(2024-06-06) Bearers of Bad News

Details

Author:	inkie
Summary:	Skylarke, Lena, and Miss Curran return to Fallon House with news from their scouting mission. Lena makes a decision.
Rating:	T for Teen

Arc: Season 14

Two days after the sighting of the Horde warships, the Tidewitch makes it home. If she doesn't exactly limp into port, she doesn't slip in neat and tidy, either. Nighttime and moonlight see her safely home, but rest must wait. Skylarke leaves the ship in the first mate's hands and bustles Lena and Annai up to Fallon House.

She tries to open the doors without knocking first. Lemme in, I'm slebgy.

Lena looks tired as well, her usual composure slipping towards irritation. Why wouldn't they just leave us alone?

"If he's not here after all this," Skylarke says, "I'm falling asleep on his couch. With my boots on."

There are so many couches in Fallon House, Skylarke; take your pick.

The doors do not yield to her efforts, but only a few moments later, the dark-skinned, one-eyed first footman — oh, he's the butler now — answers them. He looks startled but not as though he's just been awakened. He is in casual clothing rather than his livery, and there is a billiards cue propped against the wall in the foyer where one does not ordinarily prop billiards cues.

Shine steps immediately aside to admit them when he sees the trio. "Captain. Miss Coit. Miss Curran. Shall I fetch him?"

He has Detected Urgency.

"Ah, Shine! Good, it's you. Yes, please fetch. We'll wait in the library if that's all right. I know where he keeps the brandy in there." Without waiting to see if it's all right, Skylarke heads toward the library anyway.

Shine looks after her but does not comment. As the other two come in, he closes the door carefully. "He'll be down shortly," he informs Lena and Annai, since Skylarke doesn't seem to require further instruction. "If you'd wait in the library, please." His tone is very dry, and he casts a look at Lena. She lives here.

"Thank you," Lena says, with an answering smile. "I don't expect we'll get lost on the way."

Shine gives her a wry nod and heads up the stairs.

Lena follows Skylarke towards the library, and asks as they walk, "Your drink of choice, then? Or just the one you know where it is?"

A tired chuckle answers her, followed by, "Bit of both. I like expensive brandy, and Fallon stocks a good one. And I know where it is."

Lena gives a brief exhale of a laugh. "Mine was always cheap whiskey, since it was often to hand. Fallon's is better than I'm used to, I'll admit. Brandy I've not got much experience with."

Skylarke steps into the library and back to the brandy on a console table along the wall. "Well, then let me treat you to his," she says, searching for the snifters. "Annai, anything for you?"

"No, thank you, Captain," says Miss Curran primly, and crosses to one of the couches by the hearth to wait. She sits down and crosses her legs at the ankles. She is wearing her glasses again, which she hadn't been doing on the ship.

Lena moves over to Skylarke, waiting for her drink. "I spent a lot of time in a harbor town, got used to how sailors drink." She shrugs, with a tired smile. "And I guess from habit, I don't usually turn down the offer."

"Ah hah!" Skylarke turns, two snifters in hand. She pours a splash of brandy into both, not too much, and hands one to Lena. "Hold it like this," she says, demonstrating how to cup the deep bell of the glass in her palm, fingers on either side of the stem. She gives hers a little swirl. "Let it warm a bit, and sip."

Lena takes the glass and cradles it in her palm as directed.

Annai smiles faintly at the little lesson.

"She's a cultured one, our Lady Larke," says a familiar Kul Tiran accent. Siamus Fallon is standing in the doorway. Despite the tone and the usual sardonic smile, it is clear he's just been awakened: he's wearing a shirt and trousers pulled on hastily, still barefoot, his hair roughly tousled. His dark gaze is a little bleary.

He comes into the room. "But I don't expect it's the liquor that's brought ye back to my house at this unholy hour, then?"

Lena turns to look at him and says lightly, "Who's to say I don't know all about brandy?" She doesn't, and the too-wide innocence of her eyes only confirms it. But then she drops the act, and adds more seriously, "No. If only. Bad news from Tol Barad."

Now he's instantly, sharply awake. "Ye'd better sit, then," he says grimly. "And tell me all of it."

Skylarke leans against the table’s edge. "We found the Forsaken fleet, sure enough, but they headed north. We assumed they were going home. But your Miss Curran there said something was upsetting the waters. We luffed sail to get a breather while Miss Coit scouted the island with her non-floating demon eyeball." She gestures vaguely to give her time to steal a sip of brandy. "We were on the eastern side of the island, off of the Slagworks, aye? That fissure there?"

Siamus nods. "Aye. I know it."

Skylarke nudges Lena with a foot. "Tell him what you saw."

Lena moves over to one of the nearby chairs and sinks down in relief, taking a sip of her own brandy as Skylarke talks. She nods. "I saw Horde ships. They're there already. At a distance though, and I can't just fling my eyes miles away without effort. We went in closer to see how many."

Skylarke doesn't make him ask. "Eight, if you please, and two of them lit out after us when we got our count. Had to sail into one of those freak storms just to lose them. Didn't think you'd want me bringing two Horde warships to your harbor." She finishes off her brandy in an undignified gulp.

She looks to the other two. "That was… last night. Two nights since we saw the ships? We started running and didn't stop."

Siamus stands staring for a moment. He turns abruptly, facing away from them and toward the hearth. His shoulders are very tense. "Horde," he repeats. "Not… ye don't mean the Forsaken alone? But Horde? Already at Tol Barad?"

"Purple sails headed north," Skylarke says with a sweep of one hand, "and red sails barely off the shipyards. No doubt that's where they were headed. By now, they've landed and I'm sorry we couldn't get back with the news sooner. Better late than never, I hope."

Lena watches Siamus for his reaction, waiting for the anger. "I suppose they know we know, now. Sorry about that."

Siamus's shoulders rise and fall, a controlled deep breath. "Hardly your fault," he says. His voice is that unnatural nonchalance that betrays he is trying so hard for calm that he has kind of overshot the mark. "Ye did well to find them, and to get away from them well and whole." He pauses and then turns around again. His jaw is tight, his eyes very black. "Ye did get away whole? The Witch and her crew?"

"Whole, hale, and hearty," Skylarke confirms. "Annai had to rescue two crewmembers who went overboard in the storm, and Lena set a very nice sail rig on fire — not ours. We got away clean. Somewhat sleepy, but that's easily remedied." Aw, her snifter is empty. She sets it aside on the table, evidently deciding against a refill.

Something in what she says causes a flicker of reaction in Siamus — the slightest shift in expression, a blink. He stands for a moment in silence, and then he moves to the console himself. He picks up the bottle of brandy and refills Skylarke's glass anyway, without request, then glances at Lena to make a wordless offer with a gesture of the bottle. He does not offer any to Miss Curran.

Skylarke eyes Siamus in his silence, then looks to Lena and Annai to see if they seem to know what's up. She shifts uneasily and covers it (poorly) by picking up her glass and taking a sip.

Lena holds out her own glass in acceptance of the silent offer, her gaze sharpening on Siamus at his reaction. "As she says, they know we saw them, but they've no idea where we are now. Sailed cleanly through the storm, thanks to Skylarke and her crew."

Siamus pours for her, still in silence. When he steps back and sets the bottle down, he nods. "Aye. Larke's a damned fine captain, and a Fallon crew knows its business." He stands for a moment with his hand still on the bottle. When he lets go, it is to raise the heels of both hands to his eyes briefly, wearily. "I beg your pardon. It's news a man doesn't expect to be woken at the middle watch to hear."

He moves to a nearby armchair and drops into it. "Eight ships west of Tol Barad. Six, now? Did ye sink either, or only lose them?"

"Lost them," Skylarke says. "I didn't want to risk damage and a longer trip to get the news home. Six or eight, makes little difference to the invasion fleet but fast news that there is one means a faster response. With any luck, one or both sank in the storm."

Siamus lifts a placatory hand at Skylarke. "It's no criticism. I only want hard numbers for a report to the Admiralty. Ye did well in making the time here. I'd not have asked ye to stand and fight either. There was no sign the Forsaken were joining them? It was only orcish ships? And could ye make out what kind?"

"Warships," Skylarke says, "not transports. They were farther back, if I had to make a guess. Too slow to keep up with the warships. I'd have sunk a transport. Orcs don't swim well; all that muscle. Trolls, now trolls can swim." She stops herself and blinks widely. "Sorry. And no, the Forsaken were still headed north when we swung around the island to get our count. Came between the ships, four port toward the island, four starboard. It's the starboard ones that gave chase, just tacked in right behind us."

"How soon do you think we could head back there?" Lena asks. "With force, to meet them."

Siamus is silent again for a time, lost in his own calculations. "Any sense of what gun-class? On the ones that gave chase, at least?"

Miss Curran speaks up. "The two that gave chase were third rates, no more than 70 guns apiece. Perhaps half of them were 32-pounders, though. And they had at least one second rate with those standing farther out."

Siamus rubs his eyes with one hand. "I'll be frank," he says at last. "And it doesn't leave this room as yet; I've to report to Jes-Tereth, and to hear back from her. But I don't believe Stormwind has anything to match a proper invasion fleet at the moment. The new navy is still under construction —" He sits up sharply to bring the side of his fist down on the chair’s arm with a furious force that is certainly more painful for him than it is for the chair.

When he slumps back and continues, it is with perfect calm, as though the moment hadn't happened. "The new navy is still under construction, and the main of our fleet still in Northrend due to the state of the seas. The ones that we've got back… a handful, perhaps, maybe more. Not above ten. And there are Fallon ships, but wi' most of mine still in the north as well, and after the wave at the Harbor…. Three, perhaps, including the Witch. Eight ships at the worst, thirteen at the best. And if they're floating second-rates, wi' troop transports still behind…."

Skylarke turns an unattractive shade of pale beneath her bronze skin. "Eight to thirteen ships total, against a fortified invasion force? We'll get slaughtered trying to land." Way to keep morale up, Skylarke. She rubs her forehead.

Fortunately, there's no keeping Siamus's morale up. He's way ahead of you, girl. "I've not landed at the isle in… three or four years, at least. I've no sense of their present defenses, the size of the Wardens' garrison, or how many men Farson has at the Hold. If they've sense enough to douse the lights, at least some of the ships might end up on those rocks, but… that's a narrow thing to put any hope into."

He looks at Skylarke. "Will the mob at Rustberg put up any fight, d'ye think, or keep out of it entire? I don't expect they've loyalty to either blue or red."

As soon as the word 'Rustberg' leaves his mouth, Skylarke starts shaking her head. "They'll sink anyone who gets too close, including me flying your colors, but otherwise they'll stay out of it. If they're left alone, they'll leave alone. We can hope the Horde will try to take the town, but if they're smart, they'll leave it be."

Lena flinches at the strike against the chair, and then quickly fixes her expression back to one of quiet, polite, attentiveness. She listens as Siamus and Skylarke explain the situation regarding the fleet and the pirates.

"Any way we could sway them not to leave alone?" Lena ventures. "Just… honest incentives, or… perhaps representing the situation as more dire than they'd take it for themselves. If we've not got the ships, we've got to use what we can."

"Incentives would mean finding an honest pirate," Skylarke says, "even if we could persuade the Alliance to pay them." But it's still an idea and she looks at Siamus. "Could we?"

Siamus laughs bitterly. "If ye can find me an 'honest pirate'" — he does the air quotes, even — "who'll take Fallon money, I'd pay them myself. A mercenary's a mercenary, and I don't care for the species on the whole but I know when to be practical."

A thought strikes him, and he looks at Lena. "What about Cobalt?"

"Cobalt Company's honest," Lena says, with a nod. "And not pirates. But also not sailors, on the whole. And they've not got ships either. If we need boots on the ground, I bet they'd give a force, but we'd still have to get them there."

"Aye, well, boots on the ground we'll have need of. But you're right. Getting them there is our present concern." Siamus tips his head back and massages his brow. "Not yours to figure out, though, any of ye three. Ye've done very well, very bloody well as it is."

Skylarke sets the not-quite-empty snifter of brandy aside. "Then if you've no more questions, I'll be sleeping on my ship. Find me there if you need me."

Lena takes in a breath and lets it out slowly, then drinks the rest of her brandy in a gulp. Don't worry, she was holding the glass like a cultured lady when she did it. She sets the empty glass down on the nearby coffee table.

"And I'll be in my room, I suppose," Lena says rising from the chair.

Siamus nods and rises as well, courteously. "Thank ye. All three of ye. I'll be… upstairs, writing some letters, I expect. If ye need anything."

Lena follows Skylarke towards the door, and then pauses to look back at Siamus. As if it's an afterthought, she says casually, "Speaking of Cobalt, a thought. If I were to leave it, would you want me in the fleet permanent?"

Siamus sharpens his look at her. After a moment, he smiles. It's a little wolfish. "Ye know very well that I would, Miss Coit," he says politely. "And if ye mean to join it, then that's a piece of good news ye've brought me to weigh against the bad."

A little of the tension seems to melt out of Lena, and she smiles back wearily. "Alright, then, that's that. I suppose I've got letters to write as well."

She turns away from him, back toward Skylarke, and adds to her as they exit, "You really prefer staying on the ship?"

Skylarke smiles a little. "A captain belongs on her ship. Always."