John
Puckgordon
In the Shade with a Snake

The snake felt cold since it was in the shade, and it would make any other person scream or shout, maybe shiver...

But we were talking about a boy who was way too curious about leeches fucking and dreamt ten times more terrible fates at night. He slowly peeked around to find its head, looking it over from top to bottom to see if this creature was venomous or not.

From no bigger cheeks or jaws, round eyes, and a puppy-like mouth, this snake seemed to be more of a constricting killer than a venomous one.

After that was distinguished, Puck had an easier time relaxing and watching the snake nearly slither up his pant leg. A snake near your crotch, venomous or not, was not ideal, so Puck pulled his pantleg tight, folding and rolling the pant leg so it was pegged tightly to his skin, no way the little creature could get past. 

He didn't know why he was humoring this creature in the first place, but humor it he did, crouching down again so he could watch it closely. 

It looked almost like... Glass blown. It was the only way he could describe the semi-translucent scales, fading to a slate grey. And where the sun hit the scales, it was iridescent, an attractive snake, as far as snakes go.

Something he could relate to. He moved his hand up to the head as it slithered around his knee, letting it crawl up his arm. He met its eyes at his shoulder, and his lipsp parted.

"Hm... It's not often I meet another just like me." He whispered to it, the snake smelling the air as the boy spoke in a quiet, breathy tone.
-

He wondered why this snake seemed so friendly. Perhaps it was retarded, a stroke of luck that this snake hadn't died when it was a baby, or maybe it was fate, or a guardian, or a spirit. Perhaps the Snake was truly the original Puckgordon, keeping an eye on his namesake. 

Puckgordon stood up slowly, tilting his head to the side as the snake nudged it's rounded, soft nose at Puckgordon's jawline, insisting on passage across his chest to the other shoulder blade. 

Wearing a snake as a scarf, Puckgordon began walking again. This time, people steered far away, many women and younger children *Eep*Ing at such a sight.

As Puckgordon neared his destination, the water growing boggier and the people looking well... More toothless, Puck felt... So much more familiar. Few people stared. Few people questioned. It was a relief, a bringing of peace.

Puck brought the bucket toward a farmer, a leech farmer by the look of the blotchy spots over his arms.

Puckgordon requested said leeches with simple and small words, but with straightforward intent, not allowing for his words to be aggressive. Yet. "The largest ones. They're on King's orders."

Marching from one leech farm to the other, he soon amassed a rather disturbing amount of the slimy, writhing things dancing across each other through the murky water of the pail. 

He would bring them back. He realized he had forgotten the silver. He also realized simply saying that it was a king's order (even though they weren't the king's orders) was enough for them to comply. 

He hoped he didn't get beaten for it. But, he always thought that efficiency was better than honesty. As long as it was the right people to lie too. A leech farmer would easily be able to have funds delivered to a later date. Simple as that.

-
He had almost forgotten about the little creature hanging across his shoulder like a knight's badge, at times pushing through Puckgordon's hair back and forth to soak up the warmth atop his inky black locks.

Now that Puckgordon thought about it, it must be the reason the snake had happened upon him at all. To soak up the warmth from being stuck near shadows for so long.

Puckgordon didn't mind the company. It was fitting, a Snæch and a Snake, both pining for warmth.

Funny thing. A Snæch and a Snake.
Kevin
Bastien de Lysse
The Adamant Raptor

Bastien's lips twitched at the eager words of his young sister. Fleur was adorable, but did not understand the very real danger that pirates held, especially towards the wealthy and exuberant de Lysse family. Bastien had shaken his head as he saw what ship his father had chosen. Though beautiful, it was rather flashy for being around a place known for pirates and thieves. A bit tasteless for the occasion, in Bastien's opinion. But his father was sentimental and it was Fleur's first trip, and he understood where his father was coming from with the decision.

"Well," He said slowly, as he lowered his tone to sound as though he was sharing a secret, "Father did mention to me that we are under the protection of the Pirate King of the Isles himself, Bradai Maith." He arched an eyebrow slightly. "Perhaps, if you ask politely, he would answer some questions you think of to ask him of his profession." He managed to keep his expression stoic as he nodded thoughtfully at his little sister. "Yes. I doubt he would find another that admires his craft as much as you."

He glanced over and saw that his men were prepared to go. "I will see you later this evening," He told his sister with a final pat on her head. He glanced over to see Bear being lead down to the pier. "After I finish some business, I will either find you at our accommodations or locate you before then." 

He took a step back, bowing slightly towards his sister and Lady Calypso, locking eyes with the latter. His eyes relayed yet another silent message to her. Indigo to dark brown. "Ladies," He said, before turning to Cyprien. "Father." He gave his father a nod before he walked down the pier to join his men. The wind ruffled his wine-colored shirt and snow-white hair as he mounted Bear, and he almost looked like a prince of sorts as he raised his hand in a brief farewell before taking off towards the town.
Felicia
**Cyprien de Lysse**
**The Port of Drase, Tonate Proper**

"And there he goes," Said lord De Lysse. He was proud of his son: so young, so dashing, so full of potential. A shame he was in presence of his troops and a stranger, and therefore had to remain impassible.

"We'll meet with Bradai Maith first. After that, you and your maid will be able to go wherever they please," He told Fleur.

Her maid... One of the soldiers swallowed his tongue. Whether he had done it on purpose or not, Cyprien had just been disrespectful towards lady Kolgrim. Had Bastien not informed him on her status? In any case, the soldier did not dare to speak. He knew all too well that Cyprien wasn't fond of criticism unless it came from his inner circle of advisors.
Tom
Calypso Kolgrim 
The Port of Dase, Tonate Proper. 

Lady Kolgrim Raised her dark eyebrows at Fleur question, she opened her mouth to answer but Bastien had already started talking. She listened to the nobleman, watching him act like he was sharing some vital information with the little Lady about The pirate king. Calypso let her eyes travel back up the city, acting like she didn't notice Lord Bastien's men looking at her like cats staring at the fishmonger stall.

Tonate Proper looked nothing like Sol, and curiosity rose in her chest, something pulling her towards the red brick and colorful dresses of the inhabitants of the capital. But she wasn't here for fun, Calypso had a duty to full fill and she was determined to do her bests at it. 

When ready to go, Bastien locked eyes with her again, "Good luck with your duties my lord." Said her with a small curtsy. And then he was off, her eyes following momentarily his elegant figure disappeared between the streets. 
But then Lord Cyprien was speaking and her attention focused on him as he explained what was their next step.

*'Your maid.'*
Calypso's dark eyes squinted lightly at the older man. It didn't look like he had realized his mistake in addressing her, but when she was about to open her mouth to correct him, she noticed a soldier slowly shaking her head at her. Calypso swallowed her pride, closing her mouth but keeping her head up, error or not she was not going to give the older man the satisfaction of lowering her gaze as she nodded at his words. He was Bastien's father after all. 
Then she turned towards Fleur, forcing a warm smile on her lips, imagining how excited the young lady would be. "Are you ready my lady? " Asked her.
Cedric
Bastien de Lysse
Westward Keel

As Bear sauntered down the street, Bastien was aware of the numerous eyes watching him. Women, mainly, were staring quite openly, but children and men also studied him as he and his group of men walked by. A particular group of young women caught his eye. They were crowded beside the entrance of one of the many bathhouses for the middle-class on the street. Judging by their light robes, they were planning on going for a dip. They noticed him glance in their direction and held their hands over their mouths, partaking in a bout of lady-like giggles.

Bastien resisted to roll his eyes as he drove Bear close to them, the giggles turning into slight gasps and murmurs. "Hello," He said as he looked down at them from his mount. He towered over them, not simply due to being upon a horse, but also because he had so tall a stature. His expression was icy. Elegant. Refined. "Would one of you be able to give me directions?"

The girls turned to look at one another with wide-eyes before erupting into another bout of giggles. One with long, golden curls wore a cat-like grin on her face as she tilted her head up at him. "That depends on where you want to go," She said with a coy smile. Her thin cotton robe fluttered dangerously in the breeze, along with the other women's.

Bastien decided to ignore that remark, and her suggestive tone. "I am looking for The Bizeron Forge," He said, his eyes glancing over the women before flicking away. "Where is it?"

"Oh." The golden-curled woman sounded mildly disappointed. "It's a large building, about five minutes walk from here. The sign is black and gold, you can't miss it."

"Ah. I see." He was close, then. He gifted the woman with a small smile, a rare present that was bestowed upon few. Her cheeks flushed slightly. "Your help has been most appreciated." He gave them a small nod. "Ladies." He put Bear into a trot, leaving the group of giggling women behind him.

"Popular with the women, aren't you?" Valmour, one of the men in Bastien's squad, asked as he rode beside Bastien with a smirk. He deepened his voice to try and imitate Bastien's low, husky voice. *"Ladies~."*

Bastien and Valmour's relationship was more similar to friends than lord and squadman, luckily for Valmour. They had known each other for years, and Valmour seemed to like to get on Bastien's nerves at the earliest opportunity. "I admire your courage in making such a remark," Bastien replied coolly, "When I am heading to the blacksmith's to pick up a custom sword."

"Ahahaha..;;" Valmour's smile paled. "Though I can't tell if that is a threat or a joke. Your expression never changes when you kid."

A small smile flitted on Bastien's face, but paired with his icy eyes it looked more ominous than friendly. "Then make another joke and find out," He said as they neared the black and gold sign the woman had told them about. "Ah. Here it is."

He dismounted Bear, handing the reins to the ever-pale Valmour before pushing open the door. A hot gust of breeze blew in his face and the sound of clanging metal crashed in his ears. *Hmm,* He thought as he studied the displayed swords, lances, and armour. The beauty and detail of each displayed piece was amazing. *They don't call the blacksmiths in the Westward Keel the best for nothing, I suppose.*

A short, muscular man covered in sweat appeared from the back. He looked grimy and dirty, but he gave Bastien a friendly smile nonetheless. "Hello, stranger. What can I help ya with?"

"Ah, yes." Bastien crossed his arms across his chest as he viewed the short man in front of him. "Are you Mister Bizeron?"

The dirty man chuckled. "Call me Charlie. But yeah, I'm Bizeron. Are ya here ta make an order?"

"To pick up an order," Bastien corrected. "Quite a large order. I previously sent a letter explaining what I wanted."

"Ah!" Charlie's eyes lit up as soon as Bastien mentioned the letter. "Yes, that wonderful, *Very expensive* Order. Ya must be Lord de Lysse." He gestured for Bastien to follow him to the back. "Follow me."

They went through what Bastien had ordered for himself: a new set of armour, a beautifully designed war hammer, and new horseshoes for Bear. That was not what Bastien was most eager about, however. Finally, it came time for the last piece.

"I saved the best for last," Charlie said with a grin as he went into a side room. Bastien felt he was about to die of heat. In addition to the hot tropical weather, the forge was absolutely sweltering. *Perhaps I will look into those bathhouses,* He thought as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

"Here-!" Charlie had a long object covered in cloth. Bastien watched as he carefully set it down, then opened the cloth to reveal what was inside. It was a foil sword, glistening silver. The blade was sharp and elegant. The handguard, instead of being a plain piece of metal, was a beautiful swirl of swooping lines in an intricate web pattern. The grip was striped with metal swoops, and had a soft texture that was comfortable in the hand. The end of the handle was a swirled, tear dropped shaped. It was beautiful.

*Perfect.*

"Ya sure do know how to order a good foil," Charlie said with a nod. "Very elegant, very classy."

"It will do," Bastien said with a nod, his expression still neutral. He put a hefty sack of coin on the table with a thunk, before grabbing the blade and its case. "Your payment, along with gratuity."

As he left the blacksmith's shop, Valmour turned to look at him. "So?" He asked as Bastien went over to mount Bear. "Was it to your liking?"

Bastien felt a strong surge of happiness as he glanced down at the weapon in his hands. It was the perfect present. The rest of his things had been packed by the men in his squad. The ocean breeze cooled his face, making him feel as though anything was possible.

"Yes," He said, in his normal aloof tone. A slight flush appeared on his cheeks. Valmour knew that was a sign that Bastien was very pleased, but wanted to hide it. "Yes, it is."
Felicia
**Cyprien de Lysse**
**The Irons, Tonate Proper**

The city had pleasantly surpised Cyprien: where he had imagined squalid junktowns, he had found colourful houses and roads, paved streets, guards and citizens. It was civilized. Where had he gotten the idea that the Isles were a backwater? Araedian diplomats had mentionned it once, if he recalled correctly. Well, they had proven to be dead wrong.

As Cyprien and his retinue advanced trough the streets in horseback, the people of Tonate made it's way to the balconies to witness their passage. Compared to the exuberant tropical flavour that had become the norm of the city, it was the cortege of House de Lysse which seemed exotic and out of place. Even the meringue and burgundy silks of their uniforms and banners looked cold and austere when contrasted against the red stone of the buildings.

"I see a big harbour from here," Said Cyprien to his captain as he pointed towards Hangman's Harbour "Why didn't we dock there?"

"You specifically requested to dock at the nearest port, my lord," Answed the captain.

"I want the _Adamant Raptor_ down there. And move the other ships if possible."

"As you wish, my lord."

The group made it's way cross the district, all the way to the House of Justice. Cyprien didnt knew what the building was, but he insinctively headed to the most imposing building in sight. The Irons district was a display of law and order: merchant bureaus, small barracks and watchtowers, administrative buildings, the house of justice... If the westward keel had offered an insight into the nature of Tonate's people, the Irons was a display of the might of their ruler. Being a compusive planifier himself, Cyprien could not help but be impressed by the delicate blend of popular initiative and subtle governmental control that the district bore testament of.

"Halt!". They had reached the great manor whose nearby flags and standarts bore proudly the sign of the poppy. Cyprien wondered who were they about to meet...