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A Seafaring SagaChapter 24: Palaceville
It was somewhat amazing to Broadside that Viktor and Rosa were willing to be dropped off at the same place, but as it made his job simpler, he wasn't going to argue. Only a few days from Anka Dolour they reached the southern coastlands of the Western Knights’ Kingdom portion of Kingdom Isle. As the Bombardier was anchored off the coast of a small cove, Viktor and Rosa were sent ashore in the longboat. Broadside went along to see them off.
“Well, Vikky,” he said, “Good luck to ye. Try not t‘get yeself killed right-off by that lady.”
“Lady?” said Viktor with raised eyebrow, “Don’t worry, she won’t. Thanks for saving my skin back in Port Crowne, and for dropping me off here.”
“Ye led me ter Storm-Rider,” said Broadside, “just as ye promised. Tin’s yer fault those buggers showed up an’ messed up me plans.”
The longboat ran ashore on the sand. Rosa leapt out.
“Finally!” she said, “Land.”
Viktor said nothing, and took his time getting out, but his sentiments were exactly the same. Some of the sailors got out, and shoved the longboat back out to sea. Broadside waved in farewell. Soon the privateer was back on his ship, and headed for parts unknown. Meanwhile, Viktor turned to Rosa.
“So, now what?”
Rosa fingered her knife and put on her standard glare.
“I don’t know.” she snapped, “Why are you asking me?”
Viktor shrugged and didn’t reply directly.
“I’ve never been on Kingdom Isle.”
“Tyco.” muttered Rosa, “That son of a mega block could’ve given us a map.”
Viktor was in no mood to argue.
“Look,” he said, “We both wanted to get ashore, right? And Knight’s Kingdom was the closest. Any land’s fine by me. I hate ships.”
Rosa snorted in contempt.
“You may like any patch of ground you can set your flat feet on, but I want to get back to the mainland!”
“Fine then, you go there,” muttered Viktor, “All I want right now is a pub.”
Viktor turned away from Rosa and the lapping waves, and began to make his way through the gritty sand. He heard crunching behind him. Rosa was following. Viktor grimaced.
“What?”
“I’m thirsty too.” she snapped.
“Fine.”
They continued onward side-by-side, neither talking, until they came upon a small seaside village. Actually, calling it a village would be inaccurate. The tiny gathering of ram-shackle buildings known ironically as Palaceville was a place most persons who were not smugglers or criminals would avoid at all costs. But Rosa and Viktor had no choice.
“What a dump.” Rosa wrinkled her nose.
“I hope it has a pub.” said Viktor.
“All bilge holes like this have pubs,” spat Rosa.
Rosa was right, there was a pub in Palaceville. It was recognizable only because of a small, creaking sign that hanged over a blackened door. Viktor entered first and coughed as a smokey haze billowed outward. Blinking rapidly, he groped his way to the bar, his eyes watering from the smoke permeating the grimy room. Rosa a right behind him, he fingers near her knife. She took the seat to the right of Viktor, her back straight as a board, her face white.
Viktor coughed again. “I’ll have an ale.”
The balding bartender squinted. “Don’t got that.”
“Beer?”
“Don’t got that.”
“Grog?”
“Don’t got that.”
Viktor slammed his fist into the bar.
“What do you got!?”
Without a word the bartender bent down behind the bar and emerged a moment later with a greenish bottle filled with a thick liquid. He took out two dirty glasses and filled them, the pouring liquid making a glop, glop, sound.
“What’s this?” Viktor demanded.
“Summat I make meself.”
“Lovely.” Viktor grimaced and took a sip. It was, without a doubt, foul.
“Gack!” Viktor coughed, “What a bunch of bley! Got anything else?”
“Water.”
“Then gimme that, tyco it!”
The bartender whisked away the two glasses and placed before them two more glasses, this time full of what appeared to be water. Viktor took a sip.
“s ‘k.” he said, and downed the rest. Rosa did the same without a word.
“Six coins.” demanded the bartender.
“Six!?!” Viktor exclaimed, “For two glasses of water?”
“Six each.” said the bartender, “Twelve to both.”
Viktor violent slammed his good fist into the rotten woodwork of the bar.
“CHODAN TYCO IT, I WON’T PAY TWEVLE COINS FER TWO SIPS!”
The bartender looked at Rosa. The lust was clear.
“Perhaps…she could pay for it…” he leered.
Almost like magic, Rosa’s slim knife was in her hand. She leaned forward like a viper and slashed violently. T he knife snagged on the bartender’s baggy shirt, ripping the cloth but not the skin beneath. The bartender yelped and backed away. He stared into the burning eyes of Rosa.
“Megablocks you.” she hissed.
The bartender paled but turned away. Viktor and Rosa could just hear him mutter, “Intellabix Jellies…”
It was Viktor’s turn to whip out his weapon. The Eastern Knight’s Kingdom slur often to applied to non-Easterners and Easterners alike stung deep.
“YOU--!”
Viktor surged forward, a pirate saber Broadside had given him clutched in his left hand, growling. The bartender squeaked and ducked as Viktor swung his sword violently. Worm-eaten wood crumbled and bottles smashed as the blade swung wide and connected with a shelf. Viktor swung again, and this time a line of blood appeared on the chest of the bartender. Then another appeared - this time on his arm.
“MEGBLOCKS YOU!” Viktor bellowed, swinging his sword for a third time. A blade whirred past his head and imbedded into wall beyond. Viktor aborted his attack.
“Viktor!” Rosa snapped, stamping her feet, “That’s enough, unless you want to get us both arrested!”
“Wha--?”
“There’s a band of Kingdom solders headed this tyco way!”
“Oh.”
The redness faded from Viktor’s vision. He didn’t was to be captured, not again, not after he had escaped those mega blocks Crusaders and Broadside’s ship. With a final kick, Viktor left the bartender and Rosa retrieved her knife. They looked at one another, then they both rushed out the door and away from the shanty village of Palaceville. As they ran deeper into the darkness of dusk, Viktor said offhandedly, “By the way…thanks…”
“For what?” Rosa snapped.
“For alerting me to the soldiers. You coulda just ran off alone.”
“Hurm…well…” Rosa glanced at Viktor, “No problem…”
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