Princess of Beasts - Chapters Nineteen and Twenty (Patreon)

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Chapter Nineteen

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Executor Harliss was pleased to see the rest of the assembled guards make way as Hatha led them to the entrance. There were plenty of assorted grumbles, growls, and snarls. A few made more open threats, or reminded Harliss and her officers that everyone else in the tavern had guns, too. Despite their bluster, their body language suggested at least a few of them were actually relieved they didn’t have to do anything that would have resulted in a shootout with an Executor and her security detail. 

The Emplacement’s front doors were bright red, with golden handles. As the sea of criminal enforcers moved aside, Harliss realized they were actually set within an even larger set of doors. Not doubt it was to allow the passage of the occasional dragon, or any other oversized monster who came to visit the place for supplies, or to fulfill their wicked desires. 

The doors led directly into a cavernous pub with a high, domed ceiling at least three stories tall. At one side of the room was a long bar counter, constructed of old airship walls, cut down and sanded smooth. Copper piping crawled behind the counter, occasionally peeking over it to connect with taps. Barrels, kegs and crates lined the wall, along with bottles of every size and make Harliss had ever imagined. Several scaled kobolds with tapered muzzles and colorful clothing scurried back and forth across the counter, pouring drinks and collecting empty mugs from the collection of grizzled and gnarled bastards seated at the bar. 

The crowd inside the tavern was much closer to the raucous gathering Harliss had expected. People of all races sat at tables, and in booths, talking, laughing, yelling. A quick estimate placed both the guests and staff at roughly fifty percent human, with the other fifty percent a relatively even mixture of gnolls, va’chaak, kobolds, and urd’thin. 

In one corner, a group gathered around a fight, with a human and a gnoll throwing drunken punches at each other, while the small crowd made bets and passed around coins. In another corner, musicians played horns, pipes, a fiddle, and a small drum. Their bouncy melodies just barely reached across the room among the chattering of voices, laughter, and angry shouts from the fight. 

As Hatha led them through the place, Harliss gave their surroundings a cursory glance, counting exits, potential hostiles, mentally blind spots and positions of cover, and so on. Nearby groups of people fell silent, staring at the Executor and her contingent as they walked by. Tormin pointed to a table, positioned in a place that would allow the three of them to keep watch on all the entrances and exits, and to watch each other’s back. He gave her a questioning look, and Harliss nodded her agreement. She grabbed the gnoll’s arm, and pointed out the table. 

Hatha took them to it, and gave a growling sigh. “Please, don’t make any trouble.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Harliss said, leaning in to whisper into the gnoll’s ear. “We need to speak with Prav. Do let him know Executor Harliss wishes to see him, personally? He may already know what it’s about.” 

The gnoll groaned. “Are you serious? There’s no way he’s going to want to see anyone from the Union.” 

Harliss patted his arm before she sat down into the padded chair. “Just pass it on, Deputy. I’m sure he’ll ask to see me eventually, unless he’d rather I come find him on my own.” 

Hatha made a frustrated, growling noise. “Gods-damn it, I shoulda just let you shoot me. If this goes bad, it’s gonna be my balls on the line.” 

“Aww, don’t worry, Deputy Dogface.” Evlee walked right up and grabbed the gnoll’s crotch. He gasped, hunching forward, his eyes wide and ears flat. She smiled at him.. “I’ll keep these safe…relatively. Hey, whaddya know, they are big! Don’t suppose I can buy you, can I?”

Harliss put a hand on Evlee’s shoulder, grinning. “Alright, dear, that’s enough. Let the brave Deputy get back to his work.” She glanced at Hatha, hardening her tone just a little. “If we need anything else, I’m going to ask for you by name.”

“Of course you are.” Hatha stepped back when Evlee released him, rubbing himself through his breeches. “And no, Security staff are not part of the brothel services.” 

Evlee made a little cooing noise of disappointment, flopping into her chair. “Pity. Well, tell you what. When you’re off duty, and I’m off duty, if you get bored, come find me, hmm?”

“That’s not likely to happen.” Hatha turned away, though the quick glance back he stole left Harliss wondering if maybe his curiosity would get the best of him. 

After the gnoll departed, Harliss pivoted in her chair, giving the place a more careful examination. Mismatched tables and chairs filled the central area. Some of them were studiously constructed from mahogany and oak. Others had tabletops of polished granite, or marble. Some, like the counter, were just made from discarded airship bits and pieces. There were chairs of all types, as well, some padded, some not. Others were clearly designed to accommodate non-humans, with spaces for tails and other unusual designs. Along several walls were semi-enclosed booths, with high backs, and heavily padded seats. Some of them looked freshly upholstered while others looked so threadbare they might well collapse completely beneath the next person to sit upon them. 

Hearths of brick and stone were built into the walls in several locations, their chimney pipes directed out through the walls. Potbelly stoves with their own sets of chimney pipes occupied smaller niches. Flames glowed from some of the hearths, while others sat cold and forgotten. A smoky haze hung in the air, and not just from the fireplaces. The scent of the place was almost overpowering, a combination of wood smoke, tobacco, incense, illegal herbs and other substances, along with booze, sweat, and other less pleasant things.

Lamps set into the walls, hanging from wooden beams, and suspended from the ceiling provided steady, red-orange light. Some burned with the faint, tell-tale hiss of outdated gas lamps. Others were old still, fueled by noxious oils. Airship cannons and weaponry was displayed upon the wood-paneled walls, like the heads of trophy beasts. Doorways of various sizes led to kitchens, latrines, stairwells, and other areas. Guards stood watch over more important doors, their attention more focused on the Executor than the rest of the crowd. 

Tiered balconies encircled the upper levels, where Harliss imagined the brothels were. Wooden railings with surprisingly elegant designs edged each balcony. Flags were suspended from their support railings, more trophies from merchant ships and warships once captured by pirates. People gathered behind the railings, many emerging from private rooms. Some wore less clothing than others, while others wore nothing at all. Whether they were advertising the wares available, or simply lacked shame or modesty, Harliss did not know, or care. None of them were armed, and that was all that really mattered. 

“You see any guards upstairs?” Harliss glanced at Tormin, who was scanning the same balconies. 

“No. Strange.” He gazed around again, and any hint of discomfort he might feel about the nudity on display did not show on his face. “I’m sure they want to protect their merchandise, though, so there’s got to be some up there somewhere.” 

“Alarm system maybe?” Evlee leaned back in her chair. “A bell or something in the room the workers can ring if someone gets rough or makes them uncomfortable?” 

“Or won’t pay.” Tormin chewed his lip. “Yeah, it’s possible. They wouldn’t wanna scare their customers, either. We better just assume if things go bad, they’re gonna guns on us from above, too.” 

“I haven’t seen many of those guards from out front wandering the tavern, either.” Harliss lowered her eyes, peering around the room. Most of the staff circulating around looked to be servers, and whores. Other than the guards positioned at doors, she saw only a few others keeping watch on the tavern itself. “I think they’re trying to avoid showing their hand.” 

Tormin nodded, resting his shotgun on the table. He kept the barrel pointed at a wall, away from everyone. “Makes sense. If things go bad, we wouldn’t know how many guns we’re up against, or where they’ll be coming from.” 

“Although, let’s be honest.” Evlee drew one of her knives, flicking it around her fingers. “Most of the people who come to a place like this know not to cause much trouble. If those guards do have to come pouring in, they ain’t gonna be handing out fines.” 

Harliss traced a finger against the butt of one of her pistols. “I could fire off a few shots, see where everyone comes in from, what they’re carrying.” 

“Aww, don’t do that.” Evlee looked up at the balcony again, grinning. “You’re scare off the scenery.” 

Harliss followed her gaze, towards a man who looked particularly well built in every regard. “I’ve seen worse views.” 

“You two are terrible.” Tormin crossed his arms. 

“It’s alright to look, Tormin.” Evlee patted his arm. “There’s women, too.” 

“I noticed.” Tormin cleared his throat, glancing away from everyone else. “I’m actively trying not to notice again.”

“Why not?” Evlee set her hands behind her head, gazing up once more. “Looking’s free.” 

“That doesn’t make it proper.” Tormin grunted. “Besides, we’re on a mission, in hostile territory. Something I shouldn’t think I’d have to remind the Executor about, but here we are.”

“Oh, don’t worry Tormin.” Harliss glanced his way with a sly smile. “I have the utmost faith in your ability to do your job, no matter how tight your trousers may get. Besides.” A small, black-furred urd’thin male passed by, and she waved him over, intent on ordering a drink. “If Prav wanted us dead, they’d have opened fire on us long before we ever got to the pub. We’re perfectly safe, for now.” 

The urd’thin hurried over, and Harliss offered him a polite smile. Unlike the gnolls, kobolds, and va’chaak, there were urd’thin dwelling within Union cities, too. Not a lot of them, and they often congregated in slums and other foul places. They weren’t considered citizens, and tended to be ‘tolerated’ at best, and driven out at worst. Still, it seemed no matter how many of them were driven out, there were always more to rebuild their razed slums and repopulate their grimy allies. They were clever, and industrious. Harliss rather liked them for that, even if many others in the Union rarely agreed.

This urd’thin in particular was scarcely four feet tall, with black fur fading to gray across his face, and white tips to his oversized ears and bushy tail. Short gray horns crowned his head, with a face and muzzle akin to a cross between a coyote and a rat. Between their large ears, tiny horns, and odd muzzles, it was as if the gods had simply decided to build the little things out of spare parts. He wore a loose fitting, bright blue silken tunic, left unbuttoned, and some kind of kilt, in dark blue, with his tail swaying over. Golden ribbons were tied into the fur of his tail, with a gold scarf around his neck. 

“Oh!” Evlee immediately refocused on her attention on the smaller creature. “Oh, look at your little ribbons and scarf!” 

The urd’thin turned away, swishing his bushy black tail to make the ribbons flutter. “You like ‘em?” 

“They’re so cute!” Evlee reached towards them, only for Harliss to smack her hand. “Ow!” She jerked it back, glaring at the Executor.

“Ask before you touch, Evlee.” Harliss lifted a single finger. “It’s impolite, otherwise.” She extended a second finger. “And he’s a brothel worker, touching isn’t free.” 

The urd’thin gave a chittering laugh. “Hey, I appreciate that!” He gave her a wide smile, all tiny, sharp teeth and perked, oversized ears. “She can touch as long as she’s gentle, and I don’t start chargin’ till her hands roam a little too far.” 

Evlee glared at the Executor, even as she spoke to the smaller creature. “May I touch your tail and it’s ribbons?” 

“Sure!” The urd’thin flicked his tail again, glancing over his shoulder at her. “Just don’t pet me against the fur, eh?” Then he glanced at the Executor again. “I’m sorry, you called me over, what can I do for you?” 

“First, you’re a brothel worker, right?” Harliss gazed around. None of the servers were dressed alike. “Do you all also work as servers in the tavern?” 

“I do both, yeah.” The urd’thin turned his head to watch Evlee gently stroke the silken fur of his black tail. “Most of us do whatever’s needed. So, you looking to eat, drink, hire, purchase, what’s your pleasure? I dunno what the Union lets their fancy killers do, but all services are currently open and available.” 

“Drink, for now.” Harliss glanced towards the bar. “Whiskey. Something good.” She turned her attention back to the urd’thin. “By which I do not mean your most overpriced. I assure you, I can tell the difference.” 

Evlee gently tugged on one of the golden ribbons. “These are so cute. Oh, and I’ll have the same, but more of it.” 

“Single for Fancy Union Killer One, a double for Fancy Union Killer Two.” The urd’thin held his hands up towards Harliss. “I should warn you, the Union gets charged a triple rate for, well, everything.” 

“The Union does.” Harliss settled her hand upon a pistol. “Executors do not. If they’re willing to let us keep our weapons, they’ll be willing to charge us the same rate as everyone else. Understood?” 

“Yes.” The urd’thin gulped, staring at her weapon. “Understood.” 

“Aww, don’t scare him, boss!” She reached out and ruffled the fur on the urd’thin’s head, just between his horns and ears. “Don’t worry, I’ll still tip like we’re paying triple.” 

“Nah, it’s fine, she didn’t scare me.” The urd’thin gave a little chitter of nervous laughter. “If she wanted to scare me, she’d have shoved it in my mouth.” 

“There’s a phrase I bet you hear surprisingly often, around here.” Tormin snorted. “Just water, for me. Someone’s got to keep their wits about them.”

“Oh, Tormin, you can’t visit a pirate pub and not have a drink.” Evlee glared at him, still toying with the urd’thin’s fur. “If one drink leaves you too inebriated to shoot straight, you might want to find another crew.”

“Fine, fine.” Tormin leaned across the table, gesturing with a finger. “Four measures cider, two measures rum, one measure sweet syrup, one dash cinnamon.” 

Harliss stared at Tormin, quirking a brow. 

“What?” Tormin sat back, crossing his arms again. “I’m allowed to enjoy things in life once in a while, aren’t I?” 

“Certainly! That was just unexpectedly specific. I’m impressed.” Harliss glanced back at the urd’thin. “You got all that?” 

The urd’thin pointed at all three of them in turn. “A single Gryphon Plume, a double Gryphon Plume, and for the gentlemen with the big scattergun, a Pants-Pisser.” 

Evlee giggled, turning towards Tormin. “That’s what you ordered?”

Tormin coughed, his face reddening just a shade. “I hoped if I described it to you, you wouldn’t call it that.” 

The urd’thin scratched the base of a horn. “Yeah, sorry, guess I coulda gone with Trouser Tinkler.” 

Evlee’s giggles turned into full on laughter. “Oh, that one’s even funnier.” 

Tormin slapped his hand against the table. “Just get my damn drink.” 

“Certainly, sir!” The urd’thin flicked his tail away from Evlee’s grasp, and gave them a little bow. “I’ll be right back with those drinks. My name is Coaldust, by the way.” 

Harliss watched Coaldust dart off, weaving his way through the crowds, towards the bar. His golden scarf fluttered behind him. A topless female gnoll carrying a platter laden with pitchers and bottles nearly tripped over him, only for Coaldust to pirouette around her at the last moment. He reached the bar, and clambered up atop it as adeptly as a lifetime sailor scaling the rigging. The acrobatic scrabbling nearly, but not quite, gave anyone looking a free peek at his available goods. Harliss imagined that was not by accident. Once on the bar, he passed the order to the trio of kobolds Harliss saw earlier. They swiftly scrambled up and down the shelves, pushing little ladders back and forth. One kobold tossed bottles down to another, who caught them, uncorked and poured them, and then heaved them back up. A third mixed the drink Tormin asked for, and set all three onto a little tray, and gave it to Coaldust. The urd’thin managed to climb back down with the tray balanced on a single hand, and soon was trotting back to the table. 

“Your drinks, your Sharp-Shooting Madams and Sirs.” Coaldust held the tray up, Harliss took the drinks, passing them out. “What else can I get you for the moment?” 

“Thank you. I’d also like to pay for a bit of your time, if that’s available.” Harliss slipped a hand into her jacket, retrieving a handful of gold coins. They were all Union-stamped, with their trio of golden stars on one side, and a silhouette of their capital city on the other. “Do you accept Union currency? I have others, if not.” 

“Oh yeah, it’s gold, right? As long as it’s gold, we’ll take it.” He held his tray up, a smirk stretching across his muzzle. “Whatcha looking for? I’ll do just about anything you’ve ever wanted an urd’thin to do for you, but I do got a few red lines, so-”

“Sorry,” Harliss said, holding her hand up to cut him off. “When I said your time, I meant that in the literal sense. I’d like you to remain as our exclusive server, and I’m assuming that isn’t free, since you could be making money elsewhere.” 

“Oh, is that all?” Coaldust flattened his ears back, his tail tucked. “Well don’t I feel like the soggy pup.”

Harliss had no idea what that apparent urd’thin colloquialism meant. “So is that a yes, or a no?”

“It’s a yes.” He held up his tray for the coins. “Pay’s hourly, but if you ain’t looking to fuck around, it’s minimum two hours. You don’t gotta keep my company the whole time, but you do gotta pay it. That’ll be twenty, to start.” 

Tormin nearly choked on his drink. “Twenty gold?” 

Harliss ignored his indignation, and paid the fee. Evlee reached out and dropped five more coins into a smaller pile atop the tray. “Those are for you, Coaldust.” 

“Much obliged!” Coaldust gave them another little bow. “Be right back!” 

As the urd’thin scurried off, Evlee clapped her hands in excitement. “Oh, this will be so fun! Our own little urd’thin whore!” 

“Are you crazy?” Tormin glared at her over the rim of his drink. “That’s more than a day’s damn wages!” 

Harliss only shrugged. “Not for us. Besides, how else am I going to learn how much money our men wasted in here? They sure as hell won’t give us an honest answer, and neither will the Emplacement unless we’re actually paying them. So, first I made it clear I expected the regular rates…” She patted her pistol. “Then I got drinks, and hired a whore. So to speak. Now I’ve a better idea of just how to garnish their pay, commiserate with the amount of money they spent in here.” 

Tormin blinked at her. “Wait, that was my idea.” 

“Yes, it was.” Harliss leaned back in her chair, sipping her whiskey. “And now that I’ve seen how overpriced this place is to begin with, I’m all the angrier that they spent three times that on some booze and whoring.” 

“So you did like my punishment recommendation?” 

Harliss took another sip, sighing in satisfaction. They were charging too much, for Gryphon Plume remained a damn fine spirit. “Of course. I just preferred to look at the larger picture. I don’t want to ruin these men’s careers, just teach them a lesson that stings a little while. Make sure they can’t afford to do it again for the next few months. We’ll keep it in house, though, I don’t want the Military Justice division to hear about it.” 

“A fair assessment.” Tormin swirled his drink, took a sip, then set it down. “So, we’ll see who all was too busy drinking and engaging in debauchery in here to go protect our ships, then we’ll draft up a wage garnishment scale. I recommend we overestimate the amount they spent, as well.” 

“Agreed.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice a little. “Plus, the urd’thin can probably give us a better idea.” 

“Oh, oh yeah, right.” Tormin smiled at her, a few too many teeth on display. “Alright, I’ll admit it, that’s a good tactic. He might even know if our runaway spy’s been spotted.” 

Harliss arched her brows, feigning surprise. “Really? What a wonderful idea!” 

Evlee gasped. “So that’s why you hired him!” She folded her arms, pouting. “And here I thought you were just doing it for me.” Then she rolled her eyes, laughing. “Of course that’s why she’s hiring him, Tormin.” 

Tormin took a drink, shooting her a glare. “I’m sorry we don’t all have minds as devious as yours.” 

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Chapter Twenty

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Nira stood at the edge of the lower deck’s large, circular promenade. The ship had several such promenades, rounded plazas lined with stalls and shops of all kinds. A variety of tables, chairs, and benches all designed to suit various races filled out the central area. Here on the lower decks, there were even a few gryphon loungers. Such plazas served as both social gathering area, and shopping center for the crew. 

Though the ship was designed to serve as both military machine and mobile fortress protecting the royal family, its vast size and crew capacity also made it a sort of city unto itself even before Nira’s captaincy had guided it in a decidedly different direction. Besides, even soldiers and crewmen had downtime. 

Many of items available at the ship’s commissaries were made by crewmembers. Tailors and cobbles sold clothing and footwear of styles and designs suitable for the ship’s many different peoples. They also sold custom services and made repairs. Others provided sold equipment of all kinds, or provided upkeep and maintenance on weapons and gear. Some sold tobacco and other sundries, or soaps and cleaning products for scales or fur. More vendors offered items like jewelry and loot acquired on raids, or ornamentation for quarters, bedclothes, cups and dinnerware, and on and on. If it couldn’t be made on the ship, then it was purchased and stockpiled on their rare trips to the few ports they could safely dock, or disembark on groups to shop. 

A few other stalls sold food and drink, though those were more carefully regulated. The ship did have its own gardens and crops, as well as a number of livestock. Given the number of mouths to feed, and the potential for highly extended travels without a chance to restock their larders, Nira had long since put strict rules in place governing their usage. Most food raised aboard the ship was designated to be spread amongst the crew. All animals aboard had limits imposed on their slaughter in order to maintain a breeding stock at all times. As result, much of the food prepared and sold in the commissary was made from dried or preserved ingredients. Vendors who wished to sell fresh meat, fruit, or vegetables had to be specifically licensed, and were only allowed to sell excess stock, after the ship’s quota was met, and without endangering the breeding lines. 

The winged crew members often hunted their own meals. The gryphons each ate enough to feed several gnolls, and Malaresh required even more food than that. It was not always practical, nor safe, for them to hunt every meal, so Nira tasked them with bringing in more meat and food than they utilized themselves whenever possible. 

Over the years, the ship had developed its own currency system. Nira tried to keep it as simple as possible, while allowing any crew members who participated in dangerous raids to keep the valuables they acquired. She had implemented a flat rate, so that all coins minted of gold were worth the same valuable, regardless of age or origin. A single golden coin from the former Black Star Empire was worth the same as one from the Union, which was worth as much as something from across the Great Emptiness, or beyond the sunken seas. The same was true of coins of other valuable metals. Truthfully, heavy as gold was, Nira sometimes wished she could get rid of it all. Yet considering most of their resupply was done at black markets, she rather doubted she could talk them into taking deeds, bonds, or any of the other paper currencies starting to show themselves across the Union lands. 

Alakor wandered the plaza, strolling from shop to shop. Sivik and Lissir accompanied him, serving as buffer between the snow gryphon and his many onlookers. Word had quickly spread of Alakor’s defection, and his fight with the dragon. Everyone wanted to catch a glimpse of him. Between his striking coloration and impressive size, he was impossible to miss. A crowd followed him, with furred gnolls and scaly lizardfolk staring over the tall ears of urd’thin, and little horned heads of kobolds. Other gnolls and va’chaak hoisted up their urd’thin companions, or carried kobolds on their shoulders.

The whole promenade buzzed with their chattering voices. Now and then Alakor turned to stare at them, or offer them a little bow of his head, or flash a gryphon smile, all open beak and perked ears. Lissir and Sivik stayed between him and the crowd, keeping everyone else at bay. At least for the moment it seemed as if they were guarding him from the ship’s crew, rather than the other way around. If nothing else, they were keeping him from getting swamped. 

Malaresh loomed across the plaza from the gryphon, settled onto his haunches at the entry to a hallway in which he barely fit. Rog stood next to him, apparently conversing with the dragon. When Malaresh looked her way, Nira waved. The dragon nodded, then rose up to his paws and padded out into the plaza with Rog alongside him. The dragon skirted around the tables and chairs towards Nira, soon drawing the attention of the crowd. Some of them took to watching him instead of the gryphon. Malaresh paused to flare his wings out and arch his neck, basking in their attention.

Rog, meanwhile, trotted over to Nira. The gnoll was now dressed in a dark golden shirt, with ebony buttons, tucked into gray breeches with indigo threading. A few buttons at the top of his shirt were undone, letting beige-brown fur peek out. His bushy tail poked out through a loop at the back of his pants, while custom-fitted black leather boots with silver adorned his feet. His fur looked freshly washed and groomed, and the scent of flowery soaps clung to him. 

Before Nira could greet him, Rog playfully thumped her on the shoulder. “You coulda woke me, you know.” 

Nira grunted, rubbing her shoulder. “I could have you executed for that, you know. Striking royalty is considered treason.” 

“Uh huh.” Rog folded his arms, a grin stretched across his canine-like muzzle. “Next time, wake me.” 

“Oh, nonsense.” Nira slugged his arm in return, earning a little wince from the gnoll. “You were fast asleep, and I hardly need a security escort to talk to Malaresh.”

Rog just splayed his ears, his grin turning into a scowl. 

Nira sighed, fidgeting with her sleeve. “Alright, fine, Malaresh is probably the only person on the ship I may need extra security around, but-”

“Not him.” Rog snorted, and flicked his tail. “The lizard ain’t gonna hurt you.” He turned towards Alakor, watching the white gryphon. “Him, though. He ain’t earned my trust. And I ain’t no good as your Guard Captain if I leave you alone with people I don’t trust.” 

“No, I suppose you’re not.” Nira made a show of looking the gnoll over. 

Rog blinked, then folded his arms. “You aren’t supposed to agree with me about that part!” 

“I don’t know…” Nira rubbed her chin, pointedly inspecting the gnoll. “You haven’t even brought any weapons.” 

The gnoll gave a deep, frustrated groan. “Aww, damn it. I was this close to strappin’ on my whole damn arsenal!” He held a dull-clawed thumb and finger a tiny bit apart. “Or at least my axe and my scattergun. But I was sure if I did, you were gonna yell at me for sendin’ the wrong message to our guest.” Rog stared down at Nira’s gun belt. “And…now I see you came armed, yourself.”

“Thought I’d get back into the habit.” Nira set a hand on one of her pistols. “You wanna borrow one?” 

“Nah, you keep ‘em.” Rog flashed her a fang-filled smile. “If the bird gets rough, I’ll just jump on his head and strangle ‘em. Though…” He stared down at himself. “I do feel kinda naked without any weapons.” 

“Oh?” Nira quirked a brow. “I didn’t think you ever felt naked. Even when you’re actually nude.” 

The gnoll wriggled, looking as uncomfortable as Nira could remember, if only momentarily. “Think I’d rather be naked with my axe or a big gun than I would be fully clothed, but weaponless.” 

Nira patted his arm. “How very raider of you. Your ancestors would surely be proud.” She dropped her hand back down, smiling. “You look sharp, at least. You smell nice, too.” 

Rog scrunched his muzzle. “I smell like damn flowers.” He lifted his arm, sniffing his fur. “It was the only soap you had.” 

“Like I said, you smell nice.” Nira shook her head, smiling. 

If Rog had used her bathtub, where had he gotten the clean clothes from? He must have gone to his own room, after. She wondered if he’d even bothered to wrap a towel around himself in the hallway. Nira enjoyed the thought, along with the mental image of the startled looks he might have earned. 

“So what’s the plan, Princess?” Rog folded his arms, turning a steely gaze towards the white gryphon as if eager to move beyond the fact he was unarmed and smelled like flowers. “The dragon says you’re gonna interrogate him.” 

“Malaresh may be exaggerating, slightly.” She glanced at the dragon, still basking in curiosity that he probably told himself was adulation. “As usual. But I do plan to confront Alakor, and-”

“Fuck.” Rog growled, baring his fangs. “A confrontation? I knew I shoulda brought my damn weapons.”

“Not that kind of confrontation.” Nira chewed her tongue, trying to think of a better way to phrase it. “I’m going to let him know we believe he’s only joined with us in order to seek revenge, and that we think he’s setting up a trap for his former masters.” 

“Ah. That’s not so bad.” Rog unfolded his arms to rub his muzzle. “Though, it could turn into the other kind of confrontation, if things take a sharp turn into shit.” 

Nira chuckled. “Indeed. But that’s why I asked Malaresh to join me. And of course Sivik and Lissir.”

“Oh, I see how it is.” Rog glared down at her, but a playful sort of mischief danced in his burnt golden eyes anyway. “Invite everyone but your Guard Captain, huh?”

Nira put her hand on his arm again. “That’s because my Guard Captain has a terrible habit of showing up for confrontations without your weapons.” 

Rog barked laughter, but then flattened his ears back. “That better not become a running joke.” 

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll forget it in a few months, or so.” Nira turned her attention to the gryphon, watching him a moment. “Besides, at least you gnolls have natural weapons.” 

“Yeah.” Rog grabbed his crotch. “We sure do!”

Nira snorted, shaking her head. “I meant your teeth, Rog. Your claws and teeth.” 

“Oh.” Rog grunted, adjusted himself, and folded his arms again. “So, uh, what’s the plan? We just gonna walk up and tell him we know he’s trying to play us?” 

“I’m going to have ask him to go somewhere a little quieter.” Nira pointed across the promenade. “There’s an observation area out there, I think I may ask him to join me out there. After that I’ll probably just…jump into it. I want to make it clear we know what he’s up too, assuming the dragon is right. And that we don’t appreciate being led around like this. But also that he’s going to get a chance to prove himself. Malaresh told me about an unusual ship, too, that I’m hoping Alakor has some information on.”

“Right.” Rog nodded, tail swishing behind him. “You wanna play good cop, or bad cop?”

“Rog, you could never pull off the good cop routine.” Nira drummed her fingers against a pistol. “And we’re not doing that, anyway. I was going to talk to him myself, but since you’re here, you can come along too. Just stand there and look menacing, although…” She glanced over at him, smirking. “That’d be easier if you were armed.”

“Hi-fucking-larious.” 

“Seriously, though, if you think I’ve missed something or need to interject, feel free, but I’d like to conduct the talks myself.”

“Nah, I agree,” Rog said. “You’re the captain, captains do the talking. Make sure he remembers you’re in charge.” 

Nira nodded, then started towards Malaresh. “Exactly. I don’t want to come across as hostile, but I want him to understand we’re onto him about this, and if there’s more? We’ll figure that out soon enough, too.” As she approached the dragon, she lifted her voice. “Have you absorbed enough attention to hit your daily quota yet?” 

Malaresh jerked his head around from where he was conversing with the crew. Rather than respond with sarcasm, he made a loud, snarling noise, then called out in a brassy voice that echoed across the plaza. “Make way for the princess!” 

The gathered crew all quickly moved aside, many offering little bows or salutes. Nira smiled at them and waved, and returned a few of the salutes. She’d tried to dissuade most of the crew from offering her any formal sort of bows, curtsies, or other prostrations, but the salutes were fine. Despite her royal status, she considered herself more of a the captain of the vessel than a true princess these days. Since there were a few dozen people gathered around the dragon, with many more in earshot, she decided to give them a quick address. 

“Good day, everyone!” She turned to address the crowd, resting her hands on her hips. “We’re going to be moving into potentially hostile air, soon. We’ll be making our way towards the Emplacement soon, and we believe that at least a small number of Union vessels are currently in the area.” She held her hands up, cutting off any questions. “Go ahead and finish your shopping, but later in the day we’ll be sounding the general alert. It will not be a drill! Everyone’s going to need to be at battle stations. I don’t expect combat, but I sure as hell plan to be prepared for it anyway. Now, I need some time with the dragon, and to debrief our guest. Feel free to spread the word, I’ll have Security doing the same soon enough.” She shifted her eyes to Rog, and gave him a barely perceptible nod. 

The gnoll stepped forward, bellowing across the room. “Dismissed!” 

Between Nira’s announcement and Rog’s shout, the promenade’s crowd returned to their tasks with a little more urgency. Those surrounding the gryphon also went back to shopping, bartering, and finishing up their meals. When they had some space, Nira approached the dragon, keeping her voice low. 

“Alright, if you’re ready, I’m going to go talk with Alakor,” Nira said. “There’s an observation platform a short distance away, that I may take him too, just so no one overhears us. If you’d follow at a distance and wait just inside, I’d appreciate it.” 

“As you wish.” Malaresh swept a paw out in a grand wave. “After you, your Majesty.” 

Nira crossed the plaza, cutting between tables and chairs towards the trio of gryphons. Lissir and Sivik stood on either side of Alakor, making sure the gradually departing crew members didn’t cause any trouble. Both gray-hued females wore simple cargo satchels strapped around their necks, with leather pouches resting against their chests. They splayed their forelegs and bowed their heads to Nira. Alakor observed them, and then made the same gesture, touching the tip of his beak to the floor. 

“Oh, don’t bow, girls.” Nira gestured for the gryphons to rise, sighing. 

Lissir straightened up, glancing at the white feathered male. “She doesn’t really like it when people bow to her outside formal situations, anymore.”

Sivik pushed up to her paws as well, smiling. “Which is why we do it. Because it bothers her, and that makes it fun.” 

Alakor lifted his head, ruffling himself. “I rather doubt I’ve reached that level of familiarity with the princess, just yet.” 

“You have not.” Nira inspected the male gryphon for any lingering signs of his brawl with Malaresh. All the dried blood from the day before was gone. His fur and feathers were freshly washed, stark-white and fluffy. Even the black tips to his flight, tail, and crown feathers had a new lustre. “You look good.” 

“I always do.” Alakor fluffed up his feathers, smiling.

Nira padded around him. “Be that as it may, you looked a hell of a lot worse, last night. How’re you feeling?”

“Like I kicked a dragon’s ass, of course.” The gryphon glanced at Malaresh, looming nearby, and offered him an open-beaked smile. 

“Other than that, sore as hell from my beak to my balls.”

“I feel like your ego may be re-writing history.” According to the medic’s report she’d read earlier, there were an awful lot of bruises hidden under all that snowy fluff. And an awful lot of hidden scars. “How are you really feeling? Medics said you were pretty roughed up.” 

“Honestly?” The gryphon flattened his ears, laying his feathers back down. “Sore as hell, from my beak to my balls.” He clicked his beak at Nira. “That last one’s your fault.” 

“No, that last one’s your fault,” Nira said, poking the gryphon’s shoulder as she came around to the front of him again. “For ignoring repeated warnings about disrespecting my crew.” She leaned in to look over the gryphon’s face. One of his bright blue eyes was noticeably bloodshot. A crack marred the upper right side of his beak, the source of most of yesterday’s bleeding. It looked cleaned now, with no signs of fresh blood. “Will your beak heal up?”

Alakor brushed his paw pads over his beak, wincing. “Heal? Yes. Close up completely? I don’t think so. It’s only a little crack, though. It’ll remind me not to get punched in the beak by a dragon again.” 

“So it shall,” Nira said, chuckling. “Now, if you’re up for it, I’d like you to accompany me out to the observation deck near here. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Certainly.” Alakor watched a few more crewmembers hurry about the plaza, then depart with a bit more rush in their step than before. “Does it have anything to do with that general alert you mentioned?” 

“I think you know it does.” Nira took a few steps away, then waited for him to follow. “This way, if you would.” 

Alakor swished his tail as he followed her, brushing the black-edged feathers against both female gryphons. “Will the lovely ladies be accompanying us?” 

“Ladies, he says.” Sivik chirruped gryphon laughter, then nipped at his tail. “Such a city bird.” 

“Actually, they’ll be waiting just behind, with Malaresh.” Nira waved the two females off, and they both gave her quick nods of understanding. 

Lissir strolled towards the dragon, shaking her wings out. “I suppose the dragon will have to entertain us, then. Preferably in ways that won’t make Jirril jealous.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sivik said, striding up alongside her sister. “That might be more fun.” 

“I’m sure I can find some way to entertain a few beautiful gryphons for a little while.” Malaresh stretched his wings out, draping their tips across each gryphon’s back. 

“Try not to distract each other too much.” Nira turned away, gesturing for Alakor to follow. 

The princess led the snow gryphon out of the promenade, and down an adjoining corridor. Malaresh, Sivik, Lissir, and Rog all followed them. Tarnished brass rails lined the dark wood paneled walls. The once plush maroon carpet was flattened and increasingly threadbare. Stains marked it here and there. The hallway mirrored most other such halls in the populated sections of the ship. Nira was used to the general state of disrepair, but guiding a guest reminded her anew of just how worn down things had become. The entire ship could use a deep cleaning, and an interior overhaul, if not a complete retrofit. Yet Nira doubted that was a luxury they’d ever be able to afford, let alone find a place they could safely dock at for long enough. Perhaps if they did it themselves, a deck at a time. She was certain the crew could handle it, but feared that by the time they’d finished the final deck’s refurbishment, it would be time to start all over again at the top. 

“How long does it take to get used to?” Alakor gazed about as they walked. He opened a wing partway, waving it around himself. “The noises, the vibrations, the sensations of movement.” 

“Movement?” Nira paused, glancing back at the gryphon. “Good question.” She scrunched her face. “Are we moving? Unless we’re in turbulence or really pushing the ship, I barely even notice the feeling of motions anymore. The vibrations and noise, though…” She rested a hand against the nearest rail. Ever so slightly, the cool metal shivered under her touch. When she focused on it, the whole ship seemed to buzz with it. The roars and rattles of distant engines, the shuddering of hidden pipes, the whirr of turbines and propellers turning, the hiss of lamps. She pulled her hand back, her palm tingling slightly from the vibrations. “I scarcely notice those things half the time anymore, either. I’ve been on this ship a decade now, I think. Hell, the last time I was ashore, that actually felt stranger.” Nira folded her arms, considering the question. “It took me a few months, at least, to really get used to it. Couldn’t sleep, at first, but…” Old memories squeezed her heart with cold fingers. “That wasn’t the ship’s fault.” 

Alakor nodded, softening his voice. “You’d just fled your home, right? That must have been very difficult.” 

Nira rubbed her face, swallowing hard. “It was. Wasn’t entirely my choice, either. My parents…” She glanced back to Rog, and the gnoll stepped forward to pick up for her. 

“The Emperor and Empress gave Merriam and me the order, and…” Rog licked his muzzle, putting an arm around Nira’s shoulders. He squeezed her gently, and Nira leaned her head against his chest. “We had to carry her, cause…she didn’t wanna go.” 

Nira squeezed her eyes shut, and in an instant, her mind was a awash with shouts and screams, smoke and flames, gunfire, and valiant people dying in vain attempt to protect their city, their homes, their families. “I wanted to stay, and fire. But mom, and dad, they…only wanted to save me, and…my sister.” Tears brimmed in her eyes at the mention of Tryn, her throat tightened. “I…I have a younger sister. I…don’t like to admit it, because it’s just…” She sighed, pressing her face to Rog’s chest. 

Alakor offered a soft coo of sympathy. “I understand.” 

Nira doubted that he did, but so no reason to point that out. “We were out of time, and…she couldn’t be found. We were afraid she might already be…” Nira gestured, wordless. She took a slow breath, only for Rog to pick up for her again. 

“When the Emperor and Empress themselves give you an order, you do it. So I picked her up, tossed her over my shoulder, and I…” Rog’s voice shook just as much as Nira’s. “I ran for the ship, with Merriam, the former Guard Captain. We came under fire, and Merriam covered us, made sure we got to the ship. I hauled her aboard, and…” 

“And then we were in the sky.” Nira squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stave off the worst of the memories. But smoke and cannon fire filled her mind, now, and there was nothing she could do but let memory’s dark water carry her along. “The last of the Empire’s Home Fleet closed ranks to protect us, to…to cover our escape. The city…our home…it was already lost, and…everyone knew it, by then. They…they could have surrendered, but…how many of those ships went down in flames, for us? Just to make sure the Empire survived, to make sure…” Nira sniffed, wiping unshed tears from her eyes. “To make sure I survived, and for what? How many more people died, just so I could live? How can I ever be worthy of such a sacrifice? How can I-”

“It was their duty, Nira.” Rog wrapped both furry arms around her, hugging her tightly. “That was the oath they took. It was not about being worthy, you can’t…you can’t trade one life, for another, and claim you’re doing right. But…neither can you measure your life, against all theirs. They…they all knew they were going to die, when the city fell. Hell, you and I, and…everyone else, we all thought we were going to die, too. If the attack came, a month earlier, before the ship was ready? We would have. But those soldiers, in those airships? They can rest easy now, knowing…knowing their sacrifice kept the Empire alive, one way or another. Kept…kept you alive.” Rog sniffed with her, easing off his hug long enough to wipe his muzzle with the back of a hand. “And I know…you don’t like to talk about it, and…sometimes you don’t feel worthy of…of a sacrifice like that. But…but we think you are.” Rog managed a smile, his ears perked. Tears brimmed in his golden eyes. “Everyone on this ship owes their lives to you, now. You could say, it wasn’t just you they were protecting, while we fled. It was all of us. It was…”

“It was the ideal of equality for all species,” Alakor said, breaking his silence. The gryphon kept his voice soft and respectful, his head low. “For all your Empire’s many faults, and callous cruelties, you put forth one great ideal, that people like him…” He gestured with a paw at Rog, then at the dragon. “And him…” Finally, he pointed at the other gryphons before putting a paw to his chest. “And us. That we did not have to be your slaves, or your monsters to be slain. That we too, could be your equals, and your citizens. If it helps to lighten the anchor chained round your heart, imagine it that way. That the soldiers and airmen who died covering your escape did so not to protect a single individual, but the one great ideal that individual represented. An ideal borne out in this grand ship.” Alakor slowly shook his head, sighing. “No monsters, no slaves. Only citizens.” 

Nira lifted her head away from Rog, turning back towards the gryphon. She wiped her eyes again, struggling to force a smile that refused to come. “I do like that better than dying so a Princess could become a pirate.” She swallowed a few times, eventually abandoning her attempt to put on a brave face. “I cannot help but think so many of those poor people died, expecting me to return a few years later, having raised some…some great, liberating army.” She took a deep breath. “I sure as hell wanted too, early on. But those first years were…hell, all we were really doing was surviving, and…I had so many more lives to worry about, now. When they offered me a truce, of sorts, I had to take it. I’d realized by then that even a ship like this wouldn’t be enough to liberate an entire nation. And that…What was done, was done. My responsibility now was my crew. I won’t give up their lives to pursue some unwinnable war that’s already been lost.” Nira blinked away a few more tears, then cleared her throat with a growl. “So the Empire will have to live on here, in our own little flying corner of the world. Where I hope we’ll live true to the ideal you mentioned, and where I will fight tooth, and nail, for every single life on board this ship, for as long as I draw breath.” 

“And you see?” Alakor dipped his head in a respectful bow. “That’s all anyone of your soldiers could have ever asked of you. They’d be very proud to hear you say that.” 

“I hope you’re right.” Nira leaned her back against Rog’s chest. “That was…not how I wanted this conversation to go.” 

“No, I rather thought not.” Alakor stretched his wings out at his sides, nearly filling the great hallway. “I suspected you’d come to confront me about whatever the dragon thinks he saw in my eyes, last night.” 

Nira forced herself not to show any reaction. Despite the memories still rolling through her mind, she managed to remain neutral. “Did you?” 

“Seemed a reasonable guess.” Alakor pulled his wings back again, resettling them against his sides. “I do apologize for bringing up painful memories. That was not my intention. I was just legitimately curious how long it will take me to grow accustomed to this ship’s noises and vibrations.” 

Nira managed a smile. “I know. I suppose sometimes I just leave things buried to long for my own good.”

“Sometimes?” Rog snorted.

“Like you’re any better,” Nira said, shooting the gnoll a glare. “You were crying when we left palace, too, and yet I scarcely think I’ve heard you talk about it since.” 

Rog scratched his ear. “I don’t remember crying.” 

Nira poked him in the belly. “You were like a whimpering puppy. We both were.” 

The gnoll offered a lopsided grin, perking a single ear as well. “Okay, maybe after it sank in. And maybe I cried, but you sure as hell didn’t. Not at first, anyway.” He glanced over at Alakor. “What do you know about the battle, when your people finally took the city? What happened to your airship fleets?” 

Alakor sucked in a breath, fluffing himself up as if to defend from any upcoming accusations. “I was not present at that battle, though…I have had a peek at the unredacted historical accounts, order of battle reports, and casualty lists. The first fleet they sent in, to bombard the city itself was mostly downed by a combination of your anti-air defenses, and your home fleet’s counter attack. Along with the participation of several dragons, and a number of gryphon flights. The reminder limped back behind the line, to rejoin with the second fleet to try and make the final push.”

“Which was when the Cataclysm launched, right?” Rog put a hand on Nira’s shoulder, pride shining through in his voice. “You hear about what happened then?” 

“Rog?” Nira put her hand over his. “We don’t need to-”

“In the middle of the night, just as our second fleet was beginning its assault, a massive ship previously believed to be an incomplete prototype, launched itself from an fortified hanger that was itself believed to be a rumor. Upon successfully taking to the skies, the ship which, at the time was believed to contain the entire Imperial family, was expected to flee to the south.” Alakor tilted his head, blue eyes piercing Nira as if taking the measure of her soul. “Instead, flanked by the remains of your home fleet, this ship turned head-on into battle, and proceeded to nearly obliterate our second fleet, whilst making its escape by punching right through our lines, and inflicting as much damage as possible on its way out. Is that about right, Nira?” 

“Not exactly how I remember it,” Nira said, clenching her jaw. 

“She stormed onto the bridge,” Rog said, squeezing her shoulder. “And screamed at the crew, ‘fire everything we have!’ Then she refused to leave the bridge for the rest of the night. Finally had to carry her off to bed when she couldn’t fight off the exhaustion anymore.” 

“I didn’t…” Nira took a breath, and heaved it back out in a long sigh. “I didn’t want to flee, while our own people were still fighting, still…still dying.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I didn’t want to leave my family behind.” 

“I know, Nira, I know.” Rog rested his muzzle against the top of her head, wrapping an arm around her waist in gentle embrace. “No one did. But it was the only option we had left.”

Nira rubbed her forehead, grinding her teeth. “Let’s just…move on, shall we? I still have things to talk to Alakor about.” She pointed towards the end of the hall. “The observation deck is just out there. Give me a moment to collect myself, will you?” 

“Certainly.” Alakor dipped his head, then turned to walk away. “I’ll see you in moment.” 

As soon as he was out of earshot, the female gryphons hurried over, with Malaresh just behind them. “Are you alright?” Lissir gently touched her beak to Nira’s shoulder, concern weighing heavily in her voice, and shining in her eyes. “Maybe you should discuss things with Alakor later.” 

“I’m fine.” Nira rubbed Lissir’s beak, thankful for her worry. “I just…I think the stress is getting to me, lately. I should have just answered his damn question, directly and to the point. I dunno why I let myself get lost in memories.” 

“It’s easy enough to do,” Sivik said. She stood next to her sister, bumping her head against Nira’s middle. “We’re always here to talk, if you need us.” 

“Thank you, both of you.” Nira stroked both gryphon’s heads, smiling. “I really do appreciate you both immensely. Like I said to Rog, I just…bottle things up more than I should.” 

“You do.” Lissir lifted her head until her eyes met Nira’s. “I’ll rarely mention this, but…you should talk about your sister, sometime. Your family. Painful as it is, it’s…good for you to lift some of these weights from your heart, once in a while.” 

Nira cringed inwardly, pursing her lips. “No, you’re right, I should. I can’t promise I will, but at least I can admit I should.” 

“That’s a start, I suppose.” Sivik bumped her again, then stepped back to make room for Malaresh. 

“You are a fine leader, and your crew respects you.” The dragon lowered his head to brush his muzzle against her cheek in what Nira assumed was meant as a tender, comforting gesture. “If you have tears yet to shed, then you should shed them.” Malaresh pulled his head back just a little. “But do so in private, so your crew does not think you weak.” 

Nira blinked, then found herself laughing. “You’re…trying to help, and that’s what matters, I think. So thank you, Malaresh.” 

“You are welcome.” The dragon glanced everyone else. “My advice, of course, was the most helpful.”

“Sure it was,” Nira said. “Alright. Let’s try this again. Rog, wait here with the others. I want to try talking to him alone, but be ready if I call you in. That goes for all of you, save Malaresh. Dragon, I want you to watch from the door, let him see you so he knows he’d damn well better be truthful. But don’t intervene unless you sense deception, and you don’t think I’ve realized it.” 

The dragon bowed his head. “Understood. Ready when you are.”

“Good. Let’s get this over with, then.” Nira turned away from the group to follow after Alakor. “Since none of this has gone to plan already, I’m just going to jump right in.”