Gold, Guns, Girls

[Rousseau]

Dear Rousseau,
It?s certainly been a while since we?ve last wrote.  I?ve heard from Captain Zihark that The Emerald Queen and her crew are moored here on Terramort finally.  You?ve been gone for too long, a little over two months if time hasn?t escaped me, and I?m happy that you?ve made it back home safely.  I trust that you?ve finished the work I?ve given you by now, correct? If so, I?d very much like to see it. I?m sure I can make it worth your while.

Your king,
Reginald Frostfang

P.S. I do hope it?s beautiful.

Rousseau read the letter for the umpteenth time as she meandered down the hallways of Castle Terramort.  Stuffing the parchment back into her pocket, she glanced along the grey walls of the corridors and the various pieces of artworks, sculptures and paintings mostly, that adorned them.  The rattess grimaced as a particularly ugly one caught her eye, showing one of the previous kings garbed in a bright carmine, form-fitting robe. She adjusted her grip on a piece of canvas she was carrying, trying not to look at what she had created on its surface.

After hearing of her plea for more money to support her family, King Reginald had given her a use for her artistic abilities, usually giving her favors, pay-raises, and sometimes even full promotions for a mere painting or two. While other crewbeasts worked to the brink of exhaustion for their promotions, that rattess had merely painted ten portraits, ten hideous portraits, and had received far more than any other beast.  However, the ruler, although usually asking for portraits of himself as she always expected him to do, had broken his trend and instead demanded something different, something that worried her.

Without meaning to, Rousseau glanced at the canvas and saw a mirror image of herself. At Reginald?s request, she was garbed in more formal attire in the form of a cream-colored dress and an expensive pearl necklace.  And on her face were two crystal blue eyes, placid yet revealing of emotion to all those who dared look into them.  It had taken her some amount of time to get everything how she had wanted, her mind constantly plagued by a single question.  Why her? Of all the beasts in the world, why her? Although he was fat and unappealing, the king at least had some air of nobility that came from his portraits, and if it were simply a question of beauty, Rousseau had seen prettier ratmaids than herself.

She sighed, arriving at the door of Reginald?s study, where she had been told he was waiting for her.  Reluctantly, she raised her paw and knocked on the thick, oaken door.

?Is that you, Rouss? Come in! Come in!?

Rousseau rolled her eyes and obliged, lifting the latch and entering the room.  She had been in the room more times than she could count, but each time she came to be in awe. Curved bookshelves stacked with all manner of documents and notebooks covered the walls of the huge circular room and a gigantic crimson carpet covered the floor.  Decorating the flats of desks and the tops of the bookshelves, skulls of various beasts, woodlander and vermin alike, were arranged on display.  They were presumably the skulls of the king?s enemies that he had killed, but the rattess doubted that was true.  Even still, the sight was almost unnerving.

Behind a desk of polished mahogany sat Reginald in a huge armchair that fit his rotund body perfectly.

?Ya wanted t? see me?? Rousseau asked.

The beast looked up from a map of Southsward he was studying. ?Aye, that I did, that I did.? He looked back to his map. ?Do ya remember that patch o? coast along Southsward that those Sampetra wavescum were after? Well guess wot.  It only took a li?l blood t? be spilt an? some treasure t? be traded, but we finally got it!?

?Ya always do seem t? get what ya want,? Rousseau commented. ?But will it ever be enough??

?Well, I?m a king, it?s only natural that I try an? get more power an? treasure,? Reginald replied. Rousseau noticed the look he gave her.  It was almost lustful and sent a chill down her spine. ?Heh, mebbe soon, after some preparations, we might be able t? attack the fire mountain an? get the treasure that?s rumored t? be ?idden inside.?

Rousseau closed her eyes and nodded, more in an attempt to not have to look at the king for a few seconds.

?So what of you?? Reginald continued. ?I trust ya had a safe journey back? Did ya get the picture I asked fer done??

The rattess nodded. ?Aye,? she said, passing him the covered piece of canvas.

King Reginald looked over it for what felt like several minutes, his eyes narrowed as he studied it.  Although she doubted it, she wondered if he found any of the extra details she had added interesting. ?There?s a ship called The Crimson Lass that ?as jest been added t? the fleet an? is still lookin? fer a captain,? the king said after finishing his study. ?How would ya like t? ?ave that position? The pay is nice, an? I?m sure yer mum an? dad would be proud.?

Rousseau didn?t have to think about her answer.  She shook her head. ?Thank ya, but no.  I think I like my position o? first mate fine an? dandy enough, an? from what I kin tell from Zihark, bein? a captain seems like a borin?, endless cycle of eatin?, workin?, an? sometimes sleepin?.  At least with me bein? the first mate, I kin take a break every now an? then. Captain doesn?t seem like my kind o? job.?

Reginald raised an eyebrow. ?Somebeast refuse the position o? captain?  That?s certainly new. Surely, I kin convince ya??

She shook her head. ?No.  You?ve helped me enough.  In fact?? she glanced to the portrait of herself that she had given him. ?You kin have that one fer free.  I don?t want nothin? fer it.? Rousseau turned to leave, not wanting to stay any longer. ?In fact, I think ye?ve done enough.  I thank ya fer all the help ye?ve given me over the years, but I don?t think I?ll be needin? it any more.?

?Rousseau. Surely, there?s somethin? I kin do fer ya.? The beast, despite his weight, somehow got to his footpaws and ambled towards her.

?No, nothin?.?

?I could increase yer pay.?

?It?s high enough as it is.?

?What if I-?

?There?s nothin? I need or want, Regi.?

Rousseau felt a paw touch her shoulder and instinctively reached for her rapier but felt nothing.  She cursed inwardly, remembering that she had left it aboard Zihark?s vessel. ?Rouss,? Reginald said, ?I want t? help ya.  I want t? help ya because I care about ya.?

The rattess was silent.

?Because I love ya.?

Rousseau?s single eye snapped open at the feeling of a touch on her shoulder.  In one swift motion, the rattess recovered her cutlass from where she had felt it on the foot of her bed and defended herself from her assailant.  Mirdros, his tiny paw still resting where her shoulder had been, stood transfixed at the sight of a bladetip an inch away from his forehead. He shivered.

The cutlass clattered to the floor as it slipped from Rousseau?s paw.  She panted.  It had just been a dream. Her meeting with Reginald, however real it had once been, had simply been some twisted memory her mind wanted to replay back to her as a nightmare. That, or Vulpuz had a sick sense of humor.

The rattess laid her head back on her pillow and stared at the ceiling. The memory had seemed so real, the events unfolding as if it were happening once again.  Rousseau tried to forget everything that had happened and its aftermath: her refusing him, the shining blade of a knife and a struggle, white-hot, searing pain in her right eye, and then a letter damning her to the ?Gates forsaken position of captain of The Crimson Lass when she had woken in the castle infirmary two days later.  She blinked once.

?Sorry,? she said to Mirdros. ?I didn?t mean t? scare ya.  I was jest havin? a nightmare is all.?

?Was it scary? Did it have big, ugly monsters in it?? he said, still trembling.

?Aye, you could say that.? Rousseau took a breath collecting her thoughts. ?Now wot is it that ya felt the need t? wake me for?? She glanced at her window and saw the faint light of the morning sun.

?I need you to cut a rope for me.?

?Cut a rope?? Rousseau said. ?What d? ya need me t? cut a rope for??

?I dunno, but Clutty told me to tell you to cut it after he left,? the child elaborated.

Rousseau?s curiosity was piqued. ?An? where in blazes did ?e leave to??

?Out the window.?

?Out the window!?? The rattess leapt out of bed in a heartbeat, throwing on her blood-stained naval jacket and a pair of trousers as quickly as possible.  She buckled her belt around her waist and stuffed her cutlass into it, throwing open the door of her room. ?When I told ?im t? practice his flyin?, I wasn?t bein? literal!? She pointed to Mirdros. ?Show me where, now!?

The child obeyed, taking her as fast as his little paws would carry him up a flight of stairs.  Rousseau knew they were going to Clutus? room before they even arrived and sprinted towards it, leaving her companion behind as she rushed with a flurry of paws in its direction.  She threw open the door and ran to the open window, which had a slack rope hanging from it and tied to the doorknob. From the early sunlight, she could see where it descended from the room to the ground below at an angle, falling just past the castle wall.

And at the end of the rope, his wings spread as if in flight, she could see Clutus? carcass draped across a thin bed of scarlet snow.  His legs looked like they had broken, and it appeared as if the avian hadn?t survived much longer past that. Rousseau stared at him for a full minute before Mirdros arrived behind her.

?Wot was he tryin? t? accomplish?? the rattess asked him.

The child thought for a moment. ?He wanted to leave and so he tried to escape with the other owl.  He said something about not belonging here.?

Rousseau stared at the body for another moment.  She had always thought, after meeting the barn owl tramping through Mossflower woods, that the bird was exactly the same as the beast she hated most.  Clutus was arrogant, selfish, and vain; he had even tried to use her for his own personal gain.  But it was in this moment that the rattess learned more about the beast than she ever believed she would.

?You?re just as lonely as me, aren?t you??

Clutus was afraid.  Of all the beasts, it was the mighty hunter, The Great Jewel of Mossflower who was afraid.  Rousseau understood why now.  He was condemned to a life on the forest floor, unable to return to his avian brethren for fear of being mocked or scorned, and even still, hated by those woodlanders and vermin who once feared him.  He didn?t belong here.  He had nobeast to rely on but himself.

And so he ran, as she herself always did.  While she hid within the confines of her cabin, Clutus hid behind a guise of self importance when all he felt was pity.  He only wished somebeast would lift if from him.  He wanted a friend, somebeast he could talk to during this situation and, most importantly, trust.  And she had refused it from him.  In the end, Clutus was the second beast to die because of her. Rousseau shook her head, almost in disbelief.  

The beast wasn?t anything like Reginald in the least.

In every way imaginable, Clutus was like her.

?You stupid bird?? Rousseau said to herself.

Rexim was dead too, according to Tobias, meaning there were only three of them left: Alan, Tobias, and herself.  Rousseau breathed out a sigh.

She had never finished Clutus? paintings.

Rousseau uttered a quick promise to herself that when all of this was over, she would.  The rattess turned to Mirdros who was staring at her with wide, childish eyes. She had been counting, and today was the last of the three days Morleo had given her to make her decision of surrender.  She hadn?t thought much of it, but even still, she knew it was going to be a long day.

She gave the dead owl one more look and nudged Mirdros on his shoulder.

?Let?s go get ya somethin? t? eat.?