A Perverted Path to Victory

Tulian Capital

Crossed Glory's Helm

Three and a Half Months Until Invasion

Sara watched the collection of ships slip through the harbor's gate with hands folded primly behind her back. She was wearing what had become her Official Uniform, an eclectic mix of Earthly styles and Tulian sensibilities. Her favored leather jacket, made of black crocodile hide, was slipped over her seagrass-based nylon jumpsuit. This particular suit was a recent gift from Ketch's father, tailored specifically for this day, that had been thickened into something less revealing than the original. It didn't breathe as well as the thinner versions Sara wore in private, but it sure beat the hell out of itchy cloth or pompous silks. 

The rest of her outfit was less familiar to her old sensibilities. She had selected them not to match her own tastes, but for political presentation. Her steel-toed boots had the leather peeled off the front, to show the metal beneath, marking her as a working woman, yet the finely worked leather implied subtle wealth, the kind that preferred practicality to display. Her sword was kept in a scabbard that Hurlish had strategically dented, adding fake battle damage that Sara hadn't actually allowed the sheath to suffer. Her hair fell over her shoulders, Evie's careful hands curling it even more than normal a few hours before, as was the style in Tulian to fight off humidity's frizzing. She wore no makeup, and had a light bruise on her right collarbone from the morning's sparring session that she'd consciously left uncovered.

What was most important, however, was the smallest addition to her ensemble. The control band to Evie' collar was ever-present on her right wrist, irremovable, but now it was complimented by a new band on her left. There was was clasped a near perfect replica of the divine control band, polished to an iridescent sheen, but with one critical modification: a jagged crack splitting it over the top. An aspirational garment, representing the dream that the Tulian Republic had been founded to fulfill. 

Sara patted herself down a few extra times, just to be safe, and glanced to her left. Nora stood beside her, wearing the same uniform as always, a napoleonic officer's uniform of black and gold. She had a foul expression on her face, jaw working. 

"I still think yer a fool for this, Sara."

"It's a good thing I'm in charge, then."

Nora spat to the side, unwilling to rekindle the old debate. It was one that had raged over the past few days as the Carrion delegation approached, centered around the capital's harbor defenses. Nora had vehemently insisted that they needed to expend every possible effort to bolster the city's oceanside fortifications, greeting the foreign diplomats with as strong a face as possible. Sara, having heard endless tales of Carrion prowess from Nora herself, had drawn the opposite conclusion. 

Sara had ordered every ballistae placed along the harborside transferred to the inland walls, halted repairs of the harbor gates, ordered the building of additional flimsy wooden docks in lieu of repairing the stone wharfs, and demolished several rotten dockside warehouses. The only defenses that remained were the walls themselves, and when Nora's naval scouts had reported the Carrion approach, she'd ordered the guards patrolling them to take the day off. Tulian was now as indefensible a city as she could make it, at least when it came to the sea, and it drove Nora mad. 

"Do you really think the Carrion Navy would be impressed by anything we could cook up?" Sara asked. "We'd look like toddlers brandishing a butter knife."

"It's not about winning, Sara. It's about making them think the attack will bleed them enough to not be worth the trouble."

"You said they've got over a hundred magecraft in their fleet."

"Aye. But deploying them against us weakens them elsewhere, and that isn't something they're eager to do."

"But they would think it worthwhile, to ride themselves of a potentially hostile Champion."

Nora pressed her lips thin, not responding. Sara let the topic drop. She was convinced she'd chosen the right course, but that didn't mean Nora was being foolish. Sara took the captain's advice at face value more often than any of her allies, but in this case, she refused to compromise. Where Sara viewed this meeting as one between prospective allies, Nora saw it as the sizing up of two future combatants. If Sara had magically gazed into the future to discover the fae-touched captain was right, that conflict with the Carrion Navy was inevitable, Sara would have happily thrown every last coin at the harbor's defenses. Lacking that prophetic insight, Sara had chosen a different tack, one with more risk and more reward. Better to be seen as a friend welcoming them with open arms.

The Carrion delegation swept into the harbor at an impressive clip, four ships sailing mere yards abreast to slip through the gate as one. It was an impressive display of sailing prowess, magnified by the second and third row of ships, which slid through in the exact same fashion. In a tenth of the time it would have taken to enter in column, all twelve Carrion vessels had entered the harbor. One vessel broke away from the line, heading towards the Crossed Glory. 

Sara didn't need Nora's expertise to recognize the delegation's flagship. It was a magecraft, built of a style Sara hadn't seen before. It was wider than the Crossed Glory by a half-dozen yards and nearly twice as long, propelled by three massive square sails. Even as long as the vessel was, perhaps two hundred feet or so, all three sails should have overlapped too much for them to fully catch the wind. They billowed in the light breeze anyway, plowing a wake through the harbor as signal flags were run up its frontmost mast. 

"They're requesting permission to dock all twelve ships abreast at the stone wharfs," Nora translated. "Don't want to split up their fleet, which is to be expected, but they'll occupy the finest docks for the duration of their visit. A bit rude, to throw a snag in a port's operations like that."

"Maybe, but it's our fault for not having enough docks to properly accommodate them. Let them have their pick."

Nora raised her voice, translating Sara's response into naval jargon parsable by a signalwoman. The Carrion ships responded immediately, gracefully curving to take their places. Only the lead vessel, the magecraft, continued unchanged, heading straight for the Crossed Glory. 

"I take it that's the head honcho's ship?"

"Aye. Haven't a clue who she's delivering, but the captain's a high ranker for sure. That's one of their Bulkers. A transport magecraft, meant for delivering marines to enemy cities. Tough fuckers, they are, built to shrug off catapults and spells on their way into an enemy harbor."

"I don't suppose you've got a plan for that ship being full of Carrion marines itching to take the city?"

"Not a damn one," Nora cheerfully replied. She side-eyed Sara. "I might've, if we'd had any defenses prepared..."

Sara chuckled darkly. "Guess we'll just have to put our faith in Carrion honor. I'm not all that concerned, though. Can't imagine they'd send a letter ahead if they were interested in taking the city."

"One hopes so."

Sara ambled up to the edge of the helm as the Bulker finished its approach, figures and faces becoming clear as the distance closed. An honor guard of plumed marines was on the central deck, wearing the same armor that Ignite still preferred. The former Carrion sergeant had sent himself out on a distant patrol for the duration of the delegation's visit, thoroughly uninterested in his countrymen learning of his "shameful" refusal to commit suicide with the rest of his defeated crew. Sara would have loved to have his advice through the negotiations, but couldn't bring herself to force him to confront what he still viewed as a deeply personal shame. 

Nora's advice would serve her well enough. The Crossed Glory was anchored a hundred yards beyond the docks for the purposes of this initial meeting, allowing the Bulker to slide up alongside them with ease. As the magecraft entered speaking distance, anchors on the front and rear of the ship were tossed, padding attached to ropes dropped over the side to prevent the two ship's hulls from scraping. The core of marines suddenly slammed their gauntleted fists against their breasts, a crack of metal sounding as they saluted in perfect unison. One marine, with a plethora of medals pinned to the front of his breastplate, stepped forward and took a deep breath.

"Presenting Captain Vanillaflower Sturdy, Representative of the Carrion Admiralty, he who is authorized to act in the interests of the Navy and her glorious people!"

Sara narrowly avoided rolling her eyes. 

The front row of marines parted, an individual emerging from within the press of guards. Captain Vanillaflower, Sara presumed. He was dressed in royal finery of Carrion style, a mixture of exotic silks and cloths dyed into garishly bright hues by a dizzying variety of foreign colors. His black Captain's hat was the only article of clothing that didn't hurt to look at, and that was only because it was made of a rubbery-looking material. Sealskin, Sara guessed. An expensive novelty item from the far-distant northern regions where such animals lived, rather than an island of normalcy in his absurd getup.

A gangplank dropped from the Bulker, angled down to reach the Crossed Glory's considerably lower deck. Nora moved to the end of the gangplank, overseeing her crew's securing of the bridge. Captain Vanillaflower walked up to it, stopped just before stepping up, and pivoted smartly to face Nora. 

"Permission to come aboard, Captain O'Gallison?"

"Permission granted, Captain Vanillaflower."

Several things surprised Sara over the next few moments. First was the fact that Captain Vanillaflower moved up onto the gangplank alone, none of his guards moving ahead to ensure his safety. He walked across without any apparent concern, dropping lightly down to the deck. Sara's surprise grew as none of the guards followed afterward, nor any attendants, nor even secondary diplomats. Sara could see the marines Vanillaflower had left behind straining at the leash to follow him, but they clearly had orders to remain put. 

Vanillaflower swept his hat off his head and tucked it into his stomach as he greeted Sara with a bow. "Governess Sara." He placed his hat back on his head, then extended his hand to Nora. "Captain O'Gallison. A pleasure to be on your vessel."

"The pleasure's mine," Nora replied, shaking his hand firmly. "Not every day I have a magecraft's captain on my deck."

"And not every day that I get to shake the hand of an admiral, either." Vanillaflower returned his attention Sara. "Nor address the head of state so soon after my arrival. A testament to your commitment to the Tulian people that you so closely guide their fortunes, Governess."

"Your kind words are appreciated, Captain Vanillaflower, but I don't think my personal attendance is so exemplary. There is little more important for a ruler to busy themselves with than the greeting of a prospective ally."

If Vanillaflower thought anything of Sara so brazenly declaring her intent to secure an alliance, he showed nothing of it, but neither did he acknowledge the comment. He simply nodded sagely. "Wise words, Governess. Mine would be a far smoother occupation if other rulers thought as you did." Vanillaflower looked about, as if taking in the Crossed Glory's details for the first time. "An oddly patterned ship for such a meeting, I must say. Our records had it registered to one Captain Tilisa, but the ownership has clearly changed hands. I understand this to be your flagship, Admiral?" 

"It is, but a temporary one. Her replacement is under construction at the moment, and should be ready before the spring."

"A magecraft, then?" Vanillaflower asked.

"No, but similar in capability," Sara replied. "She is being built with many techniques known only to my old world, and the transition of our industries is time consuming. Perhaps if the discussion proceeds smoothly enough, there will be time for you to tour the drydock which holds her."

Vanillaflower visibly brightened at the suggestion. "A most fascinating opportunity, and one I would be glad to pursue, if circumstances allow it. Though the Carrion Navy is vast, we aren't so arrogant to believe that only our own vessels are worthy of appreciation."

Sara nodded, glancing at the Bulker magecraft while she parsed the conversation's undertones. An offer to view a Navy's capital ship under construction was an enticing one, even with the added the caveat that the tour was dependent on her satisfaction regarding the negotiations. Vanillaflower had expressed interest in turn, demonstrating that the information was something he might be willing to make concessions in order to obtain, but hadn't offered particulars right away. All in all, a productive introduction. 

As she eyed the Bulker appreciatively, Sara's attention was dragged upward by something in the distance. The waters beneath Tulian gates, unguarded as per her orders, were being darkened by a ship's shadow. A familiar profile was slipping into the harbor, a design of vessel she knew well, from a battle that had taken place only a few hundred yards away a few months prior. 

"Nora."

"Aye."

Vanillaflower caught the tone of their words and turned, following their eyes. Above, from both vessel's crow's nests, came a mixture of cried reports. Sara couldn't understand the Carrion language, but caught the Crossed Glory's well enough. 

"Vessel entering harbor, Cap'n! Flyin' the Royal Coat of Arms of Sporatos!"

Spies. Sara thought, venom dripping from the thought. Spies in my city. No, I always knew they would have spies among the city. To have known about the Carrion delegation requires spies among my government. Someone elected to the Guilds, or someone I trusted. She stepped forward, marshaling her fury as she took a more militant posture beside Captain Vanillaflower. 

"It appears we have an unwelcome guest attempting to insert themselves in private matters, Captain Vanillaflower. I apologize for the interruption."

The man chuckled humorlessly. "No need for apologies, Governess. I am quite certain that you did not orchestrate such an event." They both watched the Sporaton vessel approach, the usual political rigamarole dispensed with while both adjusted their plans for the day. Vanillaflower looked at Sara from the corner of his eye. "Rumors circulate that you've claimed King Sporatos intends to invade your Republic come spring. Sporatos at war is a sensational enough thought that words has reached even the most distant Carrion colonies. Are these mere rumors, or fact?"

There was no possibility the Carrion Navy was unappraised of the coming war, Sara quickly decided. That meant Vanillaflower wanted something deeper than a confirmation of her statement. Evidence, then. 

"I heard of the King's intent from the lips of a captured Royal Navy Captain, one Acertan Vidanya. He came into our care following a failed and illegal assault upon the city from the sea. He offered the information feely and unprompted, imploring me to return to Sporatos so that my Champion's abilities may serve the Royalty's own ends."

"And this Captain Vidanya who assaulted your city, what became of him?"

"In the course of our discussion, he also freely mentioned his ownership of slaves."

"Ah."

Silence stretched once more. If there was one thing the Carrion Navy was well appraised of, it was her stance on slavery. 

"He likely lives once more, if you're curious," Sara added after a minute. "Following his execution, I ordered his body preserved and returned to Sporatos. I thought a living messenger more effective than ink alone, and I've reason to believe King Sporatos is invested enough in the conflict to leverage a priest for the revival."

"The famous note, then?" Vanillaflower asked. "This is where it came from?"

She certainly hadn't expected that to be the piece of information Vanillaflower seized upon. Sara smiled sardonically. "I wasn't aware it was famous, but yes, that was when it was delivered. The dissemination efforts have proceeded well, I can assume?"

Vanillaflower laughed again, this time with slightly more warmth. "I haven't a clue how you managed it, but yes, they have. I've heard it said from Captains trading along the Sporaton coast that replications are common enough the men collect them while in port to use as sanitary paper. The local officials are happy to be rid of them, and hand them over eagerly."

"Not how I might prefer my partner's handwriting to be treated, but I'll take the word being spread however it may happen."

The silence returned. Not an awkward one, but a calculating one. Vanillaflower hadn't intended to become embroiled in a shit-slinging contest between rival nations, but he wasn't so foolish a diplomat as to miss the opportunity presented. For all the Carrion Navy lacked in landpower, they were indomitable on the seas, and the stakes for these had just rose considerably. Sara would have to be certain to ensure the Carrion Navy thought her the better bet in the coming conflict. 

"Well," Sara said cheerfully, stepping forward as the Sporaton vessel circled to the Crossed Glory's unoccupied side. "Shall we see what our rude guest has to offer in apology?"

The unsubtle comment earned a mild snort from Vanillaflower, who waved her forward. "After you, Governess. To witness the Patron Goddess of Diplomats and their Chosen in her natural environment will be quite the treat, I can imagine."

Sara bore her teeth in a vicious smile. 

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