A Flawed Plan Executed Quickly and with Confidence is Better than a Perfect Plan Enacted Too Late.
There had been a time when House Salain had fielded a vast navy, rivaling even the fleet of the crown. Some said that the pride and hubris of the House had been paid back with the important lesson of humility. Whether the pride of the House had truly been diminished was doubtful, but their navy had been irreparably humbled. Dragon fire had laid low their ships, razed their shipyards, burned their ports. Now, House Salain's warships numbered only two: The Sea Serpent, and the Sea Shark.
These two vessels were kept more as an homage to the past than as any practical defense of the Dutchy of Kilane. They honored house heritage... but they were also a foot upon yesterday's shores. They had never stopped dreaming of renewing their navy. And so, they'd never stopped training sailors, or maintaining these immense vessels. If the opportunity ever rose again, they'd have experienced sailors who could train new recruits and bring back the lost Salt Fleet in a single generation.
Of course... that was only a dream.
But it was a dream that Sir Aldebrand Salain shared as he stood near the prow of the ship.
Fifty oars dipped into the waters of the Burning Sea, each oar manned by five sailors. Not slaves, as some galleys used. No, every man on a warship of House Salain was a freeman, a trained man, and a potential warrior. Hatchets and long knives were under each oarman's bench. Crossbows and swords waited below decks, guarded by another hundred marines who would pour out in the event of action. Twenty heavy horses lay below too, enough to make a scout-in-force upon any beach where the ship might stop. Ballistae stood sentinel on the forward castle, ready to take aim at an enemy ship or fortification, or to be elevated to fire upon a passing dragon.
That last part was more aspirational than practical.
Dragons. The Burning Sea was one of their happy breeding grounds. Aldebrand hated them. And he hated them doubly because his hatred was impotent. For all of their great Felldrakes, House Salain could do little to prevent another disaster like the one which had cost their Salt Fleet. The true purpose of the siege engines was to fire upon unauthorized ships. The idea that they could take down a squadron of dragons was a forlorn hope, a lie they told themselves. Much like the great swords they kept, ready to be affixed to poles, to make dragon-lances that could kill the scaly fiends.
A lie repeated among the members of the House that kept them from feeling helpless in the face of dragon threats. A lie that Aldebrand knew was a lie. But like the rest, he embraced it as truth, because it was the only way to live beside the home of these flying murder monsters without going mad from fear and despair.
Barring destruction by dragon, however, the mission Aldebrand was on today held hope for honor. He was picking up a foreign dignitary, and carrying her on a grand naval voyage around the whole coast of Brydd to the Capital, where the Tourney was being held. It was a noble mission that suited Aldebrand well, even if he was apprehensive about leaving his oft-ill father to manage the affairs of the House.
If he should succumb to illness again...
"DUSKHALLOW AHEAD!"
Aldebrand shook the concerns from his mind as he looked out across the waters and saw the shapes of the shore forming up on the horizon. It was Duskhallow indeed, the greatest port of Claen Gael: A neighbor across the Burning Sea, and one which Aldebrand didn't trust due to their affinity with the scaly hordes that darkened the skies. But they were good trading partners, and they were not a current subject of war.
This was where Aldebrand was to collect the great and noble Lady of Sask.
Betwixt the Sea Shark and the distant port a colored dot shewed itself. It was red. A red dot, no, a small red square. A sail! The square began to grow exponentially, lifting and rising slightly upon the swell as the ship it belonged to came out away from port, and the Salaine galley drew nearer to its destination. Soon the sail was close enough to discern upon its flapping, billowing folds a sable dragon rampant upon a field gules. The shape of the black ddraig moving sinuously upon the crimson sail made it look alive, alive and dangerous.
The ship upon which the sail was hoisted became clearer; a Claen Gael quinquereme dragon-ship from the upper reaches of the Burning Sea, there was a flash of orange-yellow as it tested its flaming naphtha and quicklime based flame throwers, a technological stand-in for the destructive power of the real dragons that ruled over these skies.
The large ship, driven by banks of oars and trimming with the wind, moved hard to port, as if scared off by the Sea Shark but then driving hard to starboard started to bear down on the other ship. A strong female voice bellowed across the ever-shortening gap between the two vessels, amplified by a large brass trumpet device on the deck.
"Unknown Vessel! Unknown Vessel! Ship your oars! Ship your oars!" The ship kept approaching, the commander on board no doubt waiting to see the reaction from the well armed galley before her.
A Flawed Plan Executed Quickly and with Confidence is Better than a Perfect Plan Enacted Too Late.
"DRAGON FIVE ON APPROACH!"
The call from the ship's spotter came just before Aldebrand saw the speck of sail for himself. 'Dragon Five' was their term for the Gaelic galleys, which had fewer men per oar but more banks of oars than the House Salain war galleys. Although a direct racing competition had yet to be performed, and no warfare had surfaced to prove the fact, Aldebrand was of the belief that House Salain's galleys were about two knots faster than their Gaelic counterparts.
However, the Gaelic galleys had the distinct advantage of their 'Gaelic Fire,' as the Bryddians referred to it. Their 'Dragon' ships had mechanisms to spray burning fluid at an opposing vessel. There were few hazards at sea more serious than fire. The bastards weren't content with the dragons in the sky. They had to build them at sea, as well.
"Call up the marines," Aldebrand ordered. "Crossbows to be at the ready."
"Yes, my Lord," The first mate nodded and turned to repeat the order. And it was repeated again before someone went below-decks.
Then the first mate turned back around he asked, "Shall I ready the Ballistae, my lord?"
Aldebrand shook his head, "No. The locals are just flexing their muscles, letting us know we sail here at their pleasure." It was plainly evident that one war galley- however formidable- was at the mercy of Claen Gael in these waters. But they never spared the chance to rub it in.
The hundred marines sworn to House Salain soon fountained up from the belly of the ship. Each wearing heavy armor that would drown them if they fell overboard. Brave men, huddled in the dark, waiting for the order to commit bloody violence with their backs to the wall. For at sea, every direction was the wall, and the only safe place to stand was where you found yourself when the violence started.
The marines stood at attention, a terrible force, each holding a heavy crossbow across their chests. When they were called upon to fire, they would bring a rain of death the likes of which most people never witnessed. And yet, in the face of the Dragon, they were all kindling waiting to be lit.
Soon enough, the Gaelic ship initiated the overtly hostile maneuvers expected. In another time- a deadlier time- Aldebrand would have ordered maneuvers to counteract the other vessel. Try to bring his ship into a ramming position. A position where his powerful ballistae could skewer it before his powerful ram broke it. But there was none of that, now.
This was not a deadly time.
This was a dance of power.
A political pantomime.
"Unknown Vessel! Unknown Vessel! Ship your oars! Ship your oars!"
Aldebrand suppressed the urge to sigh. "Rest Oars," he ordered.
"Rest Oars!" The order was repeated. Then repeated again. Everything along the chain.
'Resting' Oars was not what the Gaelic vessel had ordered. The five men on each of the fifty oars leaned forward, resting upon their oars and lifting the implements out of the water. But they were not properly raised, and were rather ready to be put into use once more.
Now Aldebrand walked to the edge of the ship facing their 'foe.'
"I regret the malady from which you suffer," Aldebrand called out loudly, half-turning to point at the flag of Brydd and the flag of House Salain which flapped in the wind, "and the shortage of able men in your navy!"
Smirks spread throughout the deck.
"We in Brydd employ sighted mariners!"
'Unknown Vessel' indeed.
"This is the Sea Shark, of House Salain. Commanded by Sir Aldebrand. Approved by your superior noble to approach these shores on a diplomatic mission. And now detained by your regrettable blindness."
"She's resting not shipping!" grunted Commander Gruppa. He was skipper of this vessel and holder of about the highest rank possible for a mere human in these realms. The old seadog looked in vain for a flicker of reaction from the young lass beside him who, though the mere equivalent of a naval Lieutenant, as a dragon-rider and a member of the Imperial Guard of the Jade Empress, outranked him by far. It wasn't just the rank though: she had that air about her; distant, thoughtful, aristocratic and even more than other Morrighan he had to deal with in his long career, a fanatical devotion to the dragon-kind she was bonded to and especially to the Jade Empress she served.
Her looks, he was used to: she was a pureblooded Dakari through and through; her hair wasn't just blonde, it was radiantly blonde, her eyes a blue bluer than the sky at midday and her skin, so pale as to appear bloodless - all that blood having rushed to those red lips which now answered his report. Interbred bitch!
"At least the Human shows some mettle." she said shortly. They heard the other ship's call.
"I regret the malady from which you suffer," Aldebrand called out loudly, half-turning to point at the flag of Brydd and the flag of House Salain which flapped in the wind, "and the shortage of able men in your navy!"
Wynn shot Commander a confused glance.
"We in Brydd employ sighted mariners!"
"He's being funny, M'Lady. Making fun of us." the bearded officer explained. "Oh." replied Wynn, nodding her head.
"This is the Sea Shark, of House Salain. Commanded by Sir Aldebrand. Approved by your superior noble to approach these shores on a diplomatic mission. And now detained by your regrettable blindness."
There was a strength and certainty about the man's voice that tugged at the Dakari girl's mind. She made a decision. "Gruppa, tell him I am coming aboard his ship, and fetch Simeon!" she snapped and marched off the bridge.
The Commander sighed, on one hand he liked the sound of the fellow across the way, he could imagine sitting down over a tankard with him and swapping seamen's yarns; on the other hand, tactically, he would probably have just burned the bugger down to the waterline. Still, who was he to have an opinion? He'd only been at sea forty years!
"Sea Shark, prepare to receive our Captain and an interpreter!" Gruppa boomed through the trumpet, narrowing his eyes to see what the reaction would be.
The quinquereme was possessed of an enormous 'corvus' -a jointed wooden 'bridge' with a hard metal 'beak' underneath it which could have been swung around and made to crash down and splinter into the Shark's deck, affixing itself firmly and providing a way for troops for one vessel to stream across to the other. However, even the high and mighty Wynn was not rude enough to order that. Instead, two end-weighted ropes were thrown across by experienced hands and caught and made fast by equally experienced hands on the other side, one higher than the other. This made a precarious rope bridge between the two ships, both bobbing lazily in the undulating brine.
The fair girl appeared. She had removed her helmet but apart from that made no concession to the perilous maneuver before her, wearing heavy looking plate armour as she swung herself overboard and found her footing on the bouncing lower rope. She gripped the one above it, before starting to shuffle carefully across. Even the experienced Gruppa, watching from the deck, and half hoping she'd fall in, had to admit she had amazing balance and strength: he himself would have difficulty doing that in full armour. Behind Wynn, still on the deck, a quaking man in a long robe and strange hat was being put in a basket: begging and pleading not to be sent across.
Sir Aldebrand may have recognised him: Simeon was a native of Bassilith who had been apprehended in Salain for coining, forgery and publishing of scandalous tracts: in lieu of his ill father, Aldebrand himself had sentenced the man to be burned alive. Mercifully, though, Simeon had been allowed vellum and ink to pen a final goodbye to his wife and children, which, of course, he had used to forge a false pardon, thrown it out of the window where it was redeemed by a confederate, and he had been able to make his escape across the Burning Sea. No wonder he didn't wish to be delivered to the Salain vessel.
A Flawed Plan Executed Quickly and with Confidence is Better than a Perfect Plan Enacted Too Late.
"Well, would you look at that," the First Mate declared as the apparent Captain of the Gaelic ship came across the ropes.
"I am looking at it," Aldebrand confirmed, his eyes lighting upon the nimble armored form of his counterpart.
After a moment of watching in utter fascination, he shook his head. "Have wine brought up. Two goblets." There were social expectations involved in a visiting Captain that had to be upheld.
As always, his orders were repeated until someone went below decks to see it done. At the conclusion of this mission to the Capital, he would have to get used to not hearing an echo of his words everywhere he went.
As the commander and her interpreter arrived- the latter in a basket- the wine and goblets were already being brought to Aldebrand's side. But that is when his gaze shifted to the interpreter. A spark of recognition lit some kindling in his mind, and the fires of memory began to burn.
"An able crossing," he conceded at once to the woman was secure on the deck of the Sea Shark. Then he added, "And I thank you for bringing us this fugitive criminal. It is a worthy gesture of friendship and goodwill."
Aldebrand's eyelids narrowed, and now he spoke directly to the interpreter, "If you fail to translate properly, I'll know."
"An able crossing," he conceded at once to the woman was secure on the deck of the Sea Shark. Then he added, "And I thank you for bringing us this fugitive criminal. It is a worthy gesture of friendship and goodwill."
The black armour clad girl brushed the slightly sea-damp hair from her face and looked at the craggily handsome, slightly unshaven visage of the man in charge of the vessel she had boarded with such cold, emotionless eyes that she gave the impression that she did not understand his words, spoken as they were in the flowing southern Bryddic tongue. Behind her, Simeon made a terrible fuss about being untangled from his hempen basket after his terrifying trip across the brine.
Aldebrand's eyelids narrowed, and now he spoke directly to the interpreter, "If you fail to translate properly, I'll know."
"Simeon is not the one under scrutiny here, you are." the girl said, her cymraeg accent was strong but her mastery of the man's language was good, if a little stiff though lack of use. "You have entered Gaelic territorial waters in an armed vessel in contravention of the treaties between our nations." she berated him in formulaic manner. "If you have documentation which explains this act of war, you will present it to me now."
Considering that, at his whim, a hundred crossbow quarrels could be sent into her unarmoured extremities, or five score blades cut her down, the girl was surely either incredibly stupid or ridiculously brave. In truth, she was more by way of the fanatic. Oh, she had feelings and ideas of her her own, and they burned as hot and bright as a flaming torch: but compared to the feeling of duty she held to the will of the Jade Empress, the light of that torch was as one dimmed by being held up to the blinding light of Bel.
Simeon was by now free to scamper up and bowing and cringing and wringing his hands, bobbed up and down beside the two vessel Captains. "A mistake, a mistake! A ship blown off course! A nautical misunderstanding! No need for unpleasantness! My Lady, Sir Aldebrand is a noble and merciful man, the heir to my lord the Count Mandorin of Salain, Good Sir, My Lady Wynn is a trusted Lieutenant of the great empress herself! Two such noble personages..."
Wynn lifted a curt gauntleted hand.
"Silence Simeon! You are here merely to read any documents writ in the barbaric scrawl of the humans across the water, do not dare to advise your betters!" It might have been refreshing had this diatribe been delivered in ire, but it was just as cold and emotionless a statement as ever.
A Flawed Plan Executed Quickly and with Confidence is Better than a Perfect Plan Enacted Too Late.
"Simeon is not the one under scrutiny here, you are."
Aldebrand arched a brow at this statement. Simeon, and moreso this Lady Wynn, were very much under intense scrutiny. In the case of Wynn, for more than one reason. She was as beautiful as she was cold, hard, and capable. It was doubtful that any man here failed to crave knowledge of her flesh. Perhaps that was why she had so carefully hardened herself to the outer world.
"You have entered Gaelic territorial waters in an armed vessel in contravention of the treaties between our nations." she berated him in formulaic manner. "If you have documentation which explains this act of war, you will present it to me now."
Aldebrand glanced back at his First Mate, who shrugged slightly, and then he returned his attention to the young woman. "Are you attempting to convey that your military is so un-informed and disorganized that you are not in possession of information regarding our crossing here, today?"
Aldebrand shook his head.
"No. I am more inclined to believe that you are flexing your authority to make an impression upon us. My only question is whether you are doing this under orders, making this an official insult against my House and Duke and Kingdom, or whether you are damaging the relations between our nations on your independent authority? In which case this is a personal insult."
The blustering toad embodied in the form of Simeon attempted to interject to de-fuse the situation, but Aldebrand refused to give him any more attention for the time being. He was slightly amused to find that this 'Lady' Wynn held the man in very little esteem.
Finally, Aldebrand turned back to the First Mate, and found that he was already accepting a parchment from a subordinate. Well, the able crew of the Sea Shark was capable of doing more than echoing orders. Aldebrand took the document and held it up. He skipped the multitude of titles and pleasantries, skipping to the meat of the letter.
"The designated envoys of your realm, whom we understand to be Sir Salain of House Salain, to be commanding the galley Sea Shark, are hereby granted permission to make port in Duskhallow for the purpose of conveying the Saskian envoy. You may enter and remain in port for a sufficient time to receive the envoy, with compliments etcetera, etcetera."
He held out the parchment for her to take. If she wanted to give it to the toad, she could do so.
"Now. If you wish to continue this conversation, perhaps I can invite you to drink in my cabin. It is undignified to carry on upon the deck. This is a matter for Captains."
He gestured to the wine and goblets, then further on at his cabin at the aft of the ship.
Aldebrand glanced back at his First Mate, who shrugged slightly, and then he returned his attention to the young woman. "Are you attempting to convey that your military is so un-informed and disorganized that you are not in possession of information regarding our crossing here, today?"
"I am telling you that your arrival in our waters is as unexpected as it is unwelcome" came her terse rewording of his insulting sentence as she easily balanced herself on the slightly heaving deck of the galley.
"No. I am more inclined to believe that you are flexing your authority to make an impression upon us. My only question is whether you are doing this under orders, making this an official insult against my House and Duke and Kingdom, or whether you are damaging the relations between our nations on your independent authority? In which case this is a personal insult."
Another human might have made some jest about the good knight's words containing as much gusty wind as the sails of his ship, or, worried by his words, have backed down and apologised in some wise or even, stung by his implied threats, escalated things in an aggressive manner. However, this seeming mannikin of a woman merely ignored his question and stated "I will see your papers". She had all the emotional range, it seemed, of one of those eschec-playing automatons that were all the rage a few Moons ago.
Finally, Aldebrand turned back to the First Mate, and found that he was already accepting a parchment from a subordinate. Well, the able crew of the Sea Shark was capable of doing more than echoing orders. Aldebrand took the document and held it up. He skipped the multitude of titles and pleasantries, skipping to the meat of the letter.
The icy plate-clad maiden took the vellum and quickly scanned it, looking Aldebrand directly in the eyes and announcing loudly "It is a forgery" before passing the fluttering document back to Simeon, who scanned it with a more expert eye: for as one sets a thief to catch a thief; so must one set a forger to spot a forgery.
It only took a few seconds for the cringing man to look at the thing and, showing more courage than he had been able to when crossing the foaming brine, speak up with a tremor in his voice in Wynn's native tongue "Meistres Nid yw hyn yn ffug!" [My Lady, This is not a forgery!] His terror was increased by the name he saw affixed to the document, for the instruction had been counter-signed by the local imperial officer in charge of supervising any suspicious traffic in and out of the sensitive port area: Wynn Rhew Gaeaf.
She gave him as short shrift as she had given Sir Aldebrand.
"Go brin y dylwn i anghofio fy mod wedi arwyddo dogfen o'r fath!" [I hardly think I should forget signing such a document!] she snapped at the human with a frown. Ah, so she was capable of feeling and showing some form of emotion! But it had taken an almost impossible situation to elicit such a demonstration. She snatched the letter back and stared at her signature, and was overcome with the dizzying, dreamlike feeling she sometimes had when she communed with Gruudux. She pulled herself together, but the roughly attractive human man had clearly perceived some crack in her emotional armour.
"Now. If you wish to continue this conversation, perhaps I can invite you to drink in my cabin. It is undignified to carry on upon the deck. This is a matter for Captains."
"Yes... I will come to your cabin." she agreed, trying to sound completely in control again.
A Flawed Plan Executed Quickly and with Confidence is Better than a Perfect Plan Enacted Too Late.
Aldebrand felt a sense of relief as she agreed to come back to his cabin to talk. There was too much pretense and showmanship when one had to speak in front of subordinates. Particularly in an adversarial situation. He understood this to be true, even if he rarely engaged in such pantomime himself. He had little stomach for it, and his serious nature was well known. Indeed, cynical humor was virtually the only humor he engaged in, as it most closely cleaved to his true thoughts.
He elected to bring the drink into the cabin himself, dismissing any attempt at company or guard from his subordinates as he and the Gaelic Captain retired to his cabin. It was referred to as the 'Admiral's Cabin' sometimes, as the Sea Shark was meant to be in command of a fleet, and not operating on its own. But those were in glory days gone by, and the continued use of the term was melancholy for times now past.
However much 'Admiral's Quarters' was a misnomer, it was at least grandly appointed for a vessel of this type. Located at the aft of the top deck in a large, covered enclosure, it was almost embarrassingly spacious even for an officer. Aldebrand sat behind the large desk and poured drinks for himself and his guest, inviting her to sit at the seat across from him.
"I apologize for my earlier comments about incompetence within the Gaelic navy. I felt that your actions were meant to flex power and carry insult. I am still of this opinion, but I am also increasingly of the opinion that you are unaware of whatever circumstance broils around us."
He picked up his cup and paused, "You have been referred to as a Lady in my presence. Is this a courtesy title from a common subordinate, or are you truly nobility in these lands? If it is the latter, I must doubly apologize. I do not believe I accorded you the deference worthy of a true noble Lady."
He shook his head, remembering past missteps, "I struggle sometimes not to say what I am thinking. It is a pernicious fault that has bitten me before. My position in my family requires that I engage in social situations and diplomatic encounters to which I am ill-suited. I suspect my father's lament joins my own on such matters."
Finally, he took a sip from his cup. The wine was a sweet vintage, which was his preference. He did not understand those who enjoyed bitter drinks. He often suspected there was some artifice to the declared taste for such things, though he had never figured out why.
Aldebrand hoped that his openness about himself would inspire openness from her. "Sometimes I suspect that those more inclined to artifice might use my traits as a tool of diplomacy. One can expect that what I say is true. And also that I will do what is expected. I do not play the game of diplomacy well, but I recognize its maneuvers in others when I see them. I also recognize the hands of diplomatic schemers upon my shoulder from time to time, pushing me into situations in the hopes that I can be their unwitting instrument."
He took another drink, then set his goblet down.
"Forgive me for noticing- perhaps too late- that you are also a serious person who can be trusted to follow protocols. I believe we have been set upon each other's paths with the intention that something serious would happen surrounding a conflict of protocols."
Now he leaned forward, "But while we may be creatures of habit, neither of us are slaves. We are intelligent beings. We can choose to step off the comfortable path if we deem it to be a more efficacious way. I hope we can confound those who scheme for conflict by choosing to be intelligent and rational.
Will you consider walking the uncomfortable path with me, removing the danger from this trap we share?"
Wynn remained standing, stoic and silent, arms crossed, while Sir Aldebrand apologised for his earlier insults. He talked of unknown events in which they were ensnared and, thinking on the document she had somehow signed without her own knowledge, the events of the day certainly had her baffled. But when he asked her a direct question she replied.
"You have been referred to as a Lady in my presence. Is this a courtesy title from a common subordinate, or are you truly nobility in these lands? If it is the latter, I must doubly apologize. I do not believe I accorded you the deference worthy of a true noble Lady."
“Sir Aldebrand, my status as a Drakari of a noble house is secondary to my standing as an officer of the Morrighan. I am Wynn Rhew Gaeaf, and I command a wing of the Imperial Guard of the Jade Empress herself. You may best refer to me as Raglaw or Lieutenant.” She informed him coldly. Her accent would sound very much like Welsh to our Earth-born ears, and she pronounced the rank very clearly as 'lef-tenant'.
"I struggle sometimes not to say what I am thinking. It is a pernicious fault that has bitten me before. My position in my family requires that I engage in social situations and diplomatic encounters to which I am ill-suited. I suspect my father's lament joins my own on such matters."
She nodded her understanding. “I would rather parley with one who speaks the plain truth than a knave who speaks honeyed words with an oily tongue. I fear I would fare ill in the halls of diplomacy myself. Please speak plainly to me and I shall speak plainly to you, Sir Aldebrand.” She said seriously.
Seeing him drink, she decided it would give the impression of rudeness not to do the same. The black-clad officer picked up the other goblet and sniffed at the contents with a frown, then emptied it in four big consecutive gulps, ending in a small, not very ladylike burp before setting the goblet back down on the man’s little Admiral’s desk.
The wine didn’t really affect her, but it seemed to be making the craggily handsome man even more loquacious.
"Sometimes I suspect that those more inclined to artifice might use my traits as a tool of diplomacy. One can expect that what I say is true. And also that I will do what is expected. I do not play the game of diplomacy well, but I recognize its maneuvers in others when I see them. I also recognize the hands of diplomatic schemers upon my shoulder from time to time, pushing me into situations in the hopes that I can be their unwitting instrument."
“I agree: we both appear to be pawns of some attempted subterfuge to cause strife betwixt our nations.” She stated. “It is within our power to nullify this ploy, and further, discover and apprehend the person or persons behind it. For I perceive in you, Sir Aldebrand, a person of some dignity possessed of a calm intent to serve the interests of your Kingdom, as I have pledged my life and my soul the serve my Empress.” she, perhaps somewhat pompously, declared.
"Forgive me for noticing- perhaps too late- that you are also a serious person who can be trusted to follow protocols. I believe we have been set upon each other's paths with the intention that something serious would happen surrounding a conflict of protocols."
“Even so.” She agreed.
Now he leaned forward, "But while we may be creatures of habit, neither of us are slaves. We are intelligent beings. We can choose to step off the comfortable path if we deem it to be a more efficacious way. I hope we can confound those who scheme for conflict by choosing to be intelligent and rational. Will you consider walking the uncomfortable path with me, removing the danger from this trap we share?"
“I will go further, Sir Aldebrand, and propose a personal accord between we two to track down and destroy the evil that threatens both our nations and which has dared to attempt to use both you and I as the tools of its machinations. I propose that I lead your vessel into port and that your men be kept aboard over night: I shall arrange for suitable viands and entertainment to be brought to them.” By 'entertainment', she meant some of the amoral human doxies who haunted the docks “You shall join me at my residence, where we shall cement our alliance.” It never occurred to her to ask whether the man might prefer to spend an evening with a jovial street walker than this armour-plated ice-maiden. She was all business.