Honor Amongst

Ranulfe woke up with a start. He was dreaming something that caused him to be restless and this spilled over into reality. His heart was pounding, his brow damp with sweat. He held his breath, all senses on alert and he tapped into the adrenaline surge. There was something wrong.

He had been lying low inside of his room in Norg. The men he had been witnessing in public left him feeling uneasy albeit not in danger, but there was no reason to tempt fate. Instead he had been keeping his profile low and not venturing away and into the streets of the smuggler's cove. Something was wrong, however. His gut had never failed him before.

There was no noise outside of his door, no light breaching his room and no reason to be alarmed. Bare feet settled onto the sturdy floor, Ranulfe light on his legs. He crept towards the doorway, retrieving his blade from beneathe his pillow first. There was something wrong.

The door would be trouble. He looked it over for a long moment, wondering how to open it without alarming anyone on the other side. He determined it would be impossible to do so if there was someone watching the doorway. It would be in poor interest to try and sneak away if he had in fact been cornered finally. Ranulfe stood tall, weapon in his hand and walked across his room. There were people here who knew he was here and he knew it. His gut told him there was danger awaiting him and he had no reason to second guess himself, as ludicrous as it seemed to suspect such a thing.

The door opened. With his guard raised, Ranulfe stepped foot outside and into the walkway lit only by the soft candlelight from the main room below. There didn't appear to be anyone there, but it was still dark. Ranulfe listened as hard as he could, strained his ears the best he was able. Once he determined there was no threat in his immediate surrounding he took the steps down.

Sitting at the sole table remaining in the large room was a woman, blonde, in her thirties. She was drinking something steaming from a small cup before her; Ranulfe presumed it was tea. She didn't acknowledge him until he was down the steps and his feet were on the floor in front of her. He didn't say anything and she took a long sip of her beverage before eyeing him up. To Ranulfe's surprise there was a sense of kindness in them.

"We have a small problem." She said finally, carefully placing her cup on the saucer before her. She folded her hands and let out a long sigh.

"No one knows who you are, child. You appeared in my city without a word, no one can identify you. None of the people you speak to in the day employ you, none of the people you speak to know where you came from. Furthermore, you arrived shortly after the day when I was expecting supplies. There has been word reaching my cove of a shipwreck where there were no survivors. Do you see the trouble, young man?" She spoke to him with a mature tone, though it ruffled his feathers that this woman, who was not considerably older than he, addressed him with such a title.

"You think I'm suspicious." His tone was curt, withheld. There was no reason to betray anything she didn't know. To his second surprise, she laughed gently.

"This is Norg, child. I'd only be suspicious of you if you weren't suspicious. The trouble is that you appeared in my neck of the woods without so much as a word, and no one can trace you. My finest men have been monitoring you and I will admit, you are a complete mystery to this place. No one arrives in my city without my knowing, and no one eludes my spies. I will be brief with the information I want from you, and you will answer me or you will be dead before you can stutter." Her tone was suddenly cold, her eyes harsh. There was definitive truth in her words. Ranulfe nodded.

"What is your name?"

"Ranulfe Elspeth."

"You are Tenshodo? Or merely pretending?"

"I am Tenshodo."

"You come from Bastok?"

"Yes."

"There was no boat coming to Norg from Bastok. How did you arrive here?"

He paused. A mistake. She rose from her seat, flicking her wrist forward and exposing a kunai.

"I boarded a ship from the Brugaire Consortium. There was an incident, the men on board were smuggling explosives and weapons, and there was an explosion. I woke nearby and came here for refuge."

"You say you boarded a ship. You were not crew?"

"No."

"Why then?"

"I have nothing left in Bastok. I wanted to pursue my life from our capitol."

She paused, pacing around the table and examining the weapon in her hand.

"Nothing left in Bastok? No family, no friends? Why didn't you join up with the Adventurers there, or become a Musketeer?"

"No family. My mother is deceased, my father absent from our lives. My sisters have become adventurers as well. I did not become one because I failed. My entire family belongs to Bastok, a nation I will have nothing to do with."

She seemed to dwell on this for a moment.

"You are a thief?" she finally asked.

"I am..." His eyes darted away, not knowing how to answer.

"You are...?" She waited for his reply.

"I am Tenshodo."

She smiled, laughing gently to herself, amused. "Yes you are. Come with me, Ranulfe Elspeth. You interest me."

Seasick

Ranulfe didn't know how to explain that he had been the sole survivor of the ship that never reached Norg. He didn't explain that he had been saved by a passenger who the entire ship had regarded as untouchable. He didn't mention any of the details pertaining to his arrival in the "capitol" of Norg. He instead did his best to remain out of the way and blend in. The bag of currency the strange man had given him went a long way towards finding food and a place to rest his head but now that Ranulfe was actually in Norg he didn't have the faintest idea of where to go.

He spent his days walking the length of the docks, offering help to anyone who looked like they needed it. Trouble with offering help to pirates is that when you're still a pup in their eyes, they're not obligated to accept anything. In retrospect, Ranulfe's plan of "going to Norg" seems as stupid as his sisters' plan to "Become adventurers." He remembered all the times he had yelled at them, telling them that it was a bad idea, that they wouldn't have the first clue as to what to do.

He worried about them. He wondered if they were eating well, if the house was upside down and on fire, if they were safe. His thoughts would often linger back home while he was falling asleep. He began to think this was a mistake.

It was during his second week there that he noticed on his usual walks that he was being followed. He might have a lot to learn about the world but he did have experience dodging the Musketeers from an early age; it was easy to tell when someone was following you. They never came closer than a hundred ilms but they were certainly keeping an eye on him. Two men, garbed in light black armor. Topknots. They carried no weapons visably but there was no such thing as an unarmed person in Norg. Ranulfe thought they might be eyeing him to rob him.

Nothing came of it, at least not at first. They faded into the crowd at some point and Ranulfe missed it. The important part of monitoring the people who are watching you is not to let on you know they're there. They eluded Ranulfe, which made him on edge for the rest of the day. It wasn't until he was safely (as safe as one can be in Norg) in his room at the inn that he felt he could breathe easy.

It went that way for a few more days. There was a sighting of one of these men watching him from afar, then nothing more as they vanished into the hustle and bustle of a working smuggler's dock. Ranulfe worried what was going on, but didn't feel specifically in danger. His nerves were still relaxed, the hair on his neck was still in place. There was nothing to make his pulse accelerate, nothing to kick in his fight-or-flight mechanic. Not yet.

King of the Corsairs (AoA)

I don't think the guys down at Norg were too happy to see me when I stepped off the Ephramadian sloop that had carried me over from Aradjiah proper. They were cringing right proper when I approached them, anyway, and I doubt it was my natty duds and well-polished boots that did it. They all had on those silly Far Eastern wannabe topknots and tried to placate me with ingratiating grins. "Welcome to Norg, Lord Garath," their leader, a pretend Samurai in red armor and kote, said with a nervous smile.

I smirked. "I'd say it was nice to be here, but I must say that I'm kinda unimpressed with your digs." I glanced around, pulling a face. "This place is the biggest smuggler's hole in the Middle Lands? Seriously? It's a hole in the wall and it stinks of seaweed." I tugged down my tricorne reflexively.

"I'm sure it doesn't compare with the splendors of the Kingdom of Ephramad," my guide tried again, "but it's home. If you'll come this way--"

I trailed after the Tenshodo kiddies, surreptitiously checking out their manpower. A bunch of seedy-looking smugglers; filthy pirates who hadn't bathed in a week; a Galka or two for muscle; a scraggly kid in Bastokan rags trying to get someone, anyone to believe he was important; a Goblin with a tray of worthless brik-a-brak for sale; a couple of sorry-looking chocobos tied up by the cave entrance; and some smug Far Easterners glowering in my direction with ill-hidden contempt. I shot them back a look of same. THESE were Ephramad's allies? Prince Luzaf would be spinning in his watery grave at the depths to which proud Ephramad had sunk.

They took me to the back chambers, guarded by several burly Tenshodo with mean expressions and more tattoos than brains. I had vague recollections of Seik teaching me that the fearsome pirate Gilgamesh had ruled here in his youth. The Rogue Faction had formed the Shadow Council after his death, and it was those eminences that sat in his chambers now. A large round table of black stone rested in the center of the well-appointed room. "Sorry I'm late," I said flippantly, tipping my tricorne to the three seated at the table and their retinues in attendance. "This being my first Shadow Council meeting and all, I'm sure you all will forgive me for being a bit seasick."

I plopped down at the table and propped up my boots on the black stone. An older Mithra seated directly to my left rolled her eyes, her fingers caressing her chin as she took my measure. I shot her a wink, causing her cronies situated behind her to growl fiercely. "How about we start with introductions?" I crooned, at my most persuasive.

"This isn't the time for games, Garath," a stern-faced Hume woman across from me said.

I pouted at her. "Why so mean, sweetie? You know how we Corsairs are--it's ALWAYS the time for games." I swung my feet down. "Besides, I'd LOVE to get your personal info." I grinned at her, gratified by the angry flush that spread across her appealingly pale cheeks.

"Fine, I'll indulge your foolishness," she snapped. "I'm Kaede of Bastok. I represent the interests of the Tenshodo."

An Elvaan man with cold eyes sat to my right and jerked his head at me in a steely nod. "Esterimond of San d'Oria. I represent the Brugaire Consortium."

"Nanaa Mihgo of Windurst," the Mithra to my left half-purred, her eyes half-lidding. "I'm surrrre I don't have to tell you I represent only myself. The gil starts and ends with me in Mindartia, kitten."

"Naturally, madam, your reputation precedes you," I murmured. "And who represents Norg?"

"That would be me," a light voice said behind me.

I turned to look, then rose to my feet. A ravishing woman in the full bloom of maturity stood behind me, wrapped in a skintight catsuit, her tousled, thick red hair flowing down her back. She strode past Esterimond to sit next to Kaede with an air of authority. "The name's Lion," she told me, flashing me a full-lipped smile. "My father was Gilgamesh of Norg."

"My Lady Lion!" I said admiringly, resuming my seat. "I must say, I'm flattered to share a Council table with so many ladies of such legendary beauty and poise."

Esterimond made a soft, rude sound in the back of his throat. "The Rogue Faction has come to a sorry state indeed, that so many mere females sit at Council."

"Say that to my face, you stuck-up--!" Nanaa Mihgo started, but I held up a gloved hand.

"I haven't gotten to introduce myself yet. I'm sure you're all dying of curiosity." I smirked. "I am Viceroy Garath of the Kingdom of Ephramad, Captain of the Pearline Swan."

"I see your own reputation is one hundred percent correct, my Lord," Lion said with a mischievious grin. "I've heard you're quite the charmer."

"And no doubt that I'm an ambitious swindler," I laughed. "All true, no doubt. Men without drive don't make it in Ephramad."

"Is it trrrrue you don't have a drop of Ephramadian blood in you?" Nanaa Mihgo asked shrewdly.

I shrugged exaggeratedly, my eyes carelessly closed and my hands spread. "Who could say? Who these days IS a true Ephramadian? All I know is, Ephramad and indeed our entire Rogue Faction, is where a man with no name and no wealth can make both for himself if he has the nerve--" I flourished my spread hands and suddenly had a hexagun pointing straight at Kaede's head, then in another swift motion it was gone. "--and the ability." I smiled at her winningly, and she lowered a drawn kunai slowly, her eyes still narrowed at me. "My title has nothing to do with my parents, I can tell you that much. I was adopted when I was five by a free-minded Mithra named Seikatsu, and I can tell you that she instilled the right sorts of values in me, which is to say: 'There is no glory or honor in battle, but in it a man can gain or lose all he desires.'"

Lion smiled approvingly at my quote of the Corsair saying. "Well put, Lord Garath."

"Enough frivolities," Esterimond said impatiently. "We have business to discuss."

"Not least is the leadership situation in Ephramad," Kaede added sharply. "What is the status, Lord Garath? Too long have you Ephramadians claimed you a kingdom without a king!"

I leaned back again in my chair, staring thoughtfully up at the ceiling. A pair of dice blossomed in my hands and I rolled them around slowly, letting them tumble across my leather-swathed palm. "You must understand, my dear Lady Kaede, Prince Luzaf was the last of Ephramad's royal line, and he perished well over two centuries ago without an heir. As everyone knows, in the first few years of our existence as a kingdom, we tried to find anyone of the royal blood remaining, but there's just none. It's been too long, and there's been too much persecution and--dare I say it--interbreeding with our Imperial oppressors to maintain a true bloodline." I winked at Kaede, who still looked vaguely scandalized.

"So what's the plan?" Nanaa Mihgo demanded. "The longer you all remain leaderrrless, the easier it'll be for some other country to come in and pluck you like a Buburimu grape."

"Unlike other countries, we don't NEED a king to defend ourselves," I snapped back with a bit more pique than I really meant. "So far, we've been making decisions in committee much like this one. All ship captains have a seat at the table."

"So no news to report then?" Esterimond drawled. "How typical of our lazy Ephramadian brothers."

DAMN, he was pissing me off. I was beginning to thank my stars that the royal family of Ephramad HAD died all off, if they were all Elvaan like this prig. I rolled my eyes. "Actually, we're going to find a more... unorthodox solution to finding a king," I said with a wide grin.

Lion raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"A tournament!" I smiled, leaning forward. "Open to everyone in the Rogue Faction, actually. Winner take all. One of those silly games you all love from us so much."

Kaede tried to stifle a sound that was half gasp, half laugh. "You're handing over leadership of the world's most powerful navy to... to.... the winner of a GAME?!"

I smirked and with a jerk of my hand, dealt an ice-blue card into the center of the table, following them with my dice. They landed upon the card, then froze into a block of ice. "You got it, cutie," I told her. "And I intend on winning."

"Surely you're not serrrrious," Nanaa Mihgo protested disgustedly. "You're barely more than a kitten, and you're gonna be the King of Ephramad?"

"Yup!" I bounded up from my chair. "Might as well put your money on it now, ladies and gentle--well, really just ladies here aren't we?" I gave Esterimond a scathing look, which he returned in full force. "The odds are good and likely that Garath is going to become King of the Corsairs--" I drew my gun once again, with a wide flourish, then pointed it at the sky. "--and then, ALL of the world's riches will be mine!"

Crash. (AoA)

As Ranulfe had darkly noted on the first day of his trip, the sailors on board the creaky Norg vessel were none-too-pleased to have passengers aboard, and constantly muttered amongst themselves, shooting him unpleasant glances when they thought he wasn't looking. Their tune was entirely different, however, when they put in at an abandoned beach as they rounded Cape Terrigan to pick up another passenger.

Unlike Ranulfe, the crew and especially the captain treated this man with a fearful respect, and avoided him entirely if at all possible. Ranulfe was mildly curious as to whom could command such a respect that the vessel would retrieve him in such a mysterious manner, but the man was singularly uncommunicative. Unlike Ranulfe, who was put to menial tasks to "make hisself useful," as the mate would spit at him, the new passenger did little but sit astern, staring out at the grey, choppy waves of the ocean as the ship slunk steadily southeast.

Ranulfe's resentment grew each time he saw the special treatment the man commanded. He ate little and ignored almost all attempts at socialization, simply pinning the captain or crewmember that dared with an intense stare until they left him alone. Ranulfe failed to see what was so unusual about the man. His age was difficult to determine--perhaps nineteen or twenty, not so far off from Ranulfe's age, save that his gaze was mature to the point of giving his face the cast of someone far older. He had but one eye, pitch-black in color, the other covered in an eyepatch bound up beneath his hair, which was also the darkest black and overgrown down to the nape of his neck. He was probably a Samurai in profession, gauging from the long blade that he wore sheathed on his hip, and his loose hakama of vaguely Far Eastern origin. More than his appearance, however, was his mien: stern and absent, his single-eyed stare piercing, as if it went right through Ranulfe and bored into his mind. It reminded him a little of someone else he had met, perhaps, only there was nothing innocent or youthful about it. This man had known blood, and Ranulfe felt his stomach twist a little as if his internal organs shivered from an icy touch whenever he met that gaze.

However, apart from the uneasy feelings that the man aroused within him, Ranulfe found little to care about in his demeanor. He strived to make himself a part of the scenery, doing what tasks were assigned to him and avoiding the captain's eye the rest of the time, willing the shabby boat to somehow cut through the waters separating them from Norg and get them there faster. The rolling motion of the ship surprisingly did not suit him, though it might have been because the ship was leaky and stank of seaweed. Ranulfe was fed very little and had almost nothing in the way of stores remaining, which didn't help his situation.

On the evening of the fifth day, just as the last of the sun was fading from the western horizon, Ranulfe carefully snuck down into the ship's stores. His stomach was aching badly from lack of food. Although the captain hadn't said he could have anything, he was sure he could scrounge some sort of crust of bread to tide him over--they were supposed to be docking in Norg in the morning. He shakily lit a lantern and hung it by the door, rummaging through the large crates stored in the back cabin--only to jerk his hands back in surprise. Each crate was filled to near-bursting with gunpowder and ammunition, well-oiled muskets and polished armor.

"Does it surprise you?" a soft voice addressed him from behind.

Ranulfe whirled, his eyes narrowing, his hands automatically balling up and raising to protect himself. It was the other passenger, leaning lightly against the doorframe, his loose gi negligently wrapped around himself but his pale hand carefully positioned on the hilt of his great katana. He stepped into the room, past Ranulfe, and leaned toward the crates, looking inside. "Our captain is no ordinary Ephramadian, as I'm sure you can tell. His leanings are in... more secular directions."

"He's probably just--just trading these--" Ranulfe stammered out, struggling to find a reason. "There's no way they're Muskies, they look nothing like them--I'd know--"

"Of course they're not actual Musketeers." The stranger inclined his head toward Ranulfe, accepting the point, the faintest of smiles curving his lips. "These are the type that'll trade to anyone. Bastokan, Ephramadian... or beastmen, naturally." He set his free hand on top of one of the crates. "The Quadav in the Palborough Mines near Bastok have been seen lately using explosives and gunpowder, just the same as the Humes that fight them. There's worries that they might be trying to tunnel underneath the city..." His one good eye moved to Ranulfe. "And pay the Humes back for all of the times their own homes were exploded into nothingness."

Ranulfe bit back his panic, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. "You... you don't know that..." It couldn't be true, could it? His sisters... they couldn't be...

The man turned away. "There's filth in every society, boy. Money is all they care for, and they don't care about anyone who gets in the way." The faintest hint of a sneer colored the man's voice, and he shook his head.

"So you'd rather we were all -adventurers-?" Ranulfe couldn't help but growl the hated word.

The man snorted in response. "Hardly. I answer to no one, no nation, no organization. My way is to go through this world we live in and crush the filth such as these--" He waved his hand up at the ceiling, indicating the captain, the crew. "--for the betterment of all. One day, perhaps you will understand. Until then."

Ranulfe watched the man leave with a deep sense of foreboding.

Sometime in the depths of that night, a lantern hung carelessly in the stores fell and ignited the hidden gunpowder and armaments. The resulting explosion was all that Ranulfe remembered--a booming roar so loud that he thought for a moment the entire world beneath him was upheaving outward, like an earthquake contained only to the ship.

When he awoke, he was lying on the shore of an unknown land. Burning wreckage of a ship lit the horizon in the far distance. He leaned up, soaked to the bone; the other passenger, the mysterious Samurai, stood next to him, also dripping. Ranulfe looked up at him, and the man looked back emotionlessly.

"Y-you... saved me?" was all that Ranulfe managed to say.

"You're worth too much to let drown," the man replied casually. "You're not tainted by greed like those men were. I think, one day, you could learn to see the filth of this world and resist their attempts to sway you."

Ranulfe said nothing, lowering his gaze. The man pointed to a rocky cove several miles down the beach. "That is the hidden dock cavern of Norg. You will find people there that can make you stronger." He dropped a small pouch, heavy and jingling, at Ranulfe's feet. "Don't go hungry anymore. Train and become strong. I saved your life for a purpose, and one day, I will return to you for that purpose."

He pulled a thin whistle from a chain around his neck and blew upon it; a large black war chocobo emerged from the thick forest just off the beach, and the man swung up onto its neck. Ranulfe watched him, unable to say anything or even move until the man had vanished from sight, leaving only the soaked boy on the beach and the burning wreckage off in the distance as indication that he had been there at all.

Sea (AoA)

Ranulfe had left San d'Oria not a moment too soon. He was still smoldering over that kid in the Southern section of the city when he checked in with his comrades at the Consortium. They had warned him against leaving their docks; Unlike in Bastok where the Muskies would do their best to track down and arrest (or at least hold) the members of the Tenshodo, the Consortium on San d'Oria was on a pretty steady relationship with the Knights. As long as the Consortium at least looked like they were minding their own business in the ports of the city, the Knights wouldn't hassle them too much. It was strange to see the two classes chatting and laughing with each other.

Ranulfe had ignored the wisdom heeded by Jorget, the man he was directed to by Tsurai.

"Don't stray too far from the docks. I know yer' boat won't be arrivin' until later in the day, but trus' me; Ya don't wanna get caught up drinkin' rotgut with the woodsmen guild or worse, fin' yerself strung up by a Knight. We're on pretty good terms with 'em but yer new aroun' here and they'll smell it. Ya don't wanna get busted for somethin' ya didn't do, 'specially since none o' yer fellows'll be aroun' to bus' ya outta the clink, if they put ya there."

Jorget, for all his fancy sounding name, was just as rough around the edges as the rest of the Tenshodo. For a Consortium fellow, he certainly felt like he came from the slums of Bastok.

Against the grain, Ranulfe had left the docks. He ran into some kid, said something that was offensive to the guy and they squared off verbally. It wasn't one of his best moments, not by a longshot.

This was what he was looking for, though. This was his break, this was his way out. Things had fallen apart at home with not only his parent but also now with his sisters. Ceecee had thrown a good one before they left, and even days after the fact his cheek hurt with the bruise.

Ranulfe remembered all the times he had taken care of his sisters when they were younger, all the times he was looked up to.

"Onii-chan will save us from the monsters!"

"Onii-chan will save us from the Turtles!"

"Onii-chan's not afraid of them!"

"He's our Onii-chan, mister!"

That was before he had badmouthed his cur of father, before his sisters had said they were responsible for Mom's death. That was before the world took such a grim angle. Before then, he felt that at least he had his sisters to be close to, to take care of and protect. They didn't need him anymore. If that weird guy from the Empire was going to do anything, his sisters wouldn't need him there to get hacked up.

The boat that would be leaving San d'Oria was in poor shape. The vessels the Tenshodo (and the Consortium) used were often gotten by illicit means and not all of those who found themselves as captains had the money necessary to keep a ship afloat. This one had arrived in dreary shape but it had arrived. The weather was reportedly fair for the next few days, and the trip to his destination wouldn't take longer than a night or three.

Ranulfe settled into his spot under decks. It wasn't supposed to house more than the crew of a particularly-ill-mannered Seadog and even though Tsurai had pulled strings to get Ranulfe this far that didn't mean the captain had to be pleased with the fact his ship had a stranger on board. The crew didn't seem thrilled, the captain didn't seem thrilled. Ranulfe felt like... Well, like he suspected the Galka used to feel. It was a hostile environment but he was okay with that. It just meant the feelings he had left in Bastok and now San d'Oria were sticking with him.

The ship escaped from the docks of San d'Oria in the middle of the night. Its destination was the fabled Tenshodo stronghold of Norg, hub of smuggling and communication with the Ephramadian empire, thorn in the side of law and order the world over. It would be a place for a nobody like him to become a nobody with a purpose. His destiny, or whatever parts of his future constituted his destiny, awaited him.