Putting to Sea
93 Ashan, arc 719
The trip had perhaps been a slightly less traumatic ordeal then the group had feared. Since Graeslin was no longer considering their greatest value to be sold as slaves, they were given table scraps along with the swill. The man who'd been attired in the Black Guard armor had spoken enough to be clearly of Rhakrosian origins. The accent was unmistakably south-end-of-western. What the Etzori lovingly called a "Sow".
The members of the group residing in the hold had been called up individually from time to time get some air and be put to work. Jorsie had returned to the hold after his stint up top with a severely blackened eye. Yet he wore it with a air of triumph. Apparently whatever verbal chastisement he'd had time to administer to their hosts before being beaten for his obstinance had been worth it in his view.
Of course, it did not sit well with the children. Jorsie had not counted on that, and the obvious heightening of fear in the hold was a detail he could only regret. But he assured them as best he could, something for which he had a genuine talent as a diplomat, that it was his duty to resist, and that it did not in any way reflect the treatment the others should count on.
And to a large degree this was true, which might actually have come as a surprise to Zarik. An adult of any culture, regardless of whether that culture actually embraced slavery as a commercial viability, knew that often slaves were given far better treatment than prisoners. They needed to be kept in good condition for sales. But after a prolonged philosophical argument with Jorsie, Graeslin had decided it needed to be made clear that, as far as their time on board her ship was concerned, they were not slaves, but rather prisoners. It was during a follow-up to this debate that Jorsie earned his black eye.
That had been during just the first few trials of their internment below. Jorsie could only assume that Zarik had made himself as useful, as well as quiet, as was necessary to avoid a beating. The ambassador supposed that, as the guardian of the two children, he had to really be sure not to come below with another indication of the brutality that was just under the surface on deck.
He did not know if the noble had any talents that served well on board a sailing vessel, or if he'd come clean about any of them. The ambassador assumed Graeslin would be threatening the girls as a means of coercing cooperation from the man. He'd heard some grunted remarks about how a noble "...don't get ta where he is by havin' no special talents..." There followed a number of truly vile comments about what these particular crewmen would do to the girls to get him to talk. The laughter that followed only made it worse.
Zarik was a study in calm though, Jorsie had to admit. It had not been long after Zarik's individual trip up top that the crewmen had called for Oceta to step up. Jorsie protested with outrage, but Zarik actually stopped him. The noble had perhaps seen something in Graeslin's eyes that the ambassador had missed. Or maybe he knew what level of insight Oceta possessed.
When the young girl got to the top of the ladder, Graeslin enclosed her in a fine cloak, and escorted her slowly around the ship, plying her with a few sweet treats. They made their way to the prow of the vessel, the pirate reveling in the bashing of the vessel into the ocean waves, the spray invigorating her enthusiasm. "I know child, that you are a slave. And I know I have interrupted something that smacked of freedom for you." She said this as her eyes gazed with genuine affection across the tossing of the sea.
Now she turned to squat at eye level with her, "Your...father tells me that your name is Oceta." she said the word with a tone that gave understanding that this was not a biological parentage she meant. "I suppose you would assume I am trying to pull some trick to say that I find that to be a beautiful name." she turned away as if there was just a hint of hurt that she did not want to show. "I...guess I can't really blame you. Here, I've shown you only the dark side of myself. The side that it takes to keep these cutthroats in line."
She waved aft absently, encompassing the crew. "Jorsie is a brave man. He knows that he is the one that MUST be my target for the abuse that will keep these men from doing worse. Your father is smart. If he had made a scene and denied me this talk with you, I'd have had to punish him. This is not to say that I think him a coward. But I suspect he wants you to learn what you can about me. And if I'd have had to have him whipped, you would never have talked to me now."
She unfastened her jerkin to reveal a mark. She assumed that a young girl in Quacia would not know the difference between a naerikk tattoo and a slave brand. "I used to be slave too." She lied, her face not showing a sliver of dishonesty. "The life of a slave does not make one inclined to embrace gentleness as an attitude. I fought my way out of slavery, I killed my master, I stole this ship, and I rob the coasts at my leisure. But I will tell you one thing. I sincerely hope you will never experience such a life as to make such things necessary, because once you do them once, they only get easier."
She stood up now, her face grim as she looked back across the waves. "I have done them all many times now. I can not go back. It is too late for me. But I promise you that I will not keep you when we get to Etzos. And they do not have slavery there. It is true that they have terms of servitude to pay off debts. And it's true that the merchants there will deliberately manipulate a contract to suck an honest man into such a debt." her face darkened, "...A man like my father....Who then sold me to get out from under it."
They stood awhile longer, legs adjusting to the sway and roll of the waves. Graeslin sighed deeply, "Well, I expect you'd best be getting back. Run along now girl, before your daddy does something I have to react to." The pirate's eyes were all kindness and regrets as the girl started down from the bow. By the time Oceta had reached the hatch, Graelsin was again facing the waves with a sneer, her eyes cold and calculating. There, she had given him something to learn.
The members of the group residing in the hold had been called up individually from time to time get some air and be put to work. Jorsie had returned to the hold after his stint up top with a severely blackened eye. Yet he wore it with a air of triumph. Apparently whatever verbal chastisement he'd had time to administer to their hosts before being beaten for his obstinance had been worth it in his view.
Of course, it did not sit well with the children. Jorsie had not counted on that, and the obvious heightening of fear in the hold was a detail he could only regret. But he assured them as best he could, something for which he had a genuine talent as a diplomat, that it was his duty to resist, and that it did not in any way reflect the treatment the others should count on.
And to a large degree this was true, which might actually have come as a surprise to Zarik. An adult of any culture, regardless of whether that culture actually embraced slavery as a commercial viability, knew that often slaves were given far better treatment than prisoners. They needed to be kept in good condition for sales. But after a prolonged philosophical argument with Jorsie, Graeslin had decided it needed to be made clear that, as far as their time on board her ship was concerned, they were not slaves, but rather prisoners. It was during a follow-up to this debate that Jorsie earned his black eye.
That had been during just the first few trials of their internment below. Jorsie could only assume that Zarik had made himself as useful, as well as quiet, as was necessary to avoid a beating. The ambassador supposed that, as the guardian of the two children, he had to really be sure not to come below with another indication of the brutality that was just under the surface on deck.
He did not know if the noble had any talents that served well on board a sailing vessel, or if he'd come clean about any of them. The ambassador assumed Graeslin would be threatening the girls as a means of coercing cooperation from the man. He'd heard some grunted remarks about how a noble "...don't get ta where he is by havin' no special talents..." There followed a number of truly vile comments about what these particular crewmen would do to the girls to get him to talk. The laughter that followed only made it worse.
Zarik was a study in calm though, Jorsie had to admit. It had not been long after Zarik's individual trip up top that the crewmen had called for Oceta to step up. Jorsie protested with outrage, but Zarik actually stopped him. The noble had perhaps seen something in Graeslin's eyes that the ambassador had missed. Or maybe he knew what level of insight Oceta possessed.
When the young girl got to the top of the ladder, Graeslin enclosed her in a fine cloak, and escorted her slowly around the ship, plying her with a few sweet treats. They made their way to the prow of the vessel, the pirate reveling in the bashing of the vessel into the ocean waves, the spray invigorating her enthusiasm. "I know child, that you are a slave. And I know I have interrupted something that smacked of freedom for you." She said this as her eyes gazed with genuine affection across the tossing of the sea.
Now she turned to squat at eye level with her, "Your...father tells me that your name is Oceta." she said the word with a tone that gave understanding that this was not a biological parentage she meant. "I suppose you would assume I am trying to pull some trick to say that I find that to be a beautiful name." she turned away as if there was just a hint of hurt that she did not want to show. "I...guess I can't really blame you. Here, I've shown you only the dark side of myself. The side that it takes to keep these cutthroats in line."
She waved aft absently, encompassing the crew. "Jorsie is a brave man. He knows that he is the one that MUST be my target for the abuse that will keep these men from doing worse. Your father is smart. If he had made a scene and denied me this talk with you, I'd have had to punish him. This is not to say that I think him a coward. But I suspect he wants you to learn what you can about me. And if I'd have had to have him whipped, you would never have talked to me now."
She unfastened her jerkin to reveal a mark. She assumed that a young girl in Quacia would not know the difference between a naerikk tattoo and a slave brand. "I used to be slave too." She lied, her face not showing a sliver of dishonesty. "The life of a slave does not make one inclined to embrace gentleness as an attitude. I fought my way out of slavery, I killed my master, I stole this ship, and I rob the coasts at my leisure. But I will tell you one thing. I sincerely hope you will never experience such a life as to make such things necessary, because once you do them once, they only get easier."
She stood up now, her face grim as she looked back across the waves. "I have done them all many times now. I can not go back. It is too late for me. But I promise you that I will not keep you when we get to Etzos. And they do not have slavery there. It is true that they have terms of servitude to pay off debts. And it's true that the merchants there will deliberately manipulate a contract to suck an honest man into such a debt." her face darkened, "...A man like my father....Who then sold me to get out from under it."
They stood awhile longer, legs adjusting to the sway and roll of the waves. Graeslin sighed deeply, "Well, I expect you'd best be getting back. Run along now girl, before your daddy does something I have to react to." The pirate's eyes were all kindness and regrets as the girl started down from the bow. By the time Oceta had reached the hatch, Graelsin was again facing the waves with a sneer, her eyes cold and calculating. There, she had given him something to learn.