Trouble on the Horizon

With the information Nina brought, and some general suspicions about the other lords, Nikolas had a good idea where to start looking. Karl Galston, the first son of one of his strongest vassals had left weeks ago. He was headed south and east; the only things that were that way were the Frostpeaks - and the mage-lord of those lands would not assist a random Admiral-lord in the island’s internal politics; or the Corsairs of Dagger Shoals. Lo’ and behold; not a week after Karl would have arrived a fleet of Corsairs left from the Shoals. His sources had them just of the coast of the Frostpeaks now. By moving on them immediately he could thwart whatever plans they had for Logos. He would still be short ways to out the plotters, but that would have to wait. The island had a reputation for harsh politics; but running to pirates was going too far.

The next day the Scion of the Galston family was branded ‘pirate’ by decree of the Lord Admiral and the Galston family estate was raided under cover of darkness. The patriarch and his family escaped of course; and fled towards their reinforcements. Damien noted the families which were the least damning of the traitors, and those who simply stayed out of the way of it for later investigation. This was about cutting out the worst of the cancer before it was too late. Baelin was decreed regent. Nina insisted that she remain on the isle to help Baelin and her father maintain order. Begrudgingly Nikloas agreed - she had earned at least that much trust, though truth be told it wasn’t mistrust that he wanted her aboard the Arbiter with him. While he couldn’t yet admit it to her, old feelings were beginning to surface in uncomfortable ways.

Unfortunately that would have to wait, treason could not; the fleet was called to readiness. Less than a week later the Arbiter with the Lord Admiral aboard headed east towards the corsair fleet sheltering the traitors.

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The sea was calm as far as the eye could see, the sound of the working sailors mixed with the lapping of the water against the hull was a soothing background the Lord Admiral had come to miss dearly over the years away from the islands. Surely over the last few months his time on deck in the implacable sun had bronzed his skin and he looked the part of a Lagosian once more. He made it a point of pride to be seen among the crew working the sails or at the head of the ship with Captain Lido. His uniform was kept immaculate despite his efforts by the cadet turned flag-aide Isabella, the young woman had proven quite adept at anticipating the Admiral’s moods and needs and of late he was rarely seen without her close behind.

The Frostpeaks were visible now, A day ago they had been little more than dots against the horizon but now they loomed against the sky before them. They’d been at sea a little over a week and with the wind at their backs they would reach the shore by that evening were that the destination. Instead Nikolas was interested at a glinting light sitting atop one of the peaks. Nikolas grabbed a spyglass to get a closer look. Atop the mountain a psudo-magical artifact manipulated captured light to send a series of symbols that could be deciphered by a trained eye. The corsairs were heading to open sea to his south. They had to be hoping to outmaneuver his larger vessels. Trapping them in one of the many coves along the shore was not going to work as hoped, but that was fine; a battle on the open sea was just as good.

The ships pulled hard to starboard and let loose full sail. While the traitor’s first son would be the true prize; with any luck the corsair fleet would be destroyed as well and he would have two problems resolved by nightfall.

Less than an hour later the signal came and general quarters sounded across the fleet, the black and red triangular sails of the corsair fleet had been spotted and turned for the Lagosian ships. Either they were just as eager, or knew they couldn’t run. Either option was fine. As the ships closed he ordered the rear four ships of the 10 ship fleet to break from the line, draw back a half-mile and run parallel offset from the main fleet. The offset ships would allow fire from both directions on the corsairs while avoiding accidental friendly fire, and allow his ships time to maneuver and respond while keeping the pressure on his foe.

As they drew towards firing distance his aide brought his bandoleer and saber - The pistols were inherited from his father; good imperial steel with brass nautical inlays. The saber was a gift from Nina’s father when Nik reached adulthood, it too was beautiful with impeccable balance, a graceful weapon that reminded him of his childhood friend; who now worked in close concert with Baelin to administer the island while he doled out the imperial justice to liars and pirates.

The two fleets drew into lines of battle at a little under a mile from bow to bow. There was no turning back. While Nikolas was no stranger to battle it had always been chasing a single pirate or training exercises - his nerves were strained and the palpable tension was thick across the Arbiter. The crew’s energy was professional and focused like the honed saber that found it’s way into his hand. His petite flag-aide stood beside him, her hands playing with the hilt of a cutlass he’d not seen her carry before. She looked more petrified than anything else. Nikolas tried to give a reassuring smile which she tried to return but jumped as the chase guns fired. The shots landed harmlessly short of their targets.

“Brace! Port broadside hold!” Captain Sofia worked to keep the crew from firing too early. The guns could pivot in about a 45 degree arc but firing too early means the hit rate would drop dramatically. While a good raking shot could do terrible damage hitting with most of the broadside would do far more. The crew was clearly ready to be let loose but a good captain knew when to let them off the leash. The corsairs fired first.

Too early and most of the shots fell short or ahead of the Arbiter; but not all. Crashing, followed by the cries of the wounded echoed from the forcastle battery as splitered wood raked the deck. Crew rushed forward pulling the surviving wounded away crewing the guns that still worked with a stoic professionalism. None fired until the command was given, and when they were finally alongside; when the glow of bright green tattoos against the ebon skin of the elves was clear, the order was given. “FIRE!”

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The cacophony of the raging battle left little in the way of fleet orders to give. The battle was joined and what had been orderly lines of battle minutes earlier was quickly devolving into a mass of ships joined by hastily thrown hooks and boarding planks. A broadside roared from the Arbiter once more at a dominating and disturbingly undamaged Corsair. The flash of a mage’s shield ablated most of the cannons energy, and a striking figure glared directly at the Lord Admiral through amber glowing eyes.

The Drow pirate was taller than the average human likely looming six inches or so above Nikolas and was adorned but jewels and finery with little to cover her modesty. Laced between the jewels her tattoos burned through her robes leaving only scraps as they helped release the energy charged by deflecting the cannonade moments before. Nikolas was caught staring when his aide Isabelle elbowed in in the ribs laughing over the battle her fiery red mane loose behind her and a smudge of gunpowder across her cheek. Nik snapped back to his senses - The fear of combat in her apparently had given way to adrenaline fueled exultation that any good member of the fleet should feel in moments like this.

A ship that had a rarity like a combat mage aboard had to be their flagship. “Sonia! - That one! Bring us around - Board those bastards!” The Captain did not acknowledge the order, but quickly began turning the ship and shouting orders over the din of battle to the crew. The corsair had the same thought as they aligned to meet the Arbiter. Any sense of organization disappeared as the two clashing titans unleashed close broadsides as they closed upon one another.

“Prepare to board!” Nikolas jumped down to the main deck and waved his saber bracing against the rail as the two ships collided in a spray of splinters. The ramps crashed across the two ships linking them inexorably until the battle was decided. He crossed in the first wave. A captain leads from the front.

Duck, spin, thrust. One down. Next parry, cut, down. The Lord Admiral was trained in swordsmanship since a young age. No doubt the elvish pirates were skilled in their own right; but the close confines of shipboard combat were where the Admiralty prided themselves and the Lord Admiral was expected to be the pinnacle of naval warfare, from line gunnery, to the chaos of boarding actions like that which he now found himself engaged. He had cut his way to the stairs leading to the quarterdeck and was quickly making headway towards the sorceress in command when a drow moved before him, a fierce looking messer in both hands.

Blades clashed on the stairway. The heavy blade of the drow corsair before him forcing Nikolas down the stairs with each blow. The figure before Nikolas stood about a head taller, of lithe but clearly well defined muscle crossed with lines of scars from a hundred sword fights. Given what he knew of the corsair ‘culture’ some of those were no doubt battles for rank; though his opponent wore no clear sign of rank his prominence on the ship and the clear deference and space the other Drow gave, made his position clear.

Well earned too it seemed as Nikolas was driven to the bottom of the stairs by another series of swift and powerful strikes he barely managed to catch; the last of which causing him to trip and fall to his back, his saber skittering off the deck into the cerulean depths below.

The elvish swordsman loomed above him, point extended to Nik’s chest. The duel was lost. The roar of the fighting continuing for control of the Corsair flagship returned his attention. At least he would die at sea like a son of the isles. The Drow above him smirked with his victory.

Until the blade of a cutlass appeared just above the pit of his stomach. The swordsman stumbled forward, the point of his blade driving into Nikolas’s shoulder. He caught himself and whirled around to face the new attacker. All five foot nothing, ninty-five pounds of his aide Isabelle flew back against the railing with a painful sounding crack as the Drow’s backhand caught her full ****.

Nik struggled to his feet and with the window of opportunity closing quickly charged the brute, driving him into the rail as well. The **** of the blow combined with the three of them was too much to bear for the ships railing and it gave way; sending the three of them into the cold waters of the Dagger Shoals.