Elizabeth
Brandon Welles
The Irons, Tonate Proper 

"Vhere ain't no turnin' back after vis, Bran."

Brandon and three members of his crew ventured into the administrative section of the Southern Isles. After 5 years of practical banishment from his home, he started to reject the notion of even considering Araedia home. He wanted more for himself, for his crew, than loading crates and barrels on and off one of his Father's posher ships every few months. 

He could do more, and ambition was becoming a beast eating him alive. 

The Pirate King had always been villainized to him- a murderous animal in a man's body who could hardly hold a conversation with a real King. At his root, he was a shitblood. Shitbloods didn't desire any well being for anyone born above their station. They were best avoided at all costs. Of course, Brandon being the daring young man he is decided to test that theory which led to him discovering that it was all a crock of shit. Fear was the real animal, greed its mother. 

However, there was a slight hesitation from Brandon when approaching the cluster of buildings that housed Maith's most trusted advisors, administrators, and on occasion the man himself. There was no guarantee that he'd be remotely interested in speaking to the disgraced second son of a Provincial from Araedia.

Brandon squared his shoulders, "I know."

The building was impressive, tall ceilings, beautiful artwork, and tropical flowers sat atop tall urns with beautiful patterns etched into the stone. Brandon lived a double life since he was about 13 years old. One side of him was accustomed to scenes like this, and that side behaved a certain way. The other side, had absolutely no place in building such as this. He had an odd sensation that if there was ever a place that embodied both of those sides, it was here. 

"Vhat ya need?"

Brandon snapped out of his own thoughts to turn to a man, clearly official. "Hello, my name is Brandon Welles. I was wondering if Bradai Maith be interested in having an Araedian port in his arsenal." 

"Could be. How ya gon' give it to him?"

Brandon smirked, "I own it." 

The official raises his eyebrows then took a step towards Bran, "Keep talkin'..."
Rhonda
The Pirate King Bradai Maith
Main Office, The Maith Mansion, Tonate Proper

"—yeah, I do fink it's pretty interesting vhat a noble boy would offer 'is port to us. Erba no less."

Ollie McCallister crossed his arms, clearly displeased with Bradai's willingness to hold council with what was essentially an Araedian Provincial. "Exactly. Who comes in and offers something like that up? What's he gonna do next, see exactly what contraband he can transport right to Araedian authorities? He'll try and discredit the Trading Company, and our holdings in Terresol will be caput."

The Pirate King nodded slowly, "Yeah well, _normally_ I would agree wiff you. But dock records on Brandon Welles 'ave shown vhat 'e's lived 'ere for five years. 'is favher, Leon Welles put 'im to work on a ship 'e gave 'im." He rifled through his papers, passing countless lists across the desk and into the hands of the secretary. "About a year later, as you will see 'ere..." He pointed to another list and added it to the growing pile in Ollie's arms, "—vhat crew was fired, and 'is name was put next to tha name uff anuvher ship, wiff a crew vhat 'as caused any variety uff petty crimes and disturbances. Shitblooded as vhey come. If it _is_ a con, it is a _long_ con. I fink 'e might be a touch jaded vhat 'is favher put 'im 'ere. 'e'd be going under anovher name if 'e was gonna spy on us."

"I think he just wants to get back at Daddy." Ollie muttered, looking through the papers with narrowed eyes. He sounded annoyed at the prospect of working with him. 

"I completely agree, which is why we'll take Erba wiff vhis boy's 'elp. We'll ride vhis resentment as far as it'll go, and if by tha end tha boy wants to claim Erba for tha Isles, we let 'im. If not..." The Pirate King set the papers on his desk, "I'll put you personally in charge of making 'im disappear. I know you've always wanted to cement shoe an Araedian."

Finding this satisfactory, Ollie stood from his chair and stepped out of the Pirate King's office. He tucked the papers into his clipboard and made a brisk pace down the hall and into the library, where Brandon had been sat to wait. 

"Mr. Welles?" Ollie stepped around the corner, hand extended to shake. With a smile, he informed the Araedian that the Pirate King was ready to see him. "Down the hall, first door to the right. Knock before you enter, only come him when he says that you can. I look forward to a bright future together." With a nod, the secretary turned the corner, out of view.
Elizabeth
Brandon Welles
Main Office, The Maith Mansion, Tonate Proper

Brandon hardly got through his lessons as a child because he hated reading. It was never his passion, but the books in the library were a welcome distraction. He walked around, running his fingers down the spines of the books, taking glimpses out the window of the mansion to the beautiful grounds outside. He'd been on a ship for far too long. He'd forgotten what it was like to be on solid ground in a grand house like the Maith Mansion. 

He got bored after a while then took a seat in a plush chair that he sank into perfectly. As soon as he got truly comfortable, Ollie's footsteps made him sit up straight. Brandon stood when Ollie came in the room, shook his hand, and returned the smile. He listened to the directions he gave him with a nod. His comment about working together made him relax a little, and the thought that he was walking into a room to have his ear cut off to be auctioned for ransome quieted significantly. 

Ollie vanished around another corner, and within a few seconds Brandon ventured down a long hall, approached the door then knocked without hesitation. He looked around waiting for the man on the other side, The Pirate King, to tell him to come in. 

When he heard it, he opened the door and came in. 

He'd never seen the man up close before, and he wasn't exactly your standard King. Of course, he hadn't thought of any of that before he was standing in front of the man. He pieced together as much of a respectful greeting as he could muster, "King Bradai, thank you for meeting with me."
Rhonda
The Pirate King Bradai Maith
Main Office, The Maith Mansion, Tonate Proper

Brandon was right about one thing: Bradai Maith didn't look like a king. He had never really strived to appear royal. It wasn't like he was an ascetic, though. His clothing was a signifier of his wealth. Gold chains were strung around his wrists as bracelets, across his breast connecting journals to pockets and a watch to his side, another around his neck to hold a pendant beneath his simply drawstring shirt. His overcoat was strung on the back of his chair unceremoniously, it's many pockets hung open, and the desk filled with it's contents. Maps, wayward notes, a few separate leather bound books, all in neat little stacks before him. He appeared to be a man deep in thought, hair askew and beard untrimmed. He was obsessed with organization, not appearance. He looked more like a barkeep then a King. When Brandon entered the room, the Pirate King was in the process of rolling down his sleeves, obscuring the tattoos that littered his forearms and wrists. 

"It's nuffink. I try to meet wiff anyone vhat promises me a good amount of land." The Pirate King didn't look up from the ledgers he was reviewing, taking just a moment to let out a soft chuckle, dip his quill into the inkwell, and provide Brandon with a brief glance. "I've read about you. You've been living in tha Isles for some time now, employing some Shitbloods. Where did you get tha idea for vhis meeting?" 

"Oh yeah and uh..." He removed his free hand from the side of the ledger and motioned to one of the chairs before the desk, "Sit. Get comfortable. Really relax."
Elizabeth
Brandon Welles
Main Office, The Maith Mansion, Tonate Proper

Brandon took in the sight of the man for a moment, and he was frankly relieved. Frankly, he typically had more successful conversations with barkeeps than Kings. Brandon himself never cared much for what he was wearing. The least enjoyable place in the world was a fitting for a regal getup before an event that he'd be surrounded by people that bored him to death. 

He looked around the room, organized and neat. It still had the air of a space that was used often though, he liked it. 

Bran smirked when he said he'd meet with anyone promising him land, "Exactly what I hoped for." He wasn't exactly promising him Erba, but he figured he was just speaking generally. Brandon raised his eyebrows when he said he'd read about him, "I hadn't the slightest idea there was anything about me written down." He nodded along with a smile when he said he was in the isles employing some shitbloods. He knew his crew was a wild bunch that typically made trouble wherever they went. 

It wasn't exactly his fault though, he didn't bring them to the Isles... He just gave them incentive to stay. 

Brandon took a seat when he was offered one, relaxing in it. Of course, like most of the rumors he'd heard. The ones about the Pirate King seemed extremely false. He was easy to talk to. 

"I'd like to get more actively involved in trade. I've been doing the same route for 5 years, making the same runs, and frankly... I'm bored. Your docks are lovely, but I want to do more." 

He tried to leave all the messy parts of his frustration with his family out of it, keep it professional... Mostly.
Rhonda
The Pirate King Bradai Maith
Main Office, The Maith Mansion, Tonate Proper

The Pirate King looked up at Brandon Welles, placing the quill on the page of the ledger and clasping his hands. It was the first time the Pirate King provided him with all of his attention, "Everyone in tha Isles, especially Araedians what come on vheir favher's boat are written about and recorded. We're a kingdom of ships. My men are tasked wiff collecting fees from every man vhat wants to stay. Simple business." The Pirate King bent over in his chair and grasped his cane up from off the ground. He stood from his desk and walked to the drink cart in the corner of the room. "Speaking uff simple business, what do you fink you could do for me? I assume you're looking for a job in tha Bradai Maiff Trading Company, but I'm also confident in guessing vhat you know you didn't need to come to the King to ask for a position. What do you 'ave to offer?" 

Leaning on the cane, the Pirate King knelt down and began to rummage through the cart for some glasses and a bottle. "You seem like a man who drinks rum. You're certainly young enough for it, yeah? 'ave you ever 'ad ice?"
Elizabeth
Brandon Welles
Main Office, The Maith Mansion, Tonate Proper

Brandon didn't really have a reaction to hearing that he was registered with them. Of course he didn't know what. When he came to the Isles he was a teenager who didn't care how the system worked. He just wanted to get drunk with whores. He scratched the back of his ear a little then adjusted in his seat, "Of course." 

It hit him then that even after he dismissed the old crew, Leon was paying for him to stay there. It irritated him, it was written all over his face. He was even more motivated to sever ties, pay his own damn dock fees. 

The expression faded when The Pirate King stood, grabbing his cane to go get a drink. Brandon nodded at his question, "I can get you access to the Erban port, no fees. That is good for you because things that go through Erba flow straight through to Araedia. My Father's been the guardian of that port for so long, it's trusted. What he brings in, ships out." Brandon sat back in the chair, putting one of his legs across the side really getting comfortable. 

"You'll have access day or night to transport anything you like goods or people all under Queen Juliana's massive nose. I know she is no fan of outside product especially those coming from the Southern Isles. It's a nightmare bringing anything to Araedia for you, isn't it? I also read a little about you too, and I know how you like to keep track of things. How's it been trying to keep track of on your neighbor? Successful?" He smirked, "Let me help."

When Bradai said he seemed like a man who drank rum he replied, "At every opportunity." Brandon nodded about the ice, "It's not necessary in my case. Slows me down."

Tobias and Thalia Alder.
The Western Shores of Alderport, The Southern Isles.

_"Tobiiiaaaaaaas!"_

Tobias sighed, bringing up his hand to scratch at his head as he awkwardly glanced around the docks, hoping no one else could see his beaming sister waving and shouting at him from her incoming ship. All around him, men were lugging crates of goods into the mainland while others were stacking them up on ships to be sent to the poppy farms. It was a busy season for everyone, especially Thalia. Though, being in charge of their poppy fields was a good fit for her, and the stress that came with a booming industry and unpredictable weather never seemed to faze her. She loved being at sea, and the quiet those fields brought... Even if _she_ was anything but.

"Tobiaaaas! I'm back!" Thalia called from her ship, waving her hand side-to-side in the air. She was holding onto the railing, donned in a long black coat and wearing a bright white blouse with ruffles in the front. She'd tanned, considerably, probably from monitoring the fields. 

Tobias smiled to himself, despite his cheeks being red from embarrassment. _She looks happy, at least. That's good._

"I see that! I _hear_ it, as well!" Tobias shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth and finally giving in to his sister's goofy antics. He eventually swung his hands down, chuckling and placing them on his hips. It made no sense to try and shout over the lapping sea, but then, there was no making sense of Thalia.

When the ship docked, Thalia hoisted herself up onto the ledge and swung herself onto the gangplank. In just a few strides, she was running down the docks, her arms outstretched. She leapt into her twin brother's arms, making him stagger back and laughing all the while.

"Ohhh I missed ye, Tobias," She sighed, smiling up at him. The young woman tilted her head, one corner of her mouth raising playfully. "Oi.. Is that an extra freckle you've grown?"

Tobias laughed, ruffling her hair and nudging her away. "You're one to talk. What brings ya back so early?"

Thalia shrugged, brushing past her brother and walking off the docks. Her crew unloaded her things behind her, a few attendants rushing to follow behind.

"Rhiander sent a pigeon my way, said that we may be having an important visitor. So, I packed all I could in a hurry and boarded the next ship to the mainland," Thalia said. She gazed up at the sky, watching as seagulls coasted in the salty breeze. As much as she loved the farms, there was truly nothing like home.

"Interesting.." Tobias muttered. He followed after Thalia, glad that his face wasn't in her view. _Why wouldn't Rhiander tell_ me? 

"Whoever it is, I'm just glad ta have a reasonable excuse to be home! It feels like I've been gone fer ages!" Thalia said, looking back at Tobias momentarily. Noticing the look on his face, her voice softened.

"Oh, cheer up. Rhiander's a busy man, as are you. You wouldn't even be here if it weren't for Mirajane's betrothal ceremony coming up," Thalia said.

"I suppose you're right," Tobias said, yawning as he stretched his arms over his head. He'd ditched the formal commander jacket for a casual long-sleeved shirt, buttoned up. As the pair approached their horses, the young man smirked and looked over to his sister.

Thalia did the same, lifting her chin. "Ye sure you're in shape for a race? Yer lookin' a little tubby, since the last time I saw ya!"

Tobias laughed. "I consider _that_ a challenge."

"Glutton fer punishment, are ye?" Thalia retorted.

And then, in a flurry of more insults and taunts, the twins mounted their steeds and raced back toward the estate, pushing the horses as quickly as they could go.
Rhonda
The Pirate King Bradai Maith
Main Office, The Maith Mansion, Tonate Proper

The Pirate King turned around, having left his cane at the drink cart. He seemed to walk fine without it. In his hands were two drinks, white rum with a rind of lemon and honey. "Yeah, well, you talk a good game." He passed it across the desk before falling back into his seat, drink perfectly still in his grasp. "I've met a lot uff people vhat talk a really great game, mate. What I want is for you to prove to me vhat you can get my shipments to where vhey need to go. Funny fing about Araedians, I'm sure you can attest, is vhat vhey fink vhey're smarter vhen me. So when you come into my office, telling me vhat you'll 'and over your family's ancestral 'ome for river travel, no fees and no inspections on cargo, I feel as if I'm being—" He let his free hand vaguely gesture, as if he was summoning up the word, "_Gamed._ I feel like I'm being taken for a ride, yeah? So 'ere's what I need." He took a long draw from the glass and sighed, "I need to _not_ feel gamed. I want somefing, somefing vhat'll prove to me vhat you're willing to commit."

The Pirate King opened one of his desk drawers and produced a chest, dark wood, no larger then a jewelry box. It was held shut by a simple metal clasp, that could be undone at a moment's notice. "Vhere is a broffel across town. I've 'eard reports uff a store owner giving my men trouble when vhey come to collect taxes. Go in, find 'im, hand 'im vhis box. If anyone asks about tha box, tell vhem it's yours. You did not get it from me. Do not man 'andle it, you need to 'old it and 'old it steady. And, for the love of tha Gods, ***Do not open it.***" He, almost with an air of nervousness, handed the box across the table. "You're going to watch 'im open tha box, and when you come back, we'll talk about getting you a job. You do vhis for me and uh..." The Pirate King glanced at the box in the boy's lap, "We can get to work."
Elizabeth
Brandon Welles
Main Office, The Maith Mansion, Tonate Proper

Brandon took the drink. He stared at the lemon rind in the glass for a moment before he drank it. He clearly liked it because he finished it in nearly one breath then all he could do was stare at the glass for a second. He could drink about 10 of them, but not wasn't the time to put his vices on display. 

He listened as Bradai said he felt like he was being gamed. He could understand it. He didn't imagine that normal families put themselves in this sort of situation often, so of course he'd be suspicious. He nodded, "I understand. How can I prove it?" 

He tapped his fingers against the glass as the box was produced. It wasn't anything spectacular, but the moment he said not to open it, it was all he could think about. He snapped out of it to hear about the brothel, his kind of place, and the owner giving them a hard time about collecting taxes. "They're often more than a little ridiculous about their prices," He said with a short laugh. "I always assumed they'd be more than happy to pay their bills, but of course not." 

He reached for the box before was very sternly instructed not to open it. His eyes widened for a second, "Alright." He took it carefully from The Pirate King and sat it on his lap. Bran smiled when he said they can get to work, "Looking forward to it. I'll return when the box is delivered." 

He placed his glass on the desk then stood up, holding the box out in front of him. 
___

Once outside the three members of the crew he'd showed up with approached him, "Fukin' hell. Vought ya got swallowed alive.. Vhat 'appened" Brandon smirked keeping the box tight under his arm, "He sent me to a brothel." 

The three of them exchanged confused glances then followed Bran back to the ship.
Barry
Loonay de Silva
Tonate Docks

He covered her with his girth, his weight took all the breath out of her lungs. She gasped for air, pushing feebly against his chest. This was a dire situation for her indeed, her skills were useless against brute strength. He slid one hand next to her face and used it to push himself up enough to press the other hand around her neck and squeezed.

Her gasping turned to croaks as her air was cut off.

"MmMmm I love it when the make that sound" He whispered in her ear. 

He bit her hard on the earlobe, the pain cleared her oxygen starved mind for just a moment, his sour breath washing over her face as he licked her cheek. His face loomed over hers and suddenly she recognized him,  Imal's quartermaster. He must have followed her, waiting for an opportunity like this. She would gladly make him regret it, if she got the chance. Her vision began to darken as the lack of air began to steal the life out of her. He pushed up on his free hand slightly and moved his knee between her legs. He shifted his weight to the hand around her neck and she croaked with the pain as he moved his free hand towards the laces of his breeches. She heard someone shout in the distance but couldn't make out the words. He seemed not to hear.

She felt something hard press into her hip and a wave of revolution washed over her before she realized it was her salvation. He was on top of her at a slight angle and her right hand that had been beating and scratching at him was free from the elbow down. She reached for the hard object and sent a prayer to the Dark Lord as her hand grasped a hilt. He shifted, taking his weight on his knees as her resistance faded. He was positioning himself, ready to begin. His eyes on her hips, his laces undone, his free hand fumbling with the hem of the dress Imal had given her. Little more than a shift with a slim length of rope at the waist. He was not looking at her face.

"Fuck you Imal, you should have shared your toys, I'll slit your throat and spill all that pretty blood when I take your ship" He muttered to himself, almost as if he had forgotten she was even there. Little more that a pair of legs.

In that moment, as he rose slightly above her, lining himself up, her shoulder was freed. She pulled the curved blade from its sheath and flipped it in her hand. He felt the sudden movement and released her neck, trying to block the incoming blade, but she was swift in her vengeance. The blade pierced his jaw and protruded through his teeth. He let out a garbled scream and clawed at his mouth, lifting up on his knees and freeing her. She held fast to the blade as she pulled her legs under her, following him. She tugged on the blade, cutting into his jaw and tongue, blood pouring from his mouth. She took deep breaths, pain radiating from her throat with each gasp. The world swam but her grip stayed firm, she pulled again and he lost his balance, falling to his hands, like an animal on all fours. She crouched before him now, staring into his wide, fearful eyes.

"Neverr touch a Shadowman. Vhen you meet ze Darrk Lord, tell 'im, Loonay stille serrves" She whispered, then with one great tug she tore the blade through his jaw and teary, ruining his face. She ended his screams with one swift stroke, he landed face down in the mud, his breeches at his knees, his rump in the air.

She was covered in blood, but she still wiped the blade clean on a dry patch of her dress. It had been crimson to begin with but now it was damp. As she tucked the blade into her belt she realized a beautiful woman stood at the entrance to the alley, staring at her with wide eyes. Loonay nodded and waited to see what the woman would do, ready to chance after her if need be.
Stephanie
Roland Nailo
Tonate Docks

*Roland would round the corner, seeing the death. His hand went to his sword as he jogged up and looked at the dead man*
"Why is it I always miss the chance to help?
Elizabeth
Brandon Welles
A brothel in Tornate Proper 

The box was sitting on Kichea's vanity while Brandon slid on his boots. It was torture... Looking at that thing without opening it. It was such a delicate little clasp. What could possible be in it? He couldn't come up with one answer that made sense. Realistically, no one would know if he just took a little look. He lowly growled, turned away from the box to his drink sitting on the floor beside his boots. His door opened a few seconds later. It was pure chaos happening on the other side of it. One of his older crew members poked his head in and Brandon could hardly hear him with all the commotion, "Can't keep em' waitin' no more! Move yur arse!" Brandon laughed, "Close my damn door!" He figured it might be a fun night for the lot of them, so he invited all 15 men along with him to deliver the box. 

When they walked off the ship there were knights waiting, and that wasn't out of the ordinary. They usually just let you by if you weren't obvious more of a psycho than anyone else on the Isles. A majority of the crew went along without question, but a knight held out his arm and stopped Brandon from walking with an open palm to his chest. 

Brandon had the box under his arm still, and nearly dropped it before he got a grip on it like his life depended on it. Irritated Bran barked, "What's the problem?!" The Knight removed his hand then pointed at the box. "Whass in it?" Brandon scoffed, "A present for your Mother. I'm visiting a brothel tonight, she's my favorite." The knight seemed unphased, "Vhere's poisonin' happenin' all ova the Isles. Whass in da damn box, ya bastard?"

Brandon's expression changed from irritated to serious, "The gold I plan on paying the brothel with. I'm paying for all 15 of my crew. I'd show you, but not on the docks in the middle of the night. This ain't my first time on the Isles." The knight looked over him the gestured with his head for him to pass. 

Brandon swallowed hard once he walked by and carried the box a little more carefully.
__

Feeling uncomfortable in a brothel was a foreign feeling, but with the box to protect he was very near to it. His crew of course made themselves right at home. With that amount of activity all at once, the owner emerged nearly immediately. The brothel seemed to be the type to want a certain kind of customer, Bran's crew was not it. 

"EXCUSE ME!" He screamed above the voiced of the men and the girls. "Excuse me," He said more politely when he got the attention he wanted. "With this large of a group, we'll need to ensure payment." 

Brandon was sitting at a table, the box right in front of him. "Address those concerns to me," He said waving the man over. "These men are members of my crew," He said while dropping a handful of gold on the table. "I'd like to ensure their satisfaction before I give you any more."

The mere presence of any gold made the owner relax, "Of course, M'Lord. I have no doubt my girls will um... Fit their needs." He looked over to the girls, "Carry on, Ladies." Brandon yelled at the crew, "Oi! Enjoy yourselves, but we ain't staying all night!"

___

The night passed far too quickly for anyone's liking, and the owner stood by the door as the last crew member left to return to the ship. Brandon hadn't moved from the table, and the owner kept an eye on him all night.

"Right this way, M'Lord. I don't do business in front of the girls." Brandon looked around. None of the girls were to be found, but he didn't really care where the man opened the box. He hesitated for a second though.. "M'LORD! This. Way." Bran wrinkled his eyebrow, "Settle down. I'm coming." He picked up the box then walked into the owner's office.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Kichea
Tonate docks, The Southern Isles 

Kichea watched the whole fight through her fingers. In her wildest dreams, she didn't image it would end that way. She lowered her hands from her face when the woman turned her glance towards her. "Well," She looked at the man laying dead on the ground. "Vhat'll show em'..." She took a step forward towards the woman when a man came running around the corner. 

She giggled at his question, "You outta see somebody 'bout dat." 

She walked over to the woman, smoothing down her hair a bit. "You okay, Little Dove?"