Seahound and the Fox

“Dunnae interrupt me now, boy! I’m tellin’ you a tale!”

“Aye, da? You have a tale to tell me? Tell me the tale then.”

“You’d better be glad me and the entirety of the clann love you, boy, or you’d have a shiner about now.”

“I’m gonna bet it’s not just that, old man. You dunnae want a welt aside your head.”

“God and all the saints and the thundering of heaven in concert, boy, you’re a few seconds from being hurled from this boat here.”

“And my mother’s the queen of Vekaiyu, too, old man. You forgot that on your pile of lies.”

The elder man, a hulking mass of old man, seaman’s muscle, and gray hair, clambered towards his equally tall compatriot, who was far more sinewy in comparison, and whom had dark brown hair with red-brown highlights in this sunlight from above, and which looked with mischief as it also bore a bit of blonde. The man’s thick beard flailed like a kraken as he swiped at the younger man, and like electric through a skipping circuit, the brunette hoped from the attack, slamming his thick booted foot into the older man’s hip and throwing himself backwards on the other foot the second after.

The young seadog told the older hound his verdict.

“I’m the quickest hound on the sea, and old man you cannae catch me. As sure as a shark eats fish with glee, I’m the quickest hound in the sea, and you cannae catch me.”

And the older man burst into laughter at it, shaking his head.

“With all do respect, Ri na Cu. You’re the smelliest dog on this crew, and the most rhymeless one, too.”

The younger man slammed a playful punch into the old kraken’s shoulder, and shook his head, heading to change his shirt into something a bit more suitable for what was going to happen soon.

“And yer da’s the Premier of Bai Lung, boyo!”

“Pogue Mahone, old cu!”

And so the adventure of the High King of Warre to meet the soon to be crown Princess of Warre began.

“Aislin.” Kayah Jackson, daughter of Chief George V and First Princess of Lupan, stared in exasperation at the woman who had served as Nanny, Governess, and Tutor to the eldest daughter of Lupan’s High Chieftan for fourteen years - since Kaya had been chosen by her father to fulfil the contract owed to Warre. “The High King is not going to be on the flagship. He has better things to do than traipse across the straight in a six hour journey to ferry his betrothed across.”

“Hmph!” The burly human woman sniffed derisively. “No Warreic High King would ask ye to make the journey by yerself!” And then she tried - for the fifth or seventh time - to shove one of a new wardrobe of gowns into Kayah’s arms to get the princess to put it on. “Yer a Princess, Kayah! Ye need to look the part!”

“It’s not practical to wear a gown on a ship!” Kayah refused the deep blue gown yet again. It was beautiful, she admitted, and would emphasize the gold and auburn highlights in her brown hair and bring out the shock of her unusually colored silver-tipped ebony fox ears. But she didn’t like dresses. “I want to be free to move about the ship if I need to. You can blame those sailing lessons Uncle Mohin gave me if you’d like.”

When Kayah had turned eight, she had cajoled her father’s second brother - then the commander of the fleet - to teach her how to sail…and how to operate the naval weaponry Warre was famous for. The first was common knowledge. The latter, however, was knowledge held in sacred trust by her uncle’s most trusted crew - which had included her elder brother Pravar. Upon their uncle’s retirment - he’d gotten sick in the lungs during the Great Freeze - Pravar had taken his position and promoted every single soldier in the crew. Everyone who knew that the High Princess of Lupan could pull her weight behind the weapons of a Naval Vessel and had spent two and a half years learning to do so from the ground up was a captain, with two exceptions.

One was Pravar - who’d been the admiral of that part of the fleet at the time - and the other was the Admiral under which all of those captains now served - then the captain of the vessel. Her father had never found out, though it was generally an open secret…one that everyone suspected but couldn’t get anyone else to confirm. In part, that was due to disinterest on George’s part. Once he’d decided what to do with Kayah to better Lupan politically, he’d lost interest in his eldest daughter. The other part was that he’d been duped by the crew, by Mohin, and by Cochise who had spent months at a time on the ship teaching Kayah between her lessons, while Aislin had constantly been found muttering her approval about her ‘Proper Warreic Lass’ and keeping a watchful eye on the crew. Not that she need’ve worried. The crew had to a man seen Kayah as a daughter, a sister, or (later) one of their own.

“Pah! Let’s not talk about practical when ye’re a princess and ye dunnae want to look nice when ye meet yer betrothed!”

“That’s not it…” Kayah said softly. She frowned. “No. I’m not going to wear a dress on the flagship!” At Aislin’s disheartened look, she sighed. “If it will appease you, I will borrow the captain’s cabin and change into the dress while we go through docking procedures and they get the dowry unloaded.” Kayah fought the uge to grimace. In her culture, the men usually made a gift of cattle or some other good to the bride’s father as a sign of wealth. She wasn’t sure what to think about her father’s decision to send a dowry to the Ard Ri of Warre. It felt like he was paying someone to marry her. Like she wasn’t good enough to marry otherwise.

Kayah straightened her spine and mentally strapped a length of steel down it. She lifted her chin in what she knew was a haughty way and examined the woman she saw in the mirror. Expressionless, if you didn’t look closely enough at the eyes - which few people in politics cared to do. She didn’t have the porcelain skin of an angel…she’d spent too much time working alongside the Lupans living in Dejaal since the Great Freeze trying to rebuild and get the city back to its prosperous prime. Bijii hadn’t had quite as many problems, but the capital city was situated further south on the island that the Lupan people had originated from. Their home before they’d expanded to Dejaal along the coast and inland. Still, Kayah liked to think that she had appeal. Hoped that her human husband with his strange american culture would find her appealing.

Lupan’s princess didn’t think twice about a marriage of love. As far as examples went, the High Chieftan of Lupan and his wife, the High Healer, set a loveless one, if not one prosperous as far as children went. So Kayah hoped only that she and the Ard Ri found each other’s company bearable.

Kayah sighed as she pulled out the clothes that she’d commissioned for the journey and began - with the help of Aislin - to dress. Without proper time during the docking procedure to do her hair, Kayah reluctantly allowed Aislin to place the long brown tresses into an elegant style atop her head that would have to be repinned, no doubt, after the wind of the sea got hold of it. She then forced herself to sit still as the older woman worked the silver-tipped black hair of Kayah’s tail until it shone.

As the sky to the east brightened and the first glowing curve of the sun rose steadily above the water, Kayah walked onto the dock with her father’s elbow in hers and Aislin shortly after the pair. The princess’ posture had gone from perfect but relaxed to rigid and terrified that she would make a mistake in an instant when she’d seen that Chief George was escorting her to the ship. He’d claimed he would, of course, but she’d still hoped beyond hope to see Pravar in his place when she’d stepped out of her suite, dressed immaculately in loose but comfortable clothes to sail in. He had taken a long, slow look at her outfit and his upper lip had lifted in derision. Kayah was sure if they hadn’t been short on time, he would have made her change. But Chief George wouldn’t let them be late to such matters, so he left it alone.

A figure broke away from the crowd at the end of the dock, where the workers were waiting to moor the ship when it arrived. Kayah’s ears perked up and she brightened at the sight of her brother as he moved to her, reaching down and hugging her tightly.

“I’m scared.” She whispered into his ear, the seaman blocking the much smaller body of the princess from view. He drew back after a moment and his jaw tightened as his father drew Kayah almost harshly back to his side. Pravar tweaked Kayah’s ear, but it was their father that he stared down as he spoke.

“He’ll love you, Little Fox.” Pravar grinned. He winked and flicked one ear back as a sound caught his ear. On the dock, several heads rose at once, fox ears lifting to the sound of the waves that had changed, just slightly.

He’s Here. The waves told Kayah only a few seconds later when she heard it as well, the steady rush of the waves breaking around the curved body of a ship.

The Warreic are a strange people, a strange people in a land of strange people. While generally calm and sane, understandable and logical, in the other times they are as wild and insane as can be, the most eccentric and weird a person could see. While hard workers, they were hard partyers as well. They were either strongly there in attitude and prescience or not at all. Insular and outgoing, they’re like the sea they bring so much of their wealth and livelihood from, chaotic and unpredictable to the untrained eye, but following a clear and unchallenged pattern to a person who’s felt the misty dew of their companionship for long.

It was perhaps this that caused the flagship of the third fleet, the Manaan Mac Lir, to act as it had. In preparation for the festive occasion the sailors had all been a little more festive, dancing jigs, singing absurd shanties, and telling stories of various sorts, from their own exploits to legends, to the exploits of the High King [real exploits or imagined]. Now it was all but over, the crew having dressed in their dress uniforms and their High King changing out of simple blue jeans, black t-shirt, and simple swimming shoes he had worn before. He now stood with pride, dressed in a dress uniform not that different from his vassals, but with a sizable patch across his heart with the heraldic emblem of the House of McCue.

And to allude to their ancestors, and give the situation a bit more flame as the two flagships stood there in this scene of sun and sea, the chief ‘herald’* of the crew, newly appointed, sent forth lauds.

“Presenting his royal majesty, High King of Warre, Son of Warren the First, Son of Thurman the Third, Son of Keith the Sixth. Defender of the Warreic Sea and Champion of the Warreic Peoples. Also, vice-champion of the Manaan Mac Lir’s Boasting Club, and Captain of the Warreic Marines. Warren the Second of House McCue, Lubra Mac Lubra Mac Thurman Mac Keith Mac Aodh!”

“And meanest man this side of the Packlivanian Gulf.”

With a chuckle, he stepped across his own ship, onto the Lupanese flag ship. It had been purposefully chosen, the Manaan Mac Lir, so that there wouldn’t be as much intimidation from having a twice as large flagship.

Kayah tried to tug out of her father’s grasp as the herald called out and Pravar turned, fully alert, to give a respectful bow to the visiting Ard Ri. When her father only tightened his grip on her, Kayah ceased struggling and looked appraisingly at the man she was to marry. Her father - no doubt assuming that she couldn’t be trusted one way or the other to behave properly - propelled her forward using his painful grip on her arm, and she fought not to grimace as he held her at his side.

“Lord Ri.” Pravar smiled, though there was a hint of rage in his eyes. “I present my father, the High Chieftain of Lupan.” Kayah’s father released her, then, to give a bow of respect to the visiting King. Pravar used the excuse to pull Kayah to his side and smile with more warmth. “And my sister, the First Princess of Lupan, Royal Representative to Dejaal, and your betrothed, Kayah daughter of Lolotea.”

Kayah bit her lower lip, trying not to blush as she looked up into the eyes of the man she was supposed to marry. Her ears lifted from the tense, laid back position they’d been in since her father had grabbed her as the two sinopa constantly at her side sat down to appraise the human before them, and Kayah said the first thing that came to mind.

“This side of the Packlivanian Gulf? Who’s the meanest man on the other side? Have you had an overall contest?”

“Kayah!” Her father hissed. Pravar cleared his throat and looked down, his eyes twinkling suspiciously. She felt Aislin quake behind her - with what emotion, Kayah wasn’t entirely sure. For herself, Kayah simply kept her ears up and her eyes on the human in front of her. His was the reaction that was important.

“I’m pleased to meet you all, Ard Chieftain, Princess Kayah…” he stopped a moment to flash the young Lupan princess a smile, and then added simply, almost as if he was trying to make it musically. “Prince Pravar.”

He gave a half-bow, as was proper, and before he could say anything else, the young Lupan Princess, his betrothed, gave a response to his statement before, which made him burst into laughter, and step the few steps to make the gulf of distance between them be not more than a few feet. Simply and unquestionably as the wind brushing against one’s face on a coast, he uttered. “Mo grá.”

He then thew his weight on his heels, and took a hopping step from the Lupan delegation, grinning. “We’re bound by our blood and by our fathers, we’re bound by the wind and the sea, we’re bound by passion and hate, we’re bound by it all, and it’s bound by us. Every man, from commoner to noble to King to High King has to know this, and without out knowing it, we’ll be going blind in the world, unhappy and fearful. It’s a good day, today. My lineage and my grandsire’s Comhairleoir dar Rí didn’t disappoint me today.”

And boy did he know he was acting self-centered, but as much as this was meeting the woman who was to be his wife, this was a reaffirming of ties to a century long ally. If the Lupanese didn’t believe in the strength and confidence of the Warreic King, then they’d not believe in the Warreic nation.

But his game was up, he stood up straight and opened his opened hand to the first born daughter of the Lupan King. He spoke simply.

“I can’t rightly tell you, as there’s too many of them vying down that way, and even as far as the coast of the continent. Meaness is a necessary trait in a world like our’s.”

Kayah’s ears - which had been pricked forward in amused good humor - flickered beneath the merry sound of the Ri’s laughter. As he closed a majority of the space between them the young princess stared spellbound up into the eyes of the man she was to marry. It was only when he spoke…two words that were both fact and endearment…that she blinked and dropped her gaze. When he spoke of ancestors and bindings she listened in silence, watching her volatile father carefully. It was an open secret amongst the Lupanese people that the royal family carefully monitored George and worked damage control in care he threw a fit.

Indeed, Kayah saw the High Chieftain begin to frown when the Warreic man spoke with such pride. As the final veiled compliment fell upon her, Kayah was already lifting her head with her mind formulating her response. The Ard Ri answered her question before she could speak, and she was laughing softly with her eyes as her hand touched his softly, sending a bolt of electricity through her body. Kayah lightly stepped forward to close the rest of the gap between the Princess and the King. When she spoke, it was directly to him, and her voice was soft and low and pitched only for his ears.

“To be mean is all well and good, and the world is certainly boasted for its cruelty.” She lifted her free hand, hesitated. Placed that hand softly upon his collarbone to feel the warm, solid, dangerous strength of him. He was a warrior, was this man, and only a fool would not respect the steel woven into the fiber of his being. “But I’ve found that kindness is a sword with an edge of its own, and gentleness can sometimes speak louder than the bark of a ship’s cannon.”