Limitless Seas 2, Chapter 7.

Have a great holiday everyone!


Chapter 7.

“Sir, do you think it’s wise to go to the home of the man that very likely may have just tried to arrange our deaths?” Ibn asked.

“I don’t know if it’s wise, but it’s what we’re going to do. The esteemed Lord Mox likely won’t try to pull anything in front of the rich and powerful of Stratwall Harbor, the fact that he hired this lot to take care of us outside the city tells us that much. I’m going there to see his reaction when we arrive, alive, at his party. His response will tell me if he’s the one that arranged this, or if there’s someone else we need to deal with,” Larson said.

"I am the First Fang of the Serpent, I go where you lead, Captain,” Ibn said.

“Good, hey Calvin, helps us load up the other guests,” Larson ordered, grabbing one of the attackers’ bodies and heaving it into the coach.

“Oh, that’s going to make a mess, sir, but yes, I’ll help,” Calvin said. It took some time to stuff them all inside, and in the end, they had to wedge the door closed as they forced the last body inside. The attacker had simply draped old horse blankets over the windows earlier to keep Larson and Ibn from seeing out, he kept them in place to prevent bystanders from seeing a coach full of bodies. Ibn climbed up to sit next to the driver while Larson slithered over to on the rear coachmen's steps, the position proving easier for him to hold onto once he wrapped his tail around the step a few times.

Calvin got the horses moving and Larson could see they weren’t far from Stratwall, the attackers had positioned the coach in a small field out of sight of the road. Thankfully, the guards at the gate just waved them back in once they saw the coach returning. It might have made for some uncomfortable questions if they had inspected inside their ride. The guards posted at the noble quarter of the city were a more a bit more interested, but once Larson showed the invitation, they let them through without any trouble.

The noble quarter was built atop a rise, giving the wealthy and powerful a nice view of their domain, as well as the oceans around it. Patrolling the streets were better-armed and equipped guards, their purpose was more to keep any riffraff out than to prevent crimes. Crimes were most certainly committed here, but they were done on a much bigger scale than the violent actions committed by the thugs and cutthroats of the lower city.

The further up the rise they went, the better the homes became, and the enormous estate that Lord Mox called his own was one of the largest. At the very peak of the rise, the assembly building for the council of lords stood. It was a small ornate castle that looked like somewhere a king would live, not where a council would gather to manage the harbor city. A pair of guards in bright Mox livery, his symbol appeared to be a gold anchor on a field of green, waved them into the estate after checking the invitation.

Larson ordered Calvin to ignore the servants directing them where to park and had him pull the coach up to the very front of the estate, as close to the entryway as he could get. Ibn handed the man a pouch of coins containing everything they had found on the attackers. It was likely far more than he had been promised for a simple trip out of town, but the man had been run through the wringer and Larson wanted to compensate him for the gruesome work he and his coach had performed this night.

“Hold off here, how dare you bring this contraption to the front entry, bring this dilapidated coach to the servant’s entrance where it belongs!” None other than Reginald Howe, Lord Mox’s chief administrator said, trying to wave Larson’s coach away.

“Ah, Mr. Howe, would you be so kind as to summon Lord Mox, I’m afraid we’ve run into a bit of trouble this evening and would like to get his input on the situation,” Larson said.

“I most certainly will not! Just look at you, I know that I admonished you to dress appropriately, and you choose to come here covered in blood and gore, unacceptable, you will leave immediately!” Howe shouted, getting more worked up by the minute, his raised voice prompting several of the guests to wander out to see what the commotion was all about. Lord Mox and Lord Buxton then emerged, Larson scrutinizing Mox’s face to see if he was shocked at all. The man was a skilled politician and Larson couldn’t detect anything other than annoyance.

“Captain Larson, what is this commotion? We invited you here, in part, to thank you for your efforts, I didn’t invite you here to cause trouble among my staff,” Mox said.

“I do apologize for that, but it seems the coach you sent to pick us up took a wrong turn, one that led outside the city and right into this lot,” Larson said heaving open the coach door to allow the bodies to spill out onto the walkway, causing many of the guests to squeal in horror.

“What is this!” Lord Buxton asked.

“This is what is left of the attackers that tried to kill me this evening, attackers that were waiting at the exact spot Lord Mox’s coach dropped us off at,” Larson said. Calvin lashed the horses, getting away from the argument while he could, the coach jostling out the manor’s entry as the last of the bodies spilled from the coach.

“Mr. Howe, is that the coach you sent to pick up Captain Larson?” Lord Mox asked.

“Most certainly not, we have no such vehicles in our employ. The coach we did send to pick up the good captain returned just a short time ago, the driver told me the captain and his guest were not at the pickup location. I assumed they had wandered off to find more suitable entertainment befitting their station, and it appears they succeeded,” Howe said with disdain.

“I apologize for the dramatics, Lord Mox, but it appears someone is trying to sully your good name by ambushing your guests and making it appear you ordered the attack,” Larson offered.

“Yes, I’m not sure who this refuse is, or who hired them, but they are not the sort I would ever have in my employ. You have shown yourself once again a positive source for good in Stratwall Harbor, we can all sleep a little safer knowing that this scum has been dealt with. As you said, Captain Larson, it’s surely an attempt to sully my name. Howe, clean up this mess and find the captain and his guest somewhere to refresh and make themselves presentable,” Lord Mox said, turning and making his way back into the estate.

“As Lord Mox said, let us retire to the manor and enjoy the rest of the party,” Lord Buxton said, motioning for the guests to move back inside. When the others were out of earshot, he motioned Larson over. “Captain, we need to talk, soon, where there aren’t so many ears to overhear,” Buxton whispered before going back to the party.

“This way, sirs, you can leave your outerwear and I’ll have someone see to your clothing,” one of the servants offered. Ibn waved him off, expertly readjusting his robe to hide the fresh bloodstains while Larson merely flicked off the larger chunks, allowing the enchanted garment to begin the process of cleaning itself. Once they were somewhat presentable, they joined the party, keeping up the facade that they believed Lord Mox was being set up.

“Captain Larson, you are the talk of the party. The nobles are all atwitter and I daresay they will be fighting amongst themselves to have you invited to their next soiree,” an older, yet still attractive woman said. She approached Larson who had parked himself near the buffet table, enjoying the fine food Lord Mox had set out while trying to watch out for anyone about to stick a knife in his back.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint them, the life of a privateer leaves little time for parties and we’ll be sailing out again in a few days. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?” Larson asked the woman.

“That’s right, you’ve never met me, I’m Lady Anastasia Mox, Thurston’s wife,” the woman said.

“A pleasure to meet you, my lady, I hope that your son, Jonathan, is doing well?’ Larson asked politely. He had no idea if Mrs. Mox was involved in her husband’s dealings. She may have been completely ignorant of the situation or might even be the ringleader of the man’s nefarious deeds. He had no way of finding out her level of involvement at this time.

“Jonathan is a handful; you should hear the stories he tells of his captivity. While he is thankful for your rescue, he’s certain you’re more of a bloodthirsty cutthroat than that Fontaine character you dealt with. Knowing my son, he was a holy terror aboard your ship and I’m just glad you didn’t throw him overboard, I know I would like to do so at times,” Lady Mox advised.

“Not exactly what I expected you to say, your son survived where many would not, so I was able to excuse his behavior up to a certain point. I think it was more the fact I made him work that angered the young man. Sadly, we had taken many losses and without his and everyone’s efforts, we might not have made it back,” Larson offered.

“Well, I thank you for your patience, and I must take leave, I think my other guests will be angry if I corner the market on your company for the rest of the evening,” Lady Mox said. Larson wasn’t sure what to make of her, and he wasn’t going to trust anyone with the Mox name anytime soon.

He spent the remainder of the evening mingling with the rich and powerful of Stratwall Harbor. Most seemed amused by the entrance he had made and a few of the older gentlemen wanted to corner him and discuss naval tactics until he was able to find a polite way to excuse himself. At one point during the party, Lord Mox presented Larson with a plaque that proclaimed he had done great service in the name of Stratwall. It wasn’t going to become one of his prized possessions anytime soon. Ibn seemed to genuinely enjoy himself. Deadly court politics were second nature to him, given his previous position within the lands of the Imix.

When the party finally started to wind down, the duo made their departure, turning down the offer of a coach to take them home. Larson had more than his fill of coach rides this evening. As they passed from the noble quarter of the city, Larson began to notice that several men were following them.

“I assume you know we’re being followed,” Larson asked.

“Yes, I was just trying to figure out the best place to stop and have a conversation with our admirers,” Ibn replied.

“There’s an alleyway up ahead, let’s try to lead them inside,” Larson said.

The area outside the noble quarter was an obvious step down in station, but the homes and business here were in good repair, and it was a working-class neighborhood for the merchants and those that earned a decent living. Patrols of the guard were adequate and while the streets were lit by lanterns, there were still plenty of places that could hide someone from prying eyes. He didn’t think there were more than two or three people following him, which meant either they were skilled assassins or were just sent to watch where he went. It could even be a servant of one of the other nobles, trying to get the jump on inviting him to another party, so he couldn’t just kill them all without having a conversation first.

They moved deeper into the alleyway making sure to be seen by whoever was tailing them. Once concealed in the darkness, they waited to see who followed. Instead of someone appearing, they heard a scuffle outside the alley, men grunting in pain before silence resumed. A man stumbled into view, moaning before he dropped flat onto his face. Larson and Ibn readied their weapons, something strange was going on here.

“Captain Larson, can you hear me?” An unfamiliar voice called out.

“Aye, step easy and tell me who you are,” Larson replied.

“I’m called Bolan and I work for Lord Buxton. These men that were following you were from Lord Mox, and I had to eliminate them before I could contact you. My lord would like to meet. Visit the inn called The Garbage Scow in the dockyard district, he will meet you there, it is a matter of great urgency,” this Bolan guy claimed.

“I’ll check I out, but if anything happens, my crew will hunt down you and your family. Knowing that, do you still suggest I make this appointment?” Larson asked.

“Yes, it is important, and Lord Buxton wishes your help in a delicate matter,” Bolan promised.

“We’ll be there,” Larson said.

“Ibn, just what have we gotten ourselves into?” Larson asked as Bolan skulked away into the dark.

“I have no idea, but at least life on your crew will never get boring,” Ibn replied as they headed toward the dock district. The Garbage Scow lived up to its name, the place being the key destination for those that wanted to get drunk as cheaply as they could and didn’t mind the possibility of a knife in their back as long as the discount booze kept flowing.

The stench inside wasn’t a pleasant one, and Larson waved away the server, dropping a few scales on her tray for the trouble. Battered tables and chairs were strewn about the open tavern, but in the back were several doors leading to private rooms. One such door opened, and a hooded man waved Larson over. Giving the tavern a final check, he didn’t see any immediate threats or anyone that was getting too interested in his visit. Ibn loosed his scimitar in its sheath before following Larson toward the back of the tavern.

He wasn’t gentle when opening the door, if this was some kind of ham-fisted attempt at an ambush, he wasn’t going to fall for it. The door slammed into a body as it opened, the hooded man giving out a large “oof” as he tumbled to the ground. Three men were seated at a table in the middle of the room two of which stood and drew swords before the man in center waved them away.

“Sorry for the skullduggery, Captain Larson, but it was imperative that our meeting was secret,” Lord Buxton said as he lowered his hood to reveal himself.

“Theodore, you should be more careful where you stand, let me help you up,” Ibn said. The hooded man that had been knocked over proved to be Buxton lordling. The young man stumbled a bit, stunned from the blow, but recovering quickly.

“What exactly is this all about, Lord Buxton?” Larson asked.

“It’s about the life of my son, the lives of your crew, and perhaps the existence of Stratwall Harbor itself. We need your assistance and I’m willing to pay well to secure it,” Buxton said.

“Being paid well is one of my favorite things, tell me what’s going on,” Larson replied.

“I do not make accusations against my fellow lords lightly, but I have uncovered evidence that Lord Mox is conspiring with pirates,” Lord Buxton said. Larson knew this already, and it was a revelation he was willing to keep quiet so long as Lord Mox didn’t cause him any trouble. Stratwall wasn’t some nation of laws and polite society, it was a wild and rough place held in check by the Sea Lords. With the attack earlier, one most certainly orchestrated by Mox, Larson was eager for some payback, especially if his payback also filled his coffers with coin.