325 Bounty
Slaphitori, Len's home planet, never looked so welcoming. The air, free of the iron-laden scent of blood, never felt so fresh. The ocean, the depths of which was one of Len's biggest fears, now a symbol of purification against the stains of a deadly battle.
He was not participating in the cleaning. There was some element of him that desired to participate in the gruesome ritual of cleaning the deck boards, but the crew insisted against his involvement. They owed their lives to him, and they could not burden a young man such as him with the disturbing tedium of scrubbing blood and flesh from the grain.
So Len watched the efforts from the rear, seated on a chair next to the deceased. Pirate and sailor alike were covered by a spare sail, the pile secured by rope and ballasts. Nobody wanted to look at them, nobody wanted them to slide around the deck, and yet nobody wanted to throw them overboard. Some of the sailors were friends deserving of a proper funeral or guards of Losiram's who deserved to be recognized for their deeds, so it was understandable why they were preserved, but why did they keep the pirates?
"A record of achievement." The captain of the vessel had taken to a conversation with Len as they approached the capital city. "And a means of recompense. The empire will probably have a bounty on someone like that pirate captain, and there is a base rate of reward for every nameless pirate to boot."
"So Losiram wants the money?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes. I suspect she intends to compensate the families of the deceased with the bounty money. Such is part of the reason those bounties exist." Len's gaze drifted down, the captain's missing forearm only serving to illustrate the point. "We need only present the corpses to an imperial official and provide an account of who killed what."
"I assume the dead will have killed more than their fair share?"
"No. The bounty is split into three parts. Half of the total is granted to the individual who killed the pirate in question, which may be divided should the killing blow be disputed. This rewards the bravery and skill of the individual in question. A third is distributed evenly amongst the crew, including the deceased. The half granted to the person who dealt the final blow may be divided in a similar manner should nobody claim the kill. This rewards those who died without someone to recognize their efforts, as well as those who were put in danger without the chance to prove themselves in combat. The final sixth is given to the owner of the vessel as a form of compensation for potential damage to their property."
"That sounds . . . complicated."
"It's simpler than it sounds." The captain turned the wheel to the right, slower than he might normally without his other hand. "The official tallies and marks bountied individuals, then interviews the surviving crew to determine who killed which bounty and how many nameless pirates each crewman was responsible for. If there are any discrepancies, they can talk to the crew in question or make the call to attribute a shared kill."
Len sighed. He was going to have to recount this event to a bureaucrat? Well, considering a noblewoman was involved there might not be anything to worry about, but Len didn't have the best time around their ilk. They weren't bad people per se, just a little too nosy and uptight for his liking. The few instances he ran into auditors and such at the castle resulted in more questions than he would have liked.
"So . . . what if you capture a ship?"
"I don't know. Presumably the owner of the vessel who's crew captured it claims the vessel, however I'm not sure if there's a monetary reward for it." Len didn't know why he asked. It wasn't like he could have captured one of them anyways. "Thinking of becoming a pirate hunter?"
"No, no, I just wondered what incentive they would have for something dangerous like that . . . you'd think removing a vessel from the hands of pirates would be more valuable than the ship itself."
"Yeah, maybe."
An awkward silence descended upon them, their only topic of conversation having run out of steam. There wasn't much they had in common, and one of them was actively working. The pile of corpses off to the side didn't help either, a constant source of melancholy for all aboard. All Len could do to take his mind off of it was look the other direction, out towards the coast, and listen to the rushing of water against the hull.
It was surprisingly soothing, the droning hum of water washing over the paneling occasionally interrupted by the crash of a larger than average wave combining with the gentle rocking of the boat almost putting him to sleep. The sun and wind prevented such an outcome though, so Len was left in a state of lazy placidity as the coast drew closer. He'd watch the odd galley splash down or take flight in the distance or observe the gathering cloud of gulls above, gently giving himself to the peacefulness of the voyage.
sqwaak-ka-ka-ka
Len's serenity was rudely interrupted by a descending gull, snapping him out of his trance within sight of the harbor. The nature of operations on deck adjusted somewhat, crew abandoning their somewhat ineffective attempts to scrub the dried viscera from the wood to prepare for docking. They had fewer hands now, but just as much work needed to be done.
sqwakakaka-ka-ka-ka
He recoiled as the gulled fluttered past him, its blue and gray pastiche of a local bird of prey a blur against the background. Few creatures annoyed Len, fewer still earned a degree of active disdain from him. The gulls of Slaphitori had achieved the status of 'genocidal hatred' from the boy, a status shared only by a species of unreasonably aggressive migratory waterfowl and blood-sucking bugs.
The capital city of Slaphitori - Slaphitori, was a coastal one, and so it went without saying that these opportunistic scavengers were ubiquitous. So abundant were their numbers that it became impossible to avoid them, and whenever they 'spoke' the unnerving screeches raised the hair on Len's neck. They shat on everything, aggressively pursued anyone with food, and often scared the shit out of him when they flew into castle windows nearby. His only solace was that their immensely retarded behavior and lack of awareness usually resulted in them getting nabbed by an obscene number of predators, poisoned by rotting food, or just snapping their necks from unnecessary impacts - the castle windows being a particularly effective form of pest control.
kaka-wakaaa-wakaaa
Now one of them was perched on Len's lance, still firmly embedded in the ship's mast. The corpse of the pirate had been extricated from it (thank god for the slim profile) but his cape remained pinned - no point trying to rip or cut it off if they couldn't remove the lance. Hell, having somebody pull on the cape whilst yanking out the lance might make the process easier, if only they were strong enough to do so.
"Can we shoo it away?" Len would've preferred to just kill it. At the same time, Len wasn't sure he wanted to ruin his day with more bloodshed, he hadn't fully processed the raid yet.
"Leave it. Not worth the effort." The captain shook his head. "Another will land as soon as you sit down."
- - - - -
"Solid land never felt so good." Len agreed with the sailor who only just disembarked, but said nothing. It didn't feel right to engage in conversation with someone ferrying the corpse of a comrade to a safer place. Instead, he focused on his own task, dragging one of his trunks to a safe place on deck. His pile was beneath his lance, somewhere nobody would be walking anyways.
"Good day, Len." Losiram greeted Len from the dock. "Will you need assistance getting everything ashore?"
"If you can spare it." Len stacked this trunk atop another before leaning on the lance to catch his breath. They weren't nearly as heavy as his weapon, but their size made them somewhat awkward to carry up such narrow stairways. "I think I'll wait for the carriage though."
"Mm. The messenger said a small convoy would be coming shortly."
"It'll be about half an hour. You have time to rest."
"Maybe, but the harbor master should be here in a minute or two. I would get prepared for the interview."
". . . right, the interview." Len couldn't see anything that might be the harbor master's entourage along the dock network, so he might have enough time to get his final bag. Not that he imagined he would need to rush. The harbor master might be busy, but he couldn't interview everyone simultaneously. "I'll get my laundry then make myself presentable. Should I get your chef?"
"Please. He'll be accompanying us to the castle regardless."
- - - - -
"Greetings, Lady Losiram." A sharply dressed gentleman bowed before the noblewoman, appearing more like a minor noble than someone who worked with ships. "You may call me Ferest. I serve as Slaphitori's harbor master at the behest of his majesty the Emperor. Am I correct in my understanding you were assaulted by pirates?"
"Indeed. I was hoping to register and receive bounties for them." Losiram returned with a small curtsy. "Is there anything you will require from us to accomplish this?"
"Aside from a presentation of the corpses and interviews with the surviving crew, I will require nothing else of you. That said, for the duration of my investigation I must serve as a representative of his majesty the Emperor and will therefore not be able to provide the degree of respect you may otherwise observe. Do you protest this arrangement?"
"No sir."
"Thank you, Miss Losiram, and congratulations on your engagement to the good lord Arrewiz."
"Thank you, harbor master. Shall we begin with a review of the bodies?"
"Nay. I shall conduct my investigation of the cadavers in concert with my interviews of the crew in order to properly award the bounties. Shall we begin with yourself?"
"I can vouch for a five of the deceased, my guards, who managed to defeat these ten pirates here without assistance. Aside from that I watched from the rear, only engaging once the pirate leader himself hopped aboard. I am happy to provide verification for the accounts of others though."
"I see, so you dispatched the leader once he engaged. Was he particularly strong?"
"Yes, he was incredibly difficult to defeat," Losiram smiled at the harbor master as he removed the tarp, revealing the pirates in question, "but I wasn't the one to do so."
"One of your guards, then?"
"No." Losiram briefly looked to her rear, finding him nervously swaying next to his belongings. "That honor belongs to Len."
"Hm? Len?"
"Yes sir!" Len saluted to the harbor master, mistaking his questioning tone towards Losiram for an interrogation of his identity. "I am Len, sir, Len Kerr."
"A boy?" Naturally, he was quite confused. If a noblewoman of such an established lineage as Losiram could not bring down an opponent, he anticipated the person capable of doing so to be a particularly skilled guard or freelancer. A boy no older than his own son? "You realize the penalty for perjury in a bounty trial is quite a hefty fine, don't you?"
"I and many of the crew can attest to his capabilities, sir harbor master." Losiram placed a hand on Len's shoulder, a futile attempt at calming his nerves. "A great many of his accomplishments lay there at your feet. I assure you it will be easy to determine which of them belong to him."
"What makes you say that?" He briefly inspected the pile behind him, but didn't make any comments in particular.
"His weapon is rather unique, you see." Losiram placed a hand on the shiny protrusion. "The wounds it makes are distinctly different than that of a regular sword or lance. Where others slash, this one crushes. Where others stab, this one punctures. Do you understand what I mean?"
- - - - -
"-and then I passed out." Len recounted his story to the best of his memory, relying on the injuries on the bodies and testimonies of passing sailors to supplement his claims. He even matched the kills of sailors both living and deceased to certain corpses, at least as far as he could recall.
"Fifteen plus the captain . . . close to a third of the total." The harbor master scratched his cheek, unwilling to believe the tale spun but unable to provide a counter given the mountain of testimonies confirming it to be true. "May I see you swing your weapon? If only to put my suspicions to rest?"
"I, uh, I'd love to, but, uh," Len grabbed the tip of the lance and put a bit of weight on it before letting go, causing the metal pole to hum from the vibration. "I haven't been able to get it out."
The harbor master frowned, then raised an eyebrow. He could obviously see it protruding from the mast, it had been there since he got here, and yet it was still suspicious to him that it couldn't be extricated.
"I-it happens a lot when I'm training. It often embeds itself in the dirt or a target dummy and I need to either ask someone stronger for help, or dig it out myself." Len knew his coyness wasn't helping his case, not that he could help it. "W-we couldn't exactly cut down the mast while sailing, you know?"
"Uh-huh . . . if you don't mind my asking, who is your father?" Len thought it obvious his implication - he was suspecting Len of using his parents' influence to pressure the crew into giving him the credit for these kills. An achievement like this would do wonders for the reputation of a young man. That said, if he couldn't prove his ability to use the weapon in question there wasn't a chance he could have actually performed the feat. "I am willing to excuse this as a mere child's prank, but I need you to know that the matter of bounties is a serious one. Those who earn a reputation for collecting many bounties more often than not become targets themselves."
"B-but I didn't lie!"
"Just tell me who your father is. It's okay, I'll make sure you don't get in trouble."
"But!" Len was stopped by a stern expression, one that indicated waning patience. Sighing, he assented to the request of the harbor master. "M-my name is Len Kerr, the adopted son of General Arrelois."
"You called?" A thump of boots on the deck announced the presence of a newcomer, someone wearing clothes much nicer than he might normally. "Ah, Ferest. I heard my daughter in law had been attacked by some detestable cretins, so I rushed down as fast as possible. Is there an issue?"
"Nothing much, General. I was merely interrogating this child on the veracity of his claims. It seems a little excessive for an individual his age to dispatch so many, especially if this one is as skilled as claimed." The harbor master kicked the corpse of the pirate captain. "He claims to wield that weapon lodged in the mast there, and that he is your adopted son. I insisted he not be punished for this offense, though."
"What offense?"
"Um, perjury and lying about his parentage?"
"Why? He's telling the truth." Arrelois took a step forward, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword. A sudden rush of split from his person made most in the vicinity jump back a bit or otherwise flinch. In an instant his sword was at the end of a slash, and the mast began to tilt. Three clean cuts appeared as it practically fell apart, freeing the metal spike from the grain as the rigging splashed into the water astride the vessel. "Len is my adopted son, and this weapon belongs to him."
Len had not recovered from his shock before the pile lance clattered onto the deck, putting a dent into the board it impacted while making a dreadful noise. Embarrassed at his failure to react in time, Len quickly recovered it, hefting up and supporting it on his shoulder while he rifled through his luggage for the leather wrap with his free hand.
". . . I see."