning to the skies. As their reputation grew, The Emplacement expanded, bit by bit, first to offer repairs to vessels that could not legally get them anywhere else, then to house the workers doing those repairs, and so on until it became a city unto itself. 

Now, a sprawling collection of ramshackle houses and shacks occupied much of the area beyond the expansive tavern and brothel at the center of the plateau. Some of the buildings looked more competently constructed than others, with sturdy wooden frames and stone work, while others looked as if a heavy breeze might topple them. There were houses that looked entirely constructed from old airship parts. Harliss spotted porthole windows from an old passenger compartment in one shack’s wall. Another hovel had a roof made from a wing-like stabilizer. Some of the homes were tinier than others, probably to house the more diminutive monsters that dwelled amongst the humans. Some were built up into trees, or stacked atop each other in unstable flats with wobbly ladders and rickety walkways. The streets looked to be little more than a muddy maze. Lampposts were scattered at random intervals, with no thought or planning. Harliss doubted many of them even worked.

The streets looked to be little more than a muddy maze. At the moment, they were mostly empty. An arrival of a Golden Union warship was probably a good excuse for a lot of them to hide away in their shacks and hovels for a while. If violence broke out, Harliss doubted they wanted to be caught in the cross fire. Then again, she imagined the entire city was armed. If she had to mount an attack against Prav’s people, the whole damn slum would probably pour out to defend them like ants swarming a damaged nest. 

For the time being they had no need to pass through the residential area, but Harliss kept close watch on it just the same. If anyone felt like taking a shot at Union officials, it would come from there. Prav’s people might not like the Union, but they were disciplined enough to realize harming an Executor or her entourage would bring an ocean of fire down upon their little haven. Eyes watched them from cracks in blinds, or half-open doors. A cluster of small, furry urd’thin in dirty clothes and leaning against a little food stall stared at them from down the street. A man with a grease-smeared face rested his hand on his pistol. So did the two gnolls just behind him. A few lizards pushing a cart covered with a tarp paused to watch them pass, whispering to each other, scrunching their muzzles in displeasure.

“Never seen a whole city of pirates and monsters.” Tormin spat on the ground. “I mean, I’ve seen plenty of monsters in the former Empire cities, but even they had some damn laws.” 

“I know!” Evlee turned around, walking backwards a few paces, a big grin on her face. “Isn’t it exciting? I think I’d like to come here on leave sometime.” 

Tormin glared at her. “Why the hell would you want to do something like that?” 

“For fun, you stodgy old shit.” Evlee ticked off a few fingers. “To drink, to gamble, to buy things the Union won’t let me, to get in some fights, kick some ugly monster’s ass…Oh! Maybe even fuck someone I shouldn’t, you know, fun things.” 

“Ugh.” Tormin scrunched his face. “At least you said kick some monsters ass and fuck someone you shouldn’t, and not the other way around.” 

Harliss laughed, shaking her head. “Like she needs any more ideas put in her head.” She drummed her fingers against a pistol, grinning. “But I agree with her, this is gonna be fun. When’s the last time the three of got to go run a mission together in hostile territory?”

“Three months ago, and you almost got your head blown off!” 

“Exactly!” Harliss clapped her hands once, beaming. “It’s been far too long since we had that kind of fun.” Harliss pointed to wide wooden boardwalk stretching over muddy patches of stony ground, leading towards their destination. “And there it is, the original Emplacement, in all it’s…” She scrunched her face when she saw the place. “Well…certainly not glory.”

Just up ahead was the rambling complex of buildings that served as The Emplacement’s heart. The largest building was a bizarre sort of mansion, like the fever dream of some drunken monster trying to imagine where wealthy humans might live. It was all dark wood, with too many exaggerated turrets and towers with pointed roofs, with odd angles and columns, and an overabundance of columns, porches, and balconies. Black and red paint marked it unevenly, a black wall here, red shutters there. Golden frames surrounded large windows. Its multiple stories were entirely asymmetrical. Where one section of the building had four stories, another had three, while yet another had six. Harliss thought the whole thing looked as it a better-designed building had partly collapsed after a horrible earthquake, and no one could be bothered to rebuild. 

Boardwalks and elevated walkways led from it to the other buildings. They shared the same odd color scheme, even if they weren’t quite as completely misshapen. One looked to serve as extra inn space, with uneven windows lining its three-storied walls. Signs indicated another was a bathhouse, as did the myriad copper pipes pumping steam out into the cold mountain air. The immense doors and tall, arched roof of another building told Harliss it was probably meant to house any oversized monsters who could not fit into the smaller rooms. Others held less obvious purposes, but equally ugly exteriors, again more accruements than common sense. 

Nearby were several stone structures that were far less hideous. If anything, they were damn near bland, boxy remnants from the original fort that had been repurposed. Cannons atop them pointed towards the plaza, ready to return fire should any docked ships cause trouble. Harliss suspected they now served as the headquarters for the city’s guards. If they had any semblance of actual government beyond ‘ask the warlord’, it was probably headquartered there as well. 

Like the city streets, the usual lively crowd Harliss imagined this place had was no where to be scene. The balconies and porches were mostly empty, with only a few brave souls outside to watch the Union continent approach. Guards stood in front of the inn’s main doors, human men with rifles and pistols. A few more stepped out onto balconies to keep watch. Harliss was sure there were others tracking them from more secure positions, but she made a point not to bother looking their way. The more relaxed she seemed, the more relaxed they’d be, relatively speaking. 

Near the malformed inn, colorful signs posted to outbuildings depicted drunken men and women cavorting in various states of undress, with bottles of alcohol all around them. Others showed monsters such as gnolls or kobolds, equally drunk, and equally undressed. Further along, other signs displayed the drunken revelers enjoying each other’s company in a far more intimate fashion. Despite the acts on display, the signs were actually far more tasteful than Harliss had expected. 

“Disgusting.” Tormin spat on the ground near one of the signs. 

“Oh, don’t be such a prude.” Evlee punched him on the arm, then lifted her hand and worked it like a puppet’s mouth. “I’m Tormin, and I’m scared of sex, boo hoo, how do I please a woman?”

Tormin refused to take her bait, and instead, gestured at the sign. “It’s a gnoll!” Tormin scrunched his face up. “It’s unnatural!” 

“A gnoll getting paid good money to do that with his tongue!” Evlee laughed, tracing a finger along the woman’s face. “Probably cause she’s married to someone like you, who doesn’t know how. Why, perhaps her husband is a Union officer back in the capital, too busy filing paperwork all day, to ever realize his wife’s secretly a feared air pirate commander! Who frequents a brothel to hire on her favorite gnoll concubine, who after he pleasures her, she regales him with tales of her conquests and victories, over wine and cuddles with the sort of warmth her husband never showed her.” 

Tormin, ever so slowly, turned to gape at her in silence.

Harliss waggled her fingers alongside the other woman’s head. “You’ve built a whole other world in there, haven’t you?” 

“Mhm!” Evlee bounced on her toes. “And it’s so much more fun than what Mister Chastity Belt over here has.” 

Tormin turned back towards Harliss, tilting his head towards Evlee. “You should really get her looked at when we get home. Something just ain’t right up there.” 

Harliss smirked. “I’ll certainly take that under consideration.” Movement near the front of the inn drew her attention, and she sharpened her tone. “Enough of that. Game faces, everyone, it’s time to meet our welcoming committee.” 

At the front of the inn, a dozen more guards emerged, a burly mix of gnolls, va’chaak, and humans. All were armed, but no one bore the same armaments. Some had pistols, others long rifles, or scatter guns. One of the lizards bore an immense 3 barreled pepperbox of a make she’d never seen before. A few kobolds and urd’thin slipped out onto exposed balconies as well, each with small rifles with large scopes. The smaller monsters were often known to be excellent shots, but Harliss was sure her people were every bit as good. No one had yet lifted a weapon, let alone aimed it at them, and Harliss was happy to keep it that way. 

She turned around towards the security detail trailing behind her, holding a hand up. They all came to a stop, standing in formation. “Eyes and ears open, but guns down! We’re here on peaceful terms, and the Union wishes to negotiate in the future, so no one here fires first, got it?” The soldiers answered in unison, and she went on. “That said, if they aim at you, return the favor! And if anyone’s stupid enough to fire on any of us? Light them the fuck up. And once we’re inside, hold your positions unless summoned.” She smirked and patted one of her pistols. “Don’t worry if you hear a couple shots fired off. Just assume we’re having a little fun in there. But if there’s too much fun being had? Get your asses in there and join the party.”

Harliss turned to her gryphons. “And boys? Stay.” Both gryphons sat on their haunches in the middle of the boardwalk as if keeping watch over her squad. She patted their heads, and then turned around, glancing at her officers. “Shall we?” 

The Executor lead the way towards the grand tavern. As they walked, Tormin whispered to her, under his breath, swiftly listing off every potential hostile. “Two on the balcony, top left. One second floor window. Three, balcony right, third floor. Count four in the alley.” 

Harliss’s gaze followed Tormin’s lead, and she checked off every person in her head, taking stock of their weaponry, their positions, potential exits they might use, and so on. At the same time, Evlee tracked other information. “Open door, right. Closed door, left. I see at least three exits through the windows, inside.” 

Tormin alternated his whispers with hers. “I got a couple fingers on trigger guards ahead of us. They’ve got back up inside. Lotsa criminals watching us through the windows.” 

“Consider them civilians unless they draw on us.” Harliss rested her hands against the pistols at her hips, just in case.

“Understood.” Tormin shifted his grip on his scattergun, carrying it across his chest, flicking off the safety. “Local protocol says Union disarms for entry.” 

“Then we’ll politely decline.” Harliss disengaged her safeties, as well. 

“And if they try to enforce it, and this goes bad?” Tormin kept his eyes forward, even as he spoke to the Executor. “I assume protocol is shoot to kill?”

Harliss flashed the gnolls ahead of a great, big smile, even as she whispered through it. “Absolutely. But let’s try peacefully, first.” 

A single gnoll soon broke away from the group guarding the front entryway, and approached them. The beast wore a slate gray shirt over his powerful frame, with an oversized black vest across it, embroidered in gold. Black pants with silver threading covered his legs, along with boots custom-cobbled to fit a monster’s odd, animal-like feet. His fur was dark, golden beige, speckled with black. He rested a single hand against the impressively large pistol resting at his hip, but did not draw it. 

The gnoll held up a hand, signaling them to stop. He flattened back his ears, a sign of nervousness amongst such monsters. “Greetings, from The Emplacement. My name is Deputy Hatha, and I-”

“You have Deputies here?” Harliss continued offering him a friendly smile, even as she cut him off. She stepped forward and offered the gnoll a hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Deputy! My name is Executor Harliss. Tell me, how long ago did you bring real law to this establishment?” 

The gnoll glanced at her hand without immediately taking it, shifting his weight. “We’ve had deputies for decades.” 

“Fascinating!” Harliss kept her hand presented. “And here I’ve been told this place was but a lawless hell hole festering with filthy, uncivilized pirates and monsters.” She sniffed at the air. “But you’re not filthy at all, and you represent the law, so that’s two of three slanderous rumors already disproven.” Her gaze fell to her own outstretched hand, still waiting. 

Hatha’s tail flicked back and forth in a sure indicator of uncertainty. He soon reached out to grasp it, and gave her a gentle handshake. It was almost too gentle, as if he as afraid of breaking something. Or perhaps he just worried squeezing too tightly might get him shot. His hand was warm, and the pads on the underside soft. After a quick handshake, he withdrew his arm. Hatha’s other hand never left his weapon. 

“And that’s three! Wonderful.” Harliss patted his arm. “Now, you’ve come all this way, without the company of your friends, to do what? Perhaps, offer us coupons for complimentary drinks at your fine establishment?” She glanced back at Evlee and Tormin. “Wouldn’t that be lovely?” 

Tormin smiled, cold and shallow. “Lovely.” 

“Actually,” the gnoll said, his voice level as could be. “I’ve come to disarm you.” 

Harliss withdrew her hand, waving him off as if dismissing a servant. “Oh, no, no, no. I’m afraid not.” Her smile faded. 

Hatha took a slow, even breath. He’d clearly been expecting a denial. “Emplacement law states, any and all Golden Union officials must completely disarm to be allowed entry into any Emplacement facility.” He held up a hand towards them again. “It’s nothing to do with you, Ma’am, it’s just the law. I’m sure you can understand why such a law exists. The Union doesn’t exactly look favorably upon our ilk.” 

“Oh, I understand.” Harliss’s smile returned as quickly as it left. “I’d disarm anyone the Union in your place, too. They’re terrible spoilsports, after all. Not to mention, from your point of view, some of them most seem damn near genocidal.” She clucked her tongue and shook her head, as if discussing nothing more than a neighbor’s sordid affair with a tavern wench. “Which, I can assure you, is something I am not.” She stepped in even closer, lowering her voice as if whispering some great secret to him. “But here’s the problem, you see. While I don’t agree with every Union policy, I am one of their Executors.” Harliss slowly shook her head, her voice sharpening with every word. “And your laws? They don’t apply to Executors. We’re not disarming.” 

The gnoll swallowed, looking for Harliss, to Tormin, to Evlee, and back to Harliss again. “If you won’t give up your guns, I’m going to have to take them from you.” 

“Oh, you couldn’t.” Harliss laughed, a soft, musical sound that belied its inherent threat. “Brave of you to threaten it, though.” 

“Real, real brave.” Evlee circled her fingers around the handles of two of her knives. “Out here all by yourself, threatening an Executor and her bodyguards, with your back up all the way back there?” She inclined her head towards the inn. “Must be some real big balls on you, gnoll. Wouldn’t you say, Tormin?” 

Tormin’s white-hot glare could have burned holes through the gnoll’s skull. “Real big.” 

“Mhm!” Evlee bounced on her toes, smiling at the gnoll. “Big ol’ gnoll balls, for sure. In fact, if I were you, gnoll, I’d turn around and walk back while you still got ‘em. Or they might end up someone’s fancy coin purse.”

Hatha gave a low growl, baring a few fangs. His fingers tightened around the butt of his pistol. “Watch your mouth. I got more backup than you can count!” 

“Oh yeah?” Tormin tilted his head. “I guess gnolls can only count to twelve, huh?” 

“Now, now.” Harliss lifted a hand, and her officers went silent. “Let’s be honest, here. I believe our new friend Hatha knows he’s hopelessly outmatched against us. And even if he hasn’t realized that, surely he knows that if anything happens, he’s going to be the first to die. Right, Hatha?” 

Hatha’s snarl and flattened ears were all the answer Harliss needed. “No one’s gotta die, just hand over your guns. You’ll get ‘em back when you leave.” 

“Oh, we’re in agreement on the first part. No one has to die here, including you, Hatha.” Harliss lifted her hands away from her guns. “I do admire your bravery, by the way. And don’t mind Evlee, she’s a soft spot for beasties like you. Now, I tell you what.” She held her arms out to her sides, smiling. “If you think you can disarm the three of us, physically I mean, then go ahead and try. You can start with me.”

Hatha lowered his gaze, his eyes darting from pistol to pistol. He reached towards her, his hand shaking slightly, then hesitated. 

“Ah, yes, see, you’ve starting to realize the problem, right?” Harliss kept her arms out. “I’ve got four guns, and you’ve going to have to take them all. And even though your hand is on your pistol? I guarantee you I can still draw one of mine faster than you can pull yours. Which I will, the moment you touch me.” 

“Aww, boss, let him try me!” Evlee held her arms up over her head. “Is this how you do it?” She lowered her voice into a gruff faux whisper. “Disarm me…if you dare!” 

Harliss glanced at the other woman. “Not quite, but good effort.” Then she returned her attention to the gnoll. “Maybe Evlee’s a better starting point. She’s not as quick as me.” As soon as the gnoll seemed to be considering it, Harliss went on. “She is, however, going to stab you a number of times.” 

Evlee giggled, wiggling her upraised fingers as if in some kind of macabre wave. “Hi. I’m Evlee. I like stabbin’.” 

“Indeed she does.” Harliss shrugged, still holding her arms out. “How’s your stabbing mood today, Evlee? Fatal, or non-fatal?” 

Evlee made a shushing noise. “Shh, it’s a secret.” 

The gnoll made a noise halfway between a growl, and a whimper, slowly turning his attention to Tormin. 

Harliss waved at him. “Yes, Tormin here’s your safest starting bet. You see, while he doesn’t like monsters, he does have a sense of honor. Which means if you don’t draw on him, he won’t blow your head off with that giant shotgun. No, he’ll just use it to beat the hell out of you. Then he’ll arrest you for impeding our investigation and toss you in the brig.” She rolled her shoulders. “But my arms are getting awfully tired, so hurry up and decide if you want to be shot, stabbed, or arrested. Or would you rather just let us keep our guns?” 

Hatha finally heaved a sigh, his ears drooping. He lifted his hand from his gun, and backed away. “Maybe we can make an exception for Executors.” 

The Executor gasped in mock surprise. “You’d do that for us? How sweet of you!” She dropped her arms down, and her officers relaxed with her. “Wise choice, Hatha. I see you’re as wise a beast as you are brave.” 

Evlee smiled at the gnoll. “Good boy. I didn’t really want to have to stab you, anyway.”

“Now then,” Harliss said. “If you’d be so kind as to escort us inside your fine establishment? I really don’t want to have to play this game with all your brethren.” 

“Yeah, alright.” Hatha turned away, his tail hanging limp now. “This way.” 

As the gnoll walked towards the tavern, Harliss fell into step behind him. She glanced over her shoulder, smiling. “See, Tormin? That was fun.”

( That's all for now! If you've enjoyed, please leave a comment with your thoughts! )