Abandoned House
As a trained operative of Reconquista, and an intelligence specialist, Ian de Lancaster knew fear quite well. He had inspired it on occasion, when interrogating captured subjects (though he honestly preferred to ply people with coin or drink, given that when tortured, people would tend to say anything in order to escape further torment, leading to wonderful blunders in intelligence); he had experienced it at times when a sweep of guards or so came close to rooting him out or at the moment of a plan coming to fruition; and he had seen it in others, specifically in Albion itself, where royal forces oppressed the people at the whim of a cruel and vengeful King, a man who desired power at all costs. So he marshalled his growing anxiety and instead surveyed his surroundings, taking in the magic circle carved into the ground, the restraints that bound his arms and legs, and the nature of his captor.
'Interesting. His features speak of a foreign origin, and his weapons of choice...a pistol and a knife? Hmm...those are not common among nobles, and yet, the woman who ambushed me simply shrugged off the my wind spells, indicating that either she had equipment...or she has modified her body to use Ancient Magic. A two-man cell from Rub' al Khali, where humans yet fight against the elves?'
A knife was common enough among torturers, but a gun? Not at all.
Besides, that gun looked nothing like a flintlock, as there was no ready firing pan, and while this was not conclusive - it was highly suggestive.
'If his partner is outside, or in the vicinity, I may yet have trouble escaping. Best to be sure his guard is down...or to provoke him into killing me quickly.'
"Reconquista seeks an end to the oppression of the people of Albion by it's mad King, whose abuses of power run rampant - up to and including the destruction of the province of Saxe-Gotha for his own personal greed and imposing his lusts upon the people," he replied simply, meeting his captor's eyes. "Land, he has taken. Gold, lives, and more he has stolen, without anyone to stop him...until now. As to the Princess, she is the secret lover of the Crown Prince of Albion, the field commander of the royalist forces, and capturing her would allow us to force him to surrender, so that no more may have to die needlessly. One shall be taken that a terrible war may be ended, minimizing the casualties on both sides. That is merely justice, for if the sacrifice of one life can save ten, if ten can save a hundred, if a hundred can save a thousand...does it matter if the one is royal?"
Charming Fey Brothel
Londinium, Albion
The women trembled as the odd looking man...mage, and the black knight protecting him did their work, asking the strange question of "Where Am I?", making the poor soldier they had seized pass out in fear, as the odor of fear and excrement filled the air. They feared what he would do next, if the mage would turn his power upon them and harm them simply because he could, for he didn't seem entirely sane.
To not know where he was...
Somehow, the whores didn't think the gaunt mage meant (much less cared about) the name of the brothel they were currently in, but that perhaps...they didn't know that they were in Londonium? Could the knight and this man have been prisoners of some kind, who had been trapped in the dungeons of Whitehall or Londonium's famous until recently, losing their wits as the ages passed? The fact that the mage had a powerful black knight as an assistant - maybe some kind of dwarf troll? - would seem to indicate otherwise, but then there had been that raid on Saxe-Gotha years ago, when it was said that an elf bound by unnatural arts had been captured or killed, so if this mage...
Looking at him, Josephine van Pelier, the de facto leader of the girls since the madam had been killed by a stray cannonball, her entrails smeared across the shattered walls of one of the upstairs bedrooms, noted that half of the mage seemed almost dead...no, as if he should be dead.
'And yet he is alive...is he a water mage, perhaps?'
Seeing that some of the younger ones, who had been saved from abuse on the streets, were now cowering in the presence of these two, she stepped forward.
"What do you wish to know?" she asked, swallowing her fear.
Captain's Quarters, Airship Pequod
Bound from La Rochelle, Gallia to Scarborough Port, Albion
Captain Horatio Einzben of the Airship Pequod, a grey-haired middle-aged man with a taste for plain and serviceable clothing, had been a sailor of the skies ever since he was a young lad, having served on ships in many a navy, crewing merchant and military vessels alike as he crossed most of Halkeginia. Born into a Germanian merchant family, he had not wished to inherit to business, as work behind a desk, marking ledgers and dealing with an overabundance of paperwork did not suit him. Instead, he sought the spirit of adventure, boldly going where few had gone before, making journeys through the sky to strange and exotic locales and tasting the cuisine of different regions (and women of the regions, to boot). He had commissioned the Pequod a decade ago as a nimble, yet spacious vessel for travelling to Albion - including in its design measures to conceal a broadside of eight falconets (for anti-piracy purposes of course).
...one of his delights was actually to hunt down those scurvy dogs of the sky, watching their faces as the concealed firing ports of his ship were revealed -- and sometimes capturing them as prizes, with his men sharing in the rich bounties.
Indeed, most of his crew was carefully handpicked from those he had once served with in the navy...
Some of the rest, like Nathaniel Stubbins, were...from less than completely clean backgrounds, but had proven effective at their jobs, nonetheless. As a former payroll officer, one did not keep the men of a pirate ship from mutiny without ample ability to cover over the truth, or be forceful when it was necessary. And so he found it interesting that Stubbins brought before him two oddly dressed men - one of them obviously a knight.
'Though I have to question his taste...gold is not the best metal for protection...'
"Stubbins, report," he barked.
"Sir, yes sir!" the first mate answered, producing the jewel that had been given to him earlier and placing it on the Captain's desk. "While on my pre-launch check, I discovered these two in the cargo hold, sir. They have some questions for you, sir, and seem to be interested in our destination."
Captain Einzben pursed his lips curiously, noting the two.
"Very well then, Stubbins. Thank you," he replied after a moment, nodding at his subordinate. "As for you gentlemen...how may I help you today? You will find I keep no secrets, other than those few a man is obliged to keep."