Chapter 2 #2
Bastard? Theo’s hand slid from his dagger to his sword. Tendasy was a common language in the Black Sea but most prominently found in the enemy nations under the Deavonian Accords. If they were a part of the alliance sailing under Deavopan’s banner, then they weren’t welcome in Godwin.
“Fangrallu gal tris fastida ied nil trid Tendasy?” Theo said, relaying to the man how a bastard could ever come to speak Tendasy.
Both the sailors’ faces leached of color. Tendasy wasn’t a language taught in traditional Godwin schools, but by private tutors, ones who’d taught Theo since he’d been a boy at the behest of his father.
The first sailor reached for a dagger hidden in his waistband. Theo reacted on instinct, disarming him before he had a chance to brandish it. The distinct click of a pistol had Theo’s eyes trained on the second sailor. He stood behind his friend and pointed the barrel straight at Theo’s head.
Gods, he hated guns. They weren’t standard issue for Godwin soldiers. Not that the kingdom could afford them.
“What in the realm is—” Esaias became speechless as he took in the scene.
“A little assistance.” Theo raised his hands, backing away and dropping the dagger he’d taken at the sailor’s feet. “I think they’re of the Deavonian Accords.”
Esaias palmed his sword, causing gasps as the crowd around them began pushing and shoving to pull back from the line of fire. Weapons were drawn, and pistols were loaded. The two sailors weren’t the only ones of their crew in front of the Trade House.
It was in a single breath. A shot fired and the riot broke out.
Blades crashed, and Theo had a second to drop before he got his head shot off by a pistol.
He was on his feet and slammed into the first sailor, wrapping his arms around his middle as he brought him to the ground.
It was a part of him, his instinct to attack.
Theo had the man in a headlock and unconscious before he knew what his body was doing.
His sword was in his hand as the inner soldier took over his mind, meeting blades and disarming sailors.
Theo ignored a cry ringing out and the sound of splintering wood and crashing carts.
He didn’t allow the burning of his nostrils from the gunpowder to cloud his head.
He caught Esaias in his periphery guarding his other side and Gris firing from a safe distance above.
Her arrows found homes in the thighs of her opponents.
Not to kill, Theo reminded himself. He switched his tactics, disarming the sailors who came at him and driving his elbow into the nose of a man ready to drive his dagger into Theo’s gut.
“That’s enough!” A sharp shout rang through the streets, and he knew Bennet had arrived with more soldiers.
The tall and burly sailor he’d knocked unconscious roused and sneaked off toward the docks.
If enemy forces of the Accords had begun infiltrating the streets of Duncaster, then the problem had escalated to a deadly level.
Theo ran after the sailor, dodging a sword made to take off his head.
He rolled from the attack, turning only a brief second to find an arrow sticking out of the man’s leg.
More soldiers flooded the streets—the ones he and Bennet had brought to station along the docks and the ones already under the governor’s command.
But the sailor was getting away. Theo raced after him, splitting from the fight.
With his sword drawn and his chest heaving, he scanned the cobbled street.
The sailor ran toward a brigantine already working their ropes and ready to set sail.
Theo sprinted for the ship. He needed to know if it was an isolated incident. What if it wasn’t and the Accords were making moves against Godwin? Theo pushed away the internal strife and urged himself on.
His legs burned as they pounded against the planks. The crowds parted for him, gawking and gasping as he ran by. A fisherman fell into the water as he stumbled back.
He was gaining on the sailor, but the ship loomed closer. His comrades shouted to him, lowering a rope ladder. Theo picked up his pace, panting as he ran. Not another war. It ended now.
Someone stepped from the crowd, ramming into Theo and sending him tumbling to the deck. He rolled and struck a post. His vision blurred on the edges. He noticed a pair of boots with golden serpents before they scrambled away and disappeared into the swarm of bodies.
“Theo!” Gris’s shout parted the crowd, and she kneeled at his side.
His head pounded, and his vision was still splotchy as Gris helped him to a seated position. She offered her water canteen, and he drank as the tunneling dispersed and Gris’s concerned face came into sharp focus.
“He got away.” Theo took another long swig.
“Yes, but Bennet and the others have already arrested the few stragglers. I can’t believe all that was over a stupid tariff.”
“They spoke Tendasy,” Theo blurted.
Gris balked, grabbing her canteen. “You don’t think—”
“We need to speak with the governor.” He stood with a grimace, using the post that had attempted to knock him out to steady himself.
Theo slid his hand to his belt, fumbling for his dagger as his heart pounded.
He wasn’t ready for another war, especially not with the forces under the Accords’ alliance.
Pinching his eyes tight, he forced back the images threatening to leak through.
He’d let the soldier within slip out. Theo threw a hand over the stitch in his mind. He wouldn’t give in to it.
His trembling hand released his dagger and reached for his pouch, but he found only his belt. His eyes dropped to the empty space where his pouch once hung. He had to remind himself to breathe as he scanned the docks at his feet.
“What are you looking for?” Gris followed him as he retraced his steps and scoured the wooden planks for it.
“My pouch.” A crack slipped into his voice, and he whirled on Gris as he tore his hands through his hair. “It’s gone.”
Her eyes were wide, and her gaze strayed to the locals staring at him like he was a raging lunatic.
He couldn’t lose control. His hand slid around the back of his sweaty and sun-scorched neck, and he blew out a breath.
Overreacting was not an option. He was second-in-command and couldn’t lose himself over a small memento.
He turned back to head toward the Trade House, but Gris caught him by the arm. Her eyes pleaded to let her in, but he couldn’t. He waited for his heart to drop or a tear to fall, but there was nothing. It wasn’t the silver or gold pieces within he cared for.
§
Chief Bennet rapped on the door of the governor’s study, eliciting a muffled shriek from the other side. He squinted his caramel-colored eyes, enlarging his forehead already growing more prominent thanks to the receding hairline.
Theo stretched his spine, hoping to calm the screaming muscles of his back after his scrap from earlier. Once they’d procured a meeting with the governor, Bennet had assigned the soldiers to their posts on the docks, in the street market, and outside the Trade House.
The stifling heat of the cramped hallway dripped sweat under his shirt and rimmed it around his lips.
He loved coming home to the warm weather, embracing it after spending years fighting in the north in the kingdom of Mosfelkov, where a warm breeze was a miracle, but this heat wave was excessive.
He peeled away the drenched fabric of his uniform, attempting to air himself out as he waited for the governor to open the door.
“Will you quit wafting your stench in my direction?” Gris muttered to Theo, her feminine voice drawing a melodic tune.
“Would you prefer I fling my sweat instead?” Theo shot at her.
She shook her head, rolling her large hazel eyes as she suppressed a giggle. A short glance at the daggers and her bow surveyed the fierce warrior she was. But she had a gentle nature to her, reminding them all that humanity was still possible after what she’d been forced to do during the war.
As his sergeant for most of their time across the Nebulous Sea, she’d been by his side, commanding parts of their squad and overseeing training.
With his father’s approval, Theo had offered her a formal position as a lieutenant, but she’d denied him.
He presumed she preferred the camaraderie of a soldier versus the loneliness often accompanying a commanding officer.
She bore no official rank as an officer but was still Theo’s second.
He preferred keeping Gris by his side, giving him another set of eyes and ears.
She’d developed a great strength at recognizing when a person was lying and had attempted to teach Theo during the war, catching fidgets or small tweaks of facial muscles.
Gris crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, causing the quiver of arrows strapped across her back to jostle a painting of an abstract rendition of a silverling. Its fluffy silver tail was greatly exaggerated, and its pointed face was drawn into a vicious grin.
A pounding jostled them as Bennet again made the governor aware of their presence.
Gerard’s chortle was a low rumble as he swept back his dark hair with a leather tie.
He, unfortunately, was a lieutenant and Bennet’s right-hand man, a large man with a gut hanging over his waistline forming the bulk of his stature.
“This should be fun,” Gerard whispered, elbowing Theo, who ignored his comment, shifting from his reach. “You receive a promotion during the war and now you can’t join in the fun?” Gerard shook his arms free of his jacket and aired his sweaty pits.
When Godwin officially announced they were entering the Trade War and offering soldiers to assist Soyenia against Mosfelkov, Theo’s father was more than happy to send reinforcements.
Theo, Esaias, Gris, and a few of their other friends had departed to fight, but Gerard was one of the duke’s soldiers who’d stayed behind. All of Bennet’s inner circle had.