322 Losiram
"See ya later, kid." A pat on the back and the ruffling of hair was the gist of Wall's farewell. A little rude from a nobleman, however their relationship wasn't one that called for nicety. Comrades in arms didn't care about manners.
"See ya." Len nodded, the last bit of luggage in his hands preventing a more formal handshake.
"I bid you farewell." Sanna opted for a brief bow. "And, please, offer my congratulations to your brother."
"For sure." A small smile crept up on him. "I'll be back in a month or two."
"We will be eagerly waiting your triumphant return!"
"Indeed. We'll be working on approaching women next, so keep yourself clean and well kempt. A man your age shouldn't be sporting much facial hair." He sighed at their ever so slightly mocking expressions, unable to escape their relentless crusade to 'get Len laid' even when leaving. They would be missed, if only for the levity the duo brought with them. "Chin up. The progress you've made isn't something you should sigh over."
"I'm not sighing about that." Len looked up with a degree of sorrow, receiving an expression of sympathy in turn.
"You'll make it through. Merndil said he had it handled, trust him."
". . . alright. Until next time?"
"Until next time."
Sanna and Len shook hands, after which he returned to the carriage. Len, left to ferry the last of his luggage, looked over the galley before stepping on. It was going to be a long trip.
- - - - -
Yet another sigh escaped Len as he watched the Great Csillacra fade away. It wasn't something that happened with most stars, they tended to warp and suddenly disappear when entering Split-space, but this was a nodal connection. They were special routes maintained by the Great Csillacra to stars far more distant than a normal connection could ever dream of, and were the primary reason people from those distant stars could attend the Academy.
Voyages that could take months were shortened to a few days, weeks in the most distant cases, which was an incredibly valuable asset for trade and diplomacy. It was also a valuable asset for war and administration - which was why the nodal end-points were owned and patrolled by the Sanctum. As a neutral entity they allowed themselves to facilitate trade and serve as a neutral ground for diplomacy in accordance with their mission, however they would not permit the transit of warships or use of these connections as bureaucratic aids.
"Greetings." A soft voice from behind drew Len from his thoughts. Caught of guard, he stumbled out of his position against the guard wall and stood up straight, preparing to present himself just as Sanna instructed. "Mister Kerr, I presume?"
"Y-yes ma'am. You may call me Len." He offered a bow, but didn't think to offer a kiss on her hand. Even if it was proper etiquette, this was his elder brother's wife-to-be. "Thank you, for taking me."
"Think nothing of it, Len. I am glad to have been of service." She returned a curtsy, gentle smile on her face. "My brother and I worried my dowry would be insufficient, but to perform a favor like this eases my trepidation."
She was pretty, beautiful even. Long, wavy black hair with cascaded down to her waist. Barely taller than Len despite his age, she had thin proportions somewhat reminiscent of Titanyana if a bit more blessed around the chest, she wore a loose fitting set of robes of an off-white color with red threading and similarly colored accessories - her belt and heels included. The short sword at her waist broke this color scheme, the gem at the hilt a vibrant blue and scabbard jet black. Evidently, the sword was meant to match her hair and eyes, or rather eye.
A wave of sadness washed over Len as he focused on the left side of her face. Where once there was undoubtedly an eye of beautiful blue to match the one opposite, it was now a scarred area of flesh covered by an eyepatch with a similarly colored flower made of fabric. Some makeup had been applied to the surrounding area to mitigate the revulsion onlookers might experience, but to Len the cause of the damage was easy to diagnose. The first was intense heat, a flame of some variety or perhaps hot metal. Len was convinced of the latter though, if only because it would suggest cauterization of the wound. A sword or some other bladed implement had slashed across her face, the tip of the scar grazing the bridge of her nose and disappearing back into her hair. Len wasn't a betting man, but he would put money on her ear being mangled as well.
"Is there something on my face?"
"Ah! Uh, sorry."
"Don't worry about it." She giggled a little, pleased with his reaction. "It would be weirder if you didn't act like that. Losiram, by the way."
"A-a pleasure to meet you." Len blushed in embarrassment. All that preparation to come off as polite and he still managed to drop the ball.
"The pleasure is mine." She took up a position a polite distance away, joining him in his stargazing. "It was my father."
"Pardon?"
"The one who did this to me. He wanted to marry me off to repay a debt of his when I was ten. When I got caught trying to run off he got so enraged he swung his sword." She donned an expression similar to the one Len wore a few minutes ago. "I can't imagine he wanted to do this to me, but it was the last straw for my brother. He executed him on the spot, knocked the sword out of his hand and slit his throat."
"That's horrible."
"Mhm. What's worse is that my poor brother is still working off that debt, though I imagine that'll be cancelled soon." She sighed just as Len might. "Ironic how the world works, really."
"What do you mean?"
"A certain somebody offered to buy our debt once he learned what happened, if only to keep us from sinking further. A certain father of yours who held some deep respect for our grandfather." Despite her somber tone, Losiram was smiling. "He offered us administrative support, kept our little kingdom afloat while my brother attended the academy, and then agreed to the brash request of his son to take the hand of a wretch like me."
"I . . . I had no idea."
"I didn't expect you to." More giggling precipitated a further blush on Len's end. "The relationship between our houses was kept something of a secret for my brother's sake. I'd be more surprised if you were keyed in."
"I, um, I see." Len didn't really know what else to say. Sanna's training was failing him.
"He talks about you a lot, you know?"
"Who did?"
"Wizzy." That must have been Arrewiz's pet name. "He was so excited when he asked me to take you home."
"Why?"
"Normally when you come up it's frustration and lament that he couldn't get you to stand up for yourself and have pride and be a man and how he's failed you, or something along those lines. This time, though, this time he was so happy that you got into a spot of trouble he barely even mentioned who it was you got into trouble with."
". . . he was happy about that?" Len could not imagine a world where one was happy to be in trouble.
"Positively ecstatic. He finally felt like his efforts to make you into someone better, someone worthy of standing besides as a brother, paid off. Even if those efforts weren't the cause of the change."
"Beating me up was his way of making me a better person?" Len didn't believe it, especially not when Losiram broke out into laughter.
"I asked him the same thing! I thought it was so stupid, but he stood by his methods." Losiram produced a salve of some variety from her robe, turning away to apply it beneath the eyepatch. "That said, once he explained it to me I could understand where he was coming from - though I still think there was a better way to go about it."
"What?"
"The point of hitting you wasn't to put you down but provoke a response, to get you to stand up for yourself. He wanted to light a fire under you and get you motivated to improve, even if that meant he would be the target. He seemed awfully confident you wouldn't be able to beat him."
"I mean, he's right." The salve in Losiram's hand was replaced by a small mirror as she readjusted her eyepatch, fluffing out the silk flower to ensure it covered as much as possible. A modicum of guilt formed inside of his mind, suspicious his reaction may have made her conscious of her appearance.
"Well, what you think doesn't matter to me, I just wanted to let you know how happy you made him."
- - - - -
Len had spent a day or two steeling himself for the bland, tasteless gruel usually served aboard galleys, and more than just a few Sanc purchasing sweets, jerky, and dried fruit to keep himself from going crazy. Sanna also tutored him a little bit on how to safely warm a plate or bowl, but there wasn't going to be any cooking here. Flame on a wooden vessel aside, without a way for the smoke to disperse the crew would end up choking on it in short order.
His first venture into the mess for a meal revealed this preparation to have been pointless.
The fragrant smell of some form of curry washed over him the instant the door was opened, the open pot resting atop the table bubbling slightly. The steam from the curry was joined by a second plume from a bowl next to it - rice of some variety - and a selection of freshly cut vegetables on a platter to the side. A few less than fresh loaves of bread were also present on a plate in the center of the dining table accompanied by a lump of butter, not the most appealing but far better than the bland hardtack most galleys would present to their crews.
"Serve yourself." A man dressed in white put down a pitcher of water before addressing Len. "Lady Losiram has already eaten and turned in for the night."
"Is this-"
"Curry, rice, vegetables, bread. I apologize for being unable to secure a more fitting beverage than water, but milk freezes in our ice-box and none of the wines in stowage fit the taste." He adjusted the serving utensils to his liking before continuing. "If you have a specific preference I would be more than willing to retrieve it."
"No, that's fine, I don't drink." Len grabbed a bowl, taking in the scent with a deep breath. "Um, if it isn't too intrusive of a question, may I ask how it was cooked?"
"Ah, yes, common question. This ship is equipped with a few pieces of equipment that allow a sufficiently talented sorcerer to heat a pot to boiling. No open flames for obvious reasons, so I'm afraid soups, stews, and boiled or steamed meals are the limit. Still, much better than the usual gruel, no?"
"Definitely." Len was practically drooling. "I wish all ships could do this."
"I'm sure everyone would love to, unfortunately doing so isn't really an option even if they had the money for the equipment."
"How do you mean?"
"The equipment itself isn't something one can afford for every ship, but the bigger problem would be finding someone to use it. As I said, you would need a sorcerer, more specifically one capable of keeping the pots heated for however long it takes to cook the food, and then you would have a limited number of options to choose from."
"So it's difficult to find a sorcerer who would want to be a cook, got it."
"Correct. Fortunately the culinary arts are my passion, but I don't think it likely I'll find a successor to my position any time soon. Too much pay and excitement in other fields I'm afraid." He made his way to the door he entered through, picking up the set of dirty dishes likely belonging to the lady. "Ah, do try and finish before the crew begin their meal rotation. There's barely enough room as is. Would you like chilled fruits or confectionaries for dessert?"
"I'll be fine, I think. I brought along my own snacks, so I couldn't possibly impose."
"Nonsense! It isn't often I get to treat a guest. How about honey-jam biscuits and tea? I baked a few baskets for Lady Losiram and her maids in preparation for this trip, but there should be excess for yourself."
"I-if it's not too much to ask . . ."
- - - - -
After four days, Len could confidently say the food served was good. The chef could only support one hot meal a day, however he supplemented this with a rotation of prepared foods like sandwiches and salads. Ingredient limitations and lack of a proper kitchen meant his products could never achieve the sort of quality he aspired to, but several conversations over the course of the journey revealed this didn't bother him.
"I serve as her ladyship's chef shoreside as well. I'm not slaved to these sub-par cooking conditions all the time." He elected to join Len for dinner this night, a hearty stew accompanied by steamed dumplings.
"So this galley is hers?"
"Without question. His lordship presented it as a wedding gift so that she may visit him on occasion. I'd be lying if I said I'm not worried about being released from my present duties though."
"I don't think you need to be concerned about money with house Arre, at least not if you are a sorcerer." Len's mind wandered to the gaggle of crazies his father somehow disciplined into military formations. "So long as you have some ability to influence a battlefield my father should be willing to pay plenty."
"Even for someone more interested in cooking steaks than enemy combatants?"
"Interest in killing isn't something he considers . . . only ability." They were likely the only group of people more eccentric than his own father. "A chef who could possibly double as a bodyguard for his heir and stepdaughter would probably be seen as a bargain, honestly."
"Really?"
"Mhm. House Arre is the sword of the Empire, so we receive a sizable stipend towards constructing and maintaining a professional army in addition to the wealth of our own territory. I don't know what the usual rate is, but I think there's enough funding in a standard contract to support an apprentice or two."
"An apprentice . . . I should probably start thinking about that soon." He started rubbing his chin, eyes blank in thought. "I need to take a wife as well."
"You need a successor?"
"Nothing like a title, but it would be nice to have a child or two to leave property when I die. They needn't be a sorcerer, not much to like about the job save the pay."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I mean, I'm a bit of a special case because I like to cook, but for the most part my life would be performing soil enrichment or incinerating poor sods on a battlefield somewhere."
"Hardly the worst thing you could be doing, especially for that pay. Imagine having to work the field or being incinerated on a battlefield for a pittance."
"That's . . . fair. I suppose I was thinking like a nobleman." He sighed.
"Are you a noble?" Given his humble attitude and subdued demeanor Len assumed he was the son of some merchant or minister.
"I was, once upon a time. There was a succession crisis and my father supported the losing candidate. He had his title stripped, got executed with the rest of his side, and left me without much of a fortune to build a life. Probably the best thing he ever did for me, to be honest."
"You didn't get along?"
"Not really. He wanted a warrior, I wanted to cook."
"I see." Sensing a touchy subject, Len left it there.
"Is there something you want to do?"
"Pardon?"
"Like a hobby or profession you want to take up? I've got cooking, her ladyship likes sewing, the captain-" A muffled cacophony of shouting and yelling interrupted the chef, followed briefly after by heavy footsteps on the deck boards above. "I'll take care of your dishes."
"Hm? Is something the matter?"
The chef didn't get the opportunity to answer Len's question, the door leading into the mess hall being slammed open behind them.
"Pirates spotted to our rear!"