Harvey
Valkrin Farensun
Barracks, Maith Mansion 

"Aye, look at me. I've gone from a nameless Terresi peasant to the most famous pirate Marin's ever known. I've met kings, and I've killed one." Valkrin walked to the door and opened it, extending his arm for her to take and make their way to the ball. "So to tell you the truth, no, I don't believe I'm cursed. I'm blessed by the gods if you ask me, I can go anywhere I want whenever I want." 

There would be at least some guests in the ballroom by now, and the captain needed a drink.

"Besides, I can't imagine a better end for the legend of Valkrin Farensun than death at the hands of the most beautiful woman in the Isles," He laughed as they continued through the halls.
Marguerite
Catarina Tanner
Barracks, Maith Mansion

She shook her head slightly at his joke, not finding it nearly as entertaining as he apparently did. This wasn't a joke! Her pain wasn't a joke!

Regardless, she followed him through the halls towards the ball. At the moment, she wasn't in the mood to dance and party, but she hoped that the music and dancing would be enough to lighten the mood. No doubt a little bit of alcohol would take the edge off. 

As they arrived at the doors to the hall, she glanced up at him and gave a crooked, wobbly smile, "You're a fool, you know that?"
Rhonda
His Majesty Bradai-Daran Maith, The Pirate King of the Southern Isles
The Ball at the Maith Mansion, The Water Gardens

The crowns his wives had chosen for themselves were verging on the ridiculous. There were fifteen wives in total, which meant fifteen crowns had to be produced. The problem was not the supply of crowns, however. Bradai had been given more crowns than he could count. A crown was the best gift you could give a King, second only to skulls. There had been many Kings in the Isles before the Unification, and for every kingly skull, there were at least three kingly crowns. Islander Kings were nothing without their treasure. The Tides Barer was said to have worn crowns of blue silver, pearls, and black teak wood, all with gemstones the color of roiling storm and whale hide. His first crown, the one fashioned from dark brass and turquoise, was simple and understated. That was the one everyone knew him by, the one he wore to the joust and to the councils. He had a simple gold band wrought with old runes for religious ceremony and a wide brimmed straw hat. And the other five were either made from wood, and those he had only collected out of small personal interest. He would never wear a crown of wood in front of a Mainlander King. At best, it was an insult to their traditions of religious kingship. At worst, it was proof that Islanders still put roots atop their heads and proclaimed themselves Gods. It had never occured to anyone to tell his wives that, though.

He watched as the seventh wife, the Evenkeel, pulled on a knit leather cap, embroidered with cloth of silver. The embroidery shone like the scales of a fish in the firelight, and if she turned her head, the image a kraken was briefly seen, as if illuminated by a strike of lightning. He watched as the Sarim wife and the Dwyer wife exchanged thoughts on their matching hats, Araedian monstrosities with curving gold wings, glittering red silks and rubies. The tribal wife Sathack wore a heavy band of pure, white moonstone on her brow, ignoring the weight of it against her head as she tied cream, white, pink, and lime feathers into the hair of the Pebbles wife. 

When he looked back to the book on his lap, he felt a weight upon him. Sure enough, there was Lella Codd, with her hands on the back of his chair, leaning him with an intense look on her face. She was his second wife and perpetually curious of him in spite of, and perhaps also because of, the blindness she had been given at birth.

" 'er mother 'ad been diseased. Cursed by a sea devil." Mac-Calcana Codd had told him, when he surrendered all of his daughters to him on the deck of his escape ship. "'She took 'er eyes on the way out, but the girl is fine for fucking, if that's what yer after."

That was not what Bradai had been after. When he chose her that night, she began to sob, but with the hard cold rain on her cheeks and her wide, milky eyes, it looked like she was choking.

But for better or for worse, he and Lella were married. He was her husband, and she was one of his many Pirate Queens. She had gone in fear of him for the first year, but when she invited herself to his dinner, the two had learned that they both enjoyed music and the feeling of their feet in cold beach sand. When he sat in the library, sometimes she joined him, sitting in a chair next to him or by the fire if it was raining. She never abided by his rule of silence for very long however, and was often forced to dismiss herself. 

"Whattre you reading?" She asked, just in time for Bradai to close the book and tuck it beneath his chair. 

"A treatise on rice conservation." The Pirate King responded. "We are eating a lot of rice tonight." 

"Ah." She said, rounding the highbacked chair to sit where his right arm had been perched. "That sounds awful." She placed a hand on the back of his head and slowly began to take off his crown. His hand shot up and snatched it away from her. 

"What is _truly_ awful—" He straightened the crown on the top of his head. "Is running out uff rice at sea. Tha men we 'ave going to war, vhey're going to need to eat somefink when vhey're sailing. Rice, wiff fings in it. Fruits and fish and meat, all at once. Vhey'll eat it tonight, at tha ball. You'll like it."

"Can I see your crown?" Lella asked, holding out an empty palm. He had made it clear that she could not simply reach for things if she wanted them anymore, she had to ask. He had long ago made the mistake of thinking that just because Lella was blind, that she didn't know where things were or what they looked like. What she really had a problem with was being told no. 

"Fine." The Pirate King put the crown in her lap and watched as her fingers inspected it deftly. 

"The brass?" She asked, and when he said yes, she placed it back on his head and gave a curt, "Boring." 

"Fank you, Lella." He said, recrossing his leg and pulling at the book with his free arm. "Now if you excuse me I—" 

"I need a crown." She said. "I want a nice crown. Can you get one for me. A boring, nice one. Like the brass." 

The Pirate King paused and pursed his lips. He sighed, standing up from his chair and inspecting the display his servants had brought up from the vaults. He placed a hand over his mouth and wordlessly inspected them all, until he settled on one yet untouched.

The delicate Taemish tiara, with oval cut amber set into the ends of silver fireflies, had been passed over for more flashy headwear. The design was complex up close, but from far away appeared as simple and standard has his own. Without a second thought, he placed it in Lella's hands. 

She felt it over for what felt like a half an hour before slipping it onto her head.

"You look very pretty." He said. It had not been a lie. She was lithe and her freckles were dark. Again he began to reach for his book, to continue learning about silo construction and ideal portion sizes. 

"Are you 'andsome?" Lella took her fingers and slid them beneath the ribbons, edging up the fabric so that her white eyes could spy at him. He did not know how to reply.

"Ask your sisters in wifery." He said, opening the book onto his lap and looking at the pages to avoid her gaze. "Don't vhey talk about it?" 

"They say you look like an average man. Like an old dock worker, they said. 'ow am I to know what a streetwalker or an oar puller looks like? You've got a big beard and a long nose and a set of pale eyes, like mine." She smiled, exposing two rows of straight white teeth. If she hadn't been born blind, she would have fetched a large dowry.

"A little bit darker vhen yours, I'm afraid." A small smile crossed his face and for a moment, he let his guard down. "Do you fink I'm 'andsome?" He watched as the thought crossed her face, and the longer he looked into the white depths of her blind eyes, he knew the answer.

"No." She said, shaking her head. He didn't know what he had expected, or what to make of that. She folded her hands in her lap, slid off the arm of the chair, and walked away. 

When Silas called the hall to attention, he, his court, his wives, and the guests of honor all stood to make their way out to the ball.

THE BALL
THE MAITH MANSION

On any other day, the wives of the Pirate King were hostages. They had been given over to secure a peace pact and were often regarded as disposable. Twice a wife had to be replaced, but for the original fourteen, their home had been the Maith Mansion and the district of Redwall. Rumors of rape, torture, and hideous orgies of writhing pleasure circulated in seedy taverns and high courts across the whole realm. Fishwives and smallfolk trembled at the thought of being carried off into the black night to join the Pirate King's harem. But for the night at least, fifteen Pirate Queen greeted the audience at the Maith Mansion.

They were paraded out one at a time, escorted by a member of the Pirate King's court, a guest of honor, or one of his siblings. They were bedecked in outfits as countless and unique as their origins. Small, tall, old, young, pretty, lovely, radiant, all fifteen Pirate Queens had escorted their husband out from the large double doors that separated the royal library from the large balcony that overlooked the Water Gardens and Royal Harbor. One by one they look a seat at the long royal table, covered in expensive robes and furs that could not have been worn in the heat of midday. Gemstones sparkled on their rings, necklaces and bangles like stars in the night sky. One wife, ten years the King's elder, had the arm of the Seneschal and one cigar belonging to the captain of the city watch between her smiling yellow teeth. Clan Dwyer, Clan Geare, Thissle, Fuller, Whipper, Evenkeel, Codd, Rettyreed, Rillreed, Pebbles, all of the major northern clans had come to lend their strength to the Pirate King's call to arms.

The immensely fat Bosun Dwyer had unveiled the Isles' newest warship in Windrip, The Ear Stealer's Wickedness, or simply Wickedness, and had sailed it into the city today. It was one of the largest in its class of Leviathans, and was dwarfed only by the Quay, and not by very much. It would go under the command of his sister and lead the fleet North when they were ready to shove off. 

Galt-Jon Geare had brought every son of fighting age and twice as many barrels of fine Zulprisan rum which, between puffs on his long bone pipe, he declared to be the newfound favorite drink of the next Terresi King. 


Tall Thesmond Thissle swore that all of the Pirate King's ships would take on the extra provisions at Cloverhold, and had given him a ledger of the goods set aside as a present. That, plus the twenty cattle they had given over for the feast, was a reminder of their importance. 

Dozens more, Privateers and Kingsmen all, had made their way beside the King on his table, until only the high seat in the middle remained.

At the height of sunset, the Water Gardens were at their most vibrant. The leaves and lilypads were never greener, the bay was never more teal, and the Maith Mansion was never a brighter shade of red than when the sun crossed over the ridge of the battlement, the beams of light skipping like stones across the bay to splash against the library's great open arches. When the Pirate King came out and stood before them, the colors of day faded to the greys, purples, and dull blues of nightfall. They all took a knee when he entered, sending the festivities into a hush, save for the sounds of the harbor and the screeching of cicada and cricket. He stood there, sternly, inspecting all of them at once. But when he raised the head of his cane in the air, the torches, braziers, bonfires were all set ablaze and, as if from nowhere, the world erupted.

Sweetrind, the court fool, heralded the servants, playing a jaunty melody on a tiny wooden flute with hands twice the size of an average man. Behind him was a dancing bear, the same height as him, with a similarly small horn in tow. Great chained lizards, peacocks, walking birds all of shapes and sizes, and twelve snakecharmers, their skin the color of well oiled leather, began to walk along the tables, making themselves acquainted with the guests as the first of many meals was passed out. Behind them were endless barrels of wine, mead, ales, and rum. 

The animals were the least of it, however. Just as soon as Sweetrinds tune came to an end, squeezeboxes, violins, drums, and chanting took up in its place. It was an old rowing tune, given new life by the size of the band and the strength of their instruments. Some Islanders couldn't help themselves and jumped up from the feast entirely to go out onto the ballroom floor. They were joined by swordswallowers, fire breathers, contortionists, jugglers, and a group of mummers that looked intent on setting up a play front.

Out beyond the dance floor, over the railing, the lights of the harbor, conservatory, and pleasure barge went up as well. 

Great cauldrons of soup were ladled out into yellow clay bowls. The first course was a warm red soup, thick and filling. Baby rays bobbed at the creamy surface, their soft bodies stuffed with herbs and cheese. Once it was poured, the servants spread coconut milk across the top in a wide arc, white against red. When the Pirate King brought the spoon to his lips and swallowed one whole, the feast officially began.
Harvey
Valkrin Farensun 
The Ball at Maíth Mansion 

"I'm aware I'm a fool," Valkrin chuckled as they entered the ballroom, "You'll come to love it." 

As the Royal Court paraded themselves in, Valkrin and Catarina made their way through the crowd. In the light of the evening sun, his amber eye practically glowed as he scanned the vast assembly in the room. 

"Feel free to enjoy yourself, Ms. Tanner, I'm not going to force you to stay by my side all night. All I ask is you save me a dance." Valkrin straightened his clothing, a clean white shirt beneath a black leather vest with amber trim. 

The soup was mediocre at best, and he'd passed on the coconut milk, but the captain found himself tapping his foot along to the music that filled the air.