Private Spoils of War

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

Rich and sumptuous stood the halls of the Hasuras warship. No sterile vessel this, with halls of white and black, but rather laden in the wealth and splendor of a dozen and more sacked worlds, from the far-flung Firefist to those of the war-wracked Core. Within this vessel, a Hapan Ducha taken captive awaited her fate, locked away in quarters filled by true-books of real parchment, a fine rug, and even the bed of a now-dead sorcerer. No weapons, though, nor any sharp instruments or objects, or any access to the holonet.

Soon enough, two Vahlan corsairs interrupted her quietude. They wore alchemized swords and loose-fitting clothes all frilled in gold and their neck and wrists festooned with gems and precious metals. In harsh words, with little to soothe their sting, they ordered her out of the quarters and marched her to the cabin of their chief.

The door hissed open.

"The coveted Ducha," rumbled a voice, low as the tremors of the earth.

The corsairs pushed her inside, then the door sealed shut behind her. Before her, the overlarge cabin spilled out, hung with immense tapestries, the fur of some slain beast formed the massive rug upon which she stood. The stuffed head of a Terentatek loomed from a wall, along with many other trophies and paintings beside. Weapons too, of all fashion, hung from the wall or else rested in cases or stands about the cabin. At the far left end of the cabin stood an immense bed, for surely it would need to be to fit the being who sat to her right, at a simple wooden desk. Even devoid of his armor and seated, Gerra still towered over all but the tallest of beings. He looked up from where he had been hunched over what appeared to be an assembly of a gauntlet and rings scattered across the desk - truly more a work bench than a scribe's desk - and grunted. Also upon it lay scattered a half-dozen rainbow gems.

"Your Queen is dead," he pronounced flatly, his features as impassive as rough-hewn granite, save for the eyes, which blazed forth like twin embers.

Aurellia

 

[Aurellia]

Head high, wearing garments that were not her own, Aurellia stood like she owned the place, after offering a jab at the guard who put his hands on her. Status had spared her what horrors her fellow Hapans surely endured, but quaint or not, her quarters had still been her prison - and she had no love for her captors. As such, at every turn, she had made things as difficult as she could for them. Escape attempts were unfruitful - but the wrath that contorted their features when she provoked them, unable to truly act on it lest they harm their master’s new prize, that power sustained her. A mere scrap of dignity, but one the ducha seized without forethought.

The Lord sat behind the desk, tinkering with toys. Gerra, she had heard the men make him. Or, she thought this was Gerra. Surely, he wasn’t the raw meat eater? The developing sneer snapped instantly at the mention of the queen mother. So, Mercy had been successful, then. At least some good came out of this ghastly ordeal.

“Pity.”

The tone suggested it was anything but. Aurellia sauntered to hover near the desk, eyes picking apart the projects strewn across its surface. Two fingers reached to pluck a gem from among them. It glittered as she turned it over twice, before casting her amber gaze sidelong. If there was any intimidation about his size, it didn’t break the curated mask.

“What price would you put upon me? I’ll double it if you deliver me home before one of my ladies gets the silly idea to try on my crown for size. House Revali has treasures aplenty to add to your collection.”

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

Tall she stood, for one of her kind, and imperious despite her station. Defiance shone in that gaze of burnished copper. A proud woman, who would not bend to cower and kneel. Many begged and pleaded at this point, mewling as lambkin. Yet here she issued demands and called for ransom. Nor did she seem to care for the death of her queen. Perhaps she saw it as merely an opportunity, a vacuum of power.

The gene-warrior studied her with a molten stare as he might examine a lump of metal before putting it through the crucible.

"You would barter for your freedom," he rumbled in an impossibly deep bass that made the air itself thrum, "and ask me to name a price. Tell me, does a jeweler place a price on the unexamined gemstone? Your House could not defend you, let alone your homeworld. It would be but a meager task to assail it again and strip bare those halls. Should I signal the helm to turn around for a second strike?"

His words held but little malice, merely probing her as the dutiful jeweler might hold a gemstone up to the light to examine its flaws and inclusions. She did not yet ask for the lives of the other Hapans they'd taken as captives, nor ask after their fates. A curious thing.

Aurellia

 

[Aurellia]

"You could certainly try," Aurellia asserted, doubt coloring her features. "But you were not the first to plague Hapes. I was intelligent enough to store my fortunes away, off-world, after the first."

Bluffing, to an extent, she worked to protect the facade from cracks. Some liquid assets had been left on hand - but for all she knew, they were already aboard the ship, as well. And besides, Hapes had endured as much conflict as it could bear - already the capital was rubble, again. An assault upon the smaller estates stood to weaken their court and her position in it beyond repair. Still, a remark of his piqued her interest. Laying the gem down, her fingers glided to sweep aside the other materials cluttering its edge. Aurellia perched herself atop the polished surface to gaze down upon him. Neither speech nor vessel marked him as a common marauder.

"You want my cooperation." The statement dripped honey. "I am worth more than you'd think. Surely, making an ally of the new Queen Mother is worth more than selling her as a dancer or a bed warmer?"

A risky gambit. Until coronation and anointment, she was no goddess, merely another contender draped in ambition - yet her current hand held few other cards worth playing. The question probed, looking to see what type she was dealing with.