Yra and the Swordstress

Chapter 8. A Dark Rose

Kyra loathed parties. Whether grandiose galas or humble get-togethers, fêtes or festivals, family reunions or impromptu celebrations in the Academy dormitory hall, they always seemed filled with the most tedious people with a penchant for flaunting their inflated egos and a false sense of worth. Kyra found such social posturing to be tiresome. Yet no party Kyra had ever had the misfortune of attending could have prepared her for the sorts that made the Rose Narcissa legendary. It was like nothing she had ever seen or even heard of.

Once Kyra accepted that this terrible nightmare was her reality, she found a company of stewards who were quite willing to guide her along her way, Sybil, most of all. After all, it was in their best interest that she learns the ropes quickly to become a valuable crew member.

There were about two hundred stewards on board the Rose Narcissa -- at least one for every two or three guests, divided into three sections to split a full day. Each section was further divided up into three subsections by function: one subsection to attend to the Rose Narcissa's famous bathhouse and the gardens, another to general housekeeping, and the third to the Rose's famous nightly bacchanalias. Of the three, Kyra least preferred to be a part of the last, but since that was the one that Sybil was in, that was the one she joined. Her section was on the night rotation, which meant that Kyra was responsible for attending to the patrons while they were at their most obnoxious. The first-night-after-port feast was always an important one. Tonight, was no different.

The sun dipped into the west, and the stars began to appear in the twilight sky. The afternoon section, at the end of their shift, were busy setting up the long tables with glass- and silverware on the upper deck of the palace ship while the evening shift stewards lined up along a bulkhead for roll call. The head steward of Kyra's section was a large, straight-backed, and firm-eyed man whose refined and stern posture made him seem more suitable as a naval officer than a steward.

He walked the line of stewards, looking each up and down with a critical eye, flicking off a stray piece of dust or fabric as he walked by.

He did a double-take when he came to Kyra and frowned when he didn't recognize the new stewardess in his section.

"Who are you?"

"Kyra. Sir."

"Who is your minder?"

"I am," Sybil responded.

He grunted. His eyes slowly scanned Kyra's body. His lips curled into an unenthusiastic snarl.

"You slouch. Straighten your back," he barked.

Kyra stood straighter.

"Lower your shoulders."

She lowered her shoulders. Her cheeks grew hot.

"When you are around guests, you smile. You do not speak to them unless they speak to you, and if they do speak to you, you answer politely and do exactly as they say."

He glared at her, his eyes burning into hers as if to goad her to make a mistake. She glared right back, unblinking.

"Yes, sir," she replied, forcing flatness into her voice.

The man smirked. "I do not ever want to hear a guest complain about you. Welcome to the Rose," he said, then moved on to the next steward to inspect, not putting an eye on her again. When he had gone farther down the line, Sybil leaned over and whispered, "do not mind Rikan. He means well."

"Still, could be a bit nicer, don't you think?"

"He really is a nice man."

"Could've fooled me."

"He is just."

"Not the same as nice."

"Just is better."

After the inspection, Rikan bellowed out instructions for the night in a loud, crisp voice, like a lieutenant giving orders before a battle. He rattled off assignments for serving drinks and food and the order in which each drink and food item was to be served. First was the sparkling Podl'adomian summer wine and salad, then a red Talishpurian to accompany the first course, roast pig. Then Kyra lost track of what came next, and by the time she realized that she had lost track, Rikan was already on the topic of clean-up.

"Any questions?" Rikan asked when he finished his brief, scanning the line of stewards with eyes that seemed to dare anyone to unwisely take the bait. Kyra panicked on the inside because she didn't have a clue what she was supposed to do or when, but the last thing she wanted to do was ask that intimidating man to repeat himself. Funny, because it was only a month ago when she faced a large group of murderous bandits. But she had her wand then and the help of a swordswoman. Now, wandless and swordswoman-less, she was too timid to raise even a fair question for fear that she would be punished for it.

The sun was fully plunged into the horizon when Rikan dismissed the muster. Everyone dispersed quickly, making beelines toward their assigned tasks. The guests, garbed in frills, velvet, and satin, began to emerge from the cabin deck. Stewards have already started pouring them their Podl'adomian summer wine.

In a panic, Kyra pulled Sybil towards her and said, "Sybil, I'm sorry, but I have no idea what I'm doing!"

Sybil smiled and said, "follow me and relax. Rikan likes to over-complicate things. The guests are already drunk and do not care if they get a summer wine or a winter one. Just smile and give them wine."

Kyra realized that Sybil was right when just then, a man with his feathered cap on the wrong way stumbled toward Kyra with a crooked smile on his face, grabbing her shoulders to stop himself from falling to the floor as he slurred, "won't you be a darling, and pour something tasty into my mouth?"

Then he opened his mouth like a calf after mother's milk.

Kyra smiled nervously as she tried peeling off his grip on her shoulders. Without missing a beat, another steward arrived and rescued her by offering him wine and then showed him to his seat.

Sybil smiled at Kyra again and said, "see? There is nothing to worry about."

As merry guests and their concubines settled into their seats, the sails luffed in the towering masts above their heads. As if this was a signal for something significant, everyone all at once became quiet. The herald in the parrot outfit appeared on the raised quarterdeck at the aft end of the ship. He bowed deeply, then bellowed,

"Ladies and Gentlemen, good evening, and welcome aboard. It is my pleasure to introduce to you the Lady of the Rose Narcissa!"

On cue, a throne chair apparated out of thin air with a crackle beside him, and in the chair, Lady Bellona phased into being like a resplendent moon appearing from behind a dark cloud. Kyra rolled her eyes at the theatrical entrance, but the guests all seemed quite enchanted, giving her a thunderous standing ovation. She waved at the crowd below her like a queen and only stopped when the applause began to die down a full minute later.

"Thank you, my dear friends! I am pleased to have you aboard as my honored guests on this great voyage. To be in your company is surely life's sweetest reward."

She paused for another round of applause, waving her hand regally to acknowledge her guests. When the applause quieted down, she continued,

"I've had the honor of hosting most of you on the Rose Narcissa before, but never have I hosted so many of such high esteem from so many realms."

Her eyes scanned the crowd, and she smiled as she recognized familiar faces.

"I'm thrilled to see the venerable Lord Eldritch and Lady Hispala of Síochánta with us tonight. And there, the Duchess Seraphina of Mistveil, her enviable golden locks ever flowing, and her wonderful companion, the irreverent Duke Faelvion of the same. Welcome!"

Another round of cheers. With a twinkle in her eyes, she added,

"Let us not forget the rare breed among us that work for a living, the much-esteemed Hakim Nizar Bakar of Aqba, whose silk remains without equal in all Leinyere, and of course, the ceaseless Lord Mordecai Silver of Galtin's Port. If ever I catch you in a business dealing on this ship, I shall have you both cast over the side!"

Laughter rolled through the crowd and shouts of 'Hear! Hear!' amongst the applause.

"Of course, I am remiss not to mention many other fine names, but I trust you will forgive me, for I have a great feast prepared for you for which time is much better spent enjoying. There is only one other thing to say before we embark on our joyous celebration tonight, which is why I have gathered so many venerable noblemen and women to join me on this voyage. It is upon the gracious invitation of the magnanimous King Adonis that we set sail for Talishpur to join him in his exquisite Festival of Aersus, where - I am delighted to share with you - I will be the guest-of-honor, and where the Rose Narcissa shall play host to the main event, the King's Ball. As you might imagine, I am beyond elated to be honored as such, and more so, that I may share that honor with all of you esteemed noblemen and women of Leinyere. Well. It is a week's time until Talishpur. During that time, I hope you will join me and the crew of the Rose Narcissa for revelry and relaxation. So, please, without further ado, may the festivities commence!"

Applause broke out again, and a band of lute, harp, and drum players began to play music of the sort to spur the guests and their concubine to imbibe in libations as Lady Bellona looked on pleasingly.

"Festival of Aersus?" Kyra asked Sybil.

"The patron god of Talishpur is Aersus, the god of wine and pleasure. The festival is a week-long event held only once every decade to celebrate the patronage of their god. It is a great privilege to host the King's Ball."

The stewards filtered through the large ship galley in a long line to collect platters of succulent foods. Kyra fell in line behind Sybil and grabbed a platter upon which a roasted suckling pig was splayed. Applause broke out as the stewards came through the dining deck to deliver the food to the guests. After delivering the first course of food, Kyra followed Sybil back into the kitchen to gather bottles of wine to refill empty glasses. Then after the round of wine, another round of food. This time, Kyra picked up a roast pheasant stuffed with pears and raisins. Her mouth watered from the wonderful smell, and her stomach grumbled loudly. She realized she hadn't had a thing to eat before arriving at the Rose Narcissa, so she had half a mind to grab a pear off the pheasant platter but feared that Lady Bellona or Rikan would catch her in the act, preventing her from doing so. A strange feeling since she would have unhesitatingly taken that pear not long ago.

At first, the guests behaved with a modicum of behavior very much expected of the aristocracy -- conversing politely, tasting the food and wine daintily, and maintaining respectful etiquette between themselves and the stewards and the concubine that served them. But by the third course, the guests had fallen into tipsy rowdiness. By the fourth, the flimsy veil of aristocracy was cast off. The dinner had turned into a raucous bacchanalia, which, in turn, devolved into a lewd ballet of chaos rather than the disciplined choreography that Rikan had earlier exhorted. Kyra darted this way and that, weaving between guests that roamed like drunken ballistae, dodging glass and silverware that flew like darts to explode into crystalline shards onto the deck, which thankfully disappeared as they exploded, an enchantment most certainly cast by Lady Bellona, who surely expected such things to happen.

Kyra was sweating profusely despite the constant breeze, as she constantly scurried here and there, running between the galley to refresh her platter and then back to the tables, first with glasses of wine, which she diligently filled, but then full bottles. She had lost Sybil in the process, but she knew her task. Make the guests happy. Make them happy by giving them food and wine. Stand straight, smile, and nod politely whenever a guest drunkenly babbles something to her. She was getting the hang of it. And Rikan didn't bother her.

Kyra noticed that the immaculate concubines hardly drank at all. They were busy ensuring that their guests were given drink and food and were entertained with conversation or, if they were not in the mood, with other forms of entertainment. The concubines were in charge, Kyra realized, enchanting their guests like sirens, seducing them with their coy, flirtatious eyes and the sonorous timber of their carefully sensuous words and pretty laughs. Matrons for their guests, they were. Appendages of Lady Bellona herself, it seemed.

As the night wore on, the more erotic the scene became, and thicker the sweetness in the air, as if the wine spilled from the glasses and bottles had diffused the air with a bewitching haze. The party continued to progress into a surreal exhibition. Most of the concubines and many of the guests had slowly become undressed. The tables, which at one point were topped with a feast, were now topped with naked, writhing bodies amongst the colorful cornucopia of unfinished fruits, fish, and meat. The music played by the band was punctuated with moans and squeals of pleasure. All the while, Kyra, mesmerized by this reckless extravagance, the likes of which she had never witnessed before, did her best to not stop and gawk. After hours of running around, Kyra felt a drunken dizziness herself.

Lady Bellona maintained her high perch on the quarterdeck, overseeing the debauchery, seeming increasingly pleased as the night progressed. Kyra saw glimpses of Lady Bellona's true character in the way she observed, with unblinking, thin-lipped intensity, the noblemen and women of Leinyere devolving into their carnal states. It wasn't the crass display of depravity from which she derived pleasure, Kyra realized, but from the complete dependency on her enchantments by the most powerful and most influential people of all of Leinyere. She derived pleasure from knowing that she was the mother bird, and they were her chicks, cheeping with their mouths desperately wide for their morsel of sex and wine. Kyra remembered what Angelica said about Lady Bellona's darkness, and, as if Kyra hadn't already recognized it from the cruel humiliation she endured earlier that day, she could see now without any doubt that Lady Bellona was not just dark. She was sadistic.

Of course, the rich and powerful of Leinyere got none of Kyra's sympathy. As far as she was concerned, they deserved their self-destructive habits. Secretly, Kyra could not help but feel an inkling of admiration in which Lady Bellona could have such sway over these people. Lady Bellona did not come from nobility, after all. She had come from nothing. Yet here she was, holding sway over those who rule over Leinyere. This bitch had somehow managed to claw her way to the top. What's not to envy about that?

"Kyra! What are you doing? Go to the kitchen and get more wine!"

It was Rikan barking at her. He stood at the galley entrance, his arms crossed and his deep glare baring down on Kyra.

"Yes, sir," Kyra replied, nodding apologetically as she took off for the kitchen.

She glanced back at Lady Bellona as she took off and noticed the sorceress's eyes had fallen on her. In that brief glance, Kyra saw a gleam of gratification. A gleam that said: I was like you once, but now I'm here, and you will always be there.

The night stretched long, and the debauchery continued its devolution into degeneracy. Men and women fornicated openly and in all possible permutations conceivable. Men took women on the tabletops. Women took women. Men took men. Women took men. Fruits were used as sexual implements. Tongues slid across skin. Sweat and sexual fluids dripped and mixed with wine. A woman lay on a table like a roast goose writhing at the feeling of a dozen mouths of those that sat near enough to enjoy tasting her. Those who've had too much to drink were passed out under the table or over at the side rails, hurling over the ship's side. At a certain point, it was hard to tell who was a concubine and who was not. They were all naked and writhing, an amalgamation of garden snakes in a breeding frenzy. This fever dream became too much for Kyra. She needed a break to center herself. A breath of fresh air to bring herself out of this floating world and back down to reality.

After she delivered another platter of wine, she slipped away, making sure Rikan and Lady Bellona looked the other way when she did. She found a dark and quiet transit passageway along the side of the ship, leaned her back against the bulkhead, and let out a huge sigh of relief.

"Kyra," uttered a familiar voice.

Kyra jumped to attention and turned rigidly in the direction of the voice. Sitting on a bench just on the other side of a tarpaulin-covered pleasurecraft was none other than Mordecai Silver, a bashful look on his face, as if Kyra had caught him in a naughty act, though he was simply sitting with his hands resting on his lap.

"M-Mordecai!" Kyra stuttered.

She blushed profusely. In the upending chaos of her life since that morning, Kyra had put him out of her mind. So, it was a bit of a shock to see him here. She was suddenly filled with humiliation to be seen now by him as she was, not as a sorceress apprentice as she had led him to believe she would become, but as a lowly stewardess. It pained her greatly to see Mordecai's face go through the phases of realization that she was not where he expected her to be. Perhaps sensing Kyra's morbid embarrassment, he quickly wiped the confused look from his face, replacing it with a warm smile.

"I hope you didn't think it'd be easy to become a sorceress apprentice," he said.

Kyra slumped her shoulders. She meant to tell him that Lady Bellona not only did not accept her as an apprentice but also humiliated her in the worst way a sorceress could humiliate another sorceress - by taking her wand. But she found it hard to bring up, so she instead replied,

"I was counting on it not being easy."

Mordecai gave a soft chuckle. "And that's how I know you'll be a great sorceress someday. Keep your chin up."

Kyra shot him a weak smile.

"You look exhausted," he said. "Take a seat and rest a while."

He patted the vacant spot on the bench beside him.

Kyra glanced uncertainly over her shoulders.

"You won't get in any trouble with your mistress if you take just a short break. Not while I have anything to do with it," Mordecai said.

"Ok. Maybe for a short while."

Her trepidation at meeting Mordecai turned to relief as she sat. She had only met him that morning but felt she could trust him. She was happy to take it wherever she could find it.

For a long moment, they sat in silence beside each other. Both with their faces turned towards the sea, which shimmered from the light of a bright moon. She was glad for the silent moment. She was in desperate need of settling her mind. When it finally did, she realized there was something off about Mordecai. He wasn't the jovial, boisterous man she encountered on the pier that morning. He was melancholic. Brooding. Weighed down with heavy thoughts.

"May I ask why you aren't partaking in the... whatever that is?" she asked, waving her hand toward the dining deck, where the bacchanalia was in full swing.

"It was never really my thing," Mordecai responded.

Kyra shot him a sideways look of amusement.

"Yes, yes, an individual of my station must keep up a certain countenance, but to be perfectly frank, I much prefer the company of a pleasant silence than a raucous crowd."

"I must admit you had me fooled."

Mordecai chuckled. It was a deep-chested chuckle.

"Dear Kyra, take it from me: most of what you will ever encounter in life is never as they seem, and everyone you meet, for better or worse, will surprise you if you give them a chance."

Kyra smirked, knowing she had lived experience giving credence to those words more than Mordecai could possibly know.