The water gently splashed against the hull.
A creaking sound that every sea man knew, all too well. Even as they toiled to keep the great beast they called home from groaning all too much. Her sails were tied still, and a dead ship remained in the middle of the open ocean. Many of the men upon the deck remained silent, looking out into the perfectly painted canvas of the open sky. A sigh here, and a distant reminder of where they had been, and the caution of where they would yet go. A beautiful stillness, a silence beyond brushing waves, and the knocking heartbeats of brothers stood close. Yet, in the captain’s quarters there was a happening that was anything but calm. Captain Ajax, sat with his boots up on the well kept, and definitely stolen, Ordanian table. Golden and silver fineries and carvings of mythical beasts and tales beaten in. His arms were by his side, his right hand tentatively wrapped around the holster of a pistol. Blue eyes focused forward on to a guest, a likely client and customer, but one could never be too safe in the line of work that a mercenary did. They might as well be Pirates, yet were not yet outlawed as they still served the Empire’s interests.
“Been a while, eh?” A warm voice, The captain had, yet never without its wiles and schemes. He spoke softly, slowly, looking for each twitch, every single slight movement that could describe intent. The rather well dressed, berobed in red fineries and a pristine full face mask stared straight ahead, and like a ghost, hardly reacted. The top sections of the mask was a bright gold, with the eyes being ornate with cosmetics and long, pointy eyelashes. The mid half hung a nose long and with an upward curve. The comically twisted moustache under its nostrils only made it that much more garish to stare at. Lastly, the bottom half was a porcelain white, with luscious, full lips painted red with lipstick just in the middle, turned to a cautionary slight smirk. Even the voice that escaped was enough to make any man worth his gold double take for the first time…never twice.
“Salute, Jaque…eet has indeed been’a whioll…a shame, no?” A powerful Imperial accent, yet an incredibly light voice for a man of his stature. 3 heads taller than Ajax himself, and it always shocked him. A fixer, that's what these masked envoys of the empire were called, and barely introduced themselves beyond that. However, this was a man who had one mercenary that he trusted, and that man was the captain.
“...heh, custom’s ‘salways welcome…the men and I have been..restless…you understand…lack of word, and that.” An attempt to allow friendly banter in, and a truth the others openly shared with their captain.
“D’accord…Mon Amie…Your Javí is here for nothing else..! His ‘ighness, my Lord Gustaph Casteolphus Victoríke, 5th of his deeveene name…blah, blah, blah…has sent me to geeve you work deerectly from his goo’ld encroosted tung….to you, Jaque..” The Fixer’s voice didn't shift tone, but his body language was a beaut to look at. Every hand motion, every bob of his head and wig, was in time with each word and phrase. However, Ajax knew that such a big job was ever hardly good news and came with dangers that usually resulted in loss of life. This wasn't the first time, and it certainly wasn't the last. Besides, the money Ajax could pull from the Empire would be enough to allow himself and his men to disappear eastward for a while. As this could only ever be one thing and one thing alone.
“Them Ordanians again, eh..? Guess the war isn't going all that well…so, what?...you come to the best Merc, to give me the dirty work?”
The Fixer lowered his head, raised his arms to flick his painfully love sleeves back, before intertwining his fingers. The long, incredibly ornate and iffeminate nails tapping against his bare, porcelain prosthetic skin. Ajax, almost naturally, followed suit, at least with the leaning bit. He tapped the crown that made him captain back slight and furrowed his brow.
Until the Fixer broke news that would certainly turn the tides.
“...Jaque…The Imperator wants to ind the war in a deerty move…Keednahping the Ordanian princess…the only child and future of Ordeáne…Natasha De La Ordeá…”
The tone was solemn, and the quiet lasted a moment, before Ajax leaned back and the chair under him squeaked in shock, and slight excitement.
“...Ah…ahhhh, fuck me…you’ll put this on pirates and…and, the payment you'd take from Ordeáne royal family will be-”
“Dees is why…why, Javí, loves these talks…of ours…and wu-hy, I weel mees these uhhh…talks…of ours…thees is not…negoshiable…yes?...”
“Talk money, how big’s the pay out for being on the run?...this a grab and drop? Or..”
“Deeliver…to the issland of Pyhra, and I, your Javí…along weeth my fleet…”
The masked man, Javí, then took out a gold laminated slip from the depths of his robes, placed it upon the table, and tapped it twice with those freakish nails of his, and slowly leaned back. Almost as if the amount upon it was a point of pride for the Fixer. Ajax tentatively moved his right hand out before sliding the piece of gaudy paper close, and attempted to act normal. Emphasis on attempt.
“...a million for a princess…cannot help but imagine what you're getting for this, normally you're a right old skimpy bastard when it comes to your weight in Ríkes…”
“Hmhm…You are shaking, Jaque…mm, eemageen…the uhhh…failuré…is that right?”
“Failure, Javí..as in with allure…fail-lure.”
“Ahhh, yes…yes, good…you know the word, and I am hopeeng you know how to avoid it, no?”
The tone shifted, Ajax was reminded of the danger this man walked hand in hand with, as there was always something Javí wasn't telling Ajax, always something that he only ever got once he accepted the job, and only when it was accepted. Ajax knew there was no point talking to the crew, as they followed him to death more than just a few times…but to take on the full wrath of Ordeáne like this? This was a madman’s job, a death wish. Though it wouldn't be any other crew’s, beyond the Deadman’s Gambit. Ajax slammed the ticket down, and smiled playfully at Javí.
“A million…A million Javí!...how in the flying fuck did you manage that with the Emperor, eh?...annnd…don't pull my leg, this has you written all over this death wish…so ‘fcourse I'm in. Hell or high water, Javí, the Gambit’s yours!..”
The masked man seemed pleased, chuckling effeminately at the energetic response of the man before him, crossing one leg over the other before nodding dramatically.
“...One…cannot uhh..ryse…within the coorts of Patríkolophus withoot games, Jaque…You know theees…remember Baltiphos?..”
“Aye, the Nuberian bank heist you had us do…blamed it on the Phyrran Pirates…made some money on the side, and your vaults took over…made a chunk of Ríkes on that job, we did…soo…what's the rush? The play?”
“Preem Meeneestur…head of state, as they say…The Imperator’s raight…and lehft hand, Jaque…een ex’uh-chang for endeeng the war…the vaults….the power…and your freedom…”
The deal to end all deals was now front and center, and there was no going back. Failure didn't just mean Ajax’s head on a silver ornate pike, but Javí’s too. The trust in play was almost too good to be true, and the alternative to become Javí’s enemy was much worse.
Argojavíko Meneláus Tròphus
The man with two titles, for both the land of the noble and the seas of the mercenary. For the men who knew not of troubles and struggle, they feared him as the Thousand Faced Pierott, a man who played every side, with hands in each financial endeavour. Nothing happened in the Empire of Patríkolophus without him knowing. His reach even landed in the darker corners of the Kingdom of Ordeáne, and even in the Republican islands of Pyhra. Deeper still were rumors of his involvement in the flesh trade, spice and drug trades. If there was any man that truly wished to rule the world, and bite any hand to get away with it, would indeed be “Javí”. For every mercenary who was worth their salt, however, called Javí, the Porcelain Queen of the High Seas. Javí knew about it and didn't mind it as much, for beauty was all he cared for. Beauty made him the man that he was, even if it meant removing what “made” him a man and replacing it with Porcelain. Hardly any part of the man was flesh, besides his face, or at least that was the rumors. Jobs that made men the richest, or ended their stories and turned them to legends. A dance with porcelain death, and one where surviving meant it was onto the next, and the next till one misstep meant being dragged under.
But a short five years prior to this meeting was when Ajax was able to come face to face with the most dangerous and influential Fixer upon the high seas, and not too soon after became his favourite. Jobs that required a tactful and gentle hand, or even jobs that required a loud blare of a pistol, required Ajax. There was no one who could truly ever replace this friendship, and that was exactly why Ajax played cautiously. He knew too much, he knew every scheme, every game and every vie for power that Javí wished for and accomplished. According to everyone else, Javí and Ajax were complete strangers who only ever met in complete secrecy in no man’s land. If this was ever contested, a man would die, without fail.
So, it was a short wonder that Javí had come to Ajax for a job like this. Kidnapping the only daughter of the Ordanian royal family, escaping with their lives, and brave the war hungry waters of Pyhra to make the delivery to Javí. A painfully simple plan, for something so painfully complicated and yet Ajax was not satiated. He wanted to know why an innocent girl had to be involved in such a dangerous dealing.
“Freedom…a certain prize, when all of Ordeáne will be aiming their cannons at my arse…what'll you do with her, this…Natasha, was it?”
“...Hm?...Questions?...what ees dees, eh?...Jaque…eh?..”
“...Just…one time, gonna be a while till we talk so…humor me, fer old times sake.”
“...fine…fine…Jaque, Natasha…she is…how'd you say….uh…problematic, yes?
Dees war…bloodshed, nastee busy-ness…because she, ahem…denied…Lord Gustaph.”
There was a quiet shock between the two men, as word for the war was land disputes, aggressive politics, and economic backlash on trade laws. However, to find out that the Imperator of Patríkolophus nearly forced himself on a princess nearly twice as young as him was…something else.
“You’re fucking with me…Javí…you’re blackmailing the Emperor?..”
“As…uh…enjoyablé…as that could be, dear Jaque, non…I am not fuh-king you. Eet ees Patríkolophan politics…dirty…always dirty…so…dees won't turn your nose, I hope?”
“So…alright, okay…you want me to kidnap a princess, so you can straighten things out with the Emperor, and make a new friend…or is this what you're trading for the new job?”
“Wood’uh..you shoot a gift horse een the mouth?..hm?”
“The Ordanians won't freak, and make the war worse?...unless this is a threat?”
“Of death, oui, Jaque…if they do not bend over…Off with her head…simple, yes?”
“...When?”
“...The Imperator weel be uhh..saih’ning an accordé weeth the King, Hamish De La Ordeá een a week’s taime…Jaque, you need to be there before it ‘appens, eh?... Ordeáne’s southern port of Menegos…you know the place, yes?”
Ajax raised his feet up, one foot after the next on the table in front of him, before he took a moment of silence. He remembered the port, and he remembered the few women he was sweet on. Azalea, a girl who worked the ports, didn't charge him much…a silver Ordina, and a few bronzes…though she was worth as much as a gold. Though, unfortunately there wasn't much time, not in this visit at least…though it might as well be the captain’s last. What’s more, there was the sweet, sweet Menegian Mead, almost sweeter than chocolate, and harder than anything in Patríkolophus. T’was a good damned shame, but a million Ríkes would be enough to sort him out for the rest of his life. He could put up his boots and live the mercenary life for fun, rather than for the thrills.
A deal to end all deals, and a thrill that binds them once and eternal. The potential final sail of the Deadman’s Gambit. This creaky hunk of wood and steel that had lasted him nigh on 15 years, would be tested beyond the measures of its make. Yet, Ajax had made up his mind, for he only ever lived for one man, and that was himself. He felt ashamed enough, knowing that this Natasha girl would certainly live a horrible life at the hands of the Pig Emperor…but it was her or him.
What more could be said?
“...a million Ríkes…I'll do it, Javí. Leave it to me, I'll see you in Pyhra…or I'll see you in hell, either way…it's been good working with you, unofficially…”
“Aaaah…I knew I could’uh count on you…Jaque…dear friend…2 weeks, Pyhra…any later, and…t’would be unfortunate, no?...would’uh hate to cut you off…after everything…so do not…fuh’ck…up.”
“Heh, I'll beat you there, Javí…and you better have every Ríke. Skimp on me, no princess. Simple as.”
Both men, knowingly, smiled at the other. There was a silence between them both, as the masked Javí didn't move a muscle, neither did Ajax. Both sizing the other up after a threat, both knowing that a mistake would mean the death of the other, or both at once. Ajax started to laugh slowly, followed by Javí’s high-pitched, effeminate chuckling. It went on for a while, before Ajax lowered his feet back on the ground with a thud, and stood up. The laughing stopped, and Ajax tipped his hat, before turning his head away.
“...better get going then, Javí, I've got a princess to catch…Alexei and Petriché will get you back to your Galleon.”
Ajax opened the door to his quarters, before waving his hand to the aforementioned men, who quickly made their way over, standing at the ready for their hidden benefactor. Javí gracefully stood from where he was seated, before slowly shuffling to where Ajax was stood, before he placed a right hand against Ajax’s cheek, rather affectionately. It wasn't a strange or unwelcome thing, as it was customary to touch those you make business with in the Empire. Patríkolophun men would touch another man’s cheek, whilst Patríkolophun women would make a grandiose bow, falling to their knees and bringing their arms behind their back, before standing. However, it was a strict cultural rule that Patríkolophun women would never take their robes nor their masks off in front of any man or women they have not been promised to. Though, if one replaces parts of their body with Porcelain prosthetics, then it is permissible, as long as the pieces of the original body are hidden away.
A strange, and alien custom, and even stranger when one found themselves in the Menagerie Prosthelophica, the house of pleasure within the Empire.
It scared Ajax, scared him even at times that a whole empire of humans would even dare to mutilate themselves and replace imperfect flesh with smooth, yet fragile porcelain.
“Oui…mon amie, I shall go…soon, your struggles weell end…best of luck..”
The incredibly tall, effeminate, robed and masked man, with his barefoot porcelain legs began to make his way towards the boat he arrived in, all the while the hollow clinks of porcelain had the strangest tingles running up the spines of every man who could hear them. They didn't have to like him, to be paid by Javí, and they simply had to trust their captain’s judgement on the matter. He brought them riches, respect and all the adventure their hearts could have desired. They equally knew that this deal he must have struck with the Porcelain Queen, meant incredible danger and too much Ríkes that any of them knew what to do with.
How could they not feel anything but excitement?