An Untitled Novel

Basil stood on the Arkepellian shore; the unusually quiet docks to his left, the vast empty shoreline to his right, and island inland turning to hills and dense forests to his back. Lamb had requested to meet with him earlier, but as he waited, he found himself revisiting his trek up a few days prior.

Miles Barker, a former officer in the Arkepellian Navy, hadn’t left much of an impression the few times they’d spoken. Friendly and outgoing, but a rigorous view on military discipline and a reputation for being hot headed, was all Basil knew him by. When he was forced into retirement after pushing an overly militaristic naval stance, and for being an outspoken critic of Tobias’s plan for the council instead of a successor to succeed him, Basil hadn’t given Barker much of a thought. He had, however, according to rumor, bought a shabby house deep inland; spending his days hunting and fishing for food, his stipend going to rather copious imports of Redcap spirits.

At least, he hadn’t given Miles much thought until he found himself assembling a force. Miles, if he were interested in aiding him, seemed the logical choice. He was one of only a few individuals ranking high enough within a Domum military that procluded him from being an Amigosian spy - let alone that he vacated his post on idealistic grounds. Of the few, he was the only one no longer involved in such affairs, and potentially willing to radically alter his life to join such a force. Basil felt a tinge of guilt; he’d probably thought more of Miles on the quad ride through the old roads of Arkepello than he had all other times combined.

Arriving at Miles’s house, little more than a hut, he greeted Basil like an old friend. He’d immediately abandoned the fish he was smoking and offered Basil a large cup of Imperial brandy. Miles had certainly let himself go recently; his clothes ratty and stained, an unkempt beard below his chin, and his hair - no longer shaven - forming into a natural tonsure. He, however, seemed fit; no doubt hunting and long treks on foot to carry liquor crates being an aid to such; his mind similarly remaining sharp. When Basil finally proposed the creation of such a force, Miles’s eyes lit a spark, and within a few minutes he was riding down to the shore on the back of Basil’s quad - smoked fish and crate of brandy hanging off the back.

“Sorry to keep you waiting” Lamb announced, breaking Basil out of his memories. “You wanted to speak with me?” Basil asked, turning to face her. “Yeah, I had some questions about Spiro.” Basil nodded. “He’s doing pretty good, he’s back to his usual self and his wounds are healed. If that’s what you’re asking?”

“Yes, but no. Not the recovery, but his usual self. Your honest opinion, can I trust him?” Basil laughed. “You’re asking me this AFTER you went on a secret clandestine mission with him to investigate Amigosian weapons smuggling?” Her face contorted to one of annoyance, then amusement. “That mother fucker! He had me convinced you were backing his play. That’s probably the only reason he’s not dead already.”

“Hm?” Basil asked, and her face changed from amusement to unease. “What’s your opinion on Redcap and Amigosian law?” Basil chuckled. “My opinion is I don’t give a shit, I’ve got a gunship.” He paused, hesitating before continuing. “Don’t get me wrong, I like a lotta’ people in the Redcap government, and stable governments are the only reason we don’t have Elthrice overlords. But if you’re going to tell me I’m in violation of some rule, then you clearly don’t know almost every government gathered on this island has shot at me at one point or another. If I gave a shit, I’d be turning myself in to be hung.”

“So you didn’t know Spiro was blackmailing me?” Basil shook his head, surprised at the direction of the conversation; the original question of laws slowly making more sense. “What did you do?” His voice came off more accusatory than he expected, ‘I may not care about laws, but I enforce my own justice’ hanging in the air. Lamb’s previous expression of glee, aimed at Basil’s flaunting of laws, became a more measured articulation. “I was part of a ship that smuggled Amigosian technology off their mainland.”

Lamb paused as if that was all, but Basil shook his head. “Clearly, that’s not all.” She began to gesture as if it were, but Basil continued. “I’ll let you in on a little secret: he and I participated in that smuggling. Not directly, but by intercepting and redirecting weapons in that chain; a part of how we hit the (old Elthrice) so hard. If I know anything about him, I know he’d never blackmail somebody using something he was doing. He was Amigosian Ministry, but he has a code of ethics.”

“We were pushed out of the business. By crews we suspected were Amigosian ministry. We turned to piracy, at first to the Amigosian smugglers, then to everyone. The Redcaps moved their navy against us, so we turned to the western coastline. During a stormy raid, I was tossed off deck and washed up on Ewadia. That’s where I remained until you and Aurora found me.” Basil tried to keep his face blank, refusing to show his inner monologue, himself unsure what to think. Eventually asking “You kill any kids?” Unsure of how to prompt her for more information, despite feeling that prompt was not the correct one.

“I” Lamb began, giving the word a weight that seemingly exempted the rest of her crew. “Never killed unless I had to. And never any kids.” Basil gave a mocking laugh. “Let me guess, it was all self defense. All you did was point a gun at somebody and say give me all your stuff and I might let you live.” Lamb shook her head. “My job was to look scary. It’s a shitty business plan to kill merchants. Or to scare them enough they buy better weapons.”

“Until someone takes a pot shot and you go into a shapeshifter murder frenzy?” Lamb’s unease turned to anger. “I remain myself, even when my mind is not my own. From what I’ve heard, that’s more than you can say.” Basil instinctively glared; Lamb’s expression turning from anger to fear. A rage welled up in him, the ego of her to admit to murder, then to deflect onto him. All his killings were justified, mind his own or not. And, even if they weren’t - some unfortunate death of a soldier who fell on the side against him, or those caught up in the meltdown of a (world mender) - none stooped to the level of murder during piracy.

The more he thought on it, though, the more a chill went down his spine. He, or the abyss - whatever state he was in - had never killed anyone he hadn’t intended to. But there were times it came close, and a deep fear rose in his belly that he might not be able to say that forever. It cut deep because she was more right than he wanted to admit. He mulled things over in his mind, sighing and trying to force a softened expression. “Fine, sorry, maybe that was too far.” Lamb looked puzzled at Basil’s delayed response, but fell silent, so he paused and contemplated how to continue the conversation.

“If you’re waiting for me to tell you if I’m going to do anything, then no. You saved some friends of mine, and if it were my job to stop evildoers, then my first action would be to point my gunship at every government’s capital. Minus maybe the Arkepello. And I don’t think the Redcaps will do anything. Aside from the fact that their government is pretty much composed of a few people hiding on the soil of another government, while a third helps retake their capital, they probably wouldn’t do anything regardless. Besides, Matilda seems to like you, probably because you saved her life. General Edwards would probably love your story, spinning up some sort of heroic story about even some lowlife doing her duty when it mattered most. Cicero is a bit bullheaded about laws and ethics, but from how he tells it, organizing a country is just a game of choosing to break either the former or the latter in any given situation. Amigoso will totally want you dead, but despite Spiro’s intentional ignorance, they’re definitely in some form of war against us. If they send their people after you, I just so happen to have an Amigosian paste making machine hovering nearby.”

Lamb gave a polite laugh as Basil finished his monologue, but remained quiet as if she expected more. “That what you wanted to talk about? I was about to head up to the Arkepello hotel bar.” Lamb shook her head. “No, I wanted to know if I could trust Spiro.” She paused for a moment, as if struck by a realization. “Weren’t you drinking while you were waiting for me?” Basil shrugged. “Drinking down here was I can’t deal with all this shit sober” Basil gestured vaguely to the port city and docks nearby. “The hotel bar will be me and Miles Barker, now Commander Barker of the Northern Plateau forces, making some plans with me and a skeleton crew he helped me rig up.” Lamb gave a gesture as if she was expecting more. Basil nodded, realizing his time to formulate his answer was over.

“Eh, Spiro can be an ass sometimes, I think that’s a requirement on the Amigosian Ministry paperwork. But he’s my best human friend, and loyal as all hell to his friends. If you’re asking whether he’s going to blackmail you again, or if you can trust him to have your back, you can trust him. You were an asset to be exploited before, and now you’ve been through quite a lot of shit with us, so you’re an ally and you shouldn’t have to worry about Ministry of Information Spiro stabbing you in the back. Besides, I think he’s looking to stick something in you from behind, but it’s not a knife.”

Lamb laughed. “Well, he’s Amigosian. Either one will probably be short and easily concealed. But he’s made that abundantly clear. That’s why I wanted to ask. But for the time being, knowing who I really am seems to have kept him off that train of thought for now.”