Customs

Tsan was woken by a hand shaking her shoulder. She mewled something obscene at that hand, but reluctantly opened her eyes. Adeline's dark curls and button nose filled the elf's vision. "You have to wake up. We're about to go through customs, so you need to be dressed and conscious." The weaver's tone carried a hint of urgency that cut through the elf's lethargy. Adeline helped her sit up, her touch surprisingly gentle as she helped Tsan into her boots, and then to her feet. Looking the elf up and down, she huffed with annoyance. "I'll never understand how your kind can roll out of bed and still manage to look stunning."

Tsan closed her eyes, steadying herself. "Someday I'll tell you the story of the first ones, love. I don't think we have time for that at the moment, however." The pain had mostly abated, but she was hungry and thirsty. It took an effort of willpower to move down the corridor with the weaver and out to the deck.

Tsan stopped as she stepped onto the deck, staring at the port draped across the water before her. Far from the neat anchorages nested along the wide, slow rivers of the Elfwood, Rivenbane was a mass of stone jutting far into the calm waters sheltered from storms by the Sea Spine. The long stone piers each ended in an octagonal gun-tower, shorter than the masts of the ships passing it, and Tsan could see the mass of activity, scampering up and down the piers. Her eyes traced the length of the piers to the keep standing guard over the crescent of the port town, a silent, ominous mass of dark stone stretching skyward.

"Tension is up with Irymin." Scragg spoke up from beside her, startling the elf. "This ship sails out of Lashen, so we shouldn't have any issues. Except you, of course. Moving elves around is always a problematic venture. A lot of paperwork, some bribes, possibly trouble, if a particularly by-the-book inspector is involved." He looked up at her. "I apologize in advance for whatever indignities are to come."

Meeting his gaze, Tsan nodded. "I'm no stranger to indignity." She pointed out, before turning her gaze back to the squat tower they were passing.

"That may be. But I suspect this will still manage to be unpleasant." The kobold turned to Roblin. "For the purposes of this, you will need to play the role of her owner. The papers are in order, and there is coin for a bribe if necessary."

The half-breed gave a rumble of assent. "I won't let anything happen to her."

Scragg nodded. "I must disappear for the time being. A kobold would bring a rather more unpredictable reaction than an elf." The lizard-man gave a chuckle to himself and turned, slipping below-decks.

The ship pulled up next to the wide stone pier, the massive supporting pillars and arches made from the same dark stone as the towers and the keep. Sailors immediately began the work of lashing the ship to the pier and running planks to allow crew and cargo to move on and off the brig.

"Feeling better?" The question from Roblin caught her off-guard, and she turned to look at him, wishing, not for the first time, that humans had proper ears. That would have let her pick up on the subtleties of meaning that she could with other elves. Without the almost imperceptible shift upwards or downwards in the delicate structures she was left to guess his intent with the question.

"I am well enough." She answered noncommittally, reflected in both her flat tone and the slight shift of her ears, flattening towards her head. Unfortunately she'd found humans were as blind to the subtle signals as they were unable to mimic them.

He gave her a sharp look which she studiously avoided meeting, instead focusing her attention on the customs officials boarding the ship. "Ye were shot." His tone was as sharp as his gaze.

The customs team was a dozen soldiers, dressed in the blue and black surcoats and tricorn hats that formed the loose uniform of Vanheim's armies. Almost all had flintlock pistols, though none were in-hand. Forming a loose group, it appeared they were dividing duties for the inspection.

**** by Rob's gaze to provide some kind of answer, she let out a soft hiss of aggravation, her ears perking upwards. "I am aware." She winced as soon as she said it, instantly recognizing her error.

Rob growled, the sound low in his throat, below the range a human could have managed, she thought. One meaty paw came to rest on her shoulder, giving it a painful squeeze. "Why do ye do this? Do ye think ye can scare me off with a bit of sass and acting as if being shot is something that happens to ye every day?"

Tsan ripped her attention away from the truly impressive salt and pepper mustache one of the customs officers wore to look at Rob, meeting his gaze with icy blue eyes. "What do you want from me?" She hissed.

Any reply was cut off by the mustache-wielding customs officer barking across the deck full of passengers and crew. "Elf! Come here." Tsan looked to Rob, and he used the hand on her shoulder to urge her forward, guiding her to where the customs officer stood with the ship's captain.

She'd seen the captain often during the trip, a tall lanky form with a long mop of unruly hair and a perpetual look of having not shaven for a day. He'd deigned to at least throw a canvas jacket on over his weather-stained shirt and trousers.

Tsan clasped her hands behind her back, adopting a submissive pose before the pair in the hopes that any hard questions would be directed towards Rob as her "owner".

The customs officer idly tweaked the waxed perfection of his mustache. "I am Sir Avicus Veight." He paused, watching Tsan keenly, clearly broken from his usual speech. "Are you quite alright?"

Tsan was surprised at the man's crisp accent and she stumbled over her answer. "I'm fine." Her mumbled answer was hardly convincing, and under the officer's scrutiny she found herself withering.

The captain of the ship looked at the elf, then back to the officer, earning a dismissive gesture from the customs official. "It's nothing. Elves have this thing with their ears, is all." Shaking his head, the mustachioed man raised a bundle of papers secured to a small plank, drawing a pen from his surcoat to write with. Tsan could feel the weave on the pen, but he showed no sign of moving it any closer to her. "Your name?" He questioned her.

"Tsan." She replied, hesitant. If he understood elvish body language then he might-

Looking up at her, the officer scowled. "This is an official document. I will require an -actual- name." He gave her the withering look of a bureaucrat **** to prolong a menial chore.

Rob turned to stare at the back of her head, and she squirmed under the pressure of their attentions. "Tsanessa Al-Ayireem Vy Losse." She spat it out as quickly as possible, but the customs official seemed to pick it up just fine, scribbling it down.

"There were not many elves that made it out of Losse. You must be very lucky." He quipped casually, looking her over and noting down a physical description. "I will need to see your import marking."

Despite the fact he'd delivered the last demand perfectly matter-of-fact, she still felt her face color with an unexpected surge of embarrassment. She knew she shouldn't feel anything, after all she'd danced naked in the brothel hundreds of times. All of that had been inside the walls of the brothel, however and she realized she'd compartmentalized that part of her life within those walls. She tried to recall when the last time she'd left the brothel before this trip had been, but couldn't remember it.

Rob broke her out of her introspection by dealing a harsh spank to her ass, eliciting a squeak as she hastily pulled her shirt up and her skirt down. The pale skin between her navel and mons was revealed, showing the customs brand on her lower abdomen, pointedly placed just above her womb.

Avicus bent forward, reaching out and running his fingers around the circle of the brand before lowering his hand, giving the soft blue hair of her landing strip a playful tug, then releasing it and standing. "Tell me about that bandage." He commanded, his tone less playful than his actions.

Tsan hesitated, still holding her clothes apart, and she was grateful when Roblin jumped in. "There was a pirate attack. Tsan here managed to catch a bullet in the crossfire."

Looking up, the knight glanced from Tsan to Roblin, then to the captain of the ship. Giving an exasperated sigh, he began counting off points on his fingers. "First, please stop calling her that. If you spoke elvish you would realize how silly it is." He frowned at Tsan. "Your idea of humor, I assume." He didn't wait for her to respond before continuing. "Second, you expect me to believe that this tub, no offense, fought off pirates?"

The captain jumped in then, "We have a passenger aboard. A Weaver." Nodding in the direction of Adeline where she leaned against one of the ship's railings. "The incident was reported when we made Gale Town and dropped off prisoners."

The officer let out a slow breath that bordered on another sigh. "You realize I have to check on all of that now. And that is not even touching the paperwork nightmare that is a Weaver returning to Vanheim from Spree. You have just consumed a week or more of my time." The bureaucrat groaned before looking at Tsan. "As much as I enjoy the view, you can fix yourself. I have nothing further for you." His gaze turned to Rob, extending his hand for the sheaf of papers the half-breed offered. "Are these her papers?" He asked, before nodding in response to his own question as he copied the information over, adding signatures here and there before handing back the paperwork. "You'll need to have her information updated when you reach Lashen, she's overdue for a fresh set of measurements and an update to her records. Normally I'd direct you to the livestock office here, but they are backlogged at the moment." He drew a scrap of paper and quickly wrote out a paragraph, signing at the bottom. "This is a writ to allow you to proceed and have it done at the office in Lashen." He offered the writ over and Roblin tucked it away with the rest of her documentation. "Will she be working while she's in town?" He gave Roblin an appraising look along with the question.

Roblin gave a noncommittal sound as Tsan restored her modesty. "If she's healed enough to not risk further injury."

The officer seemed mollified by the answer. "If she is going to be working, try Vela's. Run by a good Vanheim woman. Good to her girls, and gives guests good rates." He sighed, glancing back to Tsan for a long moment, as if he was going to say something, then he moved off, his boots thudding on the deck.

Tsan peered after him, confused. After a long moment she looked to Rob. "He said he was a Sir." She stated.

"He spoke elvish." Rob grimaced.

She scowled. "Vanheim only gives out knighthood to men who have seen combat for the crown." Her gaze moved back to the short man and the gut that strained his surcoat.

"He said yer name was silly." There was something almost defensive in his tone, and Tsan glanced back at him once again.

"My name is silly. We may be in trouble if he makes too many inquiries. The wounds of the pirates in Gale Town will not align with our story." She pointed out.

"That's yer worry?" Roblin frowned at her, his paw wrapping around her and dragging her into his side, though gingerly enough to avoid any undue stress to her wound.

"I can have more than one worry." She pointed out.

Rob gave a chuckle. "That ye can, girly. That ye can."

Despite the official's clear annoyance, a few hours later the Captain reported they were done with the initial round of inspections, and free to visit the town for the next few days while the rest was sorted.