Chapter 2-15 TLOS: The Harbour Plot (II)

(Si eres lector en español, la versión española ya ha sido corregida: parte de ella la tenía escrita desde hacía años y no pensé que tuviera errores).

A month and a half before the death of Toringen III:

Olter Roca de Pino was his real name, but since that day when a stone bomb had shattered his left leg, no one called him by his first name, but by the nickname by which he was known from then on: Captain Peg Leg, for he had been promoted to captain. From his service in the Fleet, he was well known in any of the ports along the west coast of the Empire: Tiaronesta, the ancient capital of the Kingdom of Sinardia, Haloren, the port of the Imperial Fleet, or Esdáloren, the port leading to the Gulf of the same name, were the main cities along that coast, but they were not the only ones where he had manoeuvred or defended the border against enemies, in all kinds of skirmishes.

He endured the jokes, some more well-intentioned than others, about the loss of his leg and the subsequent need to carry a wooden leg, with stoicism, but in the end he made it a hallmark of his personality, along with his laconic and direct answers, his loyalty to the Empire and an uncommon skill in military strategy. Prince Erevin had known him because he had been one of his first instructors and knew how strict he could be, but also how understanding in other conflicting situations for the sailors.

This made him a prime target for foreign spies and also for the Empress and her son Holingen in particular, although the interest in neutralising him really took off from the moment he confronted Hariokku, one of the most influential members of the Imperial Council. He was known as a prominent merchant with major interests in various parts of foreign lands, and everyone knew that he brought goods from far afield in the Empire. Previously, there had been little trouble because the Margrave of RocaStretta had always been a discreet man. But then came that messenger, to whom he had to reply to an urgent message in less than three days (he replied in less than 12 hours), threatening to cancel all his commercial relations with that strange country if he did not accept his conditions.

Hariokku had at first refused, but after they began banning his ships from trading in various ports where they usually docked to unload goods, he accepted the situation. He made them see that he did so reluctantly, but later changed his mind, seeing that being loyal to the Empire was of no benefit to him (as long as he was not caught in the act), while the trade brought him huge profits and, of course, power. As he traded more and more with that country, bringing its goods with him, he began to trade with the countries south of the empire as well. In the end, he had to redouble his efforts in securing his ships, but, unlike other traders, he had not yet lost any cargo, which made him proud of his captains and glad of his good fortune.

Captain Peg Leg knew that the confrontation had made him known to some and others, in some cases for good and in others clearly for ill. Rumours on some sides and more or less express messages had revealed to him that he was a very coveted target: there had been plans to kill him and others to kidnap him to learn of the Empire's plans. So when he saw that sailor on one of his ships, he mentally asked himself a lot of questions. Yes, apparently, there didn't seem to be a problem, but he had the intuition that he didn't know much about the sea, even if he boasted otherwise.

They were small details but very revealing to an expert eye like his. No, he had not been seasick, nor did he not know how to tie a sailor's knot. But he knew from certain comments and reactions that, for example, he did not know what to do in a storm or how to find his way at sea, which was lethal for someone whose livelihood depended on staying alive and saving the ship and his shipmates, even in the event of shipwreck, if at all possible.

Foto de Oscar Bahamondes Carmona.

However, that suspicious sailor did pay a lot of attention and asked countless questions, but always trying to conceal his interest, about the movements of the ships, not only his own but also those of any others, either by taking advantage of their names coming up in conversation, or by bringing them up himself and even twisting the conversation. He continued to be amazed at his ability to find data even when no one seemed willing to give it to him.

That was precisely what he had told the Fleet General, who was concerned. He had immediately ordered the most discreet investigation possible into the subject. But nothing had come out of it. Yes, it was true that he hung around the port a lot, especially in certain canteens, which allowed him to mix with sailors from different places and also to have female company from time to time. But he didn't drink alcohol and they had been able to get very little out of him because he always seemed to be on his guard.

They had even put some people on to follow him, but beyond the fact that he had been enlisted in the Peg Leg Boat and his penchant for massages in a particular dockyard joint to loosen up his legs, they had been able to find little else.

He was very careful, she had been told. It was clear that he was hiding something but it was difficult to know what. They discreetly let Peg Leg know and he advised that they take him somewhere else that would not be so dangerous for the rest of the crew.

The general then decided that he should bring all this to the Admiral's attention. They had known each other for many years: not only by rank, the general respected him, but also because he knew that he read people like nobody else, it was rare that his intuitions were wrong. Now, because of his duties, he could no longer devote himself to the training of new recruits, something he had done for many years, displaying unusual acumen. He had discovered very interesting qualities for the Navy in a number of recruits that others would have simply rejected, giving only negative reports on those who were indeed deserving, regardless of who they were.

So the General immediately informed the Admiral of what he had found out and they agreed to study the situation carefully and come to a decision.

Peg Leg suddenly noticed that the sailor was acting differently, again in small but significant ways: he was no longer asking as many questions as before and was elusive in both his attitude and his replies; he was not answering those that were put to him, or he simply delayed answering and ended up talking nonsense. So he assumed that someone had gone off the deep end. He decided not to say anything about him again, unless he had to, until he had a deeper understanding of what everyone was really up to. Or to know who was wandering off and where.

A few days later a messenger from the Capitanía de Intendencia del Puerto showed up. Peg Leg dispatched to his office in the harbour master's office, which was less than 10 minutes' walk from the building in which the latter was located, whenever his ship, the Mar Embravecida, was in port.

At that time, Captain Peg Leg wore his neat, well-worn everyday uniform with his shoulder-length hair, his beard and moustache neatly shaved, his skin a little browner every day and his body a little leaner every day. He had become accustomed to the wooden leg and now laughed at his nickname. What's more, he had learned that the newcomers marvelled at the way he was able to keep his balance on the ship's bridge despite that wooden leg.

Foto de Anatol Rurac en Unsplash

His dark uniform, maroon except for his white breeches, further enhanced his obvious thinness. Surrounded by military maps, official documents, quartermaster's lists and the like, he did not hear the knocking at the door; when he became absorbed, it was difficult to break his concentration.

The adjutant, knowing this, opened the door and stood in front of him:

- An urgent message from the Quartermaster's Office, sir. - Only then did Peg Leg realise that he was not alone in the office.

- Have you got it? What is it about now? -he rumbled. Bureaucrats, they were a nuisance, they had that superior tone.

- No, sir, a messenger has brought it.

- Show him in, Thongorn,’ he was resigned. He was still concerned about the rumours coming out of the west. But he also knew that many of them turned out to be false, and simply waited for more tangible news before commenting.

The chubby little deputy had a harmless appearance, but more than one had regretted trusting it when attacking him. Peg Leg smiled at the sight of him. They made an amusing group: he, so wiry and dark; Thongorn, chubby and affable-looking; and Ailorn, who couldn't fit through the doors because of his height. In fact, they'd had to make a special bunk for him on the ship, and then they'd had to make a cubicle to fit him when he became an officer.

The man who entered had an interesting face, surrounded by wavy, dark hair. Dark, wide-set eyes, a large, bony nose, and above all, there was that thin-lipped, dull-coloured mouth, curved into a grimace of irony that Olter guessed was permanent. Of medium height, he was wearing the uniform of the imperial postal service, green with high riding boots and the two regulation swords crossed behind his back.

When Olter saw him, his mood worsened. No one would send a military courier if what he brought was not serious.

- I am told you have a message for me.

- Yes, I have, sir,’ said he, saluting martially in the Trinitarian salute. I have been ordered to bring you the reply, so I shall wait outside until I have read the message I bring and you are good enough to give me a reply, which must be in writing and under seal.

- Very well -

‘You see?’ he thought. ’More red tape. Bureaucrats again. How easy it would be to give the messenger the reply orally. But then there would be no record of what he had said, and so if there was a problem they wouldn't know who to blame.’ Mechanically, he had detached the chair from the table and uncovered part of it, placed the maps on a small table behind him and sat down, carefully placing his wooden leg on a footrest under the table for the purpose. He had found that if he didn't, he would end up with a sore groin.

He opened the message carefully, so as not to break any part of it, and unfolded it to its full length. It contained, in addition, another smaller message which he almost dropped but caught it on the fly. He could see that it had been written in a hurry, because some of the ink had smudged. With concern, he read the note:

‘I have been unable to do anything to prevent this reassignment. We have been following him but have not located anything suspicious’.

He frowned: reassignment? What do you mean, reassignment? Why would a reassignment require a military courier as a courier?

He withdrew the note and looked at the appointment: the sailor he found so suspicious was being reassigned to the Quartermaster's Quarters in the port from which the note had come, and frowned even more.

He frowned even more: to the Quartermaster's Office? They thought he was a spy and reassigned him to the body that organised the supply of weapons, food and other supplies? This had to be a macabre joke: he didn't want to imagine what it could lead to, if his suspicions were true.

He rubbed his eyes and then looked at the messenger. Suddenly, his non-existent left leg ached deeply again.

- I'll take care of it. Take a seat and I'll give you the answer right now.

Olter Peg Leg had changed to a more colloquial form because he was starting to get angry, although he had to comply with the order, just like the messenger. The man was still standing without sitting down even though he had invited him to do so. But no matter what, the messenger was not responsible for his growing anger.

So he picked up his pen, dipped it in ink and wrote carefully:

‘message received. I will look into the issue raised. When I am ready, I will let you know in the usual way’.

If anyone intercepted that message, they would think it was some strategic move, not what was really going on.

He carefully folded the message, stamped his own seal, which was on the ring he always wore on the ring finger of his left hand, and, sitting upright in his seat, handed it to the messenger.

---

Olter Peg Leg continued to recount the strange events that had led to their capture the day after the Emperor's death.

- So General Minorato, you know, this gentleman who has a hoarse voice and always looks at you as if he's going to break you down, sent me to his office and we had a rather interesting conversation. There, he told me that the sailor whom I suspected was an envoy of the Grand Masters, that they had intercepted a note in Bonardia telling them to get ready because a lot was going to change and, among other names, mine and yours, Your Highness, had been mentioned. The General was obviously concerned.

Erevin frowned.

- Yes, I remember getting a note without a return address or anything, saying that I should keep an eye out because it looked like something was brewing, less than a month ago.

- From what the General told me, they were having trouble sending you a message because you weren't in port and they couldn't send you an owl because it would be too noticeable that something very serious was going on and they wanted to be sure before they alerted everybody.

Olter stopped as if remembering the next event that had actually happened.

- Then came the news that Everingen was leaving for his castle north of Naras and a little later that Toringen III had died. I had several conversations with the sailor who had struck me as suspicious. At first, he did not give me much information: he seemed reluctant to share it. But only two weeks before your father's death, we had a conversation in which he told me that he had received orders to come clean with me because there were growing indications that something very serious was going to happen and that they needed me to be prepared.

- Do they suspect my father was murdered? - Erevin asked.

Olter frowned and looked thoughtful.

- That was the first thing I asked him: if there was any indication of it. He said no, although he couldn't be sure of that because he had been sent to keep an eye on the Fleet. He explained that he had discovered that the Haloren Harbormaster had been blackmailed for his less than edifying life by agents who he had no doubt were Hariokku's people. Or, at least, of his entourage. It seemed that they were trying to round up the top members of the Imperial Fleet and the people who controlled access to the ports, because something similar had happened in Sdáloren, he'd been told.

- And Nirándomir?

- You know how he is: he acts before he thinks, though if he comes out of this alive, I doubt he will continue to act the same way,’ Peg Leg was genuinely concerned. "He was informed about these communications, but it seemed so inconceivable to him that he did not take many of the precautions he was advised to take. Although I doubt, and I say this without him being present, that he would have had much chance: they needed to prevent him from being able to act. I doubt he was killed but I don't know what his condition will be when we get to him.

- Do you know where they are keeping him?

Arbil and Eilos spread a map of the Gulf of Esdáloren on the table between them: though it was night, it was clear light, now that the clouds had mostly cleared. Another sailor brought a candle and held it up so that they could see well above the stretched-out paliondrado.

- I don't know for sure: I know they didn't take him to the same place as the others, because they don't want him to be released. We were so overcrowded that I doubt they realised that we were able to escape. But I do have an idea of where he might be: on the northern edge of the Gulf, the Western Forest goes almost to the coast. There is a very old defensive structure there which looks (just looks) abandoned, but which, according to my information, some work has been done on the part that is underground. I imagine that these works have been done in order to be able to fit out the dungeons for the arrival of more people.

Arbil then spoke:

- ‘Sir,’ he said, referring to Erevin, ‘we have just been signalled: it seems that the sailor we picked up in the monastery of South Haloren, has just woken up.

- Come on, Peg Leg, we need to know what he has to tell us.

They quickly made their way to the small room they had been able to arrange for the care of the sailor. He was a strange-looking man, with big moustaches, big dark eyes, sallow skin and a bony body. He was very frightened: they had no doubt that he had seen something very serious which had upset him: they hoped, however, that his condition was temporary.

When he saw them enter, he began to tremble.

- I cannot speak, but I must speak,’ he repeated those words as if they were a litany several times. Finally, he looked intently at Erevin and then at Peg Leg and said, ‘I have images in my head that I cannot understand, and I have no doubt they have been put there to torture me,’ he scratched his head and then closed his eyes, as if to remember. “About a week ago, a very strange man dressed in black came to an inn where some companions and I were having dinner. One of them was going on leave for a few days because he had just got married and had been granted some days off before being retired from service. To tell the truth, none of us noticed anything unusual until the man passed us and addressed the innkeeper”.

- Was that in Haloren? - Elios asked.

- Yes,’ said the man as he nodded. “After a while, we saw a man in the uniform of some important house coming for him, and after drinking his mug of ale, the stranger left the inn with him”.

- What was that uniform like? - Tinodar asked.

- To tell you the truth, I wasn't looking at the bar, my back was almost turned, so I can't tell you. But in the days that followed, I began to have a recurring nightmare: I saw a man chained up in a dungeon, exhausted and alone. The first two days I thought the man was me, but by the third, I began to realise that it wasn't.

- Was it the Baron? - Erevin asked.

The man nodded and began to cry.

- It's dreadful, I can't take it anymore... - the man was trembling.

- We won't bother you any more...’ said Erevin getting up, ready to leave.

- No, there is still one more thing. I saw that man again, sir. I saw him again the same day we were caught: but I saw his face then, too, and that's worse than a nightmare. It was pale, with two small eyes, close together like a fish... it was not normal, he looked at us as if we were his food...

Peg Leg and Erevin looked at each other:

- He's a life-stealer. They sent one of those things after Nirándomir. And I don't doubt there's more than one looking for me. -Erevin stood up and looked out the window. Another gift from my loving mother,’ then he turned and asked, ’And how did you manage to escape?

- We were ordered onto the ship, and there it appeared that the captain had been bound and gagged, which had also happened to other officers. But we didn't know until we were at sea. Some of us, knowing we were under attack, tried to jump into the water, but only a few of us made it. I was able to get to the Monastery beach where I tried to explain to them what was going on but I don't know if they did anything.

Foto de Jeremy Bishop en Unsplash

- Oh yes,’ said Arbil, ’they did what they had to do and all the monks, with few exceptions, were killed.

The sailor covered his face with his hands and then said:

- But what is going on?

- Don't worry, you are safe now. Rest: we will talk about it, when you have recovered. If you need laudanum or sisébano to rest, just say so. Tired and fearful you do yourself no good. We need everyone as well as possible,’ Erevin told him all this and the man seemed to gain a little colour and finally squared his shoulders. “The experience must have been terrible, but that's what they want: for us to be so afraid that nobody does anything against them”.

Then he smiled warmly at the man and walked out of the cabin, up to the bridge and looked out to sea.

- Sir,’ said Eilos behind him. It's clear that something more has been done to him than what he has told us: he is very frightened. Was it the life-stealer?

- I have no idea. But we have to liberate the Fleet. And it's not going to be easy. I'm very worried about Nirándomir. When he accepted it, he knew his position was dangerous, but certainly not to these extremes. We have to devise a strategy,’ he said as he looked at Peg Leg, ’something that will allow us to free them without whoever's running all these people noticing. But for that we have to know who's running them first....

- Oh, that's easy. Councillor Hariokku thinks it's him... but I don't doubt that he's just a puppet in the hands of whoever really has the power,’ said Eilos.

Olter laughed out loud.

- They learn quickly.

Erevin smiled.

- In one week, these two monks have experienced far more danger than people in general have in a lifetime. We'll just have to wait and see what the goblins have discovered...

- Goblins? - Olter said amused.

- Oh yeah... We've got four duenxies downstairs who know more about books than most humans. And two of them are two female duenxies who could bewitch the toughest of any crew.

But then, from the ladder leading up from the hold, Gutron emerged. For a duenxy normally so serious, he was smiling happily at that moment:

- We've been lucky! Milwnor has just found something very interesting!

Foto de Honey Yanibel Minaya Cruz en Unsplash

Originally published in Wordpress.